Barefoot at the Kitchen Sink

So much has happened since my last blog entry, yet nothing has really changed. I don't even know why I'm here. I just read my last post and it was somehow comforting to remember how I felt then, how I continue to feel. I still limp through each and every day, determined to parent my incredibly challenging kiddos with grace and love, failing to do so more often than I care to admit, crying out to God to give me strength, to keep the looming darkness outside the doors of my heart. He typically holds it at bay. Sometimes He lets me reach out and touch it. Sometimes He lets me hold hands with it for a day or two. Sometimes it feels really good to do so. To let myself grieve, to let myself feel angry, not only for myself, but for my husband, for my children. There is so much to be thankful for. So very much! But that does not negate the things that are so very hard to swallow.

I find myself in the kitchen a lot. Chris is always harping on how I should have our big littles do more around the house, that it doesn't all have to fall to me. He's right. I know I should, for their sake and mine, but the truth is, my tasks in the kitchen are the only things that make sense to me right now. I find comfort in filling the sink with hot soapy water, grabbing a wet wash cloth and tackling a pile of dirty dishes. I feel a sense of efficiency rinsing those suds down the drain, setting the dishes out to dry, putting them away with pink, pruney hands. I don't mind sweeping and mopping the floor, wiping down the counter tops, preparing a meal. In my kitchen I can turn up the music and quiet the thoughts and fears swimming through my brain. In my kitchen I can focus on something mundane and I never feel like I have no idea what I'm doing. In my kitchen no one is demanding something of me that I cannot find the strength to give.

Lately life has been more full of questions than answers. I feel like every time we find a new normal in our household, another curve ball comes our way and old battles have to be fought all over again. I am tired y'all. Never the less, I will get up, walk back into the kitchen and capture a moment that makes sense. I will table all of the questions about school and therapy and trauma and autism.  I will welcome home my amazing husband who always makes everything seem a little bit better just by being in the same room and trust that one day I will look back at this post and marvel at how God provided a way for everything that is troubling my heart at this moment.

Kicking and Screaming

Has it really been over a year since my last blog? I would say that is hard to believe, except every aching, weary bone in my body tells me it is absolutely believable! This crazy, chaotic whirlwind that is now my life leaves me with zero time or energy to blog. Not to mention the fact that other mommy bloggers say it a lot better that me. And then there is the transparency part... The part where I ask myself do I really want to share how freaking hard this is? How the sadness completely overwhelms me almost daily? How suffocating the darkness inside of me can be? And how do I even begin to put it all into words? No. Idea.

I guess I will start with a cartoon I saw earlier today posted on Facebook. 

That just about sums it up. Shortly after the first homecoming, the dream of what our family would be like died. Abruptly. Without apology. The family we had before the journey began died a slow, painful death. And the grief I have experienced as a result of both deaths still threatens to swallow me up to this day. So I often find myself being dragged along, less than willingly. Parenting children from hard places is hands down the hardest thing I've ever done. When we brought home a broken child, our family shattered into a million pieces right along with her. We were still finding little shards of glass here and there, you know the ones you find days after cleaning up a broken dish? We were still changing the bandages on old wounds and even treating new ones when we brought Nalique into the mix, adding to the exhaustion and confusion. To be completely honest, we almost passed on the opportunity to be his Momma and Dabby because we were terrified of being able to stand under the weight of it all. But, here we are. In spite of those fears, we said yes and welcomed a sweet yet stubborn, affectionate yet defiant, two year old into our home. As I said before, the dream died early on. Around day three the exhausted but miraculous became the exhausted and disastrous. I lost my patience every five minutes. I yelled often. The days became incredibly long and the timeouts came more and more frequently. What were we thinking? Why on earth did we think we could handle this? My feelings grew more and more frustrated, less and less "motherly". How am I supposed to bond with this child that defies my every instruction? How am I to hold him in my lap, tickle him, smother him with kisses, when he makes me so stinking angry? And please, let me just say... yes, a lot of this is typical behavior for a two year old. I get that. This stage is hard for a lot of mothers. But in the case of adoption, it's magnified a great deal. I don't have a bucket of warm fuzzies to draw from. I didn't carry Nalique in my tummy for nine months, marveling at every flutter and kick. I didn't nurse Nalique as an infant, snuggling him close to my body, memorizing the scent of his sweet baby breath. I didn't hear his coos and giggles. All of those first moments and memories go a long way when that same child is staring you down when you've just told him "No!". Instead, I am trying to capture those moments now, all with him demanding a "dank" and smearing poop all over Xbox games and screaming bloody murder in the middle of The Pizza Place... It is VERY different! And, I'm attempting it all with a teething nine-month-old on my hip. 

A nine-month-old. Nine. Months. 

And there it is. The sweet, glorious light that brings it all back into perspective. A gentle whisper from the Holy Spirit reminding me that Nalique was nine-months-old when I first laid eyes on him. He was so small, so vulnerable. At a mere nine months he had already experienced more loss than I can wrap my brain around. He was six months old when his mommy died. There was no warning. No time for transition. She became ill with a fever and died twenty four hours later. His daddy tried so hard to take care of him in her absence, but he soon realized he simply could not meet his child's most basic needs, so he took him to an orphanage. He was forced to walk away from his son, and an innocent, sick, hungry nine-month-old was left without both his mommy and his daddy. I cannot imagine what that would do to my Topher. He is such a momma's boy. He would be absolutely beside himself if I abruptly died. If Chris was forced to abandon him three months later. Again, I cannot fathom. Yet this is the story of our lil tree frog. And suddenly his tantrums don't bother me as much. Suddenly it is easy to snuggle him and smother him with kisses. The weight of it all doesn't matter anymore, because I would carry twice as much to make sure this innocent little boy, my son, knows he is safe, wanted, and loved. I did, after all, promise his first daddy that I would. Keeping that promise is a lot of grueling, painstakingly hard work and the cost to our family is far more than I bargained for, but after twenty one months in the trenches between him and Maphada, I am no longer kicking and screaming. I can finally say I am thankful we chose to grow our family through adoption. Who wants easy, right? All of the cuts, bumps, and bruises are making us who we are meant to be. God is breathing new life into what our family was, what it is, and what it will be, and I am so thankful. I'm still exhausted, I still get overwhelmed a lot, and the darkness looms just outside, but I will keep walking with my Light. 

"Our" Nalique...A tribute to Papa Nalique

If you've been my friend for very long, or been following our story at all, you may have noticed that I refer to Nalique a little differently than I typically referred to Maphada during her adoption process. The moments that I have called him "mine" have been very few and far between. There is a very good reason for that. You see, our journey of becoming Nalique's momma and dabby lead us down quite a different path than the one that lead us to M. With her, we were matched first, and asked questions later, after our hearts had already claimed her. I cannot tell you how that has haunted me, especially since her homecoming, or how hesitant it caused me to be at the beginning of pursuing Nalique. Neither of our adopted children are truly orphans, and it is quite painful to think about. On the hard days since M has been home, I've often turned to Scripture. The thing is, it's not always as comforting as you might think. Throughout the Bible, orphans are indeed close to God's heart, but they are also referred to as the "fatherless". That terminology bothers me a lot, because my children are not fatherless.
Maphada's birth parents are both living. She had already been living at the orphanage for 3 1/2 years when I met her, and she didn't really know or have a relationship with her Haitian mama and papa. Nalique's mother died in June of 2012. She had a really high fever and died in a matter of 48 hours. Can you imagine? His father did everything in his power to take care of his son on his own for 3 months, but he couldn't work to earn money for food and stay with Nalique as well. With no family to help him, he made a gut-wrenching decision. After listening to Nalique cry out in hunger, after seeing his body begin to waste away, he made a decision that I cannot even begin to fathom making myself. He decided to take his son to an orphanage where he could rest in the knowledge that he would be fed. Diaper bag in hand, he brought his baby boy to perfect strangers, assured himself he would be taken care of, and walked away. I arrived the very next day. And a few days after that, Papa Nalique came back to check on his son and relinquish his rights to the orphanage. It was a day I will never forget, and a day I am determined to help Nalique to remember. It was so bittersweet. He was smiling so big and was so happy to see how well his son was doing in just a matter of days. He held him so tight and began to nuzzle his neck and coo at him. Soon we found ourselves sitting together on a rock wall, me fighting tears, him whispering Nalique's name over and over and over again. It was the most precious, heartbreaking thing ever. The ideas I had upon initially meeting Nalique seemed absolutely ludicrous. He didn't need me. He needed his Papa. But that wasn't entirely up to me...

A day or two later I took one last look at Nalique all snuggled in his crib, hugged my Maphada goodbye, and left the orphanage. What happened over the next few weeks was nothing short of miraculous. Papa Nalique shared with Amber that he really wanted his son to have a "mother's touch". He communicated to Jude that he would like for him to be adopted. After witnessing the love he had for him firsthand I still couldn't quite see or wrap my heart around the idea of adopting him. Besides, there were lots of changes taking place with Haitian adoptions, and there were deadlines for submitting paperwork under the old process that we couldn't possibly meet, so we tabled the idea. A few days later I was on facebook. Imagine that! I read that the deadline for submitting paperwork under the old guidelines had been extended until October 31st. Could it be? Was it possible that we could compile an entire dossier in a matter of weeks, get it legalized and submitted on time? It didn't seem possible, but as long as that window of opportunity was open, Chris and I prayerfully decided to walk through it. I ran like a crazy woman getting new translations, new reference letters, new bank statements, you  name it and had everything ready to go in less than two weeks. London and I made a flying trip to Austin to get all the documents certified, then we sent it all off to Miami to be legalized by the Haitian Consulate. At some point during that time we were told that our attorney was using our old dossier, so I had rushed around for no reason, but either way, we weren't going to complain. Our dossier was submitted to IBESR on October 31st, with one hour to spare!!!

On our trip to bring Maphada home I had the bittersweet privilege of seeing Papa Nalique three separate times. The first time I ran into him was at the market. It left me absolutely breathless. So many things I wanted to say...but I couldn't breathe! He was happy to see me, but it all felt so very awkward. I was really thankful when he showed up at the orphanage a week later and I was able to speak somewhat intelligently with him. My heart was still so heavy regarding his circumstances. So much loss, so many ashes piled up around him, and we get all the beauty? It's not fair. At all. We talked through a translator for a bit and he assured me that he wanted me to be his son's mother. Again, can you imagine? What an honor, so incredibly undeserved, to have this man tell me such a thing...

And now here we are, his adoption moving at lightening speed. All the signs have said go. All the lights have been green. Yet here I sit, heavyhearted for the father and mother who gave Nalique life and I wonder how in the world I will adequately teach him how to live it? Why did he choose me? And most importantly, how do I honor this father who has entrusted us with so much??? For now, I honor him with one word..."our"...because Nalique is not mine. He is not Chris'. When I say "our", I am including Luckner Joseph and Manoucheka Gerome, Nalique's first Mama and Papa. And once he is home, I will continue to honor them by being the best mother I can possibly be to our precious son, Nalique Joseph Hutton, and I will make absolutely certain Nalique always knows how much he was loved and cherished in their hearts, as well as ours. I will always tell him the story of how I sat on a rock wall next to his papa, listening as he whispered his love over him...

A Junked Out Beemer and This Girl's Heart

Yep, I'm the lucky lady who gets to call that man her own, ;) Isn't he dreamy? I think so, and it has even more to do with his heart than that sexy face, <3...

Chris and I are so very different, but that's what makes our relationship so perfect. He sees so much beauty and potential in everything around him. You just need to take a peek in our driveway to know that is the absolute truth! He has this ability to envision the finished product in his mind that I simply do not possess. I try really hard, but until it's finished, I can't see it. So, we buy this BMW, 2000 year model, super cheap. Paint is peeling in a few places. The interior needs a LOT of love! And the driver's side window is a bit reluctant to close. I'm thinking really? What exactly are we going to do with this thing? I mean, sure, it's a BMW and has a wicked cool stance and all, but really? He sees a carbon fiber hood, LED's, new springs, and a rockin' system. Okay, I'll admit it, I can actually see this one too, because it's that cool, but that is not typically how it works with us. ;) 

Anyway, the point of this post is to say that he is like that with people too. For some mysterious reason, he picked me out of all the girls in our high school, gave me a wet willy, and asked me to be his girlfriend. (I include the wet willy part just to let you know he's not perfect, lol). What's even more incredible is that once he got to know me, really know me, he decided to love me. I'm telling you, there are a lot of things about me that are not at all lovable. But when he looks at me, he sees what I can be. Somehow I've managed to clumsily convince him there is something special about me, and he chooses to see that all the time, instead of the woman storming out the front door in a fury. Or slamming doors. Or yelling. Or throwing things. It's true. I do those things sometimes. Eeek. I have no idea how he manages to do it, to see beauty and potential in someone who can be so ugly and broken, but he does. 

Come to think of it, it kind of reminds me of Someone else I know... 

Thank you Chris, for loving me the way Jesus does. You are an amazing husband and father and I am so blessed to call you mine!!! 

Love Letters to My Littles

My Maphada,

 

Sweet girl you have no idea the havoc God is wreaking on my soul through you... The wait was pure agony at times, and when we finally brought you home, I thought God had blessed me beyond measure with beautiful, energetic, adorable you. I was wrong. There was room for more. A lot more. As it turns out, He is using you in even bigger ways than I could have imagined. You see, everything that is broken in you is a reflection of something broken in me. God didn't just bless me with a daughter, He blessed me with a mirror into my soul and I am ashamed to confess the brokenness I see there. He is using you to redirect me to His mercy and grace, both of which I am in desperate need of! You bring so much warmth and love into our home pitit fi mwen, but with all of that wonderfulness, God mixed in a few challenges as well to mold us and shape us to be a more accurate reflection of Him. He is teaching me about true, selfless, unconditional love, just like the love He has for me, and the love He is teaching me to have for you. I thought I loved you bunches before, but that was only a small measure of the depth of love He is giving me for you even as I type this letter.

For three years I longed to have you within my reach, and now I do, and it's been so awkward, so complicated and messy. I have had a hard time adjusting to the needs of two kiddos. There is no doubt I've let you down a few times and disappointed you. I wish I could say it won't happen again, but I am human after all, and I fight a battle every day between the old me and the new me, so I will fail you again. But if in the midst of all my weaknesses and failures I can point you in the direction of He who will absolutely never let you down, then we will call it a win. I am reaching for you now M, with all my heart. Mwen renmen ou, anpil, anpil, anpil...

 

1 Peter 4:8 "Above all, love each other deeply, because love covers over a multitude of sins."

Love, Mom

My London, 

Hey kiddo! You got a little more than you bargained for, huh? ;) I want you to know that I am very proud of how you've handled yourself. We've had some rough days since your sister's homecoming. You've had some moments when your reactions to her and treatment of her have been less than stellar, but I've also witnessed you show the deepest kindness and compassion. I will never forget how you came to me when I was frustrated with her tears after many long days and you asked me, "Aren't you going to comfort her Momma? She needs you." I am ashamed that you, my seven-year-old son had to say those words to me, the grown-up momma, but also incredibly proud of the fact you did! I will also never forget how you rushed to her side when she was hurt, draped your arm around her shoulders and comforted her so sweetly. 

I want to remind you of what I told you before on one of your rough days. You are one of the reasons I believed we could do this. You. Ever since you were 2 1/2 years old I've seen what a big heart you have. You are so observant and aware of others, always noticing when someone is upset or hurting. And your response to what you observe is always one of genuine concern and compassion. I knew you had room in your heart to love in this great big way, and I am so please that you are learning to choose love more and more often in your treatment of her. I know it's not always easy, but you keep trying anyway and I am so thankful to call you my son. 

1 Peter 1:22  "Having purified your souls by your obedience to the truth for a sincere brotherly love, love one another earnestly from a pure heart..."

Love, Momma

I couldn't resist a blast from the past pic

of my precious baby boy! 

My Nalique, 

My little tree frog, oh how I miss you!!! I cannot wait to go through each day with you on my hip! Dabby and I miss you so much! We treasure the time we have spent with you so far, and anxiously await the day when you will belong to us completely. Your big sister and big brother miss you too, and we often talk about what life will be like when you are home. In the meantime, we find comfort in pouring over pictures, sending packages with friends, and praying for you. We are so thankful you have Gus and Burbie to love you while we are away. I talked to Burbie on Sunday and she told me what a picky eater you are! Well, not picky exactly, you will eat most anything as long as its pureed! :) You have grown like a weed in the three months since I've seen you, but I guess your preference for baby food hasn't changed.......that is, not yet. 

To be honest, I try really hard not to let myself think about you too much, especially when it comes to all the things I am missing out on. My heart simply cannot take it. When I do close my eyes and think of you, I imagine you here at home, getting into everything, playing in the dirt, swinging in the tree, singing songs with Maphada, London introducing you to Thomas the Tank Engine... I imagine carrying you around on my hip, smelling the scent of baby shampoo in your hair, kissing your chubby cheeks... It will be all kinds of wonderful having you home! 

We love you so much sweet baby boy! We cannot wait for you to be home. We started this journey in faith, we are filled with hope as we wait, and full of love for you pitit gason nou!!

1 Corinthians 13:13 " So now faith, hope, and love abide, these three; but the greatest of these is love."

Love, Mommy (just trying that on for a minute) ;)

Sunsets and Jigsaw Puzzles

Maphada has been home for three weeks. Three weeks!!! It is too weird to explain, the way time messes with your head... In some ways it feels like she has been here for three years, in others it feels every bit like only three weeks. I have no idea how to put the highs and lows that have filled the last twenty-one days into words, but I am going to give it a try anyway.

Some of you might be thinking "Lows??? Really? What can you possibly have to feel low about?" Well, let me try and explain. From the very beginning, I have loved Maphada as my very own. From the very moment I knew she existed, from the very first glance at her face, from the very first time I held her in my arms, I felt like her mama. Her "gotcha day" was a few weeks shy of three years spent waiting and longing for my daughter to come home. During those three years, I did an awful lot of day dreaming! You try to pass the time and pain away with imagining all kinds of scenarios of what your life will be like when your beloved child finally comes home. I was so blessed to get to travel often to spend time with Maphada, which has been a blessing and a curse, but I'll explain that later! For now it is important to know that even having spent all this time with her, there was still a ton I didn't know about her, and my imagination was perfectly content to fill in the gaps! So, you love this little girl. You know she is quiet and shy around grown-ups, a bundle of energy and laughs with her friends. You know she loves the Lollipop song and pistachios. You know she is athletic because she can totally rock a jump-rope and she's not too shabby with a basketball either. Beyond things like that, what can you really know? Most of the time you have no idea what is going on behind those beautiful brown eyes. You can only guess what is going on in her heart. So you play make believe. And you fall deeper and deeper in love with this little person that has laid claim to your heart. You work ridiculous hours to earn money for the adoption expenses, giving up time with your son and your husband. You sink into despair from time to time, feeling so helpless to do anything to speed up the process, so hopeless that it will ever actually come to pass. During those dark days you find it hard to enjoy your family as it exists in the moment, because this huge part of it is missing, leaving you feeling all kinds of down in the dumps. Which brings me to the jigsaw puzzles, this piece of your heart that is missing, from every moment, every day, every holiday, every outing. You try to fill it with all of your daydreams and fantasies. And finally, one glorious day, you board a plane, with your daughter, and everything is right in your little world. You bring her home, show her around the place, introduce her to family and friends and you feel like you are living in one of your often thought of daydreams, only this time it isn't a dream. It's the real thing, and after about six or seven days you come face to face with the fact that your little fantasy doesn't exactly match the reality. You find yourself looking up at the sunset, remembering a day not too long ago when you found comfort in knowing that the same brilliant sunlight was shining down on your daughter's beautiful face 1600 miles away, only now she is here, within reach, and it's messier than you thought it would be. The missing piece to fill your aching heart has been found, you can finally complete the puzzle, only now you can see the edges more clearly, perhaps I should say accurately, and you find the piece doesn't quite fit, at least not like the piece you created in your imagination.

So what now? Well, to be perfectly honest, you have a few "what have we done?" moments. Just a few. Because you know in your heart that this is right, that there is nothing at all wrong with the puzzle piece, just the puzzle itself, or rather the puzzle owner's very vivid imagination! You hold this beautiful puzzle piece in your hand, with just enough flaws to be absolutely perfect, compare it to the puzzle, and you adjust your ideas and expectations, and you make it fit. It doesn't happen overnight, or even in three weeks! But you trust that it will happen, and in the meantime you enjoy all of the ups and downs and thank God every day for the miracle in your living room, because that is exactly what she is, a beautiful miracle. In our home, within our reach... Please excuse me while I go scoop up my little miracle, and her equally miraculous little brother...

Maphada Flies; And so does TIME...

Today marks one week at home with Maphada. One week, at home, with Maphada... WOW. It still feels incredibly surreal, like I will wake up from this beautiful, chaotic dream at any moment and realize that the last two months of my life have taken place while I was sleeping. I had hoped to blog everyday, keep everyone up to speed on what it's like having her home sweet home, but there simply hasn't been time, or energy! She is still every bit the rough and tumble girl I fell in love with three years ago; full of energy, running, skipping, and jumping from one activity to the next, expecting me to follow right along with her, (or carry her)! And that's just been, well, very exhausting!!

Where to begin? How about exactly one week ago? Here it goes... I woke up to my alarm early Wednesday morning and started getting ready. How do you get ready to leave a place you love, that is the only home your daughter has ever known? Well, you grit your teeth and dive into the routine of brushing your teeth, combing your hair, etc. and you just don't think about what you are getting ready for. That is, until you wake up your daughter, and the tears start spilling down her face... Then you just stop what you are doing, hold her in your lap, wipe away her tears, and pray for God to give her a peace that makes zero sense...and He does. Her tears stop, she grits her teeth, and she begins to get ready herself. Then you wake up your son, who is beyond exhausted from short nights and overwhelming days, and you get him ready too. You sneak into the room to peek at your sleeping baby boy but cannot resist the urge to pick him up and snuggle one last time before kissing him goodbye. He eagerly reaches up for you, you pull him against your body and breathe him in, squeezing him as tight as you dare. You kiss him, you tell him for the hundredth time that mama loves Nalique, you make him a bottle and put him back in his crib to catch a few more zzz's. Then you turn to the sleeping baby girl you have fallen in love with, trying to guard your heart but it is way too late for that, your breath catches in your throat as you commit her profile, every detail of her face to memory. You pray again for God to make a way for her to be yours. You tell her goodbye, not knowing if you will ever see her again. Then you set your shoulders, grit your teeth again,  grab your belongings, and walk away without looking back. Soon you find yourself standing by Pastor Yves Nissan, looking around at everything that has become so familiar, wishing you had a few more days to soak it all in a little deeper. You notice a few children walking around, some doing chores before school, others playing and you wish you had spent just a few extra moments with each of them instead of willing the time away in anticipation of bringing your daughter home. You wonder if they have any idea of how much you love them, how much you think of them and hate leaving them behind. Then you hear voices calling out from the windows, telling your daughter goodbye. You see some running toward you to give her one last hug and share one more secret. They all laugh and tease, hug and smile and suddenly you feel a little bit lighter, and once again you are lost in the miracle taking place right before you eyes, in your very own family, and you whisper "thank you" to the King of Kings and Lord of Lords who loves you, for reasons unknown and undeserved. You load up your little family and begin the journey down the mountain, and into the skies...

Once we were on the road, it got easier. The excitement started to build again and I found myself filled with anticipation. London and Maphada took a quick nap in the car, and before we knew it, it was time to unload at the airport. After a brief, tearful goodbye to Pastor Yves, my heart soared with pride as my sweet, timid girl became the bravest, most courageous person I know. She fell into step behind me, and off we went inside. She didn't even hesitate. We went through ticketing, immigration, and security in record time. It wasn't until we reached the escalator that she shot me a questioning glance with a glimpse of fear. Why didn't I think to mention escalators??? I gave her hand a reassuring squeeze, told her everything would be okay, and after watching London step on, she followed bravely behind. After that, flying was a breeze, lol! Seriously though, she was so brave. She looked a little uncertain a few times, but all it took was a little reassurance and she was ready to go, all courageous and adventurous. She loved looking out the window and seeing the mountains of her country. Once we had climbed a little higher, she was fascinated by the clouds and smiled so big at the sight of them. I'll say it again, I was and am soooo proud of her! As for the second flight, lets just say my drawing and explanation of taking two flights did not compute because she was not happy about that second flight at all! We had grabbed a bit to eat at Chili's, then she was ready to go to her house. Right then! A second flight you say? No way!! Well, you all know how that conversation turned out, we did in fact board a second plane, and after a few tears, she fell asleep and woke up feeling much better. The second flight seemed to take forever! We finally landed in DFW and as soon as that seat belt sign was off we were jumping out of our seats, grabbing our stuff and dashing for the exit! After a little meandering, we found our people waiting for us, all but Dabby that is, who had gotten stuck in traffic which was a major bummer! :( Other than that, it was picture perfect. She greeted everyone with a shy smile and a hug, excited to see some familiar faces in her Grandma and Uncle Chris, and even more so to meet some new ones, aka her cousins! Her face was glowing! I am so thankful for all of the friends and family who came to welcome her home! We almost opted out of that moment, thinking it would be too much for her personality, but we decided it would be worth it to her later, and as it turns out, it was worth it to her now as well, so thank you to everyone who shared in that moment with her.

Now that we are home, I have to confess that we have broken all of the "rules" we had intended to play by during her first week at home. We had planned to keep things very low key and stay home for at least a week without going anywhere. Well, suffice it to say, we've been to at least a dozen places and have been gone from home as often as we've been present. She was so curious about everything, so much more outgoing that I expected her to be. On her first night she asked me, "Tomorrow I go school?". I was like are you kidding me??? Seriously, you are already wanting to go to school? The next morning the plan was to send Chris out for groceries, but it seemed crazy for him to leave after missing so much already, and she wasn't about to let me go without her, so we just all went...and we haven't stopped since, lol.

So far, my brave girl is doing fab! I keep bracing myself for the honeymoon to come to a screeching halt, but so far, so good. So much is so sweet about her being home, but I have to be honest and say that I've had a few "what have we done?!?" moments. It has nothing to do with her and everything to do with me. I remember feeling the same way after having London, freaking out with the weight of it all, the gravity and seriousness of what it means to be a momma and thinking how in the world did I ever convince myself I could do this??!? I keep cycling between complete elation and total deflation. All of my hopes and dreams with regard to what this would look like feel so out of reach. I never did make it through the suggested reading list. I think I finished one and a half books out of a dozen. And school? Why did I ever think I could educate any of my children at home and do it well, let alone a 9 year old who is 2 years behind where she should be?? I mostly feel completely unprepared and totally inadequate for the task we have taken on. And then I hear her laughing with London, I see her big, bright, beautiful smile, and I see London smiling right back at her... I glance at Chris and we share a moment of mutual understanding and a giant, inexplicable love, and I know that we can do this. After all, God thinks we can, so why shouldn't I? I still marvel at that. At the knowledge that God placed us on this path, that He set her apart for us, to be our little girl, to be London's big sister... Isn't that amazing? I still cannot believe it.

I know this is getting to be a short story instead of a simple blog post, so let me end by listing out some of her firsts, and some of the things that have made us LOL, : )
Firsts: Rosa's, Central Market, Bacon! (can't leave that one out), Gym, Sonic (that one is for you Mom), Park, Sunday, Trampoline with water!!, four wheeler ride with Dabby, Bicycle shopping, Trip to the salon, Trip to Grandma's house, etc. (I could go on, like I said, we've been busy!)

Things that made us LOL:
"Zoe beautiful, that (pointing to our neighbor's huge dog) not beautiful!"
Trying to convince her to wear her seat belt, we told her it was the law, a rule, something we had to do or we would get in trouble, um, the police... Boom, she is buckled in with a look of horror on her face, lol!
Playing with fake poop of all things, she starts teasing London and says, "London, you eat poop for breakfast!" and bursts into uncontrollable laughter, with her brother.
Picking up the suburban at the dealership and her asking, "Market?" then her amazement when we passed Jerry's on the way home, "What, mom look, big market!!"
Lapsing into creole today and laughing her way through a sentence. (I soooo hope she holds on tight to her creole!!)

Anyway... those are some of the highlights. Beyond that, I would like to ask you to continue to remember us in your prayers. We had our first tears tonight and she is missing her friends. The sense of adventure and excitement is beginning to fade. She will struggle as she starts processing her life here and everything she has left behind. And not only her, but London is adjusting to his role as the big little brother. It's a lot to take in for a 7 1/2 year old only child. I am very proud of him overall, but he is human after all, and he needs your prayers too. As for me and Chris, pray for wisdom to teach, patience to correct, and endurance to keep up with these two beautiful souls entrusted to us.

Thanks for hanging in there and reading this jumbled mess! I used to think I was a decent writer, but these days not so much!! : )