Feelin' the love.

I gotta say thanks for all the really thoughtful and sweet comments and messages ya'll sent after my last post. It really was a huge source of encouragement for me! I felt the love from our friends and family that have been so right here with us through every step. I loved hearing from other adoptive moms...some who are near us in the waiting journey, others just barely home with their kiddos, and still others whose adopted children are grown. They can relate in an intimate way. And other moms related their support as well--and a kinship we share in this whole business of learning to "let go" of our children. Unfortunately, with adoption, I'm learning to let go before I ever have him in my arms, but it's something that continues to happen...whether it's kindergarten, college, or marriage! But one thing that so many of you pointed out was that my intense sadness over not having Asher here is a step of connectedness towards him. Adoptees are not the only ones who have to learn to bond....we as his adopted family need to form an attachment to him as well. As someone pointed out, this mourning is a sign that God is placing a mother's love inside my heart for a child I've never met, who lives half a world away. It's a good, good thing. :)

*

It also helped that we were able to put together our next care package for Asher and mail it off today. Here's the contents of the package, minus a birthday card Carson made after I snapped this shot. My mom finished Asher's lovey/Minky, we included a special hand-me-down shirt, a photo album, a birthday card and a disposable camera. If you are looking for ways to pray, please pray that his foster family is using the disposable cameras to take pictures of him. :) Stealing the idea from Angie and fam, we took pictures of ourselves giving the polite Thai greeting. (Someone remind me what it is called! I'm too lazy to go check right now.)

This one cracks me up:

The kids were really getting into it:

I'm hoping that these pictures can communicate the story across culture lines...

And PS: Almost five years ago, someone else was wearing that same green striped polo shirt for a very special FIRST birthday. :)

Not my favorite milestone

OK, this is not a great post to have after not blogging for so long, but I'm gonna share it anyway, because I know some other people who can relate! Please allow me to wallow in self-pity for a few minutes. Yesterday I experienced another first in the adoption process...I have my first public cry. (Not counting the happy cry in the corner room at Michaels.) (Or when I got choked up reading the Toddler Adoption book at Chipotle.) This was a real one--a sad one--and I didn't like it one bit!





It's time for us to send Asher's second care package. We're trying to follow the guidelines and keeping it simple. We're sending another disposable camera, more pictures of our family, and a lovey for Asher just like the ones his brother and sister have. But next month is his birthday, so I knew I wanted to send a birthday card too. (I have no idea exactly when our package will arive in Thailand, or when the social worker will visit him, but I'm hoping it's somewhere near his b-day.)





But as I was standing there in Target, looking at all these special birthday cards for a one-year-old, I just lost it. Usually those silly sentiments don't do a thing for me...most of the time I skim them and look for the signature. But as I was reading things like "Your first cake! Your first candle! Your first year has come and gone..." Yeah. I was just overcome with sadness that I am missing it. Despite the truth that other families hold to, that the first few birthdays really aren't THAT big of a deal, since the child won't even realize what's happening, we've still had a nice big shindig for both kids' first birthdays.





I want to stay up late to make Asher a special cake...and watch him eat it! I want to snuggle him and laugh as he is mesmerized by the candle. I want to watch him attempt to grab at wrapping paper, then let his anxious siblings actually do the unwrapping for him. I want to sit back and enjoy the glow as our family and friends celebrate this first year of life and look at how much he's grown.





That's it--that's the thing. He's already grown so much. He might even be walking right now, and I've missed it. First words? I'll miss that too...and I probably wouldn't even understand them. I know in my head that he'll be home before his second birthday and we'll have every other birthday of his life to celebrate with him...even until he is tired of making a big deal about birthdays. But I don't think I will ever get over my mourning for missing this first year and a half. We got a call that we probably will not travel until April, which seems another world of wait away.





So, I chose my card. It's not especially significant or meaningful, just one that didn't make me cry too hard. And we WILL celebrate his birthday, even though he won't be here to eat his cake. And I probably will hit a major speedbump of sadness...maybe even after he's home? But right now, I'm snuggling up on that little lovey and sending my love with it, and I find a smile thinking about him sleeping with it a world away from me. And I know most days will be better than this.

Had to be there?

OK, I'm going out on a limb to describe a funny Carsonism, but I can't give it to you verbatim, so it might not translate. The reason is, his comment included the name of our hometown, which I guard pretty closely on this little bloggy thing. I think I have mentioned that we live on the west coast, so I went to google maps and found the first little west coast town I clicked on. It was Millville. So, for this story, our Brazenlilly family lives in Millville:

Carson and I were watching a show where a character was going to Thailand to visit her grandmother. I said "Oh! Carson! Did you hear that? Her grandma is from Thailand, so that means she is part-Thai!" He said, "Just like Asher! But only until he gets here. When he gets here, he'll be part Thai/part Millville."

My Bed, My Deep Thoughts

Last night I slept in a nice bed. The mattresses are really high-quality, given to us as a wedding gift by someone who works in the business. They even have our names embroidered on the side! Oh yes. You read that correctly. The frame is wrought iron and bought from a friend when they were moving. Just for fun I bought a bunch of paint and made it red. So, my bed is comfy AND pretty. The sheets, while not a crazy-high thread count, are also nice and I chose a pretty cute style on them...small red flowers. I have a pillow that cost something like $30. For a pillow! It's a memory-foam pillow that was originally Trent's, which he loaned to me when I was pregnant with Carson and having trouble sleeping...and which I never gave back. I love that thing and take it everywhere.

*

When we got in bed, it was pretty warm, so we had the a/c on low. I read for quite a while. Just for enjoyment, with a light sitting on my nightstand. I didn't doubt for a second that the light would turn on, or think about the electricity bill. Then before I fell asleep, I turned the a/c off, and just let the ceiling fan blowing on us. It has 3 speeds, so we chose the medium speed. Then in the middle of the night, I was a bit chilly, so I covered up with one of my 3 blankets.

*

My kids each cried out in the night once (maybe twice?). It didn't startle or worry me. I knew they were safe and they, too, have pretty comfy beds. And their own rooms, decorated especially for them. Full of toys and clothes. One just wanted to be re-tucked in and one needed to go to the bathroom. So I took her across the hall to our bathroom, where she and her brother had both been washed clean in the tub earlier that night. We flushed away her pee and didn't have to think about it again. Even in our sleepiness, we washed our hands with soap and water, because it's a habit. I tucked her in where she quickly fell asleep without a care in the world, except for the 1.5 seconds she couldn't find her lovey. Then I got back in my comfy bed and realized: this nightly routine is just a scratch on the surface of a life of abundance that I take so for granted.

*

How many millions of people in this world do not have a bed to sleep on? Do they have a roof over their heads--and if so, is it more than a piece of corrugated metal or a blue canopy? What are their pillows made of? What do they do when it is too hot? How many blankets can they choose from when it is too cold? How do they keep the possibly-diseased-infected insects away from their children while they sleep? And in many places, vicious insects are the least of the predators putting their children at risk--the human kind being the most terrifying. When they have to go to the bathroom in the night, how far do they walk? And how easily is the human waste removed from their daily activities? How difficult is it and how often can they bathe their children in clean water? Can they wash away germs with the flick of a faucet and the squirt of liquid soap? What nightmares do these children suffer through, and are their minds so greatly eased when they wake up to reality?

*

As I laid in bed, a feeling of gratitude washed over me. A sharp ache of the undeserving. And the unmistakable sting of conviction. See, I'm having some people over tonight, some of whom have never been to our house. And all weekend I've been kind of pouting and stressing that our house is...inadequate. It's really small and the floor-plan is strange. Our furniture is the same it was over 10 years ago, and the decor is also the same. There are dents and scratches in the wall and the laminate is warped. Don't even get me started on the carpet stains! Having a bunch of people over often sends me into furies of discontentment. But it took an uneventful 2 am potty break to snap me back to the truth: I am rich. Our family is blessed beyond measure, and a majority of people in this world could only dream of living in a house this nice, this large.

*

And because I think God has a sense of humor, and maybe he wanted me to connect in a more personal way with those families who live so differently than us...Trent and I each woke up with some bug bites. It seems some little insect (although I doubt disease-carrying) found its way into our peaceful bed. Ew! I was a little creeped out, but instead of being mad, I just smiled as I stripped those pretty red flowers, threw them into my automatic washing machine, which I can put on a HOT cycle, and thanked God that I am fortunate enough to have an extra set of sheets.

I AM BLESSED.

Memory Lane--music edition

This one cracks me up, b/c it is a true little glimpse into the secret life of the B-lilly fam. Yes, Husband really does make up songs and sing them wildly all the time. Yes, the kids eat it up and dance around. Yes, Carson rarely has pants on (see: previously given nickname Pantless Wonder and also the videos below, taken almost 2 YEARS later!). And yes, I have a strange little noise that I make to scracth my throat and normally only people in my inner circle know about it...now you'll all hear it!

This is similar to one that I took on my camera's movie mode and posted a few months ago. My favorite parts are a)it is clearly December with the stockings up, and yet Sydney is in her swimming suit, b) Carson still has no pants on and c)this is a side of Syd's personality that is rarely seen outside of this house.

This one is the bonus track, b/c yes, it was taken at the same time, but sometimes you just have SING. Sing, sing, sing to the Lord. (Or Lowd.)

I'm in heaven!

About 3.5 years ago, Trent surprised me and got me a nice little digital camcorder for our anniversary. I was excited and used it quite a bit for the first few months, including downloading the software that came with the camera and was supposed to make it ALL! SO! EASY! Well, the first time I uploaded all the new videos, I could not post them, I couldn't burn a disc, couldn't put them into our (very basic) video editing software, and could only watch the videos in that particular software. I'm SURE there was a way around it, but I am not that savvy and after trying a few times I just got frustrated. We still use the camcorder every once in a while, but not as much as I would have if it had been more user-friendly...especially since I often want to post it on the blog!

WELL. Tonight I finally took the time to sit down and check it out. We had to get a new computer earlier this year, and I decided to try NOT using the software that came with the camcorder. Guess what? I'm enjoying a good decision! I can now see all the videos I've taken on the camcorder, uploaded them to our hard-drive and external HD, AND I can post them on the blog! Things may get a little video heavy here for a few days if this goes well.

So, especially all you family members....enjoy!

I think this bath video was around May, 2009. My baby girl!

This was also 2009, I think April. I love his laugh!

This was taken this evening, August 1, 2011. You can tell in the interview portion of this video that I got my wish about an adventurous princess--as Syd took a header on the concrete running full-force yesterday. And my apologies for the finger covering the lense...she wanted to see herself as we shot the vid...and that meant I couldn't see the screen. Amateur move!

Birthday Post

Having a birthday this year is a good way to get me to post! I missed it one year and all my fans went crazy. And by "all my fans" I mean Steph, and by "went crazy" I mean she asked me several weeks later why I didn't do a birthday post. It's actually just another chance for me to wax philosophical on any given topic and narcissistically assume you all care what I think!

Last night right before I fell asleep I was reading a great book that two good friends recommended long ago and I finally took their advice. Basically, it's like finding your favorite blogger has written a book. One of the posts, or I guess in a book they'd be called essays, was talking about the princess phenomenon of the past 15 years or so. It made me thing a lot about myself and my daughter. The author was purporting that the princess concept--of training girls from a young age that their beauty and a handsome prince will rescue them from trouble and deliver a perfect life is damaging to said girls. I fell asleep considering this and agreeing and disagreeing at the same time.

I agree--if that's what you mean by princess: if you are beautiful and demure enough, eventually a good looking guy will come and rescue you at which time you will finally be complete, then no, that's not what I want for my daughter or nieces or friends' daughters. There's a horrible trend lately of almost grown celebs who think it's awesome to act dumb. They are giggly and flighty and flirty and talk in baby voices and it makes me throw up in my mouth a little bit. I don't want to send a message to girls that they need a boy or man to be complete, that if they don't look like Belle or Aurora that well, then you'd better wear more make-up or get a boob job. I want my girls (and by that I mean Sydney, Kaitlyn, Abby and every other little girl in our life) to find pride in their strength--physical and otherwise--in their abilities, in their humor and cleverness. Maybe they like flowers and babies and pretty dresses, maybe they don't. But I want them also to try new things, jump in puddles wearing their brother's frog boots, wrestle with their dads, fall of their bikes because they were riding too fast, lift heavy rocks to throw in the creek, make funny jokes and solve problems.

But I think there's another aspect of telling your daughter she is a princess. If you do it right, you are conveying a message to her that she IS (already) beautiful. That she IS (right now)important, special...like royalty. That she is valuable and cherished and that you would pay a ransom of a million dollars to get her back if she were ever lost to you. I have a friend whose husband woke his 5 year old daughter up in the middle of the night to watch the royal wedding in April. He has strung white Christmas lights from her bedroom all the way to the TV room, where he snuggled with her and they ate tea and scones while watching the wedding. I don't know what he said to her, how he described what they were watching or what makes a princess, but I guarantee she will always remember that with a warmth and a knowledge that her daddy loved her dearly.

It makes me wonder if there is danger and getting caught up in the debate over princess or non-princess, when what we should be focusing on is just LOVING the HECK out of our little girls and pouring into them everything we have to give and teach. I don't remember what season of life it was (probably middle school) and I don't remember the surely dramatic and life-crushing situation that initiated the conversation, but I specifically remember a conversation with my mom when she told me that pretty girls are a "dime a dozen." I wasn't even sure what that meant, but I got the idea. She said there will always be a girl or woman in the room, the class, the school that is prettier than me. And fortunately, I took this as intended, not to crush me that I'll never be the prettiest girl in the room! But she encouraged me that it's fine to want to look my best, but that I should just BE MYSELF and I would stand out in other ways. Find what I was good at and get better at it. Make people laugh and feel good about themselves, and they would want to be around me more. I will never forget that conversation and it has guided me through hundreds of self-esteem crises.

Sorry to my boys that these thoughts are not full of gender equality. And they are not necessarily date-appropriate; I should be talking about all the things I'm looking forward to in the coming year (ASHER! HOME!), but this is what was on my heart as I woke up this morning. I'm so grateful to my parents for, as Tina Fey likes to say, "instilling in me a confidence that is disproportionate to my looks and ability." My birthday wish is to raise my daughter to trust her gut, to value strength and humor, to crave knowledge and wisdom, and to expect to be treated with respect and love--whether she's wearing a Cinderella dress or mud boots that look like frogs.

PS: I'm 34 and proud of it!

Soccer

Yep. I haven't blogged in long time. I don't have a great reason, other than this: I didn't feel like it! So many times I've wished I could turn blogging into a money-making venture (but the first step would be putting advertising on, and I'm not ready to make that step), but then in months like this, I'm glad that I'm just a little amateur blogger with a few loyal readers who will stop back in whenever they get a chance. If I don't want to blog, I don't have to! Plus, I know it's going to be a LONG time before we have any adoption updates, so sometimes that takes the wind out of my bloggersails.

*

But here's an update on something we've been doing this summer. For the first time, BOTH kids are enrolled in soccer camp through the city. It's every Tuesday night for 7 weeks. Each week I am exceedingly amused by both of my children. Carson is totally in his element. He gets to run around with other kids and play games with a little bit of structure.

Carson (mostly) tries to listen to the rules of each little exercise or game, so that he can get going ASAP. He is motivated and wants to look like a soccer player and do well. He's focused on what his teammates are doing and usually waits his turn with a patience that is never shown at home. We couldn't find his shin-guards this particular night, but I'll try to post some with the guards. He looks pretty legit. And also like his dad/uncle.



THEN, on the adjacent field, we have the Birdie. Not an athletic bone in her little 29 pound body. Not that we've done much to cultivate it. We don't even have any sporty clothes for her, so she is usually decked out in colorful stretchy clothes of some manner. She makes no notice of the other kids around her, what the purpose of the exercise is, when it is her turn or where the soccer ball is at any given moment. She's just a giggling, clueless little orange fuzz skipping around.

Now, granted, most of this is due to her age--I mean, she's probably one of the youngest kids out there. But honestly, she'd be the stereotypical girl out on the field picking dandelions if this weren't parent/tot class, and her soccer-loving dad were not by her side throughout the entire hour. Daddy says she has one speed, which is "casual." She frequently la-dee-dahs away from the drill to wave, grin and give me thumbs-up. After soccer, she has way more to say about her ponytail (it looks like the babysitter's!) than anything that actually took place during camp.

But I'm so grateful for experiences like this, and grateful that my kids (so far) seem to go with the flow. They are neither the aggressive kid obsessed with winning, nor the unwilling participant crying and laying on the ground. At least not this week. ;)

Plus it gives them both a time to blow off some energy.

And a chance for Syd to have some special time with Daddy.

And after parent/tot is over, they come over with me and we watch the rest of Carson's camp.

And Sydney will give big brother some tips on his game.

A few kisses and wrestles and then we all go home! And hopefully sleep very well.

Because! I said so! And I'm too tired to think of a better reason!

My friend Tiffaney and I were cracking ourselves up yesterday, discussing all the random rules and logic we pull out of our hindquarters during the daily parenting rigmarole. (Oh yes. I just used that word. Semi-correctly.) Because as Director of Development--aka Mommy--the one main perk of my job is that I am The Boss. The highest human authority. The Big Kahuna. Of course this is a jobshare situation when Daddy is home, but I'm talking about the long days when he is at work. As The Boss, I have the executive authority to decide on new founding principles of our family unit, create new standards and also imply that any such newly articulated guidelines have been in place since the beginning of time. And with this executive authority, there are no checks and balances, people.

In the defense of these tactics, might I point out that there are some rules that I never KNEW would be needed. For instance, my friend Amanda was recently shocked to find herself declaring "We never, EVER lick the toilet. Under any circumstances. No. Licking. Toilets." See? New rule! I had no idea we'd have to formulate our family's clothing (and lack thereof) policy. "You have to at least be wearing underwear when you leave your bedroom. You must have pants on when answering the door or talking to neighbor girls. Sydney must have a shirt on as well. I know, it's not fair, but it's a cultural expectation that we will abide by." Speaking of the outdoors, I tend to make and break my own guidelines on when it is and is not permissible to urinate in the backyard.

But it gets rather humorous when I start getting all "moral high ground" on the kids. No, I'm not proud of it, and please don't see this as an invitation to help me rewrite our household rules or my parenting technique, but I have been known to say things like "That would not make Jesus happy." I know! Mommy guilt PLUS religious guilt! So terrible. But actually kinda true. My "go to" fly by the seat of my pants rule creation is the ever-popular "IN OUR FAMILY." See, we learned early on that you can't make sweeping rules that seem universal, because then your kid will learn that it is forbidden to stick his tongue out (which is like flipping the bird in our family) and then fly off the handle when some other kid does it innocently on a playdate. (Or the reverse, like when your kid is allowed to play with light sabers and other kids are not!) So we focus the rules on OUR FAMILY. Oh, man, I use this one a lot. I justify it in my mind by thinking of the wonderful foundation of justice and goodness that I'm surely laying in their little minds.

IN OUR FAMILY, when we spill something, we clean it up. IN OUR FAMILY, we slide down slides, not walk up them. IN OUR FAMILY, we don't splash mommy when in the bathtub. IN OUR FAMILY we don't say "butt" or "shut up" or "hate." IN OUR FAMILY we don't like being late. IN OUR FAMILY we flush the toilet promptly and jiggle the handle in the front bathroom because you know that one gets stuck. IN OUR FAMILY we don't roll up in the floor rug, thus exposing the disgusting stuff underneath that mommy doesn't ever clean. IN OUR FAMILY kids don't hold fancy cameras or permanent markers, they don't drink mommy's soda or coffee, and they don't put stickers on glass or wood.

Tiffaney said her special off-the-cuff authority spouting is the "threefold reasoning." When she gives an instruction or order, and some child pouts and says "Aw! WHY?" She is never to be found without reasons, demonstrated with dramatic finger gestures: "FIRST, you'll do it because I told you to. SECOND, you'll do it because we need to take care of our things. And THIRD...you'll do it....BECAUSE I TOLD YOU TO DO IT!" She is very wise and witty, and I'm sure she never falls short on the threefold, but I know I do.

But as with the vast majority of my parenting practices, the goal is to get through the day without harming anyone and making sure everyone knows they are loved. Then just pray that by God's grace they really will find a balance of justice, morality and sanity that they picked up...IN OUR FAMILY.

Random

I forgot to post about a funny quote from Carson on the day of our referral. Carson was actually on a fun outing with Bapaw Roy when we got the call. After I picked him up, we were in the car on the way to Daddy's work when I told him the news. He was satisfactorily excited and asking lots of questions about Asher. After a couple minutes, our conversation lulled and he asked where I was when the social worker called me. I told him I was at Michael's.

"The craft store?" he said with a smile, but also a semi-confused look on his face.
"Yes! The craft store!" I said.
"Huh," he replied, with a very matter-of-fact tone. "That's random."

How I almost cursed at the ice cream man who was a lady

I don't have a lot of blog fodder right now that is not a long complaint about parenting a whiney three-year-old, so I'm going to have to go elsewhere for a story. I've been sitting on this story for a few weeks and thought I'd share.

If you'll remember, the second week of June we had a HUGE SALE fundraiser in our yard/garage. Doing a garage sale of any kind is exhausting, but the martyr in me likes to think that when over a dozen different families bring you all their treasures, the sheer volume of merchandise to be stored, moved, organized, priced and sold entitles me to a little more exhaustion. (Not that I didn't have help, because I had great help!) Also you need to know that Trent and I kind of have a deal about these kinds of things: I do it and he stays out of my way. Or helps in specific ways that I request. Like staying out of my way. And keeping the kids out of my way. Wow, I'm really starting to sound like a crazy mean lady, but it's all for the BABY, people!

So, let's just say that after weeks of prep, two LONG days of dealing with weird garage sale people and constantly adjusting the position of the sale items for optimum presentation, by Saturday evening? I was DONE. Dead woman walking on shakey legs and even more shakey temperament. Trent, the T family and my in-laws had done a wonderful job of caring for my children during the sale, but they were home when we were cleaning up. My parents were also there helping, which was wonderful. There were a few straggling shoppers that wanted to haggle/scavenge, and I wasn't having it. I told them to remove the items from my sight pretty please, hoping they would be scared off by my rudeness.

As we were tearing down, moving heavy items, boxing up the many things that didn't sell, trying to find a way to get stuff back into our garage, etc. THE ICE CREAM TRUCK comes down our cul-de-sac. Now, i don't have a lot of enemies, but in my mind? The Ice Cream Truck is my enemy. I never make eye-contact with the driver, but imagine him as a childless jerk who has years of manipulation perfected in the art of seducing little ones with sugar and fracturing parent/child relationships. My kids and I can be having a lovely, whine-free afternoon full of free back-yard sprinkler fun, and as soon as they catch a note of that tinny, jack-in-the-box music, and all hell breaks loose. They burst into begging and pleading with such passion that you would think someone was offering them a new car, not a $5 treat that is really worht 75 cents. Sometimes they evade my capture and run out to the front to "just look" at the truck, which totally eggs-on the Ice Cream Truck, who slows to a crawl and (I imagine) a smug, knowing smile. He may not get my $10, but he's wreaked havoc, which is worth almost as much. So it goes in my mind.

But back to the garage sale. The kids were out front with us, and they, of course, were jumping up and down with excitement, begging and pointing. All four adults took the classic stance of ignoring the entire existence of the Ice Cream Truck. This is my go-to move for such situations. Pretend it doesn't exist and soon it will go away. BUT IT DIDN'T GO AWAY. The truck not only slowed to .5 mph, it made LOOP around the cul-de-sac and came BACK around to our house where the children were on the verge of hysterical tears at the injustice of their parents. I walked inside for a moment, and my anger (surely compounded by my exhaustion) started to bubble up as I walked back outside and saw the Ice Cream Truck has STOPPED right in front of my children. Oh no he di'int. I put on my best confrontational face (which actually not that great) and started my Stomp of Justice out to that driver to give him a piece of my mind. Oh. I tell you. I was on FIRE with all the zingers I had planned for this stranger (so much easier to tell off a stranger!).

But when I approached the truck, this little post-middle-aged lady came out to meet me. Hmpph. OK, first surprise. It was a "she." Then she asked where we were adopting from. She had seen the signs. So I told her. But I still was mad at her! I was! Then she asked if she could buy this total gym thing that hadn't sold, but that we'd been lugging around for weeks and were wondering how we were going to get rid of. And I told her that everything was free at that point. She was overjoyed and almost hugged me. She asked if she could come back in an hour and pick it up, and I said yes. Then she asked if my kids could have a popsicle. And I said yes. I almost bartered for Klondikes instead, but I decided to let it go.

But she totally ruined my angry mojo. Now instead of picturing an evil, faceless, family-wrecking man behind the wheel of that pink truck, I'm picturing Sandra, the 55 year old grandma whose niece is adopting domestically and who is trying to earn a living and maybe do a little exercise on the side. Well. Pff.

So maybe the ICT is no longer my enemy. But that doesn't mean I'm going to drop $10 everytime Sandra drives by. But I MIGHT crack a smile. Or possibly wave.

"A gentle answer turns away wrath, but a harsh word stirs up anger." Proverbs 15:1

Photo Overload

Here's a post for the grandmas & grandpas & aunts & uncles.
*
This is the first weekend in 7 that we will not be out of town, having a birthday party/Father's Day/Referral, doing a garage or consignment sale. I'm quite happy to be past the craziest part of our summer! The last 2 weekend we were at the coast and the mountain, respectively, first with Trent's extended family and then with my family. I had my camera on me a lot more on the mountain, but got a few pics of the beach weekend too!

*

The highlight of beach weekend for Sydney was having Baby McKenna there! They are...second cousins? Their dads are cousins. It was a mutual entertainment for the most part.

G.G. with her 2 great-granddaughters. And a doll.

Gorgeous, gorgeous day at the coast!Auntie Tata and Riley--whom the kids think is their other cousin.
Cousin Kevin entertained Carson endlessly by building little villages and then inventing nature weapons to destroy said villages.
Denae has the patience to wait for Sydney's extended shyness to end...then they were best buds!
Chasing Auntie Shell in a pick-up game of beach baseball. 4 generations!

Now to Mt. Hood!
These boys have been coming on this trip since they were in utero.

"Huh?!?"

This picture feels very Mark Twain-esque to me.

All 8 kids loved playing in this lovely, shallow creek!

These are the kids as they were almost done with their traditional treasure hunt. Henry is especially loving it.

Dirt, water, rocks, sticks? 2 year old boy is in heaven!
As Aunt Steph said, this picture really captures JACK!

The lake was so shallow, the daddies waded out and pulled the kids in the rafts. They loved it!
This girl takes her relaxing very seriously. Look at those divas! Ethan is giving Trent a good splash.

Beautiful Pacific Northwest!

My stubborn girl didn't want to walk back to the campsite, but since I was already carrying the tricycle she abandoned, I couldn't carry her as well. This was our stand-off.

Nina is the queen of fancy S'mores! I wish I had a picture of her fixing them up. We all loved them! Jojo was showing Sydney the finer art of tasting sticky marshmallows.

You don't have to ask her twice.

Oh yeah. that's the good stuff. This was right before we went home. We were flithy and stunk like smoke, but we had a great weekend! Why, yes, we bribed the kids with sugar to hold still for a picture. Except for poor Wyatt in the front row--we hadn't given him a sucker yet. This was the moment he realized....

Asher Update

First, a note to my other Holt Thai mamas who are "waiting to travel" (that's what they call the torturous time between referral and homecoming): we got an update on Asher yesterday, but I heard that only a few files came through so far. The rest are supposed to come by the end of next week. :( I hope this post isn't pouring salt on your wounds/aching hearts!
*

Yesterday we received the quarterly update for Asher from March, when he was 6 months old. He seems to be doing well! He weighs 9 kg, which yahoo conversion tells me is about 19 lbs. The reports are brief, but it says that he rolls over, smiles, coos, raises his chest high off the floor. Although I take all personality reports with a grain of salt (what are they going to say? He cries all the time?) the social worker reports that he sleeps well and is a content baby.

*

I put the new pictures on our private blog, which you can find by CLICKING HERE. The password is the same--my maiden name, all lower case letters. When you go over there, you'll see that Asher is totally rocking a bright PINK shirt and camo pj pants! I love it. We cherish every little detail of these pictures, and I'm sure we'll recount this one to him for years to come.

*

Some people have asked us about the details of Asher's current care and/or why he's older than some internationally adopted kiddos. It's a repeat for others, so feel free to stop reading if you already know this! One of the reasons we chose this particular program in this particular country (other than a strong leading from the Holy Spirit!) is because of the work of Holt Sahathai Foundation (our agency's partner in Thailand). When birth mothers come to them, believing they are unable to raise their child, HSF works HARD to see if the birth mother or her family actually CAN raise the child. Often children are put into a foster family while the birth mother/parents receive support and training to become more stable. If it's a financial issue, often children can be enrolled in Holt's child sponsorship program, when somone from the states pays a small monthly amount--just enough to cover the basic expenses the birth family cannot. To date, 80% of the women who come to HSF have decided to keep their baby.

As a part of the Hague Adoption Convention laws, it is my understanding that before relinquishing a child for international adoption, an effort must first be made to find a family in the child's birth country willing to adopt. Only after family and in-country adoptions are not an option are the children available for international adoption. That's why HSF's work is so large, yet the US program is so small. (The waiting list hardly ever gets longer than 15 families.) Also why babies are often 9 months old before being referred. (For more info on Holt and HSF's work in Thailand, click HERE.)

*

The other benefit of HSF's work is that they actively recruit loving foster families in Thailand to care for the babies while their files are being processed. Many times, it is a family with older children who bring in an infant for a year or two. Asher's foster family lives in a rural area a couple hours north of Bangkok. In the home is a mother, father, two older sisters (7 and 10) and the maternal grandmother. Be praying for all six of them! From what I have read, there is a significant difference in a child's ability to attach and bond as a toddler when he has already has the opportunity to bond with one or two caregivers in a home environment, rather than an orphanage-style home. I'm sure with two older foster-sisters and being the only baby, he's getting lots of one-on-one attention and love! The hard part about this scenario is that Asher will grieve the separation from this family much more strongly than if he were in institutionalized care, sharing the caregivers with several other children. We are preparing ourselves for one very upset and sad little man, for an indeterminate length of time. However, we are greatly encouraged by our friends who have gone through this before us, who fill us with hope at the resiliency of young hearts and minds, and the power of unconditional love, educated parents, attachment tools and loads of patience.

*

PS: If you do not know the password and would like to see the pictures of Asher, feel free to email me at brazenlilly@gmail.com.

What's next?

Thank you, everyone, for all your excitement over our news about Asher! It makes our joy so much fuller when we can SHARE it with friends and family--especially since so many of you have been instrumental in our journey!

*

Many people have been asking the obvious question--what now? So, here's the scoop. After getting the OK from our pediatrician, we called Holt and said we'd like to officially accept the referral. They sent us a digital packet of forms, which I printed off--57 pages, I believe! We've been reading over them, getting notarized, etc. We've also been getting together our first gift bag for Asher. The restrictions on these gift packages are pretty stringent! It can only have an outfit OR a toy, and a picture book and a letter. It all has to fit in a flat, gallon size zip lock bag. We're also going to put in a disposable camera and hope Holt will allow it! We want the foster family to start taking pictures as soon as possible for us to have in the future.

*

Instead of going to buy new clothes, I knew I wanted to send Asher some of Carson's baby clothes. It was very bittersweet going through the bins marked "Boy Clothes: 6-12 months" because Asher is probably already too big for some of them. It was also sad for me that out of this huge rubbermaid, I had to choose ONE outfit to pass on. The rest he'll never wear. So after careful consideration, I chose one of my favorite little polo shirts from when Carson was Asher's age. We included some soft denim shorts for the warm Thai weather. We also included a hand-me-down picture book that is meant for babies. It has spots for 6 photos and is soft and slobber-proof. We put a close-up of each of us, with clear labels to be translated, plus one family photo and a cute one of big brother and sister. Here's the shirt we're sending:
*
After Holt receives our acceptance paperwork, they will send it all, plus our dossier and Asher's file to the Thai Department of Social Development and Welfare (DSDW) Adoption Center. Our case is assigned to a social worker, and she reviews our dossier and our child's file. After the social worker has reviewed the match, she "queues up" the case for formal approval by the Adoption Board. This is called "1st Approval" and it usually occurs about 6-7 months after referral assignment. However, this summer Thailand DSDW (and Holt Sahathai) are all participating in something called Nativeland, which is when Thai-born children who were adopted to families in other countries return to Thailand for a visit. This takes the time, work and energy of all social workers, and we've been told virtually no paperwork will be processed furing the month of July. :( So, I'm thinking 1st approval will not be as timely as we hope. But, we'll cross that disappointing bridge when we come to it!

*

In the meantime, we can continue to carefully plan our every-other-month care package to Asher. We'll wait with anticipation for an update every three months. We'll learn some Thai phrases and educate ourselves as much as we can about our son's home land and culture. We'll pray, pray, pray for Asher and his foster family, that they will show him the love, affection and security that we so long to provide ourselves.
*
I got a neat email from a gal who worked in Thailand--both in Bangkok and the more rural areas. She taught school and worked in an orphanage. K sent me a beatiful description of the Thai people, especially those who are not jaded by the tourist industry in Bangkok! She told me what a compassionate culture they have, and wanted to assure me that our son is being cared for in one of the most wonderful countries on earth--with a culture that highly values children and family. She said the Thai people treat their babies like little Princes and Princesses, so she feels confident that Asher is being loved on something fierce! This was a great thought to begin our 9-10 month wait until we can love on him ourselves!