Feeling Creative

Well, actually - feeling like I wish I was creative.  My late nights have left me surfing the internet looking at all the amazing crafting blogs.  I wish so badly that I were capable of coming up with at least one amazing thing.  Instead, I have decided to "borrow" other people's creativity in the hopes that after enough stolen projects are completed I will spark the crafty section of my own brain and be able to contribute at least a tiny bit.

I have such an itch to go to Goodwill and see if something I see there "strikes" me.  I have seen so many amazing things in the wee hours of the night that I think I just may have a chance.  Should be an interesting trip with my babies.  I am sure that the 4 year old will find tons of things that he just has to have.

Wish me luck!!

Here we go again

It seems interestingly odd to me that one of my last posts was about the FirstBorn being in big trouble...and we find ourselves there again.  I got notification via FaceBook of all things, that the boy is now in jail.  I am waiting to hear from Beth, the adoptive mother, sometimes this morning for all the details.  

It's so hard to think that someone that I had a hand in creating has found his way to so much trouble.  I mean, not to say that I blame Beth at all - or even that I am remotely close to perfection as far as parenting goes.  Ask my 4 year old and he will give you a dissertation on how I am not the best mommy.  It's just that I am not a bad person and his birth father, though he has been in trouble himself a time or two, is not a bad person.  I just can't wrap my head around how all of this has happened.  Don't get me wrong - it may appear that I think that FirstBorn is a bad person - that is definitely not the case.  I just can't figure out what has happened to him to have had his life turn out the way it has.  His adoptive parents have been loving and nurturing caretakers - people that I would have loved to have had as parents myself. 

So the question is - what can happen to a person to make their life turn completely in the wrong direction.  I watch Intervention on a regular basis and 9 times out of 10 there is some devastating event that takes place that is the trigger for their addiction.  Could that be the same for FirstBorn?  What was the trigger - the thing that brought on the darkness?  Was it me, my decision to put him up for adoption?  Was it something that he might have done in his head with that information?  I know that I have a propensity to over-analyze almost every interaction that I have with people in my life - actually keeps me from getting to sleep some nights. Could my decision have broken him in some way?

My heart hurts.

The Other Mother

I had a baby boy when I was very young, 17. He was eventually adopted, as I didn’t know what I was doing and had no right testing out on him. He was beautiful. And I have missed him everyday that he has been gone. His adoptive parents and I had created a spoken agreement, of what each of us wanted and needed in order to proceed with the adoption. For a while all things were heeded, but eventually they tapered and then there would be years in between phone calls and letters.

Last year I called. I broke down and called because I couldn’t handle the not knowing any longer. He was in trouble, a lot of trouble. I suppose some would say that might be perceived as a mother’s intuition. Who knows? He was having a lot of behavioral issues, which seemed to coincide with the birth of his adoptive parents’ twin boys; he was 10 at the time. In the years to follow he would have some serious issues in school and at home. I was encouraged by the care in his adoptive mothers voice and candor that they were working on it and were sure that things would get better.

Almost another year went by.

I called.

He was in more trouble, big trouble. The adoptive parents no longer have custody of this boy. He is now “property” of the state in which they live. She provided me with vague details and said that they were trying to get him back – but in the event that they did he would not be able to live in their home. He is currently living in a boy’s home – not a juvenile detention center or anything so severe. But he has no home. He lives with other boys tossed to the side, discarded. Does this make him think that he is without value? His birth mother tossed him aside, and now the people that chose to be his parents, those that chose him over all others – have done the same.

Is he destroyed?

Is he lost?

Is he broken?

Have I created this?

I am destroyed, lost and broken for him.

peanut butter...

I have many books that have been recovered from my very own child hood. These were saved by my mother, after having been shared with a set of cousins and my younger half-sister. I now have these wonderful relics of my youth to share with my son. One of my favorites from the bunch is called A House is A House For Me. It tells of all the great things that can be houses or live in a house. My son and I have pored over this book many, many, many times. So much so that at this point I could recite the entire book to anyone who asked without a second thought. Last night he picked this book for bedtime reading – but he wanted to read it to me, which is a special little treat I get every now and then. Some words come out as they were intended by the author and others sound as if they are in some very complex foreign language I have never been formally introduced to.
After he “read” the book to me he wanted to go through and find out what all the pictures were of. The book has wonderful watercolor images and is jut plain pretty and fun to look at. We came upon some butterflies which he immediately decided were bugs. I chose to gently correct him and let him know that these were actually butterflies. There were about 5 on the two corresponding pages. He repeated the word and seemed comfortable accepting it and we temporarily moved on to name other objects on other pages. Eventually we arrived on the same page with the colorful pretties. He looked at me and said:


Momma, I remember! Pretty peanut butterflies!


I love him like no other.

Reclaiming my mind...kinda

So it’s been a ridiculously long time since I have been here, done this. In the time that I have been gone (not that anyone was keeping track), I have gotten married, celebrated my son’s 2nd birthday, been on a fabulous honeymoon cruise, had a ginormous party to celebrate said wedding and oh, yeah, gotten a wonderful new job (that actually happened prior to all the other things I mentioned).

My son has been growing like a weed and chatting off the ear of anyone in earshot. He has completely mastered the ABC song and is turning into quite the entertainer. He is my absolute joy. All things good and bad in this life of mine are as a result of that one little tiny person.

There are so many more things to share – but I need to reign in all this enthusiasm and organize my thoughts a bit better…but I have returned and am anxious to spew forth all that lives in my tiny little mind!!

Waiting for the sleep to come

How does it work? How does a precious little boy go from sleeping all throughout the night - to deciding that 11:30 is a completely appropriate time to wake up and party? The past few days have been torturous and exhausting. I love the little guy - but let's be serious, I love everyone a lot more with at least 5 hours of sleep. Saturday night I had to sleep on the floor in his room with him. This was initially seen as happy hour. Mommy was hanging out on the floor and she brought some really cool fluffy pillows and a cozy sheet with her. Apparently the most logical thing for the tiny one was to climb on me, pull my hair and show me where my eyes and nose were - just in case I might have forgotten. Once he realized that I wasn't planning on being incredibly "interactive" - he proceeded to find every single toy in the room that made noise - toys I wasn't even aware that we had...and 2am is not when I wanted to make those discoveries.
We had a repeat of such events last night. I let him cry for 20 minutes - 20 long, agonizing and painful minutes. We cuddled for a bit and I think...I'm not terribly clear on this as I am very tired, I think that I got him back to sleep and hour or so later.
Any ideas on why this is happening or how to stop it and allow the sleep to come?

The Amazing! The Incredible! Aidendini!!

I realized just how sneaky little boys are. And how frighteningly so!
Last night after dinner, I put the wee one in his pack-n-play (what a horrible mother!!) so that I could go to the back bedroom and check a few things online. He was quiet - seemingly happy and content. I wasn't back there for more than 10 minutes when I hear footsteps hurriedly coming down the hallway. Let's all keep in mind that I am home alone. Baby Daddy is still off in Illinois. Soo - that was a smidgen frightening all in itself. I see his little red head poking through the door way - totally pleased with himself - as he can tell from my reaction that he has accomplished something fiendishly fantastic.
All the possible scenarios ran through my mind. There was an intruder, a polite intruder, who more than likely came through the front door only to find a very handsome young boy in the living room with arms raised up to be let out of his tiny baby prison.
Or perhaps Aiden had figured out how to push one of the buttons on the side rails and found a way out. I knew there was nothing in there that he could have possibly stepped up onto - so I was bewildered!
I asked if we could hold hands and if he could show me how he got out - as it was a terribly clever thing he had just done. He said "kay" and we walked happily together back into the living room. I put him back in and asked again for him to show mommy how he did it. He proceeded to raise his leg in a way I have not seen anyone do up to the top bar, then used his little bitty arms to push him self up on the bar catty corner to that his leg was on. And *poof* he was up and over in a flash!
Then - I freaked out. After the coffee table debacle - I couldn't stop myself from thinking of all the terrible things that could have happened. His round precious head falling onto the tile floor. What if would have slipped? And I wasn't there! All because I had some disgusting need to check my email 2 hours before he went to bed!
So, I am currently completely disgusted with myself. I am getting closer and closer to making peace with the fact that - I really don't know what I'm doing with all this "mommy" stuff.
God help that poor little boy!