I'll never forget something a friend shared when her son went away for military training after graduating from high school. Through tear filled eyes, she uttered I wish I would have sat on the floor to build legos with him more. He always wanted me to play with him. I usually felt that I was too busy.

I think of her words often with gratitude for the gift they are to me - a reminder of the rapid pace at which the days, the years, our very lives progress.

The thing they don't warn you about before you become a parent, is that from the moment that tiny baby is placed in your arms, they are slowly, gradually, inevitably working toward making an eventual break. They don't mention that everything you do for them to teach them, to guide them, to care for and instruct them, all of the extraordinary effort you pour forth, is to prepare those little ones for the day when they are no longer little. Maybe it should be obvious. Strangely, I don't think it is. If it were, we might not find ourselves so completely caught off guard by their ever increasing size and independence.

No one will likely tell you how your heart will grow once you become a parent, the exquisite love and pain and joy and sorrow and peace and worry and contentment and concern and happiness it will manage to contain all at once. They probably won't share about the welling up that takes place deep inside you when you look into their faces, when you hear their laughter, as you marvel at their accomplishments, when you listen to their stories, while you witness their growth, watching them break away piece by piece, praying all the while that wherever life takes them, they surpass you.

When they are first born, it seems as if we will be able to hold them forever. Those initial hours that merge into months are immersed in a sea of endless need. Then, one day you realize that child of yours is too long, too heavy, too tall to carry around. They need you just a little bit less. Eventually, you trade in diapers and sippy cups for soccer cleats and math homework, reading chapter books replaces singing the ABCs. While playing outside, you notice they can outrun you. They inch their way up the growth chart until you look up to see into their eyes.

It seems as if my life has taken on a tone of perpetual bitter sweetness, pleasure and gratitude mingled with the sadness of knowing that year by year, my time waxes increasingly limited. This journey - motherhood - has been a source of unparalleled gladness. Still, ever present in the recesses of my mind as we pass through our day by day experiences, I know that although I will always be their mother, we won't always be together.

Today, Jayla pulled out a photo album of when she was a baby and asked me to look through it with her. My eyes suddenly burned hot at the sight of her tiny body, head full of dark hair, wearing the absolute smallest clothing made, being held. I remembered the softness of her skin and her intoxicating baby smell, the way I would nuzzle her neck and breathe in her sweetness. A big girl now, she's hard for me to hold anymore. But as for now, she's still here, with me. Such a tremendous gift.

I hope to savor the merciful goodness of the presence of each of my bountiful blessings.....while time is ours to share.

My Students, My Teachers

All together again. How sweet it is.

*

On the topic of pinterest, blogs, twitter and the like, a friend and I were talking today about how our every day lives can be made to appear something purely exquisite in cleverly crafted, perfectly placed snap shots. It's true. The images of our experience, those willfully exposed to others through social media in retouched photos may not always be an accurate representation of our hour by hour, day by day existence. Photography is a powerful medium, able to evoke a wide spectrum of emotion through one simple shot, capturing a fleeting moment in time.

Then, there is the flip side. The instances of our lives that take us by surprise. When our hearts positively swell with joy. When we momentarily grasp happiness as tangible as sand slipping through our fingers. The moments that take our breath away as it catches in our chests and we know: A simple photo could not do this justice. Our real, messy, uncropped, unplanned, flawed lives are so, so much better than anything we could stage for presentation. They are indeed, purely exquisite.

Human is not a four letter word

The other morning as I was driving I caught a radio broadcast discussing blended families. After handling the first manner of business (dispelling the Brandy Bunch myth) it began playing voice clips of folks sharing their struggles to parent not only their own, but their spouse's children.

"He thinks I'm harder on his kids than I am on mine....She feels like I don't treat her kids like my own....I feel guilty for living with her kids full time and seeing mine only every other weekend....I don't think I can love my spouse's children the way I love my own...."

As the show continued and advice was offered to assist these couples in coping with their unique (and admittedly tough!) set of circumstances, I couldn't help but think that I've rarely encountered adoptive parents speaking with the same level of candor about the issues they face. (Especially not publicly, on the radio for goodness sakes!)  I certainly have heard many, many broadcasts promoting adoption - and truly not one of them spent any real time addressing the difficulties adoptive parents may discover once they bring their children home. If anything, the focus is nearly always placed on the adopted children and the troubles they may have. Yet, strangely enough, when you get to the core essence of it, the challenges of step and adoptive parenting can actually be quite similar. We are both working to care for children that were born to someone else as our own. Definitely, definitely not an easy task.

Why is it that step parents are allowed, even expected to face tremendous struggle in the meshing of their families? Because blending families is hard! I truly believe adoptive parents would be best, most properly served by being afforded the same liberty. It is, after all, another avenue to 'blend' a family.

Our clan attracts no lack of attention when we are out. Like most adoptive mothers, I have been asked more times than I can count about the topic. People love to shower us with praise as they "see" that we have {clearly} taken these poor, destitute orphans and freely offered them a new life rich with love, education and possession. Mostly, I just smile and thank them for their kindness. Still, every once in a while, especially if I know they are considering adoption for themselves or have already adopted and are quietly, shamefully flailing, I have chosen to answer their inquiries with pure honesty. It has not been easy. This may have been the hardest period of my life to date. I so loved mothering my children, I felt this would be an obvious fit for me. It turned out to be nothing like I expected. I thought I had adequately prepared myself for the new role, yet I found myself woefully ill equipped. Motherhood in this form has taken days and months and years to grow on me. We step forward, we step back. We progress, we regress. They struggle, I struggle, the cycle repeats. Our adoption journey has shown me that I'm not the person I thought I was. My compassion runs dry. My mercy fails. My love comes slowly, often painstakingly. My heart breaks and mends, breaks and mends. I question God's hand. Did I hear Him correctly? Did I hear Him at all? Is this as it should be? I've never quite been sure. We press on. Things get better. It just takes time.
Often at this point I think, I should have simply said, "thank you." ☺

Some are shocked to hear this sort of confession. They might prefer to go back to talking about those poor, destitute orphans having a nice new existence and leave it at that. Could it be that folks (unwittingly) hold adoptive parents to an unrealistically high standard? I really don't know, but I wonder. Is there a certain mysticism, an undue nobility that surrounds this subject and the dads and moms that have chosen to adopt? Perhaps so. Being placed on a pedestal might be part of what makes it feel so incredibly vulnerable to expose any difficulty we meet. It's hard to think we're letting someone down. They once thought so highly of us! We went (all the way) to {              } to give those lowly little ones a better life!

Certainly, admitting our frailty should come as no surprise. Not one of us is exempt from our own humanness.

At the end of the day, adoptive parents are just human beings, flawed people doing the best we can with our uniquely 'blended' families. Working to care for children that were born to someone else as our own. Definitely, definitely not an easy task...

November 3

Snow Day Activity: Baking Apple Pies

We used spelt flour in place of white and honey in place of white sugar. The kids are used to it, so they won't know the difference. Shhh....;-)

Having children at home and in full time school has been very, very tough. {I may or may not have been caught muttering under my breath I hate Peyton Elementary at least once a day for the past 2.5 months.} It's silly, because I don't really hate Peyton Elementary.

It's just that I am not a fan of what adding the traditional school piece to our plates has done to our lives. I feel like a slave to it. This is due to the fact that something I did not anticipate was the challenge it would pose to all of our schedules, our precious time that I've grown accustomed to savoring.

Our mornings are spent getting ready for school. I run to and from 2x/day. Our afternoons are spent in homework. Our evenings are spent rushing to get to bed in time for a good night's sleep before the next early morning. My calendar is full of things to provide and take and prepare and remember for the classrooms. Unlike moms who have all of their kids in school, my daytime hours in between drop off and pick up are spent educating the ones I have home. It leaves me feeling as if I am straddling both worlds, fully able to partake in the benefits of neither.

At the top of the list of reasons I love to homeschool is the lifestyle. We can move along at our own pace. Early mornings need not be rushed. Evenings can be spent in family activities such as games or movies, (even on weeknights!) rather than with homework. Hurry is word that was rarely spoken throughout the course of our day, and now it is one of the most common. Having just 2 kids in school has changed life significantly for all of us.

Meadow and Flint are doing well. So well in fact, that they are not getting any type of additional, specialized assistance. (They are each in the highest reading group in their respective classes. {The highest!}) Much to Bobby and my surprise, they were assessed to have no "special needs." (No, we do not believe that is true as they certainly have many special needs! Apparently, not from an academic perspective as compared to other kids in their grade. But, that's another story...for another day...)

JOTSC miss them. I miss them. It has not helped our bonding the way I thought it would as I have discovered that rushing them through homework is not an entirely endearing endeavor. :-)

Thankful for the opportunity to live and learn, I believe we are about to make a change....

Twas the night before November

And the Deutsch family was adorned in their usual daily attire...