Little Sister Lemke

Announcing Little Sister Lemke (aka Dang Qing E). We were so thrilled to receive a little medical update on our girl this week, along with these photos.  The one prior photo we had, it was hard to tell her personality.  It looks like we might have a little extrovert on our hands. We fly out on October 17, meet and pick up Little Sister on October 22, and bring her home to meet The Brothers' Three on November 1!

High School Football Wisdom

So.  The football season is quickly approaching, and more specifically, the High School Football Season.  Having, for the last four years, carried the title of Football Mom, I thought it would only be fair to impart some seasoned wisdom to all you football mom newbies out there. Read and heed.

1.       Throw all those expectations of what and who your child will be, out the window.  When my first-born  son, who surely was destined for the debate team and to be the first chair violinist in the school orchestra, announced that he just might want to play football, I died a little.  When he actually finalized his decision to play football, and joined the team, I died all the way. And went to hell. Only by the grace of God and the skin of my teeth did I keep this dying bit from my son. And let me tell you, it was one of my few shining parenting moments.  When you let your kid be who they are, they will open up to you a whole new world of wonder and joy you never imagined existed.  I seriously went from being terrified my son was morphing in to one of those brainless, bully-type jocks who walk the halls and grab the Napoleon Dynamites of the school world by the neck and slam them in to the lockers, dropping them with a loud grunt to counting the hours until it was time to head off to the real life Friday Night Lights. When his games invariably rolled in to December (notice the subtle brag? December? Does that mean he made it to State? And Won? Only all three years!), and it was 40 below zero with a wind chill, and the 5 and 6 yr old were slightly feverish and carrying a flu bug, and wailing that they were frozen, the husband or I would toss them some cash and tell them to go get hot chocolate and tough it out. We were busy cheering on our boy and his team.  Which brings me to tip #2:

2.       Do not announce your love for your son at a football game.  Although cheering for your son (or daughter - we did encounter a couple girl football players. Go Title IX!) and his team is strongly recommended, he will not appreciate hearing “MOMMY LOVES YOU, ALEX AXLUND!!” I can guarantee you he will make you regret this one.  Don’t ask me how I can guarantee that, though.

3.        If your son gets hurt on the field, you absolutely cannot, under any circumstances, go out on the field to assist or comfort him. If you believe with all your heart, that your son wants his mommy out there, that you two have a special bond, etc., you are just plain crazy.  Or this is your first child.  If an ambulance comes flying across the football field to rescue him, you cannot go on the field. No way.  If it appears your son is dead, stay in your seat. If you disregard this instruction, and he does happen to really be dead, he will come back to life momentarily to let you know how much he hates you and how you’ve ruined his life.

(On the flip side, if your teenage-brother-worshipping younger boys dig up their dad’s junior high bowling trophies - yes, I said bowling - and come up with the great idea to go down on the field and “present” them to their football-playing big brother after one of his games, let them.  It is beyond precious, and your high-schooler can just suck it up and deal. He’ll live through it.

4.       If your boy does not get as much playing time as you think he deserves, do not call his coach to complain. This will garner about as much gratefulness from your boy, as does going on to the football field when he is hurt.  Besides, if you do that, you most likely will not see your son out on the playing field at all for the rest of the season.  If your son tells you it’s ok that he doesn’t get more playing time, because although he is disappointed, he only wants what is best for the team, and only being consistently 80 points ahead of the opposing team and still not getting much playing time is somehow what’s best for the team, don’t tell him he is being brainwashed  by this football cult.  Don’t remind him that he has shown up early and stayed late for every single practice for the past four years and he deserves front and center (if “front and center” is a football term, I am still not sure). Don’t drive slowly by the coach’s house, just to let him know that you know where his children live. Life, as we all know, is riddled with unfairness and disappointments, and what better place to learn this aspect of life, than in high school.

5.       Learn to distinguish a football from a baseball, basketball and soccer ball.  It is really empowering.  Although the rules of the game are so very complicated, that it makes mastering the Rule Against Perpetuities in law school look like a piece of cake in comparison, at least try to figure out a couple of the main objectives of the game.  However, when your family, who is spread out all around the world wants updates texted to them, just spell out the words that your husband tells you to text, and don’t ask questions, because updates that say “Alex is on the field!” or “It’s really cold and windy” or “The coach’s wife just had a baby 3 days ago, and she already is back to looking hot her skinny jeans. No fair” are not as helpful as (hang on, let me call my husband and ask him for an example) “Other team 4^th down and 22  - looking for a safety here.” And before the game starts, look around you to make sure you are sitting on the right side of the stadium, and that it is other parents of your team you are sitting by.  That way, when they cheer, you will know it is also OK for you to cheer. 

6.       Finally, never miss a game. Revel in the awesomeness of every minute, knowing that those high school years pass by at lightning speed, and you can’t expect your subsequent kids to want to play football.  Accept the fact that they just might want to be on the debate team and first chair the violin section of their school’s orchestra, and that you really will live through it. Oh heck, no!

"Faith does not make anything hurt less.
The promise of heaven doesn’t make it nearer to me.
There is strength and courage in faith,
but there is not anesthesia.

But I can say I have embraced my grief.
I have walked boldly alongside this unwanted friend,
allowing it to do its work in me.
And this has been one of the most important decisions of my life.

* Nancy Guthrie and Gregory Floyd have each written books on the grief of loss, as they have each grieved the death of children.  Here, I have borrowed their words, as I can speak this sentiment with no more grace than they."

I found the above on an inspiring blog I read daily, http://www.tricialottwilliford.com/ by a dear woman with 2 small children who lost her husband to a tragic and sudden illness just days before Christmas.  She has blogged daily since the day he died. 

Just this week I was getting ready to actually start writing in this blog, as a forum for our adoption journey.  Last July, we found a little girl in China with whom we immediately fell in love.  She was waiting to be adopted.  For the third time.  Her first family that was going to adopt her, actually made it all the way to China and to her, and then decided they did not want to deal with her medical issues.  This was in 2008.  In 2011, a second family was set to go to China and bring her home within a few months, when the husband/dad was tragically killed in a rafting accident.  We immediately began the arduous process that is international adoption, and my husband and I vowed that we would never go to bed at night if there was more paperwork or things that could be done on our end to move this adoption along.  We were getting so close.  So close that we had it narrowed down to a very high liklihood that we would be traveling to get her this coming August, within days of my husband taking a bar exam, no less!

During this process, we were having an unusually difficult time of trying to get updated medicals on her.  We knew she was in dire need of another surgery, and that that particular surgery is best performed in the US. Although we didn't ever get more information, medically, we did, just last night, receive approx 15 pictures of her.  We were so thrilled.  It was all seeming so real. And she was most definitely our girl.  My husband had researched her medical condition extensively, and we were prepared for the worst, medically, and were honored to be the ones to get her help.  Andy was already defensive of her to anyone that questioned our decision to adopt a special needs child. He would have been her best advocate in school, with the doctors, our family, friends.  For Mother's day, he had a picture of her enlarged and put in a frame. We had already named her.

Just this afternoon, I was listening to Tom Waits' song, Picture in a Frame, that we always associated with our girl.  At the end of that song, the phone rang, and  our adoption agency's number was on caller ID.  This usually signals good news, and I immediately answered it.  Sadly, it was the worst news we could have received.  Our girl is not our girl. She is not coming home to us.  The CCCWA has refused to allow her to be adopted, and who knows what the real reasons are behind all that.  They say she is too fragile, medically.  They say her foster family wants her.  Given what we know about Chinese government, it all sounds suspect. 

I have spent all day on the phone with our wonderful agency, with senators and legislatures and the State Department, other adoptive parents, friends in China, all to hit a brick wall. It seems hopeless, and I wish this story had a better ending, but it is the reality of the adoption world, and we are left to grieve, for our boys who are sad to not have their sister come home, and for ourselves, and mostly for our precious girl that will not be given the opportunities that could have been provided her if she were able to be adopted.  I still hang on to a thread of hope that someone will change their mind, or someone can be convinced, but that thread seems about to snap.  Please pray for us all, especially our precious girl, who we may never get to meet, this side of heaven.

On Halloween, Marriage, and Kids

I hate Halloween. Despise it. It’s not against my religion or anything, but I wish it was. Come to think of it, now there’s an idea: “Kids, this is a satanic holiday and you will stay inside and away from all exterior windows, otherwise you could become possessed with demons. How about we just set out a basket of anti-Halloween tracts on the porch.” Anyway, contrasted with my pre-parent years, when I really did watch “Faces of Death” episodes just for kicks, photographed dead people, and obsessed over all things Ted Bundy, I now do not get a thrill out of blood, gore, death, ghosts, zombies and all that other nastiness. Call me boring. It’s actually the one night of the year I will do something domestic, like sweep the floor, because it sounds so attractive compared to the alternative.

To be honest, part of my dislike is rooted in my fear of crowds of kids (as in anything over one kid, that is awake, is a crowd). Crowds of kids are panic-attack inducing. I hyperventilate, I get dizzy, I lose my vision, it all blurs together into one large ball, all their voices turn into a loud background of, well, scary and inaudible noise. But I never felt any mom guilt over this, you see, because I have a husband that LOVES Halloween. Loves it! Daddy is here to save Halloween for the boys! He makes the best costumes; takes them trick-or-treating and doesn’t come home until their pillow cases are packed to the brim with candy; goes with them to their school Halloween festivals/parties (folks, there are hundreds upon hundreds of kids gathered at those things); carves the most awesome pumpkins, one for each of the boys, and then he throws in an extra for himself and the dog. He’s the Santa Claus of Halloween. He really is.

So, as I was relaying all of this to a friend the other day, apparently Andy was eavesdropping. When I got to the part about how it all works out perfectly, because Andy loves Halloween, my usually calm, not-easily-excitable husband (Listen, I am not saying Andy is boring, but in order to balance out his often hysterical and frantic and overly-dramatic wife, he does have to remain pretty calm. Really. For the sake of the children) interrupted with a loud and booming voice, that was also heavily Wisconsin-accented (These days, the accent only comes out on the rare occasions when he gets angry), “What?! Are you kidding me?! I HATE Halloween! It’s the worst holiday ever. And those pumpkins? What a pain in the ass to carve. And the trick-or-treating? Tromping around in the freezing cold and not knowing whether or not to actually go to the door with the kids or wait on the sidewalk? What a mess! And who knows what sort of damage is being done to our house while we are away! For crying out loud!”

Wow. That threw an entirely unique wrench into the equation. All these years, I thought I was getting off easy. But to find out that my husband made this holiday into what our middle boy, Drew, has dubbed “the most wonderful time of the year,” and what our 18 year old boy, Alex, still loves so much and is convinced, every year, that of course Halloween is a school holiday, and so much fun for our youngest, Sky, just for that reason: because he loves his boys and would sacrifice, no, I mean SACRIFICE MIGHTILY and HUGELY and VASTLY just because he loves them? I have no words. I am not sure that I know that kind of sacrifice. I mean, even in childbirth, they at least give you epidurals. I don’t think they hand those out to parents on All Hallows’ Eve. And I am humbled. And I find yet another reason to be grateful that I, despite my typically flighty and impulsive decision-making method, even to the extent of agreeing to get married on our first date, lucked out in the husband department like I did. Thank you, Andy. Your children have the best dad in the world. Now, off to google images of brooms, so I can prepare to sweep the floors next Monday night.

Happy Halloween