Oh yeah....

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 here. She specializes in no pressure photo shoots. Basically, we met by the lake and she just followed the boys around snapping away.

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.
In other news...
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.
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...)
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....
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.
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. 

Dear Adopted Mom....

Wow. This is a really great read. Since we've been on both sides of the adoption scene, domestic and foreign, it's like both processes summed up in one beautiful letter. The author is Kathy Lynn Harris and you can read more about her and her books HERE. Happy Early Mother's Day everyone. - Sarah

Dear Moms of Adopted Children

Posted on May 7, 2013

First, a quick note: I wrote this piece after reading an essay written by Lea Grover in the Huffiington Post, titled “Dear Less-Than-Perfect Mom.” The post by Lea was wonderful, and it made me think about us moms who found our sweet babies through adoption, and how we face unique challenges. I hope you enjoy it, whether you are the parent of an adopted child or not. Happy early Mother’s Day, everyone.
——————————————————————————————————————
Dear Mom of an Adopted Child,
I met you in adoption education class. I met you at the agency. I met you at my son’s school. I met you online. I met you on purpose. I met you by accident.
It doesn’t matter. The thing is, I knew you right away. I recognize the fierce determination. The grit. The fight. Because everything about what you have was a decision, and nothing about what you have was easy. You are the kind of woman who Makes.Things.Happen. After all, you made this happen, this family you have.
Maybe you prayed for it. Maybe you had to convince a partner it was the right thing. Maybe you did it alone. Maybe people told you to just be happy with what you had before. Maybe someone told you it simply wasn’t in God’s plans for you to have a child, this child whose hair you now brush lightly from his face. Maybe someone warned you about what happened to their cousin’s neighbor’s friend. Maybe you ignored them.
Maybe you planned for it for years. Maybe an opportunity dropped into your lap. Maybe you depleted your life-savings for it. Maybe it was not your first choice. But maybe it was.
Regardless, I know you. And I see how you hold on so tight. Sometimes too tight. Because that’s what we do, isn’t it?
I know about all those books you read back then. The ones everyone reads about sleep patterns and cloth versus disposable, yes, but the extra ones, too. About dealing with attachment disorders, breast milk banks, babies born addicted to alcohol, cocaine, meth. About cognitive delays, language deficiencies. About counseling support services, tax and insurance issues, open adoption pros and cons, legal rights.
I know about the fingerprinting, the background checks, the credit reports, the interviews, the references. I know about the classes, so many classes. I know the frustration of the never-ending paperwork. The hours of going over finances, of having garage sales and bake sales and whatever-it-takes sales to raise money to afford it all.
I know how you never lost sight of what you wanted.
I know about the match call, the soaring of everything inside you to cloud-height, even higher. And then the tucking of that away because, well, these things fall through, you know.
Maybe you told your mother, a few close friends. Maybe you shouted it to the world. Maybe you allowed yourself to decorate a baby’s room, buy a car seat. Maybe you bought a soft blanket, just that one blanket, and held it to your cheek every night.
I know about your home visits. I know about your knuckles, cracked and bleeding, from cleaning every square inch of your home the night before. I know about you burning the coffee cake and trying to fix your mascara before the social worker rang the doorbell.
And I know about the followup visits, when you hadn’t slept in three weeks because the baby had colic. I know how you wanted so badly to show that you had it all together, even though you were back to working more-than-full-time, maybe without maternity leave, without the family and casseroles and welcome-home balloons and plants.
And I’ve seen you in foreign countries, strange lands, staying in dirty hotels, taking weeks away from work, struggling to understand what’s being promised and what’s not. Struggling to offer your love to a little one who is unsettled and afraid. Waiting, wishing, greeting, loving, flying, nesting, coming home.
I’ve seen you down the street at the hospital when a baby was born, trying to figure out where you belong in the scene that’s emerging. I’ve seen your face as you hear a nurse whisper to the birthmother that she doesn’t have to go through with this. I’ve seen you trying so hard to give this birthmother all of your respect and patience and compassion in those moments—while you bite your lip and close your eyes, not knowing if she will change her mind, if this has all been a dream coming to an abrupt end in a sterile environment. Not knowing if this is your time. Not knowing so much.
I’ve seen you look down into a newborn infant’s eyes, wondering if he’s really yours, wondering if you can quiet your mind and good sense long enough to give yourself over completely.
And then, to have the child in your arms, at home, that first night. His little fingers curled around yours. His warm heart beating against yours.
I know that bliss. The perfect, guarded, hopeful bliss.
I also know about you on adoption day. The nerves that morning, the judge, the formality, the relief, the joy. The letting out of a breath maybe you didn’t even know you were holding for months. Months.
I’ve seen you meet your child’s birthparents and grandparents weeks or years down the road. I’ve seen you share your child with strangers who have his nose, his smile … people who love him because he’s one of them. I’ve seen you hold him in the evenings after those visits, when he’s shaken and confused and really just wants a stuffed animal and to rest his head on your shoulder.
I’ve seen you worry when your child brings home a family tree project from school. Or a request to bring in photos of him and his dad, so that the class can compare traits that are passed down, like blue eyes or square chins. I know you worry, because you can protect your child from a lot of things — but you can’t protect him from being different in a world so intent on celebrating sameness.
I’ve seen you at the doctor’s office, filling out medical histories, leaving blanks, question marks, hoping the little blanks don’t turn into big problems later on.
I’ve seen you answer all of the tough questions, the questions that have to do with why, and love, and how much, and where, and who, and how come, mama? How come?
I’ve seen you wonder how you’ll react the first time you hear the dreaded, “You’re not my real mom.” And I’ve seen you smile softly in the face of that question, remaining calm and loving, until you lock yourself in the bathroom and muffle your soft cries with the sound of the shower.
I’ve seen you cringe just a little when someone says your child is lucky to have you. Because you know with all your being it is the other way around.
But most of all, I want you to know that I’ve seen you look into your child’s eyes. And while you will never see a reflection of your own eyes there, you see something that’s just as powerful: A reflection of your complete and unstoppable love for this person who grew in the midst of your tears and laughter, and who, if torn from you, would be like losing yourself.

Here we go!

We're home. Back in our hometown. After 11 years of being away, we're baaaaaaack. It doesn't really feel like home anymore. Traffic. New buildings. New roads. New everything.
The boys and I are living with my parents. Bless their hearts. They retire and within a month we totally invade their lives and space with our two kids, two dogs, too much stuff.
Chad is living with his dad two hours away.
Yes, in case you are wondering- that totally sucks.
This is not an ideal situation. After 13.5 years of marriage we are apart for the first time. We made the decision that until the house sells we are not going to get in over our heads with another mortgage. I am holding out for my beach house. And WE WILL NEVER AGAIN be cut out for apartment life. I don't even want to go there. So for now, we are calling our living arrangements "temporary". PRAYING that the house sells and quickly. We've had three showings in one month. Good feedback, but nothing serious. Will you please pray that our house sells and quickly? I appreciate your prayers more than you will ever know!
So, here we go, another chapter in our lives has just started. The boys are having a blast at the grandparents house. Charlie just sees this as one big vacation so far. So, as long as they are happy and adjusted, I am striving to maintain a good attitude and a positive spirit. Another season in our lives and ministry.
Stay tuned for exciting changes in our household! Here we go!

Moving on...

Well, after 7 1/2 years at our home and our home church, hubster has accepted another church position in another state.
We are moving on....
On the surface, it looks great because we will be so much closer to grandparents and seminary for Chad to finish up his degree. We will be closer to the ocean, and in my book (and Charlie's) that is always a HUGE perk.
But we are leaving behind a lot. Best friends and great schools. Speech therapists. Our house. Our church. Our life.
It makes me really sad when I stop and think about it.
Currently, I am too busy to be sad. It has been said that cleaning your house with kids in it is like brushing your teeth while eating Oreos.
If that is true then, having your house on the market with kids in it is like brushing your teeth with  Oreos toothpaste. Impossible.
I am packing, purging all while following my kids around with a toy basket and a garbage bag. I am tired. Moving without children is a challenge. Moving with them is a clip from a Mission Impossible movie.
We are squeezing in as much as possible- dinner with friends, lunch with old colleagues. All of that nestled between gather boxes and 10 million trips to Salvation Army. Our church time is spent sounding like a broken record- why we are moving, where we are moving, HOW could we leave?? I understand the questions because these dear people have seen our family go from 2 to 4 in one year. Without their support we would have never been able to afford an International Adoption. They paved the way to Russia for us. It is heartbreaking to allow this church to become only a "story" to tell Charlie about all the people that loved him before they even met them. A chapter in his journey home to us.
But, we take comfort in knowing that God has lead us here and is leading us onward. We feel certain that as our time comes to a close here that He is opening a door for a new the leadership of this church. And as far as our family goes, a good decision. The next step is going to be a good one for us. Doesn't make it any easier, but in the long run moving on is a good thing.
PS- If it crosses your mind from time to time PLEASE pray that our house sells. This transition would be a lot easier if it sold quickly. We have had ZERO bites on it since putting it up last week. I know it's early...but still. One walk through, please?  

Forever Mine....

My beautiful boy

TWO years ago I held a tiny little boy in my arms as we drove away from a snow covered orphanage for the last time.
Two years ago a dream was realized that was ten years in the making- I became a mother.
Two years ago I looked into eyes the color of a stormy sea and promised that he would be mine forever...
Two years ago I watched this little baby sleep sweetly on my chest, while I dreamed of all the places he would go with the love of a family.

HAPPY ADOPTION DAY CHARLIE!

Getting ready.....

Enjoying a meal with my family

Saying goodbye to Dr. Anna

The auction is open!

Please stop by and visit an online auction I am hosting for my sweet lil' sunshine! HERE is my post about my sweet friend, Cameron. You can read about Cameron HERE and find out about an amazing opportunity before her as she has been chosen for the World Race. You can read more about what the World Race is HERE.
I'm not calling you lazy or anything...but If you don't like the whole link thing, the World Race is a mission trip of a lifetime. She will travel to 11 countries in 11 months and do A LOT of good work for the less fortunate and impoverished in:
Thailand
Cambodia
Vietnam
South Africa
Mozambique
Swaziland
Nepal
India
Turkey
Bulgaria
Romania

Wow. I am just in awe of this  adventure and the work Cameron will be doing. I know at this point in my life I could never accomplish this feat. Then I think of myself as a young twenty something. I probably would have been scared to death of the prospect of this. It would have been waaaay out of my comfort zone. Add in the mountain of money you need to raise to basically live abroad for 11 months and, well....I think I would have just sat at home on the couch. BUT- this little lady is putting fear and doubt behind her and running full steam ahead into the unknown. I am so proud of her. I wish I could just whip out my checkbook and send her on her way....but alas, I cannot :(
So, I'm doing the next best thing- FUNDRAISING! Now, as many of you adoptive mama's know, we can fundraise the mess out of a looming financial situation. :)

So, PLEASE stop by the auction page HERE and place a bid, make a donation (tax deductible) and share the sunshine!
Here are a few of the lovely items- (in addition to some great gift cards!) I mean it's like making a donation AND getting a prize! What could be better than that?

 

Good times in St. Petersburg

Just some random food for thought...on this day 2 years ago I was being manhandled by an entire wing of medical professionals in St. Petersburg, Russia in preparation for our upcoming court date. Forgive me if you've read this before, but it is just too crazy to not mention again.

We arrived in St. Petersburg on Sunday afternoon at 3:45. Of course, we were exhausted as not have slept on the plane at all or for the last 24 hours for that matter. We had a soup broth and ravioli supper at the apartment in St. Pete around 4:30. Our host didn’t have any beverages in the house, so we only had hot tea after supper, and you can’t drink the water out of the faucet, so we were thirsty! Then our translator says we must fast for our medical exams tomorrow, including no water (what kinda fast is this?).  Well by 3:00am (as I lie wide awake in bed) my mouth felt like the desert. In my head I am quite unhappy at the “no water” rule. I think this is false medical advice, as I remember thinking “isn’t my body like 70% water?” To me it was like saying “you can’t breathe oxygen until your medical exam” Ridiculous. If there was water in the house I definitely would have rebelled against this rule, but alas, bad water and the thought of eminent death if I partook of the water outweighed by desire to drink or bend the rules to prove a point.

So the next day we leave the house at 7:00am and drive to the Medical Institute of St. Petersburg, a sort of teaching hospital as I understand it. Apparently, it was built by Americans, so they told us we should feel at home. Notsomuch.  It was a foreign concept- to be poked and prodded by people you don’t understand and don’t understand you.  8 different people to be exact.

So we arrive at the Institute and check our coats at the door. The funny thing about being in a different place is that the people familiar to these types of situations take for granted that you have no idea what’s going on. You just do what they do and hope you are right. Anyway, coat checking, foreign concept, but follow their lead. (We were driven by a new guy in a van there, accompanied by our facilitator, her son, (who was very sick and wanted to see the doctor), our translator, who was there, well, to translate but also hoped to be examined for her chronic nose problems and allergies. Our regular driver was there when we got there. He is always “mysteriously” showing up places, making the way smooth for us. He is a guy who “knows guys”. So here we are, an unlikely brood, two Americans (one giant sized and one for some reason people like to stop and stare at, in any case, not the most popular kids on the block these days) a tiny Russian lady, an artsy translator with a runny nose, a sick pre-teen with a Mohawk, and a driver with connections. They hand us these tiny blue plastic foot covers for our shoes. I guess checking your shoes is too much to ask.

Our driver we'll call him "Vinny"  informs us that they will accept our American medical exams we had done before we left including blood work for sexually transmitted diseases, EKG, chest x-rays and we won’t have to do them again. We are ushered by Vinny to a large office, no windows (an important part of the story for later) There is a man with a coat and tie inside, no blue shoes. He invites us to his tea party set up. We are so happy- finally drinks! As we are getting ready for tea, the doctor asks “where are your beliruben results?”Excuse me? He says I see all the other tests- HIV, Hep A,B,C, Syphilis, but no beliruben? We weren’t told about that. Our translator is confused. I am trying to explain what beliruben is, except, I don’t really know either. I know I have it and I think it has to do with my liver. He says “sorry you will need to get blood work done again and must continue to fast.” I am more upset about not being able to drink rather than getting poked with needles in a foreign country. That’s how thirsty I was.

He continues his interview, a man and two women walk in and sit next to us. Who are these people? Are they doctors? He continues to ask us questions about our fertility and if we have ever been to Africa. Apparently there is no HIPAA in Russia.

The couple next to us starts having tea and eating cookies. I don’t know who they are but I instantly dislike them for drinking in front of us.

We go to the blood room. It is stark and the nurse looks like she could totally take Chad in a fight. Hands down. After we are drained of the appropriate amount of blood, an attractive brunette walks in. We are told to walk with her, she is the neurologist. All of the conversations with all of the doctors start like this “Would you like to tell us about any health problems you have?” Kinda vague, right? By the end I wanted to say “no” and see what happened. But I refrained.  We were ushered back and forth between several rooms with several doctors. All the rooms looked exactly the same except for two. The psychologist’s office had white puffy cloud wallpaper. He was done talking to me in 5 minutes. He had a heyday with Chad and his parent’s divorce when he was little. Lots of “how did that make you feel?” and all of that quacky stuff.  The only weird thing he asked me was a follow up question to if I was a good girl growing up. I said yes, good grades, stayed out of trouble, all that jazz. He asked me “Why were you good?” That was like asking a tiger why it has stripes…Uhhh….because I wanted to? Our translator kept smiling at me the whole time, like at any moment she was just going to burst into laughter. But we couldn’t….this guy took himself VERY, VERY seriously.

The last stop was a room with a huge open window facing the street and neighboring apartment buildings. The only room with a window. The room where we undressed. Awesome. It was also the most crowded room to add to the awkwardness- us, our translator, and three lady doctors- cardiologist, dermatologist, and oncologist. I will spare you the details of all the touching and feeling that went on in this room. I just kept thinking- I can see people out there, I am pretty sure they can see me.  When they asked “do you have any health problems?” that scene from National Lampoons Christmas runs through my head. “Yup….I got a metal plate in my head and when Katherine runs the microwave I pee my pants and forget who I am for 30 minutes” I think it was just the naked awkwardness that makes your brain think of silly things to keep you from thinking about the situation at hand.

We finally make it to the end of our exams after about 3 hours. We can finally have tea and cookies. They tell us our beliruben was just fine as were our blood sugar levels. (Of course they are BECAUSE I AM STARVING TO DEATH!) We meet with the head doctor, a pleasant plump lovely lady that is a dead ringer for Aunt Bea from the Andy Griffith show.  The other people walk in too. Turns out they are a Finnish couple adopting a boy and a girl from St. Petersburg. They say it was only a 40 minute flight and I kinda dislike them all over again. Despite that, they were actually really nice people. They said Torry Hansen’s actions affected them as well, slowed down their process quite a bit; it’s been almost a two year process for them as well. They will make 3 more trips before their adoptions are finalized. They hope to have their son and daughter home before March.  Aunt Bea is very sweet and kind, of course…she gives us a postcard as a souvenir so that we will always remember our time here. I smile and nod, but want to say, trust me, this is an experience I will never EVER forget.  We pay an absorbent amount of money, sign some papers in Russian that we have NO IDEA what they say (maybe they can make clones of us?) and they give us a paper to take to court stamped with a hundred seals, stating simply that we are perfect specimens of the human form and are in satisfactory health to raise Charlie. Good thing I didn’t say the joke about the metal plate. 

Good times, right?