Reflections

Have I told you that I love our fireplace?

We never use it.

I'm so glad we have it.

My children love to watch their reflections in the fireplace and we've captured some awesome moments that way.

Here's Nathan, last Christmas.    Nathan wants to do anything Brent does.  For Christmas, he wanted to be "a Seattle Seahawk" (which is Daddy's favorite NFL team).  So his big gift this last year was his very own NFL uniform.

He unwrapped it and immediately wanted to put it on.  

Then he stood, admiring his reflection in front of the fireplace. 

Seriously, how cute is that.... You can see we weren't even done with presents, but he was so excited to be a Seattle Seahawk.

Miss Sophia, who is a happy, cheerful child, loves to wear pretty dresses and LOVES to watch herself spinning in the fireplace reflection.

Here she is on Easter, loving her new dress.

Every time she gets dressed in the morning, the first thing she does is run down to the fireplace to spin in front of it and giggle at her reflection.

Love my fireplace and the glimpses it gives me into my children's hearts.

BYU Women's Conference

I spoke at BYU Women's Conference today.  It was quite an adventure.  One of those experiences where you have 4 months to "prepare" (which means stress, second guess yourself and wonder if they know that they're doing by asking you).

Several weeks ago, I told Nathan I was 'worried about this big talk I had coming up where I had to speak to a lot of people".  He reached out, rubbed my arm and said, "Mama, if you're nervous, you can just talk to me..."

So today, I told him I'd finished it and he explained, "See, Mama!  I told you it wasn't that bad!"

I think it went well and I'm grateful I had the opportunity.  Once in a lifetime for sure.

And, to make up for not posting for weeks and weeks, here's a video of Sophia telling the gripping story of Goodnight, Gorilla.

Yes, my kids are THAT cute.

It's My Birfday Par-tay

Dear Nathan,
You turned 4 yesterday.  All your aunts, uncles and cousins came down to celebrate with you, along with Aunt Titi and your best buddy, Colly.

We had it at a local park where the kids could play on the big toy.  Papa grilled burgers for everyone.

This was your face when you saw the elephant from Brian and Kim.

Just like last year, you weren't expecting the presents.  It surprised you that we were doing that, too.

"It's Thomas!" (Thanks, Trudi)

That's what friends are for!

This was your face when you were opening your first presents.

Bike Helmet from Grandma and Grandpa "Mint"

You're such a sweet, beautiful, wonderful little man.  We love you so very much.

Happy Birthday, Sweetness!
Mama

Hearts and Thoughts They Fade

Dear Sweetness,
Mama's got to write down some of the sweet and silly things you say and do because memory WILL fail me.

The other day you were talking about Colly.  You started listing off all of your favorite toys of Colly's.

"He gots a elephant.  He gots a dinosaur.... Really, he gots EVERYTHING!"

____

You are REALLY bothered by the bugs of summer nipping at you.  It makes you so mad and frustrated.

You asked me the other day, "Why bugs eats peoples?"  I told you that they must think we're tasty.

You sighed, knowingly, "Oh... like when Daddy eats my chocolate neck...."

And somehow that resolved it for you

____

You made the comment the a few months ago that something was "expensive as an elephant".  Since then you've asked me if you were "obedient as a dinosaur" (thanks to the "How Does a Dinosaur Say Goodnight" book and our frequent discussions about every detail of every picture). 

Another day you snuck up on me and "bwah'd" me to scare me.  I pretended to be VERY scared and said, "Wow!  You snuck up on me" and you said, "Yeah!  I sneaky as a hippopotamus!!"

Not EXACTLY what I was thinking of when I think "stealthy wild creatures", but what do I know...

____
We have a marble statue replica of the Christus in our home.  The other day you told Daddy, "That's Jesus.... I like his head."
____
One night in your prayers you said, 'Thank you for playing in the dirt with Daddy..."

I love to listen to your prayers.  You're also pretty frank about how you're feeling about things.  The other night I was getting us ready for bed and said, "Nate, are you going to say your prayers?" and you looked at me and said, 'Umm... no, probably not."

Why do men start young with that attitude to spiritual things??

Cause in My Head There's a Greyhound Station Where I Send My Thoughts to Far off Destinations...

Dear Sweetness,
You've grown again. 7 inches since you came home.  Your grandmas say that you're taller each time they see you.  Sometimes I think you're taller each time I see you.

You're finally pretty much potty trained.  You're so pleased with yourself.

Your language skills are exploding.  You still have your own way of saying some things.  A few of my current favorites are:

blacklist - breakfast
flum - thumb or plum, depending on the context
wallermillon - watermelon
nuggle - snuggle
prootnac - fruitsnacks
sanglitch - sandwich

You love to read books and I think it's so sweet the way you relate to the characters.  One of your favorites this week is The Very Hungry Caterpillar.  I realize that Eric Carle does his pictures as tissue paper collages and that's why his books are so fun, but it also makes some of his pictures hard for you to decipher.  There's a piece of cherry pie in this book and no matter how many times I tell you that's what it is you still call it "pizza cake" (because that IS sort of what it looks like).  You love to jump ahead to the part where the caterpillar eats to much and has a tummy ache.  I think you're sad for him.  You know what it's like to have "tummy hurts"

You also love to randomly blurt out, "Mama, where it live?" and then I'll ask you "Where does what live, Sweetness" and then you say whatever random animal you've been thinking about.   Sometimes you forget that I can't hear your thoughts.  Your animal choices are things like elephants, octopus, bear, shark, horses, whales, "penglins", and sometimes it's something like "trains".  "Where trains live, mama?"

This last weekend you started your "Why" phase.  It's been the longest few days of my life  :)  I repeat it back to you each time you say it and you get very mad and I say, "yeah, it is annoying isn't it?"  Sometimes I tell you exactly why just to keep my cool.  Like today you threw a ball and it accidentally hit Mama.  I said, "Hey, you hit me!" and you said, "Why?" so I explained trajectory to you and you kept asking "why" until you used up all my physics knowledge.

At least it amuses me...

You love counting things, even though a lot of the numbers you use are made up.  Eleventeen, and twentyteen are personal favorites.

The other night you went to the store with Daddy.  When you came home, you came running down the hall and said, "Mama, I here!" and when you hugged me you said, "I came back for you."

You remember things with scary accuracy.  And sometimes you pull something out that you heard somewhere and I'm pretty sure you DIDN'T know you used it correctly.  Like the other day you asked if we could do something and I said, "We'll have to see" and you said, "That'll be the day".  After I quit laughing I asked you where you heard that and you reminded me that one of the trains says that in one of your Thomas videos.  It just happened to fit, but I don't think you know what it means.

I don't THINK you do...

I love, love, love being your Mama and I'm so proud of every little thing you do, Sweetness.

I love you.
Mama

It Takes a Sweet Boy to Call His 6'4" Papa This

Nate says this quite often in reference to Daddy.



I just adore the way he says "funny liddle guy".

It's Your Birthday!.... What Do You Mean It's Not Your Birthday

Nathan's a little confused about the whole "holiday" and "celebrations" thing.  Since it was Daddy's birthday 2 weeks ago, he's been singing a little song he made up for the dogs, "It's your birthday, Pohla!"  

So we made his first Valentines this week.  I thought it would be cute to try to get him to focus for a half a second and tell me something about the kids in his day care.  

So, Nate did the front of the cards, and Mama did the investigative reporting on the back.  

For those of you who can't quite make it out, the back of Collin's card says, 'He my friend", "He my buddy", "I gonna give him money?" (This one he phrased as a question, trying to figure out again what the point of these "bal-en-times" is), "It's your birthday, Collin" (he wanted to tell that to all the kids, so what are you going to do besides run with it?), "I love him", and "He my big buddy".

And while we're at it, here are the dogs.  Their names are Divot 

and Bobby Jones,

 but Nathan's nicknamed them "Pohla" and "Poklee" respectively.

And here is his best whirling dervish while he sings a little ditty he made up himself titled, 

"It's you birfday for Poklee"

I Come Back for You

Son,

Some friends of ours gave us this Fisher-Price car for you.  Somehow they'd ordered two and didn't want to deal with a return.

I'm not sure exactly how that happens, but hey - free car!

Because it's like negative eleventy outside, we have it in the house. In the evenings after dinner you like to get it out and drive it around and around the couch/kitchen island loop.  It's like the Toddler Autobahn.  Dogs beware.  Nate's got his "Flintstone feet" and he's a-going!

I'll say, "Bye, Nate!  Come back soon!" and you'll say, "Bye, Mama!  I see you later!" and then you're off.  Sometimes you say, "I go work.  See you later.  I get you a Jessie's" (that's his daycare lady).

This last week you added to our little game.

Now when you come back around the loop you say, "Mama, I come back for you!" and then you swing open the door to your car and you run as fast as you can to give me a hug.

Oh, Sweetness.  I know exactly how you feel.

Mamas always, always come back for you.

We're flamily.

I love you,
Mama

Countdown to Homecoming's First Product Recommendation

So, no we're not being paid for this.

A friend at work told me her dermatologist recommended this stuff:

http://www.cerave.com/cream.htm

It's a moisturizing cream with time release something-or-other in it so it keeps "moisturizing" all day.

(yes, I think "time release something-or-other" is the technical term.  But thank you for asking.)

You can get it at the Walmarts or the Target.  It's pricier, but still not in the "you want me to pay WHAAT??" range.

And here's the best part -

It.
Works.
Better.

I've noticed that the next time I go to "lube" N up (twice per day - I do live in a desert, after all) his skin is not so parched that I think I'm going to chafe him to pieces.

So far, Mama thinks this is muy bueno.

Me likey.

And that's all I have to say about that.

What Happened to My Little Boy

Dear Sweetness,
For the last several weeks every time I would ask you to stop doing something you would look at me and ask in the most innocent, sweet tone:

"Joo not want me get hurt?"

It seemed that was the only reason you could imagine for me to ask you to stop something.

Even if that something was feeding your food to the dogs.

This last week, something flipped.

I think the terrible threes caught up with you.

Or you learned something on the mean streets of daycare.

Now, when I ask you to not do something you immediately grab something and try to throw it.  Usually at my head.

What happened to "Joo not want me get hurt?"  Can we go back to that?  I not want ME to get hurt either.  And really, how much of your life needs to be spent in timeout??

I love you, but I'm not so thrilled with the train chucking phase we've entered.

Let me know when we can move on to something else.

Love,
Mama

It Was Only a Matter of Time

It's like a rite of passage to write on your face, right?

I'm just glad it was a highlighter.

Can you believe this cheesy mug??

Sweetness, you will never know how much I adore you.  Thank you for letting me be your Mama.

We Are Flamily

Dear Sweetness,
It's been a year that you've been home now.  I think you're still getting used to the idea of having a family.

I had to run an errand the other night and I was gone for a few hours.  When I walked in the door you yelled, "MAMA!  You came back for me!"

It was adorable and yet it hurt my heart.

Since then, we've been talking about how Mamas "always always always" come back for you.

You still don't trust that.

I guess we didn't really "help" that issue, what with our six trips to visit you and your sister while you were in the orphanage.

I don't think you remember those visits, but I think you might remember the stress of being left.

Again.

Then yesterday you looked at me and said, "You love me because we're flam-ily."

That's right, Sweetness.  We are "flamily".

And flamilies take care of each other.  They love each other.  They eat together.  They play together.  They pray together.

They come back for you.

I will always, always come back for you.

I love you,
Mama

Our Political Best

I'm starting to worry about the intelligence of our leaders.

We're in the process of submitting green card paperwork for Nathan.  We have to get all that done so that we can get a SSN so that we can claim him on our taxes so that we can apply for the adoption tax credit before they kill it off entirely.  (I smell a request for a tax extension coming on)

First, there's the form.  I think they called it an "I-693".  When you print it, the form is 6 pages and the instructions on how to fill out the form are another 20 printed pages.

When the last page of the instructions came out of the printer, my eyes fell to the bottom section that explained how this form fell under the jurisdiction of the "Paperwork Reduction Act".  I guess I'm lucky that I got the "short" 26-page version of the form.

Then there's the section of questions that you have to answer.  Granted, the form expects that you're not three-years old.  I get that.  I do.

I just happen to think it is completely ridiculous that they make you answer questions like "do you plan on committing espionage while in the United States".  Seriously, how many spies answer that 'yes'.  Let me rephrase that... how many "successful spies" answer that "yes"?  I thought it was pretty much a given that if you were willing to SPY on someone else that HONESTY isn't high on your list of personality strengths.

They wanted to know if Nate was sympathetic to the Nazi Government of Germany between the years 1933 and 1945 .  Yes, the question lists those years.  Do we really still get a lot of green card submissions for former Nazi sympathizers?   Let's say, hypothetically, that a person is 20 before they really figure out their personal governmental leanings.  That would mean the youngest of that group is celebrating their 86th birthday this year.  I'd imagine that those that happen to still be surviving don't travel much, what with the bad hips and such that come from being EIGHTY-SIX.

And then at the end of the form, they have a section for the submitter to sign.  I wanted to add a post-it that says "applicant is THREE and cannot write his name", but I didn't.

At least they found a way to make things work within the laws so we can finish this process for him!

Isn't It Ironic?

Dear Nathan,
This weekend Mama was making your breakfast.  You were sitting on the stool on the other side of the counter from me.

Mama turned around to grab the butter out of the fridge.  I estimate it took me approximately 3 seconds.

While my back was turned, I heard you say, "That's dangerous!" in this silly voice that you use when you're repeating something that you heard somewhere that you thought was funny.  I know that you normally have no idea what you're saying - you're just repeating what you heard.  Usually I can ask you what you mean and you tell me where you heard it.

"What's dangerous, Sweetness?" I said as I turned back around.

And then I gasped.

In that 3 seconds, you had climbed on the counter, grabbed a metal butter knife and were jabbing it, "shower-scene-from-the-movie-Psycho" style into the slot on top of the toaster.

Yes, it was plugged in.

And yes, you were saying "That's dangerous" while STABBING a piece of metal into an electrical device.

My gasp startled you and you dropped the knife.

Then we had a little chat about what "dangerous" means and how it's ALWAYS a bad idea to stick knives into other things.

We'll wait until you're older for the "metal conducts electricity" discussion.

I love you,
Mama

Make a Box

Dear Nathan,
We've been working on potty training lately.

You were potty trained in Haiti.  When you were there and Papa got there to bring you and your friends to America you would tell him when you needed the toilet.  Papa said sometimes he was pretty sure you just used the toilet as an excuse to get away from the other 200 children that were crammed into Foyer post-earthquake.

Then we came to America and started all sorts of meds for parasites and you weren't sure you wanted to talk much so we didn't push it and we went to diapers.

I actually typed "went back to diapers" until I remembered that you'd have just been bare-butt naked in Haiti.  No disposables there.

We won't talk about how the kids at your O just "went" wherever and twice a day they'd spray down the concrete.  You ate, played, pooped and napped on that concrete.  There were also a couple of buckets (literally) in the tiny alley behind the building.  I don't even want to know how often those were "cleaned".

And they wondered why you were always sick.

Anyway back to the here and now - Mama made you a chart and every time you tell us when you need to go potty you get to mark off a box.  At the end of the line of boxes, you get a Thomas the Tank Engine toy from "the Walmarts".

Cheap bribery.

Before Mama introduced "The Chart", you'd actually sometimes tell me you needed to "go potty".  Since "The Chart" you seem to be humoring me.  You now tell me that you need to "make a box for Percy".

Yup, that's what you call it.  "Make a box".  Call a spade a spade, right?  It's like you're saying, "OK, woman.  I'll play your little game if I must."

We've propped the couple of trains that you're working toward up on the wall above the shower.  You can see them in their packages and sometimes I've found you standing in the bathroom, looking up at them longingly.  I'll ask you what you're doing and you'll turn to me with determination and say that you need to "make a box for Percy".

And I love that now you clap for EVERYONE that goes potty.  You're so proud of ME and you've even asked me if I, too, am "making a box for Percy".

Sadly, no.  Mama isn't "making a box for Percy".  By the time you hit 37, people expect you to do things without rewards.  But we'll hold off on that lesson for a few dozen years.

You're just awesome, Little Man.  I can't get enough of you.

I love you,
Mama

Photo of the Year?

Dear Nate,
The local paper printed their "photos of the year" for 2010 today.

http://www.heraldextra.com/app/2010photos/?photo=17

Just so you know, the one of you making out with the dog made their list.

I can't wait to blackmail you with that some day.

I love you,
Mama

Dear Nate,

Mama likes to ask you random questions to see what you'll see.  Sometimes I ask you if you like asparagus, even though I know you have no idea what that means.  Or I'll ask you if you have a purple nose or if you like the Seahawks better than the Steelers.

I also like to ask you if your name is something strange.  I'll ask you if your name is Hephzibah McGillicudy, for example.  Or Dwayne Smarkinsky.  Or Eugene Parsnip.  Whatever strange-sounding names or words come into my head.  Just to see what you'll do.

You're used to it.  You know your Mama is silly.

The other night we heard the garage door open, signalling that Daddy was home.

I asked you who was home and you said, "Daddy".   I said, "Nathan's daddy or Divot's daddy?"  (Divot's our dog).

You said, "Divot's daddy" (and I could tell by the look in your eye that you were on to me - you knew that I was being silly).

Then I said, 'What's Divot's daddy's name?"

You did this funny thing with your eyebrows (that seemed to say, "Wait for it...") and then you proudly pronounced, "Felix!" and then you started laughing your head off because you knew you'd just played my own game back at me, and that you'd done it well.

I have no idea where "Felix" came from, but it is a pretty strange sounding name.  Good job, son!

We laughed and laughed at how silly you were.  You were so proud of yourself that you spent the rest of your night running around the house yelling, "Felix!  Felix!" and laughing proudly.

I'm so happy to see your sense of humor beginning to develop, Little Man.  Nothing in Haiti is funny.  It's hard to be wacky when you're starving to death.

So here, in this safe place, you're blossoming.  You're stretching your mind and you're discovering imagination and you're learning that the world has words like "pretend" and "playing" and "silly" and "more, please".

You're even branching out into wacky.

And I love every minute of it.

I love you, Felix.
Mama

Nathan's First Christmas

Dear Sweetness,
It was so fun to see you enjoy your first Christmas.

On Christmas Eve morning, I was snuggling with you on the floor in front of the tree and I said, "Today is Christmas Eve.  What does that mean?" and you said, "1 more sleeps 'til Santa comes with toys for Nathan".

Christmas Eve afternoon, Aunt Titi and Collin came by.  You got out some of your favorite toys and shared with Collin (although it did require some coaxing to get you to "take turns" with Collin).  Mama told you that you were a good boy to share.

You've been a bit sick and so you're out of sorts if Mama doesn't stay right on top of your Tylenol.  Around bedtime, you were completely beside yourself - kicking and biting and yelling, "I not go bed".

In an exasperated, not so good Mommy moment I resorted to threats and said, "Well, if you're not asleep then Santa can't come.  Maybe he'll have to take your toys somewhere else."

Your eyes got hugely wide and you said, "But Mama... I take-a-turns wit Tollin!"

Good point... that must count for SOMETHING.

First thing the next morning, before your eyes were fully awake you said to me, "Mama, I take-a-turns wit Tollin, huh?"  You wanted to be sure that was going to outweigh the complete hissy-fit you'd had.  You sweet, sweet little boy.

Sure enough, there were presents under the tree.  We took our time and let you enjoy.  (You're not smiling in the pictures but trust me, you had a blast!)

You would have been happy with one present.  You were pretty overwhelmed with more than one present.  But Mama and Daddy have some missed Christmases to make up for, so you got more than one present.

I love you, Sweetness.

Thank you for making all merry and bright.
Mama

Couldn't Have Said It Better Myself...

Dear Nathan,
The other day you had a sore throat.  Mama couldn't feel swollen glands, but you were holding your spit in your mouth.  I asked you what was wrong and you said, 'Mama, my swallow's broken".

Oh, Sweetness.  I know the feeling.

Glad you're feeling better.
Love, Mama

Dear Nathan,

I picked you up this morning to bury you in hugs before I had to leave for work and I could swear that you had grown taller overnight.

I think you're getting bigger, Little Man.

I swung you around and said, 'Not bigger!  You need to stay my little baby forever!" and then you tried to repeat what I said because that's just what you do right now and the way you said, "No bigger baby ever!" made me laugh.

But I do think you're taller and it scares me just a little because I JUST got you and I NEED MORE TIME.

I need the years we lost.

The years when you were in Haiti and I was here and the Haitian government didn't want to process papers so you could come home.

The years that I didn't know if you were OK and you didn't know if anyone cared and we both could have answered each others concerns but the governments wouldn't let us be together yet.

I need to rock you through your infancy and nuzzle your little neck as you start to crawl and swing you around as you chase me when you learn to walk.

We lost that, you and I.  But I want you to know that doesn't make us any less "one" than if we'd had it.

I can still snuggle you and wrap you up in my arms and relish the way you just seem to fit tucked into my shoulder.

I don't even mind the superbly toxic Chambers of Haitian Secrets that are your "stinky butts" (as Papa's taught you to call your dirty diapers).  I'll change them for a few more years if you'll just promise me that you won't grow up yet.

You are such a joy, Little Man.  You are a silly, wacky, busy, happy, stubborn, temper-ridden ball of goodness.  And I can't believe you're mine.

I have to admit that I am constantly in awe of you.  Sometimes I find myself staring at you and wondering how in the world you came to be and why I'm so blessed to get to be your Mama and if I'll ever get over marveling at how amazing you are.

This evening, I told one of my coworkers I needed to head home so I could see my son.

I don't think you'll ever know how amazing it is to me that I HAVE A SON.

You've done for me something that I couldn't do - you made me a Mommy.  I know that sounds silly and that no one can really make themselves a Mommy, but that's what I mean.

Things just didn't work.  And the doctors didn't know why and we didn't know why and I didn't know if I'd ever be a Mommy but you did and Heavenly Father did.

Now I know that I wasn't a Mommy yet because I needed that ache in my heart to grow and grow to where it carried me to you, clear across the country and over the water to the tiny island where you were... sitting... in a boring stuffy house that only had 3 bedrooms but had 68 kids and not enough not enough not enough.

"'Not enough' what?" you ask.

"Anything...Not enough anything."  Not enough room.  Not enough beds.  Not enough toys.  Not enough food.  Not enough love.

And then the earth moved and the buildings fell and hearts changed and they let us bring you home.

I love when we're playing on the floor together, both making "car noises" and driving your trucks, and you look up at me with the most vibrant, sparkling smile that seems to say, "Mama... this is the best day ever!"

I adore that crooked grin you get when something you were trying to do finally works and you're trying to pretend that you're not amazed yourself that it finally came together so you're trying to suppress the grin that is bursting to break out. Your "modesty" makes me giggle.

Today Papa taught you how to say, "Hello, baby.  What's your sign?" and then you called me at work to share your new pickup line.  I love the little inflection in your voice when you say, "Hel-low, BAY-bee", trying to imitate Papa's "fake sexy voice".

I chuckle that you think you can get out of going to bed by pretending the thing you need more than anything else in the world is a hug from Mama RIGHT THEN.

I'm so on to you, Little Man.

Of course, you'll still get the hug because you've been through horrible things and you've been on such a tiring journey to get to this place where you have your own room and you actually HAVE a bed.

We learned this last week of some of the other horrors that you and your friends from the O had to endure and I can't believe you're all sane.  You're strong, Little Man.  You're stronger than Mama, but Mama won't tell you that.

It's one of the rules, I think.  The Mamas are supposed to pretend like they're fine and not that their hearts are breaking over what you've already endured.  And I don't know what I can ever do that will be enough to make up for what you've had to live through.

But having you home... that's enough.

Just don't grow up yet.  I'm not ready.

Love,

Mama