tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-89019426180271968622024-02-21T03:11:42.822-05:00From Russia With LoveSarah Dhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12057416381594446660noreply@blogger.comBlogger583125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8901942618027196862.post-63644058222900345922017-01-30T13:04:00.001-05:002017-01-30T13:04:55.359-05:00Hello 2017 (?!?!) <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Time is flying by at warp speed.<br />
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J is Kindergarten bound and is 5 going on 35. We affectionately call him "Tiny Fidel" or "Baby Mussolini" because he dictates our family with an iron fist. Who knew someone so small could effect the climate of an entire family system? C even bends to his every want and need.<br />
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After 3 months of VPK his teacher remarked on his Kindergarten readiness test that he could go to Kindergarten tomorrow and be successful. He aced the exam short of one question. He didn't know what a Hockey team was. He identified the "team" but didn't understand why a football team would wear silly masks and carry sticks. We live in Florida. Why would he know about Hockey?<br />
He's lost two teeth, which sent me to google "is it normal when a barely 5 year old looses teeth?!?!"<br />
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C is almost 9 years old. We are getting ready to celebrate his 6th (!!!!) Russia day/adoption day! How did this even happen??? 3rd grade has been a real challenge for C. Reading chapter books, taking long tests... These stationary activities do not jive with an ADHD kid. He wants to run, climb, dance, jump... pretty much everything but sit.<br />
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He is so smart. Like, let me take this vacuum cleaner apart and re-assemble it. Let me build this 10,000 piece lego set. We recently visited SC after being gone for over three years. As we drove along he remembered where to turn to get to Walmart. How to get to our old house. (That we still own 4 years later, btw. long story. Someday we may retire to that house) Which is just fine with me. I miss seasons. And the vibe of the South. And our friends. But Florida has grown on me. We're settled here. We have lovely friends and a great church. We're slowly hitting our stride. It's nice to drive a few hours and be with family instead of a full day of driving. The boys get to KNOW their grandparents. We're not just twice a year visitors.<br />
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And we get to go to Disney. A LOT. It's kinda our thing. ;)<br />
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Both boys are happy, healthy and thriving. Mom and Dad are just along for the ride. We were married 17 years this month. I've know Chad longer than I haven't known him. He is the love of my life. It's nice to know we'll be together forever. We still get along. Laugh at each others silliness and/or awkwardness. And in our house, there is plenty of that to go around.<br />
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Big C has gone back to school for his masters. We have a contest every semester of who in the family can get better grades. So far, its a tie. His youth group saw a lot of challenges this year with a death of one of our students. 2016 was a hard year for the kids.<br />
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I'm still working at the church part time in children's ministry, planning MOPS (Mothers of Preschoolers) and leading ladies group. And laundry. So much laundry. <br />
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So, talk to you again in a year? Probably not joking.....<br />
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Sarah Dhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12057416381594446660noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8901942618027196862.post-23315221907121875352015-10-06T13:39:00.000-04:002015-10-06T13:45:00.531-04:00Unbroken<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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I wrote this devotional for our mom's group and thought I would share the ramblings of my heart. </div>
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<b><u><span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial;">Ecclesiastes</span></u></b><span class="reftext"><b><u> 4:</u></b></span><a href="http://biblehub.com/ecclesiastes/4-9.htm"><b><span style="color: windowtext;">9</span></b></a><span class="reftext"><b><u>-12 <o:p></o:p></u></b></span></div>
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<span style="color: #001320;">Two are better than one, because they have a good return for
their labor:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #001320;">If either of them falls down, one can help the other up.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #001320;">But pity anyone who falls and has no one to help them up.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #001320;">Also, if two lie down together, they will keep warm.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #001320;">But how can one keep warm alone?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #001320;">Though one may be overpowered, two can defend themselves.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #001320;">A cord of three strands is not quickly broken.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #001320;">During service our Pastor spoke about the fear of loneliness. He said that
loneliness is an epidemic that effects 60 million Americans. I immediately
leaned over to Chad and said “I have the opposite problem- I want to be alone
and no one ever leaves me alone” He looked a little hurt and I immediately
retracted- “I want to be alone with you….I mean….I mean…just away from being
someone’s mom, just for a night. I mean….” And then I laughed nervously and
said just kidding. So that got me thinking about my knee jerk reaction, as a
mom, am I actually really lonely?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #001320;">I have found motherhood to be the conundrum of loneliness. You
have no choice but to be surrounded by
people at all times. One of my facebook friends posted “I use to want it all
and now I just want to go to the bathroom alone.” How many times have you heard
your name called in the last 24 hours? You are the least lonely person on the
planet. You are wanted, loved and needed 24 hours a day, 7 days a week, 365
days a year…Yet….motherhood is lonely. Isolating. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #001320;">We isolate ourselves with these restless natives we call our
children. A lot of times instead of going to church it’s just easier to stay
home. Think about tonight. How many schedules did you tweak, adjust and
rearrange just to get here? Sometimes its just easier to be alone. I remember
speaking of my fellow adoptive moms after her son came home from Russia. She
had to stop going to her mom’s play date group because of some of his
undesirable behaviors. I remember her saying that she felt the other moms were
judging her because of his aggressiveness. Were they judging her? Maybe. Was
she just isolating herself because she felt inadequate? Most likely. We get
broken in our loneliness. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #001320;">Lets go back to our bible verse. A cord of three is not easily
broken. By being here tonight you are reinforcing that cord. Binding together
with other moms breaks the feeling of loneliness. More specifically, binding
together with non-judgmental moms that have walked this path before or are
walking the exact same path now breaks the cycle of loneliness. Moms that have
survived epic public meltdowns, teenagers flunking out of school, getting mixed
up in the wrong crowd, first dates, first heartbreaks, potty training. Seeking
support and (solicited!) advice fortifies our lifelines. Furthermore, taking
time for yourself and enjoying self-inflicted solitude (what I was poorly
conveying to my husband) is a good thing too. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #001320;">Most importantly, that cord is three fold. You, your support
system (hopefully that will be Re:Fresh) and first and foremost with Christ. He
is the thread that holds us together when we are stretched to the breaking
point. He is our grace when we feel like we are failing as a parent. He is our
joy when we are running late, can’t find anyone’s shoes and someone spills
grape juice on the carpet. He is our comfort when we just want to cry. He’s the
one at the end of an exhausting day you can run to with your burdens and
shortcomings. He is the one cheering you on at the finish line when it’s all
said and done saying “Well done my good and faithful servant”. Well done my
good and faithful MOM servant. I know you. You are the one with the cold dinner. The one folding a mountain of laundry. The one cleaning up the barf. From the kids, the dog, everyone. You are the one on your knees at 2am praying for a son that has turned his back on the church. You are the one going without so that your kids are happy and healthy. Your husband left so you are mom and dad. You are the one that doesn't know where the next meal is coming from, but there it is being served on your table. You are the one praying feverishly for your children, your spouse. I know you. And I love you. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #001320;">So maybe you’re feeling lonely while puzzling over the fact that
you are NEVER, EVER alone. Take courage mom, and walk away tonight knowing you
are never alone. We are here to pick you up and most importantly, Christ is here
eternally to forge a precious thread that will never be broken. <span style="font-size: 14pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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Sarah Dhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12057416381594446660noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8901942618027196862.post-26161412079921225152015-07-07T11:12:00.001-04:002015-07-07T11:12:29.605-04:00Heyyy!!!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I just gave someone my blog address for "light" adoption reading. I noticed that it's sadly out of date and depressing.<br />
If it were a house it would say "Keep Out" and have broken windows and weeds growing all over it.<br />
But I don't think people read blogs anymore....<br />
But I will never pull the plug on it till someone pries it from my dead lifeless fingers. It's my excuse for not keeping baby books, that and its a perfect little time capsule of our stories. Where we shouted from the rooftops when we met Charlie and whispered in the darkness when we thought we lost him. Where we experienced an earthquake and learned of a baby brother. It's sadness and perfection all rolled up into 581 ramblings of this crazy woman who is now crazier with a seven and three year old in the house.<br />
So, hello blogsphere. I'm just checking in!<br />
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Sarah Dhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12057416381594446660noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8901942618027196862.post-20503595572154078532014-09-06T22:48:00.000-04:002015-07-07T11:15:20.828-04:00Build a Bear Workshop<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Well since I have KIDS I qualified for an awesome treat from Build a Bear Workshop! Recently I joined an awesome site called Smiley 360. Where you "qualify" for missions to test free products. And by qualifying I mean they make sure if you're testing cat food you actually have cats and things like that.We got to go and make a new Super Hero Bear for free! How cool is that? Of course, big brother could not bring himself to adhere to the rules, so he insisted on an Army Guy bear. Well, since we were paying for his- I figured I'd let it slide. But it ended up being soooo cute!<br />
If you'd like to sign up for Smiley 360 follow the link <a href="http://h5.sml360.com/-/3ksd" target="_blank">HERE</a> and do it! It's free and I've gotten to test some pretty cool things- soccer equipment, beauty products, cleaning supplies, medication, vitamins....anyway.... I think this free gift from Build a Bear takes the cake!<br />
Oh and <a href="http://h5.sml360.com/-/3kre" target="_blank">HERE</a> is a coupon for $5 off $25 they're sharing with you! Yay!<br />
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Sarah Dhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12057416381594446660noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8901942618027196862.post-46301673754379884042014-06-04T13:50:00.000-04:002014-06-04T13:50:04.538-04:00Well this is embarrassing....<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I've been MIA since February. In my defense, February was like 5 seconds ago. Now it's June. Ooops. I keep thinking I need to pull the plug on this little blog. But I.JUST.CANT.DO.IT.<br />
It's like a documentation of parenthood and the beginning of something monumental and I just can't bring myself to hit the delete button. So here I am, limping along.<br />
Since February I've finished up work in the special needs middle school for the summer. Jack has "graduated" nursery school, Charlie has passed Kindergarten! My silent little Russian that barely uttered a sound until his third birthday is now reading books at grade level. <br />
He turned six in March and we "tricked" him into staying at a Disney Hotel for his birthday instead of having a lame "friend party" Hahaha. He had so much fun he said he wanted to do it every year. Parent score. Is it just me or is there nothing worse than a kids birthday party? <br />
Chad is starting the next step in his ministry and has begun candidacy in the United Methodist Church. We have a four year plan. I like plans. They make me feel all warm and fuzzy inside. <br />
Last week Jack woke up screaming in pain from his nap, clutching the back of his head, arching his back absolutely howling. Of course we rush him to the emergency room. There is something about taking your 2.5 year olds clothes off and replacing it with a tiny hospital gown that makes a parent die inside. Nothing else matters but finding out what is wrong and praying to God that it can be fixed.<br />
One minute your planning dinner, the next minute your watching your baby move in and out of a CT machine. It was a nice little reminder that life is so, so, so, so fragile and we take so much for granted. Turns out he had a severe stiff neck. Three days later, he's still nursing it along. But praise God, it was fixed.<br />
Ok, since I probably won't update this blog until October...lets just be honest here....Here's whats on the horizon for us this summer:<br />
E the Intern (Chad's ministry intern) is living in an RV in our driveway. It's a really nice RV, so we're still one step above the Beverly Hillbillies.<br />
Chad will be gone most of the summer so we're planning lots of fun trips and visits to the Grands.<br />
My sister is getting married and I am the Chief Bridesmaid (I cannot be called a "Matron" under any circumstance) The boys are supposedly bearing the rings. We'll see about that.<br />
I've convinced Chad into taking a cruise with me. It was really hard to talk him into taking a kid free trip full of sleeping, eating and island hopping. NOT!<br />
Now....here are some super cute pictures to apologize for not updating the blog as I should.<br />
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Sarah Dhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12057416381594446660noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8901942618027196862.post-19244348615077546252014-02-21T16:10:00.002-05:002014-02-21T16:10:42.329-05:002012 Photo Book<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
When I stopped scrapbooking, I told myself that I'd just create one nice photobook a year. Riiiight.....So, here we are in 2014 and I've finally managed to finish 2012. Better late than never, right? But it is really nice to look back and see how much they've grown!<br />
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Sarah Dhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12057416381594446660noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8901942618027196862.post-31930970637218602582014-02-07T20:58:00.000-05:002014-02-07T20:58:00.709-05:00Three Years! <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Time goes by in such a blur....I can't believe three years ago we were FINALLY liberating our tiny little boy from his orphanage.<br />
Yuri picked us up in his yellow bus for the last grueling ride to Idritsa, down snowy roads and through abandoned towns. If I think about it, I can still feel my frozen feet against the floor, the psychedelic van seat coverings, the strange smell of the wiper fluid de-icing the cracked windshield. The soft murmur of Russian talk radio on his radio.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzZw81xime3ZF90qA7feSS8-Q9pSIefiAHmE3xw4lexeWKwgKqk9Nj51aBNWzCKERovHzB92PiHSsKRJ5MAeXGd0byHYhhTEZJ4MByeakpuGmqXyPTcyruv_3loIGnQJ27qyFpjL9uyH9f/s1600/Taxi.2.Court.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzZw81xime3ZF90qA7feSS8-Q9pSIefiAHmE3xw4lexeWKwgKqk9Nj51aBNWzCKERovHzB92PiHSsKRJ5MAeXGd0byHYhhTEZJ4MByeakpuGmqXyPTcyruv_3loIGnQJ27qyFpjL9uyH9f/s1600/Taxi.2.Court.JPG" height="320" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Yuri's Bus</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkhm2MurxeBNwyMvwyYME79HQVcpGDF1UKpr4n3lmhzQwEpjC3x-BtP1KQN8bbgAuGF6kWM962uwiavIV397KeRTKD40pOug1I2XOqtRxwXXnA_TVtU4u7TWkCcOF__b39l_katjei874p/s1600/Van.Seat.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkhm2MurxeBNwyMvwyYME79HQVcpGDF1UKpr4n3lmhzQwEpjC3x-BtP1KQN8bbgAuGF6kWM962uwiavIV397KeRTKD40pOug1I2XOqtRxwXXnA_TVtU4u7TWkCcOF__b39l_katjei874p/s1600/Van.Seat.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I spent a lot of time looking at these seats!</td></tr>
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For two years we had dreamed about this moment. For two weeks we had driven 2 1/2 hours each way to visit this shy little fellow who couldn't stand to be in the same room as us. We were unwelcome in his life and he made sure we knew that at every opportunity. We were so afraid that he would never warm to us. That we would always be strangers and never "Mama" and "Papa".<br />
On the afternoon of February 7, 2011 the ladies charged with his care, ushered us into the "visiting room" and began to strip him naked. He was brought into that place with nothing and would leave with nothing. With lightning speed, they placed the three layers of clothes we brought on him. Six hands at once, pulling, lacing, tying him into his homecoming attire. One woman frowned and asked if that was all we brought. I'm convinced that in Russia, no matter how many layers you have on its one too few in the eyes of the Babushkas.<br />
He was ushered downstairs to Dr. Anna's office. Dr. Anna who had known him since he was three months old, Dr. Anna who was the closest thing to a mother that he had known in his three short years. She knelt beside him and looked him in the eye. She started telling him where he was going and that he needed to "be a good boy for his Mama and Papa". I wondered how many times she had given this speech and if she felt any particular fondness to Charlie above all the others.<br />
She was the only one that held the keys to his past. When we had first met almost a year prior on our first visit, she recited dates and milestones without ever referencing his file in her hands. She told us how his birthmother had made a treacherous journey (much as we did while visiting) roughly every 6 months to "refresh" her relinquishment. Anna said she wanted to make sure there was no question that he needed a family. She didn't want a technicality to stand in the way of Charlie's eligibility on the database. That speaks volumes to me about her love for Charlie. When his birthmother learned of the fact Charlie would be adopted by Americans, she updated her relinquishment that she felt this was in his best interest. When the Russian adoption world seemed to be against the Americans, his birthmother did everything in her power to squelch any doubt that living in the United States with a mother and father was the best possible thing that could happen to the son she had given birth to.<br />
Dr. Anna gave him one last piece of Russian chocolate (his favorite kind) and sent us on our way. Charlie crying, the good doctor crying, all the ladies crying (accept that big cranky one) and us.....looking at each other like "Are they REALLY going to let us leave with him? What's the catch?" I promise you, until we touched down on American soil, I just KNEW someone was going to re-neg and come chasing us down to take him back.<br />
We loaded that crying baby into Yuri's van and he clung tightly to me for the first time. He only cried until we left the gravel driveway and then fell promptly asleep on my chest.<br />
In that moment, I became a mom. Wow.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuJ8Q_xv75NXHezeqnH3krtS81xIHKQZCLhTAzglAIRg5UdLHClPIWqp03Ha8YyHcKCvLP2NGQCKri06paqGOEmHlR5WWhcmNXq8ljpW-3HYyAe9SRbCV6mzbwzLr5XscG7uanNnHFTBFn/s1600/DSCN3001.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuJ8Q_xv75NXHezeqnH3krtS81xIHKQZCLhTAzglAIRg5UdLHClPIWqp03Ha8YyHcKCvLP2NGQCKri06paqGOEmHlR5WWhcmNXq8ljpW-3HYyAe9SRbCV6mzbwzLr5XscG7uanNnHFTBFn/s1600/DSCN3001.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Be a good boy.....</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLXgGDLEpUC2CUBTz4GQCj_Ia2Rf2mh_oERBmQwf509TtNjcvQ_TOOGK407Y9nOowRyP72C_IZmtuBKNG3GAKTx7VQhwYQoquT0jC0usRTxnjS2PFBNI5l9wSxMO6c_ytuckcz4z-swZkm/s1600/DSCN3002.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLXgGDLEpUC2CUBTz4GQCj_Ia2Rf2mh_oERBmQwf509TtNjcvQ_TOOGK407Y9nOowRyP72C_IZmtuBKNG3GAKTx7VQhwYQoquT0jC0usRTxnjS2PFBNI5l9wSxMO6c_ytuckcz4z-swZkm/s1600/DSCN3002.JPG" height="320" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">One last goodbye....</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjruT1IsOMXsb5rPRuhv5Ochisw29E39MjQHBAaeCNomxR2-PW7H4VyXLUgoMU2exT3YSiIbBQjgmJhLCHKXPP-F5a6MrXVDXHxvSy4XgbGXgQkXU83Ek9lRPM55szmzf9frxPGGXAnjlZg/s1600/DSCN2870.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjruT1IsOMXsb5rPRuhv5Ochisw29E39MjQHBAaeCNomxR2-PW7H4VyXLUgoMU2exT3YSiIbBQjgmJhLCHKXPP-F5a6MrXVDXHxvSy4XgbGXgQkXU83Ek9lRPM55szmzf9frxPGGXAnjlZg/s1600/DSCN2870.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our Boy!</td></tr>
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Sarah Dhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12057416381594446660noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8901942618027196862.post-29308366202689194602014-01-20T21:37:00.000-05:002014-01-20T21:37:12.647-05:00Goodbye again...<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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I'm not much of a heirloom/materialistic kind of person. Maybe it's because I don't own very many old or nice things.<br />
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But THE CRIB is a different story. In our family history it has become a bit of a life all its own. It's one of those things we own that tells a magnificent story.<br />
It all started when we thought we needed a crib for the child in Russia we knew nothing about. We just assumed he or she was little and they would need a crib. So after hours of crib shopping we purchased a lovely one. Then the store closed in bankruptcy and we lost our crib and our money for a while. Little did we know that NOTHING about this adoption would be easy, straightforward or simple. <br />
So we found a new one, a beautiful one and crammed it onto our car because we were too afraid to order another one and asked for the floor model. The pictures are quite amusing. See <a href="http://fromrussiawithlove2009.blogspot.com/2009/06/have-crib-will-travel.html" target="_blank">HERE</a><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5352802258794115762" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitPypXhSjNKd9WEotun5pbg66EtyUJJCMJQeVs5M9mRODn_jA3JnoB000GXt5qsxZk_oG34oLjgcyzdw3xBw3IiMCeRP6g4rctc1BessUXm2PtInfB_Yr3m3HZ4fjaxZ0EZgnMWk7vHvLL/s320/DSCN1038.JPG" style="height: 240px; margin: 0px auto 10px; width: 320px;" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The loading of the crib</td></tr>
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Then we met this precious little fellow named Charlie who would actually need a crib. We happen to have one waiting for him.<br />
Then joy turned to sorrow as our little boy outgrew his crib as the adoption freeze set into a hard freeze. Our agency told us to move on. We feared that we would never need a rock him to sleep and place him in that crib.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5371835647933432402" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMxIZfCDFLEYSS1Gx9dDRTZmlwuTaiGSeL8YfSP8MXF0EJeMeETf-6wHd1oDnCAa5i362AHwLGXs2wbUy8lZCT50Dphqhk2f7vI2qIXus2MGa9jqR9PHEC0zA9NWWLqrnfzLdstVqss5js/s320/Picture+226.jpg" style="height: 240px; margin: 0px auto 10px; width: 320px;" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Here she is....just waiting for a little person</td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUWGTDi1tMviK49IxlyrhMOoDfLzAOjip0vBPx5iJc8v-8a3TZfUcQGngxmIFU5GdU32KwjjhCLhGsm1r-INXc8R7av5ghWbmr8f00O6953XmJHYcUqZ70GeagYyQsl9Wqaktjy_4HSueR/s1600/DSCN2023.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUWGTDi1tMviK49IxlyrhMOoDfLzAOjip0vBPx5iJc8v-8a3TZfUcQGngxmIFU5GdU32KwjjhCLhGsm1r-INXc8R7av5ghWbmr8f00O6953XmJHYcUqZ70GeagYyQsl9Wqaktjy_4HSueR/s320/DSCN2023.JPG" /></a>The door to the nursery remained tightly shut. The thought of that beautiful crib brought many a tear to my eye.<br />
Then we did what any stubborn, pig-headed crazy people would do. We dug in our heels. We knew Charlie had outgrew his crib without us in Russia. So we tore that gorgeous crib down and built a new bed for our growing boy, that come hell or high water, WOULD need a bed at <strike>our </strike>his house. <br />
Eventually, we know that after a LONG year of waiting we were invited back to Russia to pick up our three year old boy. No crib needed.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_OXJErK2I8_JG01EeDs7VBLTnDyCYGyRwDAwdeyijHpdOCMi4QKXIPKWDic84bf6sodQAMwlzQkCVEkeiMb3Yp-RWmamhxKkSjjghcdeF_pHV3iqXSa4BIz5jkJtlhr7YFOxfx16-d7lj/s320/20111015_15.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="320" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The crib lives again!</td></tr>
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But the story wasn't over quite yet. I understand that our God is a redemptive God, but I would like to think that He is also in the little things. Would that crib be a sad reminder of a lost year in an orphanage? A silly purchase for something that was never meant to be?<br />
Absolutely not. God had something else in mind the entire time. We all know how that turned out. <br />
This week was a bittersweet day in the Deetz house. Jack has learned how to escape the crib. So, it was time....the crib had to go....again. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdzZKT4tvs_8sv8Tpo6VKpEQeKcALfrGQ8B5tSVVyfRil5MZZwb8EzdBAU50dCoghWHCS2OuIvO-p3ra5Q4ZTbysdHZ7bvMBP-POU_UV-41QmUVf8SR1QH-JLIB7QQFHqPCLSatWBK6D_E/s1600/1173701_10202064992339931_1142503743_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdzZKT4tvs_8sv8Tpo6VKpEQeKcALfrGQ8B5tSVVyfRil5MZZwb8EzdBAU50dCoghWHCS2OuIvO-p3ra5Q4ZTbysdHZ7bvMBP-POU_UV-41QmUVf8SR1QH-JLIB7QQFHqPCLSatWBK6D_E/s1600/1173701_10202064992339931_1142503743_n.jpg" height="320" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Goodbye again, sweet crib</td></tr>
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It's funny how a piece of furniture can tell such a story. Someday I hope that our boys can use it for one (or more) of their children. I hope that it will always be a reminder of God's redemption in our lives.<br />
P.S.- As I was getting this blog post ready to go, we got news of a family really needing a crib. So I didn't hesitate to loan it out for a few years. After all, that's what this crib is all about. It wouldn't know what to do without a little miracle nestled all snug inside. <br />
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Sarah Dhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12057416381594446660noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8901942618027196862.post-18010120384694676202013-12-27T13:20:00.000-05:002013-12-27T13:20:00.726-05:001,055 Days<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" class="spotlight" height="150" src="https://scontent-b-mia.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-prn1/44491_1461330826843_8083578_n.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="200" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Idritsa Orphange</td></tr>
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For 1,054 days my sweet boy lived here. Third floor, in a room with 16 other children. Children came and went, I'm not sure how frequently. Nurses and caregivers came and went. Days were spent looking at four walls, a small playground (weather permitting) and hallways illustrated with paintings attempting cheerfulness. <br />
The ladies that cared for him did the best they could. Clothes were shared, shoes were shared. Laps to cuddle in were few and far between. There just simply wasn't enough. Not enough diapers. Not enough food. Not enough time in the day to give that many children the attention they needed. Not enough hugs and kisses to go around.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Writing Home from Russia </td></tr>
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Looking out of those lacy curtains, my sweet boy spent 1,054 days of his little life.<br />
Today is a happy day for us, the day we "tip the scale" of orphanage life. Our 1,055 day together. Home. With a family. Where, praise God, there is always enough. Enough food, enough hugs, enough kisses, enough encouragement. And talking, constant talking....No longer is the world made up of four walls. A world of church, of home, of community. A world with a giant ocean for swimming in, a never ending parade of grandparents and gifts. A world filled with movie theaters, theme parks and camp-outs. A world with discovery and learning. A world that is explored everyday by a chatterbox wild-child with a memory like a steel trap.<br />
I recently asked him if he remembered Russia. He said "I remember when you were there with me". I asked him "You mean when we met you? When we brought you home?" He replied, quite offended "No, when you lived there with me" Sadly, I told him we never lived there with him. He looked at me in disbelief. Then he shrugged and said "I guess you were just looking for me, but it felt like you were there the whole time" It was a profound statement to me, but he chased it with "What are we having for dinner?"<br />
Then I realized I was with him the whole time. For 1,054 days I was longing for him and waiting for God to make a way for a child to be born. I was praying and seeking and waiting....Little did I know that a child was waiting, across the ocean for me.<br />
Whenever I feel angry about the 1,054 Charlie spent waiting for a family, I can't help but think that God's timing is always perfect. That He was setting into motion the perfect plan for both of our lives. That while I was staring at the ink dots He was painting a masterpiece. Our red thread, though it twisted and tangled, was never broken.<br />
And I can't imagine these last 1,055 days without him in it.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Thanksgiving 2013</td></tr>
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Sarah Dhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12057416381594446660noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8901942618027196862.post-12636294763694024342013-11-16T23:52:00.000-05:002013-11-17T20:40:21.843-05:00I hate Elf on the Shelf and 86 other reasons why I am a bad parent<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<a href="http://media-cache-ec0.pinimg.com/736x/2b/a5/7f/2ba57f23ccb318426557893f06edc802.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" border="0" height="320" id="yui_3_5_1_5_1384659109526_827" src="http://media-cache-ec0.pinimg.com/736x/2b/a5/7f/2ba57f23ccb318426557893f06edc802.jpg" style="height: 466px; width: 350px;" width="240" /></a>Recently I was wasting time on Facebook instead of doing laundry (#36 of why I am a bad parent) and came across a PDF calendar of someone's Elf on the Shelf's planned adventures. As in, like a day by day outline of where their elf would magically appear to spread Christmas cheer to their children. If you don't know about Elf on the Shelf, you've been living under a rock and you can read about it <a href="http://www.elfontheshelf.com/" target="_blank">HERE. </a><br />
My personal favorite was the day suggesting I should make a dozen tiny donuts out of cheerios and fashion a tiny take out box for my elf and pose him in a model to scale version of Krispie-Kreme Donut shop complete with a real working conveyor and those tiny paper hats. (Ok, I made up the part about the donut store...) But still, really? Please keep in mind that this calendar was also published on NOVEMBER 16th. Our Elf is going to need a search and rescue party to dig him out of the Christmas Decorations about a week into December. <br />
Don't get me wrong, on week number one of the elf, I was excited to move him about the house and watch Charlie's surprise every morning to see where Chippy could be. I simply moved him from one perch to the next in our house. Then Pinterest happened.<br />
I saw pictures of other elves hang gliding from the ceiling on their parents underwear. I saw Elves spelling out words in m&m's and growing forests of lollipop trees. I'm not too proud to say I bought into this irrational behavior for several weeks. Chippy dyed our milk green and took a bath in a tiny tub with marshmallow bubbles. But soon, the magic wore off and my true self emerged. <br />
Enter reason #47 I am a bad parent. When my kids go to bed I don't even like to get up to go the bathroom. I want to sit. Like I've never sat before. Every night I almost shed a tear when I have to pack lunches or put clothes in the laundry not much less build a house of cards and balance a stupid elf on top of it. There I said it. <br />
Some people may argue that it takes focus off Christ at Christmas. For me, that's just not it. If that were the case then we need to throw 97% of our Christmas traditions right out the window, including presents. <br />
I guess in the long run it comes down to this for me. Why all the pressure? Especially at a time of year that is the pressure cooker of seasons.<br />
Mom, I am talking to you right now. Let it go. If you want to Elf, by all means, Elf your heart out. Just don't buy into all the hype. Forgive yourself if you have to smuggle the elf under your shirt at the breakfast table and toss him haphazardly onto the ceiling fan of the next room because you forgot to move him from the night before. (Yes, I speak from experience, Reason #59) Get off Pinterest and sit on that couch after 8pm like no one has ever sat on that couch before. Especially at Christmas time. Spend those last 10 minutes of the night reading an extra book to your kids instead of creating a paper snowflake forest for your elf to frolic through. It's just not worth it. Some of the best memories are not the things that we over-design in an effort to make us feel like we are making memories, but the memories that just happen through our presence with our kids.<br />
So this year will we be Elfing? Yes, I suppose so. Will I be making tiny cereal pastries complete with chocolate glaze and sprinkles? Heck no. Chippy's calendar will look something like this:<br />
Day 1: Hang off the ceiling fan. Day 2: Sit on top of the table Day #3....You get the picture. I have to go. My couch is calling.</div>
Sarah Dhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12057416381594446660noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8901942618027196862.post-86699967114846197332013-11-13T14:50:00.001-05:002013-11-13T14:50:25.471-05:00Happy Birthday Jack Jack!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<br /><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dwwCk1j9SWJARMosW6-M8yQ-DXyfAH7Ud1sQanyjPe85lJilkUW0Gy30DlNKx4UuDmR_zG9JfcziKl8SMoFkQ' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>
It's hard to believe this little bundle of joy came into our lives two years ago. Our little Jack Jack was once a quiet, tiny peanut. Two years later he's currently requesting "chocolate milk in the round and round (microwave) and fruit snacks. He's running, jumping, climbing and knows every animal sound under the sun. He can count to 13.... When you ask him where he wants to go he simply replies "Mickey!" because he loves Disney World as much as his Mama. <br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mama holding you for the first time</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Going home from the hospital</td></tr>
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He wants to watch Sing Songs on TV and sometimes will even specifically request the episode- "Big Feet" or "Peek-a-Boo", but mostly Mickey Mouse Clubhouse. He tries to keep up with everything his big brother does. That includes tree climbing and power-wheel driving. His favorite foods (other than fruit snacks and shock-o-late) is spaghetti, pizza, french fries and hot dogs- hold the bun. He can operate an iPad with the best of them. He's one busy guy. <br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">So precious</td></tr>
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We love you Jack and are so blessed to be raising such a hilarious, sweet and brilliant little guy. </div>
Sarah Dhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12057416381594446660noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8901942618027196862.post-40458131794276164732013-11-05T23:10:00.002-05:002013-11-05T23:10:20.148-05:00Wonderfully chaotic<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I know...I know....it's been too long again. But it's like life is stuck on fast forward and I can't get a break. It's just whizzing by and around me and I can't get off the ride. Well, I could, but then I think the house would literally fall down around me. So, for the three readers out there that actually still think this blog exists here is a brief recap:<br />
I've been thinking about taking up yoga or drinking or at least a multivitamin regimen. I need some zen people.These boys are buck wild. Does anyone else's kids NOT play with toys? My kids NEVER touch a single toy. Well, I take it back we have these two play swords and they play with those because with the swords they can run and jump and climb the furniture WHILE stabbing each other with plastic swords. But anything else? Nope. Just running, jumping, screaming, climbing and destroying the house. On days we can't play outside it's literally like a nuclear bomb filled with confetti, dirty socks, old cups of juice, and torn book pages fill every crevice of the tiny rental house. Which brings me to my next point.<br />
We haven't sold the freaking house. 242 days on the market and not a single nibble. You can imagine the havoc this is recking on our finances. When I pay our mortgage every month I vomit a little in my mouth. <a href="http://www.zillow.com/homedetails/497-Brighton-Woods-Dr-Moore-SC-29369/11811467_zpid/" target="_blank">HERE</a> is the link in case you want to buy it. I'm holding my breath.<br />
On a lighter, more positive note, Charlie has been doing great academically in school. According to his report card he is "at age level" in Language (!!!!!) and math. Which is so exciting. He is really making some wonderful strides in his studies and in speech. Socially, he gets in trouble almost everyday because he CAN'T.STOP.TALKING. Which is quite ironic considering the baby child didn't speak a word for the first three years of life. His teacher complained about his talking and I plainly told her I couldn't be happier that he talks all the time. She looked at me like I had three heads. He's just making up for lost time :)<br />
Jack is turning 2 this coming weekend. I can't believe he is two. With Jack we are raising one hilarious kid. His sense of humor is out of this world. Who knew a baby could be sarcastic and tell a story just to get a laugh. When I ask him how his school day went he tells me everyday his teacher bites him. Then he laughs. We told him he needed to start pooping in the potty (because he's starting to tell us <i>while</i> mid poop) and he responded to our request by saying "Uuuuhhhh....not today" What 23 month old says "Not today?" He makes me laugh everyday, that is when I'm not pulling my hair out at his antics. Stripping off his clothes, peeing on the floor, biting, hitting, throwing temper tantrums, telling me to "hurry!!!" or "Go Mama!!!" when sitting at red lights or talking to another adult....grrrr.....<br />
So, life in a nutshell has been absolutely chaotic. Wonderfully chaotic. But that doesn't make me any less tired or looking all old and haggish (is haggish a word??)<br />
On that note...I'm going to bed. <br />
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Sarah Dhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12057416381594446660noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8901942618027196862.post-33016303051430288782013-10-02T22:39:00.001-04:002013-10-02T22:39:56.732-04:00Lions vs. It<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<img class="rg_i" data-src="https://encrypted-tbn0.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcS7TU0GxwQdSb76rbB7oP-OaoDEqDGzwenrBDk0V8NVGTZd_BRf" data-sz="f" name="J3-gCvooPAtAVM:" src="https://encrypted-tbn0.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcS7TU0GxwQdSb76rbB7oP-OaoDEqDGzwenrBDk0V8NVGTZd_BRf" style="height: 168px; margin-left: -2px; margin-right: -3px; margin-top: 0px; width: 300px;" />Tonight as we're loading up the car leaving church my darling husband, who is driving separately, says to Charlie, why don't you tell Mama about the lions! And promptly shuts the door.<br />
Please keep in mind at this point I've:<br />
Awoke with the chickens, opened the school, worked all day, brought Jack home from daycare, chased him around, packed dinner, drove back across town, went to church, chased other people's kids around. I just wanted to turn on the magical DVD player and zone out for the 30 minute drive home. <br />
I digress, the lions. <br />
Charlie informs me he has checked out a new "chapter book" (his phrase, not mine) about lions. Then he launches into a 30 minute (I kid you not) dissertation about lions. <br />
Mama, did you know lions eat food with BLOOD in it? You know why? They can't cook their food because they don't have kitchens so they have to just eat the blood with the meat.<br />
If the zebra ate a chicken before the lion caught it, then the lion gets to eat the bloody zebra <i>and</i> the chicken! (uhhhh....ok)<br />
Mama, did you know only two boy lions are allowed in the Pride? A pride is a family of lions, but the only boys are the lion king and the uncle, the rest are "lady lions". The other boy lions have to fight to be the king and if he wins he eats the babies because he only wants his own baby cubs, they're called cubs mom, that's what they're called (holy crap....) <br />
He proceeds to tell me about how baby cubs like to snuggle with their moms, they are good jumpers, they like eating meat and blood (we covered that several times....) about their teeth, claws, sleeping habits, on...and on...and on.....<br />
I ask him "Charlie, how do you know all of this? Did the teacher read you this book?" No.<br />
"How do you know so much about lions?"<br />
Mooom... I read the book myself when I looked at the pictures, that's how I know about the blood. And the rest I learned on Wild Kratts (yeah PBS!) Papa told me that lions don't have kitchens, and the rest I figured out on my own. <img class="rg_i" data-sz="f" name="hK0VJ8Pw-lGpKM:" 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" 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Whew. After all of this can someone please tell me why my kid can't remember the word "it" on his flashcards, but is practically the lion whisperer. Someone, anyone?</div>
Sarah Dhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12057416381594446660noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8901942618027196862.post-45809474898568899352013-09-29T09:00:00.000-04:002013-09-29T09:00:05.305-04:00What NOT to say to adoptive parents<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I feel as if I've visited this topic before, but it's worth repeating. I've made a handy dandy list of things NOT to say to an adoptive parent. If you utter these words to an adoptive parent, this is what will happen to you: We will blog about you (see...it's happening right now!) We will forget that you make an excellent holiday cheese ball, wished us happy birthday that one time, or let us borrow a Kleenex when our kid had chocolate running down their face. You will forever be known as the idiot that asked <i>that.</i> Adoptive parents are like this sisterhood of families that have beat the odds. We stick together. We have this crazy support group. I am part of an adoption forum that has over 1,000 members. We chat, we meet face to face when possible, we swap stories daily about "You won't believe what my cousin's next door neighbor said about my son". Anyway, the list.<br />
Please print this out and carry it in your pocket for future reference.<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><b>1- How much did he cost?</b></span> Lets just put it this way....you asking me that is exactly like me asking you how much your lady parts hurt after giving birth to your child. It's private, personal, and just plain rude. Is adoption unnecessarily expensive? Yes. Would I pay every penny again in a heartbeat? Yes. In the International adoption scene, I considered it ransom. But my kid is not a car. He did not come with a price tag. My response to this question? He was free. It was the shipping and handling that was out of this world. <br />
<b><span style="font-size: large;">2- Do you know anything about his REAL mom?</span></b> Yes. She is 5'8 and has dark brown hair, green eyes. She loves to cook, play ridiculous games on her iPhone and read books. I look at her everyday in the mirror. Last time I checked real moms clean up vomit, fight their way through homework, wipe butts, noses and whatever else needs wiping. We cook, we clean, we hug, we kiss. We stay up late and do it all again the next day. Like Coca-Cola, I'm the real thing baby.<br />
<b><span style="font-size: large;">3- Now that you've adopted, you know what's going to happen right? You're going to get pregnant!</span></b> I thought about making this #1 because it is so vile. But I'm lazy in the cut/paste department. My favorite time this statement was made to me was at my OB/GYN office. BY MY DOCTOR!!! We had been through the fertility junk with her. Then we stopped and decided to adopt. A year later, I told her we were pursuing adoption. Then she uttered those fatal words. I almost fell off the table. You've learned to smile and nod when the friends, family, neighbors, church people say this. But a fertility doctor??? Come on. Finalizing an adoption doesn't make my ovaries kick into hyper drive. Everyone know a friends, sister's aunt that this happened to. I get it. Some people get pregnant after they adopt. Some don't. Why say it? Just why?<br />
<b><span style="font-size: large;">4- They are sooo lucky to have been adopted by you!! </span></b><span style="font-size: small;">First, luck had nothing to do with it. Adoption for me, was and is a very spiritual experience. It's the most tangible way I've ever seen God work in my life. </span>To chalk it up to luck is somewhat cheapening the experience. You get lucky when you find a dollar on the street. Luck and adoption should never grace the same sentence. I have always liked this Chinese parable: An invisible red thread connects those who are destined to meet,
regardless of time, place, or circumstance. The thread may stretch or
tangle, but will never break."While Charlie and Jack were being knitted together by God in their birth mother's wombs, they were being set apart for our family. Chance had nothing to do with it. Furthermore, my kids were not "saved" by me. They didn't escape a life full of despair when I came onto the scene. From the beginning, God knew these boys would destroy every piece of furniture in my house, make me get grey hair and turn my life completely upside down in the most miraculous way.<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><b>5- Do you ever wish you could have had children of your own?</b></span> This one is pretty self explanatory. If these children are not my own, could someone else take over the dirty, sticky parts? I'll just be the fun aunt.<br />
<br />
The list could go on: Why did his mom give him away? How could she give away such a sweet boy? What are you going to tell him when he asks about being adopted? What if he wants to find his birth mother? It's amazing that your kids look like you when they're not! When you think you've heard it all...someone asks "Which one of your kids cost more?" (True story....) And you are amazed all over again. I think the best guide to keep in mind when talking to adoptive parents is this: Not all families are made the same way. That doesn't make me less "real" or my kids not my own. I don't need to give birth to have a baby. I'm not lucky, my kids aren't lucky, we are a family rooted in the same stuff your family is rooted in: unending love, overflowing joy and strict bedtime rules. You can't put a price tag on that, so please don't ask. </div>
Sarah Dhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12057416381594446660noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8901942618027196862.post-49441352498151681052013-09-22T23:05:00.002-04:002013-09-22T23:05:33.324-04:00Advice please Mamas!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
How much is too much for a Kindergartner? What exactly does his teacher expect? What is really normal for my kid to know at this point? Is it realistic for him to know 50 sight words by the end of this 12 weeks? Am I being unreasonable? Making excuses? Being a whinny mommy? Do I just need to push through and stay consistent in the current nightly homework torture?<br />
Every night we have a small homework assignment and a book to read. On Thursday we pick a book out of the four read and do a little book report on it (mostly pictures on his end). That seems a little much, but it's not unrealistic. We just end up working a little through the weekend to give him two nights off during the week. <br />
But then the sight words. Also known as the flashcards from Hell. The part of the night that almost makes my son cry every night. It makes me into a mean mom. I see his frustration when asked for the eight time to sound out the word "it".<br />
Now, I lay 12 words out on the table. I say "Show me the word "it" Poof. He does it. I say show me the word "Green" bam. No problems. But stack those suckers up and ask him "What does this say?" and the flopping, flailing, and amnesia starts.<br />
This is the kid that remembers directions 30 miles away from home. Knows north and south, east and west on highways from here to his grandparents house 3 hours away. Remembers every conversation, promise, schedule. Remembers that I have a promised chocolate bar in my bag. Is so observant it's ridiculous. Today in church he pointed out to his teacher that there was a kid that didn't belong in the class because everyone that was suppose to be in his class has a "Z" in their bar code and he had a different letter (yes, our church bar codes kids, add your own creepy comment __<u>here</u>___) Can recall names, titles, movie lines, when we last ate tilapia for dinner. But can't say the word "It" after five weeks of flashcards. <br />
What is the disconnect? What am I doing wrong?<br />
Is it a speech thing? A confidence thing? Side note: He is going to speech 2x a week at school. And has been receiving speech therapy since about 3 1/2. <br />
Does anyone else out there think that this is too much? 5 weeks into school and my son (who has only been speaking ANY language, yet alone English, for two short years) gets an "N" on his progress report because he can't recall 50% of his sight words? What happened to "learning" in Kindergarten? <br />
Am I being unreasonable? Is this normal? Has it just not clicked with him yet? Does every Kindergartner go through this learning curve? Help me out.<br />
I just think about future reading assignments and it makes me want to throw up. Advice is much needed and appreciated....<br />
<br />
<br /></div>
Sarah Dhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12057416381594446660noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8901942618027196862.post-66530845721224239932013-09-15T22:21:00.000-04:002013-09-15T22:21:58.262-04:00People in glass onion dome cathedrals.....<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="vk_ans" style="margin-bottom: 0;">
ex·cep·tion·al</div>
<div class="lr_dct_ent_ph">
<span class="lr_dct_ph"><span>ikˈsepSHənəl</span>/</span><span alt="Speaker icon" class="lr_dct_spkr lr_dct_spkr_off" data-log-string="pronunciation-icon-click" style="display: inline-block;" title="Listen"><input height="16" style="height: 16px; width: 16px;" type="image" width="16" /></span></div>
<div class="lr_dct_sf_h">
<i>adjective</i></div>
<div class="xpdxpnd vk_gy" data-mh="-1">
<span>adjective: <b>exceptional</b></span></div>
<div style="float: left;">
<strong>1</strong>. </div>
<div>
<span>unusual; not typical.</span></div>
<div class="vk_gy">
"<span>crimes of exceptional callousness and cruelty</span>"</div>
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<tr><td class="lr_dct_nyms_ttl" style="padding-right: 3px;">synonyms:</td><td><span><a href="https://www.google.com/search?client=firefox-a&hs=Q53&rls=org.mozilla:en-US:official&q=define+unusual&sa=X&ei=t1g2UpnTE4XY8gSu04HIBg&ved=0CDAQ_SowAA">unusual</a>, </span><span><a href="https://www.google.com/search?client=firefox-a&hs=Q53&rls=org.mozilla:en-US:official&q=define+uncommon&sa=X&ei=t1g2UpnTE4XY8gSu04HIBg&ved=0CDEQ_SowAA">uncommon</a>, </span><span><a href="https://www.google.com/search?client=firefox-a&hs=Q53&rls=org.mozilla:en-US:official&q=define+abnormal&sa=X&ei=t1g2UpnTE4XY8gSu04HIBg&ved=0CDIQ_SowAA">abnormal</a>, </span><span><a href="https://www.google.com/search?client=firefox-a&hs=Q53&rls=org.mozilla:en-US:official&q=define+atypical&sa=X&ei=t1g2UpnTE4XY8gSu04HIBg&ved=0CDMQ_SowAA">atypical</a>, </span><span><a href="https://www.google.com/search?client=firefox-a&hs=Q53&rls=org.mozilla:en-US:official&q=define+extraordinary&sa=X&ei=t1g2UpnTE4XY8gSu04HIBg&ved=0CDQQ_SowAA">extraordinary</a>, </span><span>out of the ordinary, </span><span><a href="https://www.google.com/search?client=firefox-a&hs=Q53&rls=org.mozilla:en-US:official&q=define+rare&sa=X&ei=t1g2UpnTE4XY8gSu04HIBg&ved=0CDUQ_SowAA">rare</a>, </span><span><a href="https://www.google.com/search?client=firefox-a&hs=Q53&rls=org.mozilla:en-US:official&q=define+unprecedented&sa=X&ei=t1g2UpnTE4XY8gSu04HIBg&ved=0CDYQ_SowAA">unprecedented</a>, </span><span><a href="https://www.google.com/search?client=firefox-a&hs=Q53&rls=org.mozilla:en-US:official&q=define+unexpected&sa=X&ei=t1g2UpnTE4XY8gSu04HIBg&ved=0CDcQ_SowAA">unexpected</a>, </span><span><a href="https://www.google.com/search?client=firefox-a&hs=Q53&rls=org.mozilla:en-US:official&q=define+surprising&sa=X&ei=t1g2UpnTE4XY8gSu04HIBg&ved=0CDgQ_SowAA">surprising</a></span><span>;</span><span> </span><span data-log-string="synonyms-more-click"><div style="display: inline;">
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<div class="lr_dct_more_txt xpdxpnd xpdnoxpnd" data-mh="-1" style="display: inline; max-height: none;">
<span><a href="https://www.google.com/search?client=firefox-a&hs=Q53&rls=org.mozilla:en-US:official&q=define+strange&sa=X&ei=t1g2UpnTE4XY8gSu04HIBg&ved=0CDoQ_SowAA">strange</a>, </span><span><a href="https://www.google.com/search?client=firefox-a&hs=Q53&rls=org.mozilla:en-US:official&q=define+odd&sa=X&ei=t1g2UpnTE4XY8gSu04HIBg&ved=0CDsQ_SowAA">odd</a>, </span><span><a href="https://www.google.com/search?client=firefox-a&hs=Q53&rls=org.mozilla:en-US:official&q=define+freakish&sa=X&ei=t1g2UpnTE4XY8gSu04HIBg&ved=0CDwQ_SowAA">freakish</a>, </span><span><a href="https://www.google.com/search?client=firefox-a&hs=Q53&rls=org.mozilla:en-US:official&q=define+anomalous&sa=X&ei=t1g2UpnTE4XY8gSu04HIBg&ved=0CD0Q_SowAA">anomalous</a>, </span><span><a href="https://www.google.com/search?client=firefox-a&hs=Q53&rls=org.mozilla:en-US:official&q=define+peculiar&sa=X&ei=t1g2UpnTE4XY8gSu04HIBg&ved=0CD4Q_SowAA">peculiar</a>, </span><span><a href="https://www.google.com/search?client=firefox-a&hs=Q53&rls=org.mozilla:en-US:official&q=define+weird&sa=X&ei=t1g2UpnTE4XY8gSu04HIBg&ved=0CD8Q_SowAA">weird</a></span><span>;</span><span> </span></div>
<div class="lr_dct_more_txt xpdxpnd xpdnoxpnd" data-mh="-1" style="display: inline; max-height: none;">
<i style="padding-right: 4px;">informal</i><span><a href="https://www.google.com/search?client=firefox-a&hs=Q53&rls=org.mozilla:en-US:official&q=define+freaky&sa=X&ei=t1g2UpnTE4XY8gSu04HIBg&ved=0CEAQ_SowAA">freaky</a>, </span><span>something else</span><span> </span></div>
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"<span>the drought was exceptional</span>"</div>
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There has been a lot of talk about Putin's letter in the New York Times directed towards Americans following President Obama's speech calling Americans "exceptional" when it comes to our role in shaping the World. <br />
You can read it <a href="http://www.nytimes.com/2013/09/12/opinion/putin-plea-for-caution-from-russia-on-syria.html?pagewanted=all&_r=0" target="_blank">HERE</a> word for word or<a href="http://www.washingtonpost.com/blogs/worldviews/wp/2013/09/12/vladimir-putins-new-york-times-op-ed-annotated-and-fact-checked/" target="_blank"> HERE</a> if you prefer an experts "annotated" (fact checked) version. The latter may be for you if you admit to reading such articles as <a href="http://www.washingtonpost.com/blogs/worldviews/wp/2013/08/29/9-questions-about-syria-you-were-too-embarrassed-to-ask/" target="_blank">"Nine Questions about Syria you were too embarrassed to ask"</a>. Which I'll be the first to admit, I was all over. Think of Max Fisher, writer for the Washington Post as the guy writing "Current Events for Dummies" in short editorial form. Count me in.<br />
I am NOT up on current events, I couldn't find Syria on a map and I'll be the first to admit, I find politics, well, tiresome. I only un-friend two kinds of people on Facebook. Ones that cuss word to regular word ratio is greater than 3-1 and people that yammer on and on about politics. It just wears me out.<br />
However, something about Putin's letter just rubbed me the wrong way. People are saying he didn't write it. I don't care if he wrote it or one of his speech writers. His name is on the paper. He is taking credit for it. So in my eyes, he wrote it.<br />
So back to the wrong way-rubbing. I have a personal problem with Putin and everything he stands for. Get ready for the rant. (I would like to apologize for the political un-correctness that's about to come your way)<br />
I hate the fact that he says things like this in his speech to Americans "There are big countries and small countries, rich and poor, those with
long democratic traditions and those still finding their way to
democracy. Their policies differ, too. We are all different, but when we
ask for the Lord’s blessings, we must not forget that God created us
equal" THIS from a man who started his career as a KGB officer, persecutes gays, doesn't allow peaceful demonstrations, allows orphans to languish and die in his care. Some may say that this has nothing to do with Syria, America thinking that we are "exceptional" or anything to do with war or NATO. To that I say you're probably right. But I just can't get past it. This coming from a man that blew Georgia and Chechnya to smithereens without even so much as a "let's look into it" from the UN. Hmmmm....People in glass onion dome cathedrals....<br />
I say you are playing with fire Mr. Putin because Americans are exceptional. Are we perfect? No. Do we need to step into every political situation with guns blazing? No. But my friend, former Senator Jim DeMint responded to Mr. Putin. Dripping with sarcasm and bravery. Please read it <a href="http://www.scribd.com/doc/167987463/Letter-from-Jim-DeMint-to-President-Vladimir-Putin-on-American-Exceptionalism" target="_blank">HERE</a>. It's so good it makes me want to jump up and cheer. <br />
He explains our exceptional-ism in a clear and conscience way "“America is an exceptional nation—that is, one like no other, not just
now but in history—because it is dedicated to the universal principle of
human liberty,” DeMint wrote. “This is grounded in the truth that all
men—not just Americans—are created equal and endowed with inalienable
rights by their Creator. As a British admirer of America, G.K.
Chesterton, once put it: ‘America is the only nation in the world that
is founded on a creed.’ We are, in other words, not a nation based on
ethnicity, but on beliefs, and not coincidentally, that is why we
attract people of all ethnicities and they become proud Americans.”<br />
Then he goes on to say "We understand, however, that in Russia today, the rule of law is
easily ignored and that you’ve managed to remain in complete power since
2000, even though your country’s original constitution supposedly limited you to two consecutive terms,” DeMint continued. “You may want to devote your attention to such topics in future writings.”<br />
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Ok, well that was just mean. Mean but true. People in glass onion dome cathedrals.....</div>
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Then he enclosed some light reading by Matthew Spalding called "Why is America Exceptional". You can read it <a href="http://www.heritage.org/research/reports/2010/09/why-is-america-exceptional" target="_blank">HERE</a> for extra credit. </div>
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Ok, you can un-friend me now or take me off your blog roll. I'm sure I've annoyed the snot out of you. But when I see injustice I want to fight. I guess that's what makes me exceptional. :)</div>
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Sarah Dhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12057416381594446660noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8901942618027196862.post-78906281917673200032013-08-31T22:00:00.001-04:002013-09-22T22:34:25.437-04:00Adoption needs!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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You don't have to look far to find someone desperate for a helping hand.... Here are just a few needs I've come across in the last few days. Please pray for these families, donate, bid, support and reach out to these precious families.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://reecesrainbow.org/37319/sponsorphelps" target="_blank">HERE</a> is a chance to help a lovely couple bring their cutie with down syndrome home from China. The Phelps family have devoted their lives to orphan care and camps for kids with special needs. They are short funds for their SEPTEMBER travel dates to bring her home. Please consider helping. <br />
Just look at that face! It's worth chipping in $10 and skipping a lunch out, right?!<br />
<img alt="" class="alignleft size-medium wp-image-33022" height="300" src="http://reecesrainbow.org/wp-content/uploads/2012/02/Naya-1-199x300.jpg" title="Naya (1)" width="199" /><br />
<a href="http://www.familylife.com/~/link.aspx?_id=F3282FFB53514A819B2DEC498196693E&amp%3B_z=z#.UiKXij_O2RN" target="_blank">HERE</a> is a great resource for those considering Foster Care. It's a FREE book download and is wonderfully written. <i><b>Safe Harbor: A Christian's Guide to Foster Care</b></i> is a booklet designed to familiarize Christians with the U.S. foster care system and the biblical call to care for orphans. <i>Safe Harbor</i> provides
an overview of the needs of children in the foster care system, along
with an explanation of the basic structure of foster care, and the
process of becoming a foster parent.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://arecklesslove.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">HERE</a> is a beautiful success story of what God can do through generous, willing hands. The Higsby's were fighting to bring home THREE teenagers from Ukraine, one of which was weeks away from "aging out" of the system. The cry went out Thursday night to help them raise a minimum of $8,000 needed as "ransom" for their children before time ran out. In TWO days over $22,000 was raised. Not only will this cover their ransom but with pay for the lodging, visas and plane tickets for their trip. God is good, isn't he? Wow. Please continue to keep this family in your prayers. <br />
<br />
<a href="https://www.facebook.com/AuctionForYulia" target="_blank">HERE </a>is a great link to a fun little auction for the Seely family to raise funds to bring home their daughter, Yulia from Ukraine. Auction ends at midnight (EST) on September 10th. Here is my favorite thing so far....A close second to the vintage Ewok collection and California Raisins figures! Happy bidding :)</div>
Sarah Dhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12057416381594446660noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8901942618027196862.post-8654090814383732592013-08-18T22:28:00.001-04:002013-08-18T22:28:51.365-04:00I still think about you....<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
As my baby lies sleeping across the hall, I can't help but think about the ones going to bed tonight without a bedtime story and a kiss.<br />
As we looked through hundreds (I'm serious....) of clothing options for the first day of school tomorrow, I think back to a time when my boy was dressed from a pile of unisex clothes that felt as if they were laundered in lye soap and bleach. I think about the mismatched, dirty little ones that will itch and scratch their way though another day tomorrow.<br />
As we thought about footwear options, I think about the shoes he shared with dozens of other children that were two sizes too small and caused his toenails, to this day, to curve under like tallons. I think of the kids left behind that <i>might </i>get to wear shoes today if they are the first to be dressed.<br />
I think about the ones that will sit silently at a table for hours while my boy is a world away receiving a top notch education by a team of experts.<br />
I prepared his lunch- whole grain this, organic that. Fresh fruit. I think about the ones that will eat watered down soup tomorrow, if they are fortunate enough to eat at all. I think about the ones that will fight for food, just like I saw my boy do, just to stay alive.<br />
As I send my boy off to his first day of Kindergarten tomorrow with more than a backpack full of hopes for his future, equipping him the very best way I can as a parent, my mind drifts to those that have no one to advocate for them, no one to cheer them on, not a soul looking out for their best interest. For all those left behind.<br />
I am asking you for a favor. Say a prayer for them tonight. Pray for the million orphans in Russia alone that have a little to no chance of ever being adopted. That the ban on adoptions would dissolve. That the pride of men would crumble. For the 300 US parents NOT sending their kids to school tomorrow because they are trapped in a living nightmare of red tape, political ambition and foolish pride.<br />
Maybe a bigger favor, consider adoption. Don't make excuses. Don't say I'm too old, my kids won't "adjust" to having another sibling in the family, I don't have the money, I don't want to take the risk. I want kids of "my own". Well, they might have too many "problems"....Carry too much "baggage"..... The list goes on and on. I know because I told myself the same thing for years. Just put all that aside. Adoption is perfect love, and perfect love drowns out fear.<br />
It will change you forever. You'll want to tell everyone you know about the joy of adoption. But along with that joy, comes a responsibility to tell everyone you know about the ones left behind. The ones that want nothing more than a family of their own. People that vow to never forget their faces, that minds drift back to their cribs all in a row, their hungry eyes, still hear their voices crying "Mama! Papa!" every time you walked into their sterile room. I will never forget you.<br />
As I send my baby off to school tomorrow I will say a prayer for you too.<br />
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Sarah Dhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12057416381594446660noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8901942618027196862.post-32479643167732488242013-08-11T07:20:00.000-04:002013-08-11T07:20:00.040-04:00Don't ever move. <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I have a VERY good reason why I took a week of from blog world last week. I honestly didn't know it was Sunday. My days, nights, months were honestly scrambled into a jumbled mess between state lines, houses being packed and unpacked, kids being shuttled, and dogs being chauffeured.<br />
<br />
Tuesday July 30th- 189 miles and my sanity. Sat in the health department ALL day long. I thought I was ahead of the game having the boys physicals before we left home, turns out our new state requires fancy pants forms and a couple of additional vaccinations. So, I actually set an appointment a month in advance to ease the typical "pain in the @$$ness" usually associated with the Health Department. I was wrong. After four hours I was about to loose my mind and had to show out and steal drinks for my kids who were dying of dehydration.The good news was at the end of the visit we didn't have to pay because there was literally not a soul left in the Health Department other than the incompetent nurse giving the vaccine (that kept asking Jack, 19 months, where he wanted his shot....) and the cleaning crew. My parents are keeping the boys and the dogs for a few days because they love me :)<br />
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Wednesday July 31st- 389 miles starting at 5am. Left for SC to pack up our house. We drove and got there around lunch time. I realized just then and there how much stuff I said "Oh, I'll pack this in August when we return" was left in the house. Thank goodness about 20-25 people showed up to help out. We actually had 98% of the house packed by that night. It made me so sad to leave our house and our friends again. But I know this is the next step in our journey, but it was still a bittersweet, physically and emotionally taxing day.<br />
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Thursday August 1st. 389 miles and my good humor. As we were packing the last of our house in the SECOND u-haul. We realized that the key to the first U-haul had been mistakenly packed into the truck (don't ask....) Luckily, I vaguely remembered a box that seemed to be accumulating A LOT of misc. items. One of our friends, who is apparently part monkey climbed through the Tetris stacked boxes and found the key inside the box. It was a miracle and after I regained my good humor we said goodbye to the empty house :( and hit the road.<br />
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Friday August 2nd. No miles. Thank the Lord. We did however, brave the 100 degree heat and started unloading the truck with significantly less helpers. Thank goodness for Robbin, JT, Sam, and Pastor Jeff. I think we would have run out of steam without them.<br />
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Saturday August 3rd. Unpacking boxes from sun up to sun down. This rental house is a like a doll house. Getting creative in stuffing, stacking, sorting. If you've never lived in a 1000 square foot house with two adults, two kids, and two dogs I highly recommend it. Its an exercise in creativity and character building. It allows you to get rid of the stuff you thought you couldn't live without. I took at my closet and think "did people in the 50s just not have any clothes?" I honestly think they rotated between like 6 outfits.<br />
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Sunday August 4th. 189 miles again. Go home to my parents to pack up part two.<br />
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Monday August 5th. Ikea to buy some storage solutions for my dollhouse.<br />
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Tuesday August 6th. 189 miles AGAIN. Load the kids, the dogs, the stuff into the car and repeat the whole darn thing. <br />
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Wednesday August 7th- What day is it? Setting up my doll house and making the kids feel at home. Running errands to Charlie's school, my school, here, there and everywhere. Lost track of miles, but I think I'm clocked in at roughly 1,389 miles, an endless amount of boxes and tons of fun (sarcasm). I think we are getting settled in. NOW we're getting geared up for work (boooooo) and school. I can't believe how fast summer has flown by.<br />
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My advice to you? Don't ever move. Especially in the dog days of summer.<br />
So, sorry I missed you last week, but I'll see you next Sunday now that my head has stopped spinning and my feet are planted firmly on the ground. </div>
Sarah Dhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12057416381594446660noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8901942618027196862.post-86165720750386723782013-07-21T00:00:00.000-04:002013-07-22T01:02:22.902-04:00Friends :)<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<a href="https://fbcdn-sphotos-b-a.akamaihd.net/hphotos-ak-prn1/20062_1273607152859_8305252_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" border="0" class="spotlight" height="400" src="https://fbcdn-sphotos-b-a.akamaihd.net/hphotos-ak-prn1/20062_1273607152859_8305252_n.jpg" width="344" /></a>I've heard it said that a friend is born in times of adversity. I'm fairly certain this quote is from the Bible, but it's late and I'm too tired to google. If you came here for accuracy, you obviously are new here and I'm sorry you've been misinformed about the content of this blog.<br />
Anyway, friends. This week I've been thinking a lot about friendship- I always get nostalgic when I spend time with my very first and best friend, Kathleen, which I got to do this week. It's always a special time. Here is an especially blurry photograph of the two of us circa 1984. Please note my ears and the height difference between us, both of which continue to be an issue to this day....She was always by partner in crime, shoulder to cry on, and first rate secret keeper. Fast forward 30 (gasp, I totally typed "20" and then had to do the math...) years and she is an amazing mom to two incredible, bright girls and one precious special needs son. I love her for her devotion to her family and her unwavering faith in God. I am always in awe of her every time we are together. <br />
Then, my little sister got engaged (!!!!) and ask me to be her Maid of Honor. Technically, I suppose I am a "Matron" but I despise that word as much as the word "Mucus". We were talking about the evening up of the bridal party numbers ie: he has 5 good friends, she has 6 or vice-verse. And I said "With the wedding being a year away, what if you become really close friends with someone you didn't already ask to be in the wedding?" She looked at me as if that was an impossibility. After all, what difference could a year make as far as your lifelong friends go? A lot my friend, a lot.<br />
When we were in the deepest valley of adoption woes (The most hopeless being around the fall of 2010 when we were told to "move on" by our agency, that Charlie was never coming home...like in this entry <a href="http://fromrussiawithlove2009.blogspot.com/2010/10/open-letter-to-russian-american.html" target="_blank">HERE</a>) I met a wonderful, kind soul that was walking through a darker adoption valley than we were. I won't go into details, because her story is just that- hers, but I can tell you, that we spent many a night talking, crying, cussing Russian officials together. We were friends born out of a time of adversity. But both of our stories had a happy ending and I cannot express to you the joy I felt Skyping with her from the hotel lobby in Moscow with Charlie in tow. I will never forget that night. She was leaving in a few weeks to meet her son and we had finally won the fight. If that night was a book, that would have been the end of a long and painful chapter and the beginning of a part with the happy ending. <br />
This week I had the honor of meeting her and her son face to face along with some other new friends that had braved the roller coaster of Russian adoption. What an amazing feeling. We went to Magic Kingdom to celebrate and being the <strike>sappy </strike>nostalgic individuals that we are, we had the boys throw their pennies in the water right at the Russian part of "Its a Small World" Awwww....priceless. I wish I could show you their faces (I have MUCH better pictures than this, but since these aren't my kids, I want to protect their privacy.) It was a day I'll never forget.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiykO1k9RMs5k2WfsbUeQ-5bGZMhLY265Wx3tt7PWXNXkVIV3oBwSlWf2EZFVw2V8ElM6p8gyTvRhplac20EnzmbYTXkhV5DxKKGn26CTsO9JW7sEv9-3mcAQz4BIxwHU4k_hHyxmmd8ose/s1600/IMG_4509.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiykO1k9RMs5k2WfsbUeQ-5bGZMhLY265Wx3tt7PWXNXkVIV3oBwSlWf2EZFVw2V8ElM6p8gyTvRhplac20EnzmbYTXkhV5DxKKGn26CTsO9JW7sEv9-3mcAQz4BIxwHU4k_hHyxmmd8ose/s320/IMG_4509.JPG" width="239" /></a></div>
My prayer for my boys is as they grow they will always be proud of where they came from. I hope that they will find true friends along the way that stick with them in the times of adversity. It is my hope for them that they will surround themselves with people that love them, are encouraged by their strength and make them into better people. I hope they they will have true friends like I have found. </div>
Sarah Dhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12057416381594446660noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8901942618027196862.post-4769680862399275032013-07-12T22:13:00.000-04:002013-07-12T22:13:53.577-04:00Beachy....<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://fbcdn-sphotos-h-a.akamaihd.net/hphotos-ak-prn2/v/1060778_10200790305153548_1130633051_n.jpg?oh=96c685d330ec441ed1d8509c413bd5cf&oe=51E30BBF&__gda__=1373873997_ebeee92abb1b7322c986e7e4335f272c" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img alt="" border="0" class="spotlight" src="https://fbcdn-sphotos-h-a.akamaihd.net/hphotos-ak-prn2/v/1060778_10200790305153548_1130633051_n.jpg?oh=96c685d330ec441ed1d8509c413bd5cf&oe=51E30BBF&__gda__=1373873997_ebeee92abb1b7322c986e7e4335f272c" style="height: 525px; width: 389px;" /></a>There is something about the beach...Isak Dinesen says the cure for everything is salt water- tears, sweat, or the ocean. We had a few tears, a lot of sweat and plenty of ocean. So after this week we should be cured of pretty much everything.<br />
Put either boys in the water and get ready for a show. They are part fish. Jumping, diving, underwater extravaganza.<br />
Being with these boys in the water makes me remember I am alive and relatively carefree. To watch them run, dance, swim is pure joy. I think back to a little boy in a cold orphanage with skin so translucent you could see every vein. To see the same boy now is a picture of health and vitality. I think of Jack and what a tiny little baby he was just a short time ago. Now, he's a strong (physically and strong willed....) toddler that can do practically anything his big brother can do. I just can't wait to see these boys grow up in the sun!<br />
<img alt="" class="spotlight" src="https://fbcdn-sphotos-h-a.akamaihd.net/hphotos-ak-frc3/v/1056963_10200785304308530_1552901934_n.jpg?oh=c06373741451c6950d434d08c2fc79e1&oe=51E293FA&__gda__=1373821844_4941025401e4d093d830419392479018" style="height: 525px; width: 389px;" /><img alt="" class="spotlight" src="https://fbcdn-sphotos-h-a.akamaihd.net/hphotos-ak-prn2/v/1062544_10200795891733209_450386476_n.jpg?oh=f5aefaa0ea71179ea9a751a5ab584f4c&oe=51E31FDC&__gda__=1373857121_af5d0968065260ab09f91fa5072cbac3" style="height: 525px; width: 704px;" /></div>
Sarah Dhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12057416381594446660noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8901942618027196862.post-34944596154222797452013-07-05T21:29:00.000-04:002013-07-05T21:29:31.292-04:00The 4th is the new Thanksgiving. <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
You've heard that grey is the new black? Pink is the new grey? Well in our household, the 4th of July is the new Thanksgiving.<br />
Maybe its a mom thing, but I'm leaning more towards an adoption thing, but there is something about little celebrations that make me feel a little sappy. During these holidays and experiences, I can't help but think about what Charlie's life would have looked like without our country, traditions- surrounded by family.<br />
The fourth of July is a big sappy day for me. I've always felt so privileged to be an American. I am humbled to live in a country with so much freedom. When the 4th rolls around I can't wait to tell Charlie about why we are celebrating. He just wants to light things on fire- but I sneak in as much in 1776 as possible.....<br />
I can't help but think about what his life in an orphanage would have looked like. Holidays always make me think about the what-ifs....<br />
On the 4th of July I am so thankful that my boy is free. As for Jack, at this point, he is just thankful for the swimming pool.<br />
I hope your 4th was fantastic and you had plenty of reasons to feel thankful.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My fishy boy....</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Underwater Charlie </td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Seven cousins :)</td></tr>
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Sarah Dhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12057416381594446660noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8901942618027196862.post-74767578070842819092013-06-23T19:57:00.000-04:002013-06-23T19:57:00.512-04:00Mouse Obsessed! <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Upon moving to Florida, my number one priority was to establish Florida residency in order to obtain a Disney annual pass. Hahaha! Seriously, I am addicted to Disney World. I have a problem. Step one is admitting you have a problem, so there. I have a problem. I knew it I had passed my problem onto Jack because whenever we get into the car he would start shouting "MOUSE! MOUSE!" Imagine the confusion this causes in the middle of the grocery store or the post office. "Ohhh.he's so cute, what is he shouting??" And Charlie? We not longer need a map at any of the parks. He grabs one for good measure as he marches through the crowd acting as our official tour guide. His standard line? "Ok, what are we going to do next?"</div>
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I try to go out there with my parents, my in-laws or my friend at least twice a week. Once I got so desperate for a fix I went out alone. I never saw another single person with a stroller, an 18 month and a five year old the whole time I was there. And now I know there is a reason for that. People don't really care that you're holding a baby the size of a frozen jumbo turkey and the hand of a hyper 5 year old while trying to make your way through the crowd. They will run you down and kick you out of the way just to get one row in front of you for the show. </div>
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So, this summer, we are enjoying the tourist scene and we know these days are coming to a close sooner rather than later :( I've started to apply for jobs in our new hometown and I guess the real world is quickly approaching. And that makes me want to throw up. But for now we are going to Disney World! </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Charlie scratching Pluto's nose, making him thump his foot. So cute! </td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Jack meets the Mouse for the first time</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Dumbo!</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">In the shark's belly at the Living Seas</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Charlie with his pals Cypress and Bliss! I love these girls!</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Brushing the pig at Animal Kingdom</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Three little pigs!</td></tr>
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Sarah Dhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12057416381594446660noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8901942618027196862.post-34519564137860619312013-06-16T22:19:00.001-04:002013-06-16T22:19:24.286-04:00Happy Father's Day!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Lets set this up. I've been sooo sick this week with what appeared to be the blublonick plague. (Just kidding, but it sure felt that way...) I had resigned to the fact that there was no way I was going to be able to drag my sorry sick butt to Jacksonville this weekend for Father's Day and hear Chad preach on Sunday. But then my parents came to the rescue, got a hotel room on the beach and drug it for me! Yipppeeee. So today has been a great day! Church, beach, dinner with family and extended family. The works. Just a perfect day.<br />
This morning Chad preached from John 3:16. The most basic building block of the Christian faith, but with a personal application. The amazing story of Charlie's adoption from Russia. Of course we talked about the trials and tribulations of our journey and the year long battle after we had met him to get him home. But, all that aside, a personal glimpse of a story inside a story- When we arrived we expected a little 2 year old boy (and later a 3 year old boy) to drop everything and run into our arms the second we met. For him to instantly know that we would have gone to the ends of the earth (and literally did....) to save him. To hold him. To love him forever. But, Charlie, being the strong willed, frightened and obstinate little boy wanted nothing to do with us. He cried. He pitched a fit. He rocked himself in the corner. For goodness sake- he peed on me not once, but twice to get away from me and go back to the only family he has ever known. He rejected us, over and over again.<br />
You see when God sent his son into the world to save us, we rejected him. We spit in his face. We mocked him and still do. We run from him. And all he wants to do is love us. And save us. He has set us apart and adopted us into his family. And he loves us so much he would go beyond the ends of the earth to show his never ending love. Adoption is redemption. Heavenly, earthly or otherwise, our lives have been made meaningful by our adoption story. I was so honored to be there today to hear our story again, with fresh ears and fresh tears.<br />
I am so thankful for Chad and the father he is to our boys. I don't take for granted for one second that other families are not as fortunate as we are to have a Godly, kind, understanding man as the head of the family. I am thankful for my daddy who has been a example of hard work and dedication to our family for so long. I am thankful for my father-in-law, JR who is an amazing man of God and loves my boys so much. I am blessed to have a bonus dad, Rick who is kind, compassionate and thoughtful beyond measure.<br />
I hope you had a wonderful day remembering or honoring your dads and those that are like a dad to you! Toodles till next Sunday!<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Saying Cheeese at the Rainforest Cafe </td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Riding Cinderella's Horse at Ft. Wilderness, Disney</td></tr>
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Sarah Dhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12057416381594446660noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8901942618027196862.post-52328425018619155332013-06-10T00:02:00.000-04:002013-06-10T00:02:05.857-04:00Oh yeah....<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
So I guess I still have a blog. Funny, I use to panic if I missed a day of writing. Now it seems the days are filled with swimming, baby catching, bike riding, Mickey visiting and the such. I can't tell you the last time I even had my laptop on.....I suppose we've settled into a new state of normal with the wild five year old (!) and the 19 (!) month old. Charlie has decided to start swimming without his swimmies and ride his bike without training wheels. In other news, I have taken the child lock off his side of the car door, I am now "trusting him" to make good decisions and let himself out of the car. Oh boy. Jack is saying every single word I say like a parrot all of a sudden, which as you can imagine has made for interesting conversation. My favorite new word is "Shock-o-lot" for chocolate, a word screamed at every pass through the kitchen. Some pictures for my loyal fans, waiting and checking everyday to see what we've been up to? A friend of mine who has a photograph biz, captured some wonderful pictures of the boys. You can check Justina out <a href="https://www.facebook.com/Justinasphotography?fref=ts">here</a>. She specializes in no pressure photo shoots. Basically, we met by the lake and she just followed the boys around snapping away. <br />
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I must say, I have two of the world's most beautiful boys....and I'm not just saying that as part of my motherly duty.<br />
In other news... <br />
We had a "offer" on the house, but notice I use the word "offer" in parenthesis. It was an odd request for owner financing and just sounded too risky. Then we had to other emails stating "Expect offer" yet...no offers flooding the inbox as of Sunday, June 9th at 11:25pm. Yes, I had a nap today, can you tell? Burning the midnight oil.<br />
I am dreaming again of writing a book, and come up with the BEST ideas around midnight only to discover in the morning that it was the stupidest idea on the planet. I wish someone could pitch a plot to me and just have me connect the dots. (It's a story about a vulnerable tomato, no a peach, no an asparagus that felt self conscious about the way it's pee smelled...)<br />
We had the privilege of meeting a fellow adoptive mom a few weeks ago in St. Augustine. It was surreal watching our kiddos from across the sea play together. At some point on the playground a group of kids were playing war and were screaming "The Russians are coming!!!" You can imagine what a kick we got out of that. And the Russians ARE coming. We are greatly looking forward to our Russian reunion day at Disney with some friends from all around in July. How cool will it be to see everyone that we "know" through the process of adoption? I can't wait. I only wish we were also going on the Disney Cruise following the day at the parks. Sigh....<br />
I am struggling quite a bit with missing my old life. I miss my house, our friends, my job, the church....I am so sad that Charlie won't be going to his school next year. I miss South Carolina pace and our annual trip to the beach. I just miss everything about it. This transition hasn't been an easy one for me. But, I am hoping once the house sells and we can fully settle in life will feel better. Right now it's just been hard on me. Ok, enough boo-hooing.<br />
I could go on and on about the 10 million other little things that have happened since May the whatever, but I guess that's the price I pay for not keeping up with the blog. Too much information turns into a scattered mess. So, how about a promise? Meet me back here on Sunday night. I can at least vow to write the 4 people still reading the blog that I will be more consistent on updates. You.Me.Next Sunday. Peace out. <br />
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Sarah Dhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12057416381594446660noreply@blogger.com4