Sunday, September 14, 2014

Pictures and Perspective.

I love pictures.
I love to capture life's little split-second moments that leave my mind so quickly.

I need evidence on days that are tough that they aren't always that way.
I need reminders of where we were and hope for where we are going.

So, yesterday I charged the camera.
And started taking pictures...I did some practice while Adam and Asher were getting clean...
Adam looked more like a bubble-monster in one of them.

     





Then I started looking at the pictures I never deleted.
And I found this one...



This is a picture I took of the kids before we adopted our two teeny boys.
Before we knew Auggie was not available.
This was when we were getting one new boy.

This picture shows only one tuxedo shirt meant for Auggie...
This empty shirt was a place holder for our boy that wasn't home yet.
What makes me smile is that in my paperwork-induced stupor, while preparing for Auggie...
I accidentally ordered TWO of these tuxedo shirts.

I was feeling inspired.
And sentimental.
So we did this:





It seemed like everyone was in a quasi-acceptable-for-pictures mood...
And the teeny boys had handled tuxedo pictures rather well.
So I told ALL the kids to get their "family" shirts on and we would try and get pictures of everyone.
Let's just say it went downhill from there.

I wanted to get a picture of the teeny boys being held like potato sacks by TC...
Adam was not amused.
Asher was.








Sigh.
So then we decided to try and get the biggest boys and the smallest boys...
Asher (who is not affectionate) for some reason, for the first time ever, was determined to give Adam a hug...while on Judsen's shoulders. 
Adam, who wants to hug everyone all the time, did NOT want to be hugged.





That didn't work so well either...and the teeny boys were getting annoyed, so we gave them a break and moved on to the middle boys...Joseph and Corban.
Now, keep in mind, Joseph and Corban are silly boys. 
So silly, in fact, that I could not get a normal face out of either of them.
Not. ONE. Not one single one. 


  


  


So...moving on...to the girls.
Who are just so obedient. 





I tried to sneak in a couple of shots of Adam wearing a hat while the bigger kids were getting set up for our next round of pictures...He was not interested.



I quickly gave that idea up.

Now to attempt a picture with everyone in it...
Please be advised that my standards have dropped.
When Judsen was our one and only, I took him to a place and paid a photographer to make funny faces and take perfect pictures of my clean child with ironed clothes and slicked-back hair.
How times have changed.
Here is the craziness that followed...





Not pretty pictures...but we are getting there.
I could feel it in my bones.
Good kid picture...here we come.

And then Asher barfed on TC's head.

Poor TC. 



And everyone laughed.
Even TC. 
And lucky for all of us, TC is not a sympathetic barfer.
Nigel cleaned them up...




And my hope for a non-barfy, slightly-clean picture with everyone looking in the same direction died.
Right there. 
I gave up.
And got a little cranky.

Why can't these silly kids just look in one direction (of MY choosing), with eyeballs OPEN
and not puke on your brother's head. 

I just put the camera away.

Get some perspective.
This morning, the kids went and pulled out the camera and started looking at the pictures...and all I heard was "Ohhh, I looove this one!" and "This one is so funny!" followed by hysterical laughter. 
And that's when I realized, I have trouble with perspective. 

I am a perfectionist. I am Type A. In the extreme.

I wanted perfect pictures.
With 8 children.
Feel free to laugh.

My kids' picture comments reminded me that I might have been wrong.
Maybe.

Because what was captured on camera yesterday was not just wild children looking in the wrong direction and puking on one another...

  

It was silly.


Or maybe just completely ridiculous.


It was sweet.




It wasn't perfect...it was better.





It was real.
















Sunday, August 24, 2014

mr. dawkins and definitions.

This week on Twitter InYourFaceNewYorker said:

"I honestly don't know what I would do if I were pregnant with a kid with Down Syndrome. Real ethical dilemma."


And Richard Dawkins replied with this:


"Abort it and try again. It would be immoral to bring it into the world if you have the choice."

Sunday, August 3, 2014

Adam Update.

Adam is ON THE CHARTS FOR HIS AGE GROUP!
And the whole family did a happy dance.
He was in the 2nd percentile for weight at our last check-up.
Yes, that is small...but who cares!?
ON the chart is a BIG deal!

Adam is learning by leaps and bounds.
He can sign...please, thank you, food, more, and cracker.
He babbles but doesn't speak quite yet.

I think he has a ridiculous sense of humor.
He will babble "mamamamamamamamaaaaa."
And I, being insanely excited, will smile encouragingly. Saying, "Yes! Mama!"
And he, being a bull-headed Amerikrainian (that I know is torturing me on purpose) 
will giggle and say "Dadadadadada!"
Every. Single. Time.

Adam hates cake.
I was so excited to make his first birthday cake.
And here is what happened....

Me: Adam, try your birthday cake! Want a bite? It is sooo yummy! You will love it! 
Adam: AAAAHHHHHHHHH!!!!!! (wiping mouth furiously, crying, and dry-heaving)




Adam likes me to carry him around.
Every second of every day.
I have been putting him in the baby carrier on my back.
But he doesn't like that either.
He much prefers to ride around attached to my front.
On the occasion that I do have to put him on my back...
He sweetly, kindly, (screechingly)  lets me know that he does not approve by leaning waaaaay over and hollering at the absolute top of his lungs...
just in case I wasn't sure how he felt about his mode of transportation. 


Why not just put him on the ground? 
Well, when I do that he attaches himself like a barnacle to my leg and cries big, sad tears. 
It is pitiful.
And so far, I just cannot stand it.

And in the land of adoption-bonding, Adam actually liking me (even in a loud sort of way) is a good thing. 

Adam is settling right into family life.
He knows which ones of us are suckers (me, Joseph, TC) 
and which ones of us aren't (everyone else).
He seems to recognize that we are his family. 
And he belongs.
And that is all adoption is...
A place to belong.





Please leave any questions in the comment section 
or 
email: thesometimes8irons@gmail.com











Saturday, June 21, 2014

Asher update.


He has gone from a Ukrainian hospital....


To a Ukrainian orphanage...


Alone.
With no family.

No Mama.
No Daddy.
No brothers or sisters...


Unwilling to make eye contact.
Unsure of how to play.
Unaware of people around him...
Living in an orphanage.
Destined to a life in an asylum because he has an extra chromosome.

And now...





This teeny boy has a best friend in our house.
TC.
TC and Asher are buddies.
Asher likes to click his teeth on TC's head.
Right now, it is Asher's favorite activity besides eating.









Sweet boy.



He has been home for almost 3 months...I think.
I can hardly keep track with all of the activity.

We have been to 18 doctor's visits (so far.)
I have cleaned approximately 673 poops out of the bath tub.
I have kissed him a million times.
I have rocked him to sleep twice, he still hates it.
He has had two hair cuts (which he hates). 14 nail clippings (hates these too)...

I have asked myself and been asked by countless people...
Why international adoption this time? Why not a child here? 
I think the best explanation is that I just do not agree that adoption should be restricted by my geographical location. Why should I be circumscribed to only American orphans? Is an orphan abroad less valuable than an orphan in my own locale? I think no.

I know my big kids would agree.
I like to think Asher would too.


Curious about adoption?  
Please email: thesometimes8irons@gmail.com