Ebbs and Flows.

It helped to write that last post - and especially to hear comments from my blog friends. And as my mother always told me - things are usually better in the morning.

I've reached out to a few other adoptive mothers and seems what we're experiencing lately is more the norm than not. This seems to be true especially for boys, and especially for adopted kiddos. (That's not to say that people with biological kids do not experience major drama during the 2-4 year age, it's more that I connect more with adoptive parents, because we share a more similar experience.) We have a great therapist with whom we work (she specializes in adoption/attachment). She promised me, during an "emergency" visit - that yes, although right now Sam is a very hard little dude, that doesn't mean he will always be this way. And that these are tough years, and having a 2.5-year-old little boy who is also has significant trauma in their past often gives parents the great pleasure of experiencing the terrible twos and threes "on steroids". At least I know I'm not alone, and I'm not crazy.  So we'll continue to seek ways to help him, and help us. And we'll enjoy the good times and try to stress less about the hard times. (And I'll pray to all the mothers before me to help me continue to find my elusive inner Zen Mama.)


Sam is growing like a weed - and the most "full of life" person I know. When it's happiness he's full of - which is a lot, he is an absolute joy. He's funny, silly and active. He's very active. (Did I mention he's active?) He's talking up a storm - it's so fun to get to know him through language. He is obsessed wtih cars, trains, airplanes and all boy stuff. His ideal day would involve a lot of time in a parking garage, hours throwing rocks into the creek, multiple emergency vehicle viewings (with sirens), no nap, a long bubble bath, and some good reading time.

Here are a few pics since I last posted.

Easter eggs - first chocolate!

Mud, tractor, water, awesome.

Channeling that Zen Mama.

Just silly. That's all.

Throwing rocks in the creek.

Is it me, or does he look 5 here?!

Still a silly porkchop.

The hard parts.

I feel guilty for what I'm about to write. I'll probably end up deleting it.

Yes, we went through a lot have a family. More than most, not as much as some. And...

It's hard. And I feel like I can't share the hard parts, because I've been met with comments that indicate I should just be happy that we have such an amazing son because, after all, isn't this what we wanted for so long and we worked so long to have?

Lots of things are true. We really worked hard for more than 3 years to have a child. He's amazing and we're incredibly blessed. And, this is hard.

Our little dude is having a rough time. He's terrified of so much all of the sudden - loud noises, people, the dark...and many things he can't name. He's also testing boundaries, saying "no" to nearly everything, and having many temper tantrums many times daily. He's throwing, yelling, screaming, testing, hitting, whining, screaming. A lot. The defiance is really shredding me to pieces. He's still our amazing funny, silly little guy - but more often than not right now it's like a monster has taken him over.

We went to a BBQ tonight with some good friends who also have kids from Ethiopia. Sam has seen these kids and people many times, and been to this house - although not in a few months. We talked about the BBQ all day. He was excited to see friends and new toys. We got there and he screamed bloody murder about everything. Didn't want to go outside, didn't want to stay inside, didn't want to see the kids, didn't want to be held, wanted daddy then wanted mama. He saw an older boy that he has seen multiple times before (and who is a doll) and came running to me - screaming - then said "I don't like him." He fussed about his food, he ignored everything I told or asked him to do, resulting in him falling out of his chair and banging his head pretty good. (Fortunately, these were people who have adopted as well, so they understand the big emotions that any kids - sometimes especially adopted kids - have, and I got great support from the other parents.)

Sam finally came over and got into my lap and said "I'm scared. Go to our house."We had already decided it was time to cut our losses - but it was very interesting to me that Sam was able to a.) express that he was afraid and 2.) ask to go home - he usually cries when we do go home! We have only seen him this completely dis-regulated one other time, just last week when my parents arrived for a visit. It was a nightmare - I was so embarrassed. Of course my parents are the best and they were supportive - but I know they didn't want to be around him because he was just so hard and having tantrums about every little thing. That's a horrible feeling. You want your parents to adore your kids. At least I do.

So yes, I get it - these are things that shouldn't be shocking to me knowing Sam's past. It doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure out that this is probably not completely out of the ordinary for someone with his background. He's having trouble with transition, he's feeling strong emotions and can't regulate, new situations scare him a lot more than usual at this age. We've alway's said he's exceptionally willful, stubborn and 2 & 1/2 on top of the adoption-related stuff. I get all that.

And, despite that, it's still fricking hard and frustrating and exhausting. And I feel like I'm failing because I'm not the Zen mama I wish I could be. I go to sleep every night wishing I was a better mother, certain I am a horrible one. promising that tomorrow I won't lose my temper or get frustrated with his intensity. And nearly every day I fail. I look at other mothers who all seem so much more nurturing than me, and I have yet to see a child even close to as intense and emotional as Sam is.

We'll find some more adoption-related resources for support. I'll reach out to other moms. I'll remind myself that Sam needs me now more than ever, even if he can't say or show it. So, I'll go do what I've often done since he came home, and pull him out of the crib and rock him on my chest, hoping somehow he knows mama's here. And tomorrow's another day.