Magical

I guess that's how my brothers, cousins, and I used to feel about my grandparents' house when we were kids. It was a large house, built in the 1960s to my grandfather's very specific specifications (haha, redundant, much?), and we all loved it. Plenty of bedrooms, a hidden attic, a wooded area, the courtyard... I adored that house.

I think my little girl cousins really believed they were princesses and my grandparents the king and queen of our very own kingdom. I think my favorite room in the house was the den. It had a wall of bookshelves, and this beautiful brick half-circle fireplace that went from floor to ceiling. My grandfather's camel collection lived there, and I adored every one of them.

Then, my grandad died on a rainy September day after a long illness, and my grandmother died the following May.

Immediately, their house was no longer a place where fairy tales we made. We did not live happily ever after. The magic was gone, and I haven't felt it again...

Until this week.

My parents have been in the process of building a house, and they finally were able to move into last week. The house is beautiful... not that their old house wasn't nice, but it wasn't special or beautiful (we called it the big blue barn-- Dutch Colonial with tanish/grayish bricks and blue siding!) The new house in a development that's sort of out in the country outside my hometown. There's a pond out back and line of trees, and my girls' bedroom overlooks this scene. It's beautiful.

When I went to pick up the girls, it surprised me. I could see the magical feeling my cousins and I once had about my grandparents' house in my children's eyes. R said many times she didn't want to leave. As I sat out on the screened in porch, my babies in tiny wicker rocking chairs by my side, I watched the wind in the trees and heard the birds singing in them. And I think I felt the magic, too. And peace. I miss my grandparents and their home so very much.

I think about my childhood and how much my grandparents shaped who I am today... and how much I adored going to their house... and I'm so thankful that my girls will be able to have a place that is a little bit magical for them, too.

Exhaling

My R has been, umm, a handful lately, actually for several months now. At the beginning of summer, it was horrible. We spent the first 2 days of my break with her whining and fussing and screaming and yelling, etc. After 2 full days of constant battles, I was in tears, total breakdown. It was so, so hard.

Since then, she's still had days like that, but it hasn't been constant. Still, I would walk around feeling like my heart might explode from the stress of the whole thing. Lots of yelling on my part. Arguments between A and I because of the tension. And a sweet little E-poodle watching from the sidelines. I can only imagine what it was like for her. Poor curly fry.

However, the past 3 days have been great. Peaceful. When I've told R to do something or to NOT do something, she's listened. I took E and her to a playdate with another ET adoptive family on Wednesday and then to a nearby mall. It was supposed to be a short trip-- one store to grab one thing-- but it ended up being about an hour and a half because we unexpectedly ran into my bff and her precious girls so we helped them shop for a little bit, too.

And she listened. She stayed in the stroller or right next to M's older girls. She didn't grab at clothing and pull them off the shelves. She didn't fuss about wanting this or that. She didn't demand more snacks, which I'd left in the van because it was supposed to be a short trip. Above all, she listened. Did I mention she listened?? She wasn't perfect, but she was amazing. She was actually more well behaved than her normally very laid back sister.

She was pretty good Thursday and great today. I could tell she was happier today. Her sweet and silly huge smile returned today. I hadn't realized it had disappeared. She sang and danced and was sweet and helpful and kind. Sure, she was still ornery and a little wild here and there, but again, she listened and obeyed A and me. She only had to go in time out one time today, and it was for something really minor. I was mostly just making the point that she had to do what Mommy told her to do.

I don't want it to feel like I have a tally sheet of good days and bad for my R, but I am hoping that she continues to listen and obey. I don't mind if she does something she shouldn't-- as long as when she is asked to stop, she does. I know, she's only 3.5! And she is a curious little girl... I just need for our home to be peaceful like it has been the past few days.

So, with that, I feel like I can begin to exhale. My chest isn't so tight, and my vocal chords have had a rest, too.

It is so nice to be able to enjoy my precious daughter again. I love her so, so much-- no matter what-- always and forever-- but it is so amazing to be able to have fun with her instead of constantly fight with her.

Here's hoping it all lasts and only gets better from here!!

A Little over 18 Months

That's how long E has been home.

Recently, I was talking to my friend H about my girls. She mentioned that although E is almost 2.5, she just seems like she should be so much younger. I agreed and said it was because we had so much more time with R-- so much more babyhood to drink up, enjoy, relish.

E came home at 10 months, and like I've said before, not knowing really anything about the time she spent in Ethiopia before our referral of her at 8 months drives me nuts.

All the adoption books and experts say that when a child comes home, you must allow him or her to regress to their "family" age, basically starting over from the time you brought the child home as their age. (Hopefully that makes sense. I feel I'm not explaining myself very well.)

It hit me, as I talked with H, that parents need that, too. Some days, I long for those precious days of babyhood that I missed with my E. She's still so new to my family-- sometimes I need to feel like she's 18 months old instead of nearly 2.5.

I hate the "lost" time I missed with my daughter. However, I know that this time with her Ethiopian family helped to shape her and who she is today. Her journey brought her to our family, and I would never, ever change that. She is so very wholly my daughter and I still think it is a miracle that a precious baby, born in rural Ethiopia, is my daughter. But still, some days I long for an 18 month old baby.

I guess my point is that sometimes, parents need a "family" age, too. Have any of you felt this way?

Confession

My house is a total pit right now. Like, if you were to come over, I'd have to pretend like we're not home and cower downstairs until you gave up, got back in your car/van/svw/whatever, and went back home. I haven't had anyone over since R's birthday party in Nov, and there's a reason for that. The idea of having someone see what it looks like right now is humiliating. Like it's just so embarrassingly messy everywhere, and I don't know how to start or where to start. Ok, the where to start is in the kids' play area of our living room... but after that? Your guess is as good as mine.

I feel like we're totally drowning in stuff. I need to just get rid of so much of it, organize the rest, and keep it organized. This is my summer goal. How do you who work full time year round do it? I guess maybe you're better at keeping things organized than I am for one thing. Trust me, that's a very low bar.

Honestly, this isn't a new thing for me. As a child, my room was always a mess. As a college student, that didn't change, but one of my roommates was/still is a complete neat freak so it wasn't too out of control. After A and I got married, the apartment/house wasn't totally neat all the time (ok, it probably was messy), but it wasn't this bad. But then when R came home? Oh my gosh. And then E? Oh my gosh times 20. And it is not like A is helpful in keeping things clean/neat/organized. He's just as bad as I am, but he doesn't think he's responsible for anything except for his office. It's overwhelming, really.

I guess maybe the house is a metaphor for the rest of my life, as I feel like it's up in the air and disorganized, too. It's just so embarrassing. I don't want to be like this, but I honestly do not know how to change. If I get my house clean, it'll stay that way for a little while, and then, over and over again, it becomes cluttered and out of control once more.

So, maybe it's time to get off my stupid blog and start organizing something? Probably so. Ugh. Hate it!

Birthday

Today's mine. I've always liked having a June 12 birthday. I love June, and 12 seems like a comfortable number. So, in that regard, it is a good day.

I've had some trouble adjusting to the idea of creeping closer and closer to my mid 30s. My husband will be 35 his next birthday, and that shocked me when I realized it. My bff found a grey hair on her head this morning, and I feel like the bags and circles under my eyes are glaring at me, like my eyeliner got really smudged or something.

I feel like just very recently, the idea of "aging" has really started to creep up on me. It's weird to me to see pictures of myself from not that long ago and see how much older I look now. (Especially since the girls came home. Not their fault, just haven't taken care of myself like I used to.)

I have some other stuff going on, too, so I guess that's not helping. I thought the work stuff was going to get better-- and I think it will-- but I got my teaching assignment Friday, and it is less than favorable. I had my trust betrayed yesterday, and R is going through a phase in which she tantrums constantly... well I'm hoping it's a phase anyway.

So... happy birthday to me, I guess.