tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-72902055870196947262023-11-16T00:35:17.136-07:00From a Pebble to a Stone~~the adventures of the Stone family~~Pebble to Stonehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11991239383449688960noreply@blogger.comBlogger241125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7290205587019694726.post-40671546245987942442014-01-20T17:01:00.001-07:002014-01-20T21:07:09.621-07:00What I've learned.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">They say being a parent is the hardest job there is. And, just like with anything, some come to it more naturally than others. I tend to learn things most easily by banging my head against the wall - parenting is no different. I thought I'd share a few things I wish I knew before adopting, and what I've learned since. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><b><u>(Some of) What I didn't know before adopting:</u></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">1.) My child WILL have been affected from trauma. Period.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">2.) I will desperately want to know his birth mother.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">3.) The Zen-mama thing won't come to me quickly or naturally.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">4.) (But there's a Zen-ish mama in there who just needs some practice.)</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">5.) We will gain some friends and build an amazing community.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">6.) We will lose some friends.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">7.) I'll never regret not having biological children. Not for a minute.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><b><u>(Some of) What I've learned since adopting:</u></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">1.) I am the emotional regulator. It's up to me to help Sam calm. And I actually can do it.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">2.) Attachment goes both ways, it took longer for me than anyone.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">3.) Despite what I'd thought, I DID give up my career to be with my son (for a while).</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">4.) Despite any initial trepidation or concern about how we chose to build our family, our parents, sisters and brothers have fallen totally and unconditionally in love with our son.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">5.) Nothing feels worse than going to sleep feeling like a bad parent. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">6.) Nothing feels better than going to sleep feeling like a good mama.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">7.) Adoptions ethics concern me and are a painful reality.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">8.) Kyndra was right - watching learning to walk is cute, but seeing learning to talk is adorable.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">9.) Everything is wonder and possibility at age 3. And willfulness. And willfulness. And...</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">10.) You can't possibly grasp parenting until you are one. And maybe not then.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">11.) I am the mama of the funniest, smartest and cutest boy in the world.</span></div>
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Pebble to Stonehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11991239383449688960noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7290205587019694726.post-41914102658410841302013-11-27T21:23:00.000-07:002013-11-27T22:42:24.824-07:00This is big stuff.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Two years ago Thanksgiving day, we welcomed Samuel into our home. It was one of the most amazing days of my life. I don't think anything could have prepared us for the job of parenting, or for this amazing child. It has been the hardest and happiest 2 years of my life.<br />
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Sam - I still call you bright eyes - as there's so much life in your eyes, and in you. And I still call you pork chop, or chop, or choppy, even though you're longer and leaner now, not shaped like a pork chop. You are funny, silly, scary-smart, quick-tempered, sweet, curious, a bit defiant, easily scared, talkative (non-stop), creative and loving. You are just the person I saw in your eyes in the first pictures of you. I believe the universe sent you to me to make me a better person.<br />
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In the past two years, you have not only learned to walk and talk, but you've learned to love and trust. While it's miraculous by most standards that at 37 months you know all of your letters and are starting to spell, it's more miraculous that you are so happy. And while it's amazing that you can recite more than 30 of your books as we read them, it's more amazing that you're letting our love in, and loving back.<br />
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You and I are a lot alike, baby. We have our control battles, big time. Learning to parent you with acceptance and compassion, rather than control and anger is changing me as a person. I have lots of work to do, and lots of room to improve. I'm taking piano lessons so you grow up around music. I'm doing volunteer work for Ethiopia so you learn to know the importance of giving, and your birth country.<br />
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My hope for you, baby boy, is that you continue to grow into a happy and kind young man. I'll help as much as I can.<br />
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Happy 2 years as a family!<br />
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Pebble to Stonehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11991239383449688960noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7290205587019694726.post-69225917288622467342013-10-29T22:21:00.002-06:002013-10-29T22:21:48.524-06:00It's not you... it's me. Really.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Attachment goes both ways. Why has this been a lesson so long in coming?</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">It took me a big ole' smack down from the universe to see that I am a (big) part of the connection/attachment challenges in our family. And while the smack down still stings (did I mention it was/is a big smack down?) I'm so thrilled that I have a renewed commitment and energy to continuing to build my relationship with my son and learning to be a better mama. And I do see him reacting positively to changes I'm working hard to make. Parenting kids from hard places is harder than I'd ever imagined. To be continued... for the rest of my life.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">In other news, Sam just turned 3! And, as everyone promised, 3 is looking to be harder than 2. He's very, um, strong willed. And persistent. And strong willed. He's also silly, funny and still a great sleeper, especially at night. He knows is colors, numbers, letters and he knows left from right. He's super duper smart. He loves to read and has most of his books memorized. He loves cars, trucks, transporters, taxi cabs and you name the construction vehicle - or any vehicle for that matter. Unfortunately, along with such intellectual excellence, does not come potty training. Not. Even. Close. Ugh. Again, to be continued...</span><br />
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Pebble to Stonehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11991239383449688960noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7290205587019694726.post-15067670668841175482013-08-30T16:33:00.000-06:002013-09-03T21:13:44.982-06:00Confessions of a not good mom.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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If you're an adoptive parent (AP) you have been to the classes. You know, the ones that, if you're like me, you kinda glossed over. The hard stuff. Your child will have attachment issues. (No! We're adopting a young child, so he/she will attach pretty easily!) Your child might have sensory issues due to the complete lack of sensory stimulation growing up in an orphanage. (No! We chose our country carefully so we know that our child is coming from a place where he/she was loved!) There will be racial issues. (Ok, we're not there just yet...)<br />
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Our son is amazing. He's full of life, and funny, and wicked smart - likely very gifted. He's curious, a great sleeper, a good eater, and can be very sweet. And. He's hard. Really hard. I did now know how hard until recently - because my world imploded a bit, showing me I'm not in control, at all.<br />
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Attachment stuff. Sensory stuff. Trauma stuff. Enough said if you know those words. And here's my tell-all moment. I don't know how to be a mother. I was the primary breadwinner for the first 18+ months we had Sam home. This allowed me to be very strategic about when I spent time with this child who is increasingly hard to parent. Working in a high-power job was the perfect excuse to not have to be home or to soften or to really understand Sam's needs. (Don't judge.) And, Terry spent a month with him in Ethiopia - so those two were super-bonded, and I didn't want to interrupt that. (How convenient!)<br />
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Insert wrecking ball, universe wanting to teach lessons, middle-age life-changer - you name it. Things have changed in our household. Now, I'm the primary parent.<br />
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Annnndd, I suck at this. I am not calm. He needs calm. I am not creative. He needs creative. I am reading books on sensory and attachment stuff, seeking out energy work and calming techniques and googling "how not to react when your child hits you in the face" and "why is my 3-year old so scared/angry?". I am deep breathing, I am putting sticky notes up reminding me not to yell and quoting calm, spiritual people. I am rocking him, reading to him, singing and dancing with him, coloring with him, crawling with him, feeding him healthy food, trying desperately to help him calm. And, it's not working. I am not calm enough to help him calm down. I'm supposed to regulate his emotions and I can't even regulate my own, much less his. Give me a team of 10 marketing people to organize, restructure and optimize - I'm your gal. Ask me to fix a business problem, done. Put me with a very challenging almost 3-year-old, I'm a mess.<br />
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I look at women who have that "natural mother" gene, and I'm perplexed and sad. Why didn't I get it? How come I can't soothe this child? Why do I get so easily effected when he's upset, rather than being that "rock in the river" I'm supposed to be, and that he so desperately needs? I thought when he came, that natural mother thing would appear. It didn't. And, he always wants his baba (father). He cries for him and tells me "I want baba, not mama." Talk about crushing a mama's heart...<br />
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What helps? What works? My mom's group, melatonin, singing and a weighted blanket. Those the the things that are working. Hopefully, we'll have more tools come our way.<br />
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Pebble to Stonehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11991239383449688960noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7290205587019694726.post-14437602362254982962013-05-18T15:26:00.002-06:002013-05-18T15:56:29.499-06:00Home 18 months.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I have nothing profound to write, just that we are settling in as a family. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">It's been a rough few months for each of us, with different challenges individually and collectively. We're working through it - and in many ways - the difficulty of what we've each been going through, and what we've been going through together, has brought us all closer. After all, no one ever said it would be easy. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Sam has been afraid of a lot lately, and struggling with a few new things. Mostly normal 2 1/2 year-old stuff - and then some. His fear is giving us a chance to pick him up and reassure him. </span><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">An adoptive mama can understand the blissful feeling when a child finally lets himself "melt into you" after almost a year and a half. (OK - I lied, that is pretty profound, right?) </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">When Sam cries in the middle of the night and says "mama, I'm scared", I welcome it, (almost hope for it once in a while, as strange as that sounds) because I know picking him up and rocking him back to sleep is soothing deep fears we'll never understand. I still take him out of his crib 3-4 nights a week for a midnight rock with mama. He used to fuss a bit, but now he snuggles right in. I know, deep in me, that this ritual over the last 18 months has been healing for both of us. The only problem is that he's getting so big, it's hard to lay with him on my chest in the rocker, much less get him back in the crib!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Otherwise, as spring gives way to summer, we spend as much time outside as possible throwing rocks in the creek, playing in dirt and doing little-boy stuff. I try to get Sam to rock his animals and give them a bottle. This lasts for about :30 seconds and he's back to cars and trucks. He named the baby bear we got for his best friend blue bear, "truck bear". This kid is ALL boy. It's not going to be too much longer before he resists putting on lipstick with mama in the morning. I wish we were younger, or we'd started sooner - it'd be fun to have a sibling for Sam. But we're pretty sure the Stones are only going to have one pebble, and what an amazing little pebble he is.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Mama's favorite...beautiful boy.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"> Construction site fun - playing in the dirt.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCKYmmLtV46H8Wbfe-vCpiVuoCpc4q-X4-jCnxBy4q7phj7eQocXGDOnmuVVqchj7ROpAlr1IPD5RIqMcDYSijj9HpJoo2VJAMBGg_rDUeHLoueCeRqyHXTkLW5sOcMjIrmKIdkRpsQ1c/s1600/photo+2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCKYmmLtV46H8Wbfe-vCpiVuoCpc4q-X4-jCnxBy4q7phj7eQocXGDOnmuVVqchj7ROpAlr1IPD5RIqMcDYSijj9HpJoo2VJAMBGg_rDUeHLoueCeRqyHXTkLW5sOcMjIrmKIdkRpsQ1c/s320/photo+2.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">(It is an awfully nice mama who spends her Saturday morning at the construction site, I might add...)</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEju-m_7VdP1X0g59CKgHRN8sndiaFwjmJmk2tU9ypo87whNugkrmkSgQZWv5aDW8-RzE46xQqaYtb8BJri3r6_WqnhBR2VdcdhZkkDWWtZeATFurlHEx9Ywci7kPfiVmTR_6GeVx9g1-rc/s1600/photo+3.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEju-m_7VdP1X0g59CKgHRN8sndiaFwjmJmk2tU9ypo87whNugkrmkSgQZWv5aDW8-RzE46xQqaYtb8BJri3r6_WqnhBR2VdcdhZkkDWWtZeATFurlHEx9Ywci7kPfiVmTR_6GeVx9g1-rc/s320/photo+3.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Bubble hat.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgag0DmtgeJV3xbIlwqcinK50B1FCkwgRnkaj0p33IogkYIdk_M4kgBFr6N6u7z63S65zjN-8Kn_TGN-OAO0J7Mp3T-315unEqPNlJ9KwR8qIcl_QhlsBkG4YWEMfVlayBG9fb3ur16TqU/s1600/photo-27+copy+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgag0DmtgeJV3xbIlwqcinK50B1FCkwgRnkaj0p33IogkYIdk_M4kgBFr6N6u7z63S65zjN-8Kn_TGN-OAO0J7Mp3T-315unEqPNlJ9KwR8qIcl_QhlsBkG4YWEMfVlayBG9fb3ur16TqU/s320/photo-27+copy+2.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Just before he put the stick in his mouth. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Is it too early to be hoping for a scholarship?</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigcE7wSEpMmS21W5WUEsHvuN3K_kzr2AZN7gge7F0fbv-7btbZQxn1lwEoUE2puvbsihA2PvR5pSsO_GGuW6PsUT8oWoZvjzpd45-wgaaTFmL12IBXv1NZorxTX5MJe0kgeOEsPpJvl2s/s1600/photo-27.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigcE7wSEpMmS21W5WUEsHvuN3K_kzr2AZN7gge7F0fbv-7btbZQxn1lwEoUE2puvbsihA2PvR5pSsO_GGuW6PsUT8oWoZvjzpd45-wgaaTFmL12IBXv1NZorxTX5MJe0kgeOEsPpJvl2s/s320/photo-27.jpg" width="244" /></a></div>
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Pebble to Stonehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11991239383449688960noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7290205587019694726.post-74877052840052968972013-04-29T22:35:00.001-06:002013-04-29T22:35:03.077-06:00Ebbs and Flows.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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.<br />
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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.)<br />
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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.<br />
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Here are a few pics since I last posted.<br />
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Easter eggs - first chocolate!</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbVU_4L1YUlNY7Zrq6q38dfcslH2CZ1RUVsJBFejyFksKvqUX5Vlqc74KOtczCh2bsBNijtP1n-KG5kw-bnKRKdjuq-8lM8SAXPfAfGfOugYYb_pJ5behi9MPAJyVQa5e9MwSRDq6gu_A/s1600/P1130370.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbVU_4L1YUlNY7Zrq6q38dfcslH2CZ1RUVsJBFejyFksKvqUX5Vlqc74KOtczCh2bsBNijtP1n-KG5kw-bnKRKdjuq-8lM8SAXPfAfGfOugYYb_pJ5behi9MPAJyVQa5e9MwSRDq6gu_A/s320/P1130370.JPG" width="257" /></a></div>
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Mud, tractor, water, awesome.</div>
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Channeling that Zen Mama.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRQ9UCI1-_h0hlOQCRPaj1Worh7sdh8lCTUKRcMNm6qtMET4lMDDqikoAkoWWCi9jNZk2ns0ZWLVHIcyR8Q-ruposuiPOIW8WTITzuWfrkZLsrCsRd9hqMesNktzGDE2SVc9VCBUMjVGI/s1600/photo-25.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRQ9UCI1-_h0hlOQCRPaj1Worh7sdh8lCTUKRcMNm6qtMET4lMDDqikoAkoWWCi9jNZk2ns0ZWLVHIcyR8Q-ruposuiPOIW8WTITzuWfrkZLsrCsRd9hqMesNktzGDE2SVc9VCBUMjVGI/s320/photo-25.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
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Just silly. That's all.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJaTRIWPYCZCviQlpA6Qpq5CfuntdS_RWk-vaN2g7MmXCREbP-a2ipx7TUQDM29tXb8BHtcoH3dYNzy8Qw__HqAWxDoXYvPX8w0Z-r3iNidbos-CYa6lOlOZuiMGQuyMDizvIQHEXn9CA/s1600/photo-26.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJaTRIWPYCZCviQlpA6Qpq5CfuntdS_RWk-vaN2g7MmXCREbP-a2ipx7TUQDM29tXb8BHtcoH3dYNzy8Qw__HqAWxDoXYvPX8w0Z-r3iNidbos-CYa6lOlOZuiMGQuyMDizvIQHEXn9CA/s320/photo-26.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
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Throwing rocks in the creek.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpgScldgMfRI6yPV7bpYKlZAkaQMMxwu11O07gUJIlYFQa9dugPl5yUN2uBPCbyFLRl9ErgUHEWXJgOTPOHRjNI6KRO6gjlr0WKRKbm_iUTYLgAMZtXree2pylt-4EcmbYiai8GYXbYXk/s1600/photo-27+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpgScldgMfRI6yPV7bpYKlZAkaQMMxwu11O07gUJIlYFQa9dugPl5yUN2uBPCbyFLRl9ErgUHEWXJgOTPOHRjNI6KRO6gjlr0WKRKbm_iUTYLgAMZtXree2pylt-4EcmbYiai8GYXbYXk/s320/photo-27+2.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
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Is it me, or does he look 5 here?!</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHWHDkz-verNQJacKH9T_ciba3vrMRVZLCtAupGqdXg6a1bNajR002tlLrANgXirOJUY3uh4uUwiDhtTtZQgmTWqK_rPMnp_C3TcNKyqEDiwjk-Q3a8vhIrHAbxBQfXqgKgwfaIJDWouM/s1600/photo-27.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHWHDkz-verNQJacKH9T_ciba3vrMRVZLCtAupGqdXg6a1bNajR002tlLrANgXirOJUY3uh4uUwiDhtTtZQgmTWqK_rPMnp_C3TcNKyqEDiwjk-Q3a8vhIrHAbxBQfXqgKgwfaIJDWouM/s320/photo-27.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
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Still a silly porkchop.</div>
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Pebble to Stonehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11991239383449688960noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7290205587019694726.post-61249312281532351192013-04-27T22:22:00.004-06:002013-04-27T22:48:39.643-06:00The hard parts.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I feel guilty for what I'm about to write. I'll probably end up deleting it.<br />
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Yes, we went through a lot have a family. More than most, not as much as some. And...<br />
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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?<br />
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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.<br />
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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.<br />
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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.)<br />
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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.<br />
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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.<br />
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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.<br />
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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.<br />
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Pebble to Stonehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11991239383449688960noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7290205587019694726.post-64919305048920552612013-02-15T22:13:00.000-07:002013-02-15T22:13:06.618-07:0028 Months Old + Boring Blogs<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Sam is 28 months old today! </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">I'm reflecting on how boring my blogs are anymore. My posts used to be: "What's happening with adoptions globally?", "Will we get a call?", "Woe is me! The waiting is so hard!". I had witty titles, linked to stuff, and shared deep thoughts and emotions. Now, I'm just pretty much documenting life for Sam, keeping family and friends in the loop, and, well, it's pretty boring stuff. I got a baby, cut my hair off and quit my blog. Such is the life of the mom of a toddler.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Here's a bit of what's going on right now, Sam:</span><br />
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<li><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">The nickname "porkhop" doesn't make much sense anymore for you, baby, cause you're getting long and lean! You're still little, but no longer shaped like a pork chop...you're thinning out and growing up!</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">We learned you need glasses which we're getting this week. We're amazed that, despite being VERY far-sighted, you love to read, and know your colors, most of your numbers and letters already!</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Speaking of reading - you recite many of your books with us (probably 20 or so...) as we read them. We love that you love to read, as it's our only (relatively) quiet time together.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">You have a memory like an elephant. (See above on reciting books...)</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">You are OBSESSIVE about cars, trains, airplanes and ask at least 10 times a day "if we are going to the airport?" I am not exaggerating here. (I got to take the corporate jet back from a meeting in Orlando a few weeks ago, and Sam's now convinced mommy has her own plane.)</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">You are still pretty much the same guy we met a bit over a year ago. You're funny, chirpy (you never, ever shut up), curious, silly, smiley and don't like to be away from us. Ever. </span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">No doubt, parenting is hard. You're a busy guy with lots of emotions. You didn't get 500,000 impressions of a mama rocking you and helping soothe you in your first year - and so you have trouble regulating and calming. And this, my baby, breaks my heart beyond what words can describe. I'm trying to help you. I want to help you. I don't know how to help you sometimes. I hurt for you.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Now that you're over 2 - we get the joy of experiencing just how "strong" </span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">a little soul you are. (I called it from the first referral pic where you were staring down the camera at 5 months. Kindred spirits, I think...)</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">You get angry. Often. You scream, and you can brew up huge tears in mili-seconds. Therefore any incident has you looking, within the 30 seconds it takes you to calm down, like you've been crying for 30 minutes and we've been beating you. You look pathetic, bottom lip quivering, soaked face and drenched shirt. Snot everywhere. And all because either mama picked up the wrong train, tried to make you share the soccer ball, suggested it's time to wash your hands, the doggie picked up the ball or the word "nap", "diaper" or "toothbrush" is mentioned in any way, shape or form. And God forbid we leave the park. Brutal.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Having said that, you're like your mama - usually quick to heat up and quick to cool down. (But seriously? Please, </span><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">please, please stop screaming NO! about everything. I know this is a phase, but I don't like it. One bit.)</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">You're starting to sing which is c-u-t-e!!</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">And even cuter, you like to hold your stuffed animals up and mimic playing puppets with them. Usually you pick up boo bear, who you hold facing you, wobbling his head and as if he's asking you a question: "want to go to airport?" - to which you answer: "OK BOO BEAR!!" Giggle giggle.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">You're a great sleeper, although naps are getting later and harder to get you down. You still need to be rocked to sleep for your nap or you just plain won't got down.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">You sleep all night unless you're sick. usually 8-7. Awesome. </span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">You wake up happy. Lately you've been waking up from a nap to tell us "nice nap!" before we can ask.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">You're getting braver with food. You still take it out of your mouth and throw it at my head. You still avoid veggies at all costs. But we're tricking you since mama's doing a juice cleanse, you're getting cucumber, spinach, beet and other veggies in with your "apple juice. Tee hee.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">You are settling into us, as we are you. </span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">We truly do love you move each day.</span></li>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">We love to hike together. Sam is bribe-able with a "hiking car".</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Well hello, goat!</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgC27nl_VPJMEtqDBSsBR2_kliMGfS-QEstFJPXrnn2YyAMVsbHMBKO1kmO0dCQ9y4MWWEmN_U3VkStjCte27xqkqepG3cj_FlIpHCZml0JRC_jCmG_9yJfjfpIvhgYkJRgOhlTrRcDJMk/s1600/goat.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgC27nl_VPJMEtqDBSsBR2_kliMGfS-QEstFJPXrnn2YyAMVsbHMBKO1kmO0dCQ9y4MWWEmN_U3VkStjCte27xqkqepG3cj_FlIpHCZml0JRC_jCmG_9yJfjfpIvhgYkJRgOhlTrRcDJMk/s320/goat.JPG" width="257" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"> Christmas presents from Aunts Tracy & Dana</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"> Cutest. Little. Santa. EVER.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"> Baba, Sam & hiking car</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKQwoYF_a-PRiyPjNDa7RsV4DFYVVUxlNUNtd0JnhLTOU0RSsbdyLzsvlqAIB6wzSLxAGifRi5RNpxLr8WQ_daRGtRXnrmwwIP6TypLydMGCbYycgG54sJqzb74JZPuNzWUVaXO_1efsY/s1600/Xmas+1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKQwoYF_a-PRiyPjNDa7RsV4DFYVVUxlNUNtd0JnhLTOU0RSsbdyLzsvlqAIB6wzSLxAGifRi5RNpxLr8WQ_daRGtRXnrmwwIP6TypLydMGCbYycgG54sJqzb74JZPuNzWUVaXO_1efsY/s320/Xmas+1.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"> Mama, Sam & hiking car</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"> Choppy McChopperston & hiking car</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpofD0s4Z85NIzbkuzrbFWxvLG9BAymnXjolCbOIVUYLD-a1ESl2UhC1oGk8U8jVWfQH7DruhseHZRf1kfD3FIBe0PkPjeMb1Llo7hyphenhyphenc6Lrmp6nttfYdyobdjb6VsOoCGdjH30ypt-IFo/s1600/rock2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpofD0s4Z85NIzbkuzrbFWxvLG9BAymnXjolCbOIVUYLD-a1ESl2UhC1oGk8U8jVWfQH7DruhseHZRf1kfD3FIBe0PkPjeMb1Llo7hyphenhyphenc6Lrmp6nttfYdyobdjb6VsOoCGdjH30ypt-IFo/s320/rock2.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Sticker fun</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Cold day hike</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">See! I told ya. Boring! But that's us. Life certainly feels <i>anything</i> but boring each day!</span></div>
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Pebble to Stonehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11991239383449688960noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7290205587019694726.post-22771162505245585782012-12-29T22:18:00.000-07:002012-12-29T22:18:00.699-07:00The things I come across in my house.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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You're a strange little stacker / arranger / liner up-er, pork chop.</div>
Pebble to Stonehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11991239383449688960noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7290205587019694726.post-1356170283027689952012-10-30T18:36:00.002-06:002012-10-30T20:32:18.619-06:00Long time, no blog!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">It's been a while since I've written. And, it's been a rough few months. Losing Jackson, interviewing, 3 job offers, big decision, new job, adjusting to new job and lots of travel. On top of that I wrecked my car by accidentally hitting a rock and Mac discontinued my favorite lipstick color. I wasn't kidding when I said rough.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Who cares?! Let me get the star of this blog! <b>Sam</b> is absolutely the funniest, cutest, smartest little pork chop I have ever seen! (And - he's even sweet sometimes these days!) Yes, we've gone and will continue to go through some pretty tough phases of temper tantrums. It's truly incredible how furious he gets, and what it stirs in me Terry and me. Dude. (And I thought marriage was hard.) I am certain he is more persistent than me, and more stubborn than Terry. That's quite a combo! </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">But what a joy to see this little guy come into himself. He's growing and gaining weight and at his 2-year appointment, the doctor commented that "he seemed to be quite proud of himself" and that "he has a great laugh". We are so incredibly blessed! Here's just a little of what he's up to at 24 months:</span><br />
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<li><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Talk, talk, talk! He probably has 300-350 words in English and about 20-25 in spanish. That is not an exaggeration. He's a parrot - and repeats everything we say. He isn't connecting his words as well as we'd like to see - but his vocabulary is so huge for a 24-month old boy, that we're not too worried. </span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Today he said: "Bye bye orange dada!" when Terry walked out of the house in an orange shirt.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">He's really into cars, trucks, airplanes, tractors - that stuff is hard-wired for little boys! He cannot get enough of anything with wheels or wings. Every. Single. Time. we leave the house or he wakes from a nap, the first thing he says is "airport?". I say "Sorry, Sam, we're not going to the airport today." (But how fun will it be at Thanksgiving when I get to say YES! YES! We're going to the AIRPORT!) He is obsessed.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">The kid is funny, just plain funny. He'll put his spoon on his head, then look at us with a straight face and say "Sam's spoon?" He hides from us all the time and says "Sam?" He loves to laugh. He makes us laugh.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Tonight, while I was holding him he pointed at my nose and
said "big one", then at his and said "little one". He thought that was
reeeal funny. At dinner, he ate a piece of chicken and said "bye bye
bawk!". Took us a minute - oh - a chicken says bawk. See? Bye bye bawk. Funny. </span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">SMART.
I know everyone thinks they have the smartest kid in the world, but
seriously, we may contact MENSA. He is 24 month and 2 weeks and knows about 8 of his colors, how
old he is, where he was born (Opeeah!) and where he lives (Colorado). </span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Busy. Busy. Busy. Busier than most
little busy boys - but lately he *is* softening around the edges. Not as
frenetic. It's only been about a week, but we've seen a shift in him lately. Is he finally feeling safe? I think we may be experiencing a little miracle of healing?</span></li>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">My caveat, I feel can unabashedly rave about how we have the smartest, cutest, funniest child in the world, because it's not like I'm complimenting our own genes. :) Home 11 months this week. One of the hardest, but best years yet. </span></div>
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Pebble to Stonehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11991239383449688960noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7290205587019694726.post-9829575577901776122012-08-19T13:50:00.004-06:002012-08-19T14:29:46.822-06:00Oh Sam!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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What does a crow say? Caw! Caw!</div>
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What does an owl say? Whoo! Whoo!</div>
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What does a cow say? Mooooo!</div>
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What does a gato say? Mauw! Mauw!</div>
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What does Jackson say? Aaooooooo! </div>
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What does dada say? Shhhh!</div>
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What does mama say? Oh Sam!</div>
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Sam is barreling towards the age of two! He's 22 months and has been home for 9 months. It's incredible how much he has grown and changed. (And how much we have changed, too!) He's still a little peanut for his age, but big in every other way. He's active, loud, funny and silly. </div>
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His favorite things right now are swimming and going to the playground. And, of course, throwing anything and everything. He's happy most of the time. He's got a temper and definitely lets us know when he doesn't get what he wants. Loudly. Sometimes frequently. (Some days are better than others, and this is where <i>we're</i> learning!) He loves his cars, gucks (trucks), coo coos (choo choos) and happys (airplanes). He still loves books, but is now very opinionated on what we read.</div>
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He's talking up a storm and connecting words: "mama's shoes", "tree's aufs (leaves)", "baba's car". He is pretty much ALWAYS talking. (Which is funny, but also a little much sometimes.) I am not exaggerating when I say always talking. From the moment he wakes up, until the second he talks himself to sleep. He's big into saying "hi" and "bye, bye" to things. This includes his toes when he puts his shoes on "bye bye piggies!", his shoes when he walks into tall grass "bye bye shoes", his spoon when he puts it on his head "bye bye spoon!", and his penis when we put on a diaper. He has new words every day - it's pretty incredible. </div>
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We all feel the void of Jackson being gone - we miss him every day, and haven't been able to put his stuff away. But we are transitioning to being a family of 3. Sam's an amazing little guy and we're getting very attached, as is he. It is a miracle to experience. We feel very blessed.</div>
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Pebble to Stonehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11991239383449688960noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7290205587019694726.post-65155154043398149942012-07-19T12:36:00.000-06:002012-07-19T12:36:56.746-06:00Jackson Stone: 10/7/2001 - 7/17/2012<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-size: small;">I never knew a puppy dog so funny, gentle, bright <br /> It seems to me - way too soon - to say our last good night<br /><br /> A steak filet on the couch, your head in daddy’s lap</span> <span style="font-size: small;"><br /> Mama looked you in the eyes to take your final nap<br /><span class="text_exposed_show"> <br /> The house is quiet now without your wagging tail<br /> And at this point we’re not yet sure who will get the mail<br /> <br /> So sweet pup, we wish you peace, and lots of space to play<br /> We wish you lakes and creeks and friends and fresh snow every day<br /> <br /> There will never be another you, Fluffernutter, Punkin-pie. Sweet dreams.</span></span></div>
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</div>Pebble to Stonehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11991239383449688960noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7290205587019694726.post-65649410044478375222012-06-24T18:35:00.003-06:002012-06-24T19:27:20.123-06:00Wonderful weekend & our Buddha barometer<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Last weekend we took a 4-day weekend to celebrate Jackson. We went to a great little cabin in the mountains and swam, played, napped and ate. The 4 of us had a most wonderful time, and Jackson was like he was a year or so ago. We went on hikes, found snow to play in and cuddled at night in the cool air. It was a perfect weekend. Jackson is doing really well, and has just about beat the life expectancy given by the surgeon. We treasure every extra day we have with him. </div>
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Sam loved the weekend, too. That kid can hike, which we hope continues! He walked a lot, threw a lot of pine cones and played by the river with Jackson. We had struggles with waking very panicked mid-way through naps, but mama had the luxury of laying down on the bed with him for the second half of the nap. We hope to make many visits to our new most favorite get-away, an hour from home.</div>
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Sam's still a chatterbox,learning new words daily. He's big into running everywhere, tractors, trucks, cars - anything with wheels. I think his most favorite things, perhaps, are still his books and flash cards. We have LOTS of opportunity to learn to calm down (ahem, ME) as our stress shows up in Sam. He's busy/loud/active anyway - add Terry and/or I being stressed/angry/too busy and Sam reflects it right back to us. (What a vicious circle!) So he's like our little Buddha barometer. He and Jackson. Here to make us better people.</div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">We're happy to be a family.</span><br />
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<br /></div>Pebble to Stonehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11991239383449688960noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7290205587019694726.post-60609200029829192552012-06-06T13:12:00.001-06:002012-08-19T14:36:17.428-06:00Tribute to our Best Friend<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<br />
When I'm still, even when I'm not, I feel my heart breaking into pieces. I feel it twist, and catch and ache. My heart hurts.<br />
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We're losing our pup.<br />
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Terry got Jackson as a gift about a year before we met. Once Terry and I became a couple, Jackson quickly became mine, too. He's our first-born, and has been our love, anchor, confidant and our conscious for more than ten years. Without going into details, Jackson has a very aggressive cancer for which he had surgery a week ago. Yesterday we learned that we have 3-4 weeks with him. <a href="http://pebbletostone.blogspot.com/2012/03/this-pup.html">While we knew he was aging</a>, we had no idea our time together would be so short. We're in shock and devastated. How can this be? A month ago we were hiking together for 3-4 hours a week. How can this be? We're not ready yet, Jackson. <br />
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I want to write some of my favorite things and memories about Jackson so they don't slip away. If you're not an animal lover, this may not be your read. If you are, I know that you will understand.<br />
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I guess I'll start by saying that Jackson has inspired many nicknames from me and Terry. He's furry, furry-face, fluffer, fluffer-nutter, puppernut squash, stinky, stinky McStinkerston, punkin pie and wagger. I'm sure there are more.<br />
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I've known and loved many dogs. And all have unique wonderful souls. What I can say about Jackson is that he's the most gentle, willing and loving soul I've known. He's also silly, funny and intuitive beyond belief. He used to come stand between us when we argued. He gets so upset when I'm upset that I'm writing this away from him so as not to concern him. Although I should know by now the energy between us isn't hampered by walls.<br />
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Here are some things I want to remember about Jackson.<br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">(After writing this I re-read it and realized some is written in present tense, and some in past - making it rather poorly-written and confusing. But that's the state of where we are. He's with us, but so much of him is slipping away. And I didn't realize how much until I took the time to write this all down.)</span><br />
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<li>When he was a pup, and stills sometimes later in life, he'll come to our bed about 5am and jump up with his big muzzle right in our face - wagging and full of joy- as if to say "why wait to start the day??!!"</li>
<li>Speaking of wagging, Jackson has always been the wagger. His tail was the background soundtrack to our lives. Every time we'd enter a room, turn over in bed, whistle his call, walk by him or smile at him - just about any sign of life from us: THUMP THUMP THUMP THUMP THUMP. He's a big dog and has a big tail. His wagging was often the joke of friends who thought we could attach a hammer to his tail and he'd be quite the craftsman. Years ago we noticed how much he wagged only after he sprained his tail and couldn't wag for almost a week. We were shocked at how quiet everything was. Over time, almost imperceptibly, the wagging has slowed. He's so tired. (Ah, my heart aches again.) I miss the wags. </li>
<li>In addition to being a wagger, Jackson is a squeaker. He welcomes us to the room, or the house, or lets us know it's dinner or he wants to play by squeaking one of his beloved furry toys. We would always laugh, because we know he believed he was talking with us. He loves his toys. A new toy for Jackson would be the favorite for a few weeks until he'd eventually go back to his favorite - the turtle.</li>
<li>Jackson is a working dog, and he takes his jobs very seriously. His jobs include meeting us and any visitors at the front door, getting the paper, carrying in the mail, helping carry groceries (he'd nudge us until we gave him a frozen dinner or box of toothpaste to carry in), and shredding cardboard and sticks in the yard for the compost. And again, it is only as I write this that I see how so slowly over time he's had to resign some of his duties. Oh pup, you've been going for a while. We thought you were just tired with all of the stress around bringing Sam home. Oh Jackson, I'm so sorry.</li>
<li>Water is like heaven for Jackson. Whether it be a lake or snow - he's happiest when wet and even happier when wet and dirty. Jackson loves to make snow angels. He loves to bound through the snow, sticking his muzzle into the snow and snorting, digging for tennis balls.</li>
<li>Jackson loves to snuggle, and loved to come to the bath when I was in for a quick shampoo of his head and rub of his ears. He doesn't come downstairs very often anymore where the bath tub is - but last night he did. And we had a shampoo together and an ear rub. I didn't let him see my cry when he left.</li>
<li>Jackson and I howl together. Sometimes Terry howls with us, and even recently Sam joined in. Yeah, we're weird. Wow - was that really 3 years ago? How can it be? http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XHnn-NvArbQ</li>
<li>His bottom lip. I love it. It sticks out just a tiny bit - maybe a tiny under-bite? I don't think anyone else would notice, but I do, and I love it. For some reason it reminds me a bit of my grandpa. His paws - they're huge and soft and gentle. I love them. His eyes - amber and knowing. So beautiful. </li>
<li>Walking and hiking with Jackson are going to be among the hardest losses. He learned quickly to get his leash when he wanted to go for a walk. This quickly became a party trick - when new people came over, Jackson would bring his leash and put it into their laps and wag, wag, wag. Jackson and I have been on literally hundreds of hikes together. Many with Terry too. This was our special thing - Jackson and me. Time together, free, outdoors. 2 weekends ago I hiked without him - before the surgery, before we knew about the cancer. I left him at home because he seemed so tired and wasn't eating - the reason we took him into the vet. I felt like half of me was missing. Oh - sweet pup, you haven't gotten your leash in a few months. How did we not know something was more wrong than just being tired? How will I hike without you, buddy? Will you be with me, still, when you're gone? I didn't know those were our last hikes a few weeks ago - were you hurting? Did it make things worse for you?</li>
<li>And all of his looks - I have many documented. Joy, curiosity, happiness, sadness, shame, fear. You're an open book, pup. Just like your mama.</li>
</ul>
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So now, we wait. I have promised myself not to get upset in front of Jackson, which I am failing at. We love him, we walk him, we cuddle him and he gets extra treats and even gets to eat grass and cat poop if that's what he really wants. We'll sleep downstairs with him now, as he won't go up the stairs. Next weekend we'll go to a cabin in the woods on a river and let him do whatever he wants. Can you please stay with us until then, sweet pup?</div>
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Jackson - we are pretty sure that you want to save us from a long drawn-out end of days. That's just like you - always more worried about us than you. It has been an honor to be your companion on this earth, and you have blessed us more than I can articulate. </div>
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Whatever you need in this time, pup. Anything. And when you need to go, we're ok. We'll be ok. We'll see you again at the rainbow bridge.</div>
</div>
Pebble to Stonehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11991239383449688960noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7290205587019694726.post-82676635726039632162012-05-24T20:23:00.000-06:002012-05-25T10:55:28.834-06:00Catch-up.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I think this marks the longest time period between posts for me. And that's pretty much a result of my life which is completely nuts right now. Work is as hard and stressful as it's ever been for me, it's allergy season big-time in Colorado and I'm behind in everything. Oh - and I have an 19-month old tornado (formerly knows as the pork chop). Thank God my skinny jeans fit or I'd be totally losing it.<br />
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I want to blog so I have record of all of the amazing things going on with Samuel. I've heard parents say it a hundred times "time passes so fast and they grow up so quickly!" But WOW - the changes we see in Sam in a week are really unbelievable. Since I'm strapped for time, I'll just list some highlights:<br />
<ul style="text-align: left;">
<li>He continues to be a great sleeper. (Thank you, Sam!) He generally sleeps through the night for about 10.5 hours, then has about a 2 hour nap mid day. Wake ups are seldom - 2 nightmares to date, or when he's sick. Getting him calm enough to consider sleep is another story - he's usually in the crib for about :30 minutes chatting away after he finishes his bottle and lobs is at the baby monitor. No, I'm not ready to take him off the bottle yet. Not even close. (Please oh please oh please let this sleep pattern continue. Please!)</li>
<li>He's walking everywhere - and very quickly. He has finally, thanks to daddy, learned to go down stairs/curbs backwards, so there is much less road rash on his face. </li>
<li>He's super-active - always going, going, going (and usually throwing, throwing, throwing) but still loves books and being carried in the sling. We love the playground - especially the swings and slide. He's quite an adventurer.</li>
<li>Talking is the big thing right now! He's a real parrot and he learns new words every day - sometimes every hour. Some current favorites are: tractor!, car!, Jackson!, tree!, apple!, nana!, agua!, up! (which sounds just like apple), boo!, wow!, ought oh!, hi mama!, (although he doesn't call me mama, he does say hi mama! (as one word) when I walk into the room. Oh - and of course no, no, no!, door!, ball! And a few others I'm sure I'm forgetting. When I say the alphabet, he's in charge of saying the letter "D!" And yes, he says them all with explanation marks at the end. He loves to communicate, is signing less but still signing for water, more, light and food. There is not more than a minute or so during the day that he's awake that he's not talking. He might be the chattiest, most animated person I've ever met.</li>
<li>He's showing more affection to us, his loveys, his truck and Jackson. Very sweet. </li>
<li>He's also currently a hitter - and swings at us multiple times a day. I think it's to see what we'll do - because he's always looking us straight in the eye while he does it. </li>
<li>He's gets fussy - but is easily soothed or distracted most times. Mostly, he's fussy when telling us his opinion. Generally, he's very, very happy - and crazy funny.</li>
<li>He loves all things boy: throwing, dirt, trucks, tractors, cars, motorcycles. It's amazing how hard-wired this stuff is. </li>
</ul>
I know that might sound like a glowing assessment of new-parenthood, adopted at that. Is it hard? Hell yes. But because I'm used to being a spoiled, selfish 43-year old, not because Samuel is hard. Mommy has lots of work to do in learning how to do all of this. And I know it will get infinitely harder.<br />
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My mom and dad are coming this week for Memorial Day and I could not be more excited! Coincidentally they'll be here on the six-month anniversary of of the last time they were here - when we brought Samuel home - Thanksgiving day.<br />
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Love hikes with mama & daddy<br />
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Not as easy to get family pictures as it used to be!<br />
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Anything that involves flinging his little body around is good by him!<br />
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Neighborhood friend<br />
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Did I mention he loves all things boy?<br />
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<br /></div>Pebble to Stonehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11991239383449688960noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7290205587019694726.post-11763165874635866502012-05-06T16:04:00.000-06:002012-05-07T11:32:28.817-06:00Welcome, Samuel!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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It's hard to believe that it hasn't even been 6 months that Samuel has been home. It seems like so much more and so much less at the same time. I was looking through pictures the other day of November and December - he was so tiny! He as grown and changed so much. And so have we. The first few weeks were really hard, but I can't quite remember why now? He's always been a happy guy, a great sleeper and a great eater. So why did it seem, at the time, that those first few weeks were so hard? I guess it was the huge change that comes with being 42 and having always had the money and time to do whatever I want. Then, suddenly, there's this little being who takes all the money and time. Fast-forward 6 months and it just feels like family. And now, on those rare occasions when I'm out doing the things I used to do without him, like hike, or travel for work I miss him. </div>
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As strange as it sounds, I have known Sam in a lot of ways for quite a while now - even before he really started showing us who he was. So, when in the the first 4 months or so with us he was very well-behaved and quite frankly hardly ever fussy at all, I knew there was much more to come. From the first referral pictures I saw of Sam, I knew that he was willful, strong and brave. I could see it in his eyes. (And we're kindred spirits in a way, I think.)</div>
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Recently, I would say he is finally here. He's showing us who he is. His willfulness is coming out in a big way - he's showing us his opinions - his likes and dislikes. He's also showing us more and more love. Both the Samuel I knew was in there - and, a Samuel I didn't know, is making our lives more full every single minute.</div>
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What I didn't know about Sam is what a clown he is. He's a riot - funny, silly and happy as can be. When we met him in July he was very guarded. It was hard to get a smile out of him at all. I cried the first day we left the orphanage because I was so afraid there was something wrong with him. He didn't smile until the 4th visit. And now - he cracks himself, and us all day long. Oh what a little love and consistency can do! Our amazing little boy. Welcome. We love you. </div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Silly little pork chop! The cups are still his favorite. (Thanks Kyndra!) </span><br />
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Our little pilot!</div>
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Ready to roll...</div>
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With Ethiopian friends:</div>
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Mama's favorite time:</div>
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<br /></div>Pebble to Stonehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11991239383449688960noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7290205587019694726.post-75824714933439716922012-04-27T20:48:00.002-06:002012-04-27T20:50:03.617-06:00The big G<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Big G little g, what begins with G? Not only goats with goo goo goggles, but GIARDIA. </div>
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Hopefully this explains the 7-8 poopy diapers a day around here! Little dude has giardia. He tested negative back in December, but positive this month. I sure hope the antibiotics work the first time and we see some changes in the volume of poop around here. To say that much poop is crappy - is an understatement! The jury is still out as to whether he brought it back from Africa and just tested negative or picked it up eating out of Jackson's bowl. (This is not a behavior I intentionally allow, by the way...)</div>
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I had giardia this fall after our trip to Ethiopia and it took me 3 months to get rid of it. While the 10-pound weight loss was great, the jumping up and running out of meetings and pulling into random gas stations and fast-food joints every few hours was not. Incidentally, for me, the 2 rounds of antibiotics didn't even phase the buggers. I finally found relief working with a holistic doc who hooked me up with super Artemisinin<span class="main-title" itemprop="name"> (the </span>active constituent of the herb sweet wormwood) to kill it off. Worked like a charm.</div>
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Good news - it hasn't kept the pork chop from gaining weight, that's for sure...</div>
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</div>Pebble to Stonehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11991239383449688960noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7290205587019694726.post-33627450671730929572012-04-24T14:22:00.000-06:002012-04-25T15:05:34.794-06:00Airplanes, tractors, meltdowns and quite a debut.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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I'm writing from the air somewhere above mid-America en route from Atlanta to Denver. We went to Jackson, Mississippi this week for a visit with family and Samuel's official debut into society in the South.
The flights to Jackson were awesome. While prepared for the worst, the little dude surprised us and slept the entire way to Atlanta, then hung on for the 1-hour flight on to Jackson and played in our laps. A meltdown started to ensue as we were waiting to de-plane in Jackson, but a sweet and very observant mama a row back intervened just in time. Thank you, parents of the world, for your help at the most difficult times! I promise to pass it on. </div>
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The second day in Jackson brought with it a very grumpy Samuel. We did get out for walks and that helped. His big thing right is any kind of motor vehicle, for which he chirps in his high voice: "tractor"
with glee, while wildly and very seriously trying to make sure we see
whatever plane, car, truck or tractor in view. Even in our books and
flash cards he points out trucks and cars with much drama, while nearly
ignoring things like kittens or fruit. </div>
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Terry's parents friends had an absolutely wonderful party for Sam, and everyone got to meet - or at least see the new grandson. There were probably 50-60 people who stopped by in the 2-hours. The little dude did really well for about 90 minutes. And mama and daddy were worn out chasing Sam around a beautifully decorated, non-baby proofed house with a few one-step transitions from room to room. IE - steps for Sam's favorite hobby - mini-cliff diving without a parachute. Between avoiding the crashes, soothing him after the crashes, keeping him occupied and away from the steps (not successful at all) I didn't get to visit with too many people, unfortunately. </div>
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But again - just as the meltdowns started, a few amazing mamas stepped in at just the right minute with distracting books, snacks or to take a quick stroll outside. Again. Thank you, you amazing people who have done what we are trying to do and offer such simple wisdom and support it turns my heart upside-down! </div>
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There was one really funny bit - although I think Sam and I were the only ones who noticed it. When Sam started to fuss one of the wonderful mothers gave him a book (he loves books) that has buttons you can press and it says colors associated with pictures of things that color. So, Sam and I sat in a chair - and read the book. It became a bit of a receiving line - people streamed by to get a look at him since he was semi-still. And, all of these wonderful people happened to be white. Samuel being Samuel was very much taken with the talking book. And, especially, for some reason, with the "black" button. So while streams of wonderfully nice and lovely and white people pinched his cheek, Sam was pushing the button: "black!", "black!", "black!", "black!" over, and over. I was laughing so hard on the inside I could barely contain myself. And THAT, people, is my son. </div>
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I had to leave today to get back to some work stuff. Terry is staying another few days with his family who are becoming enchanted with Samuel despite the 18-month old fussiness we've recently developed. At the airport this morning, Samuel screamed when I closed the door - and reached for me. I'm hugging Terry goodbye, and see Sam through the window screaming and crying. OMG. I felt awful. Absolutely fricking awful. I know, parents have to leave their kids sometimes. But I'm the mommy - and I feel, after his first year of so much transition, I shouldn't leave. I'm sorry pork chop! The guilt. The guilt</div>
</div>Pebble to Stonehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11991239383449688960noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7290205587019694726.post-68709511555388590222012-04-15T12:35:00.001-06:002012-04-15T12:37:18.718-06:00Happy Mama!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; text-align: left;">I guess this makes total sense, but I hadn't thought of it until just now. Samuel is learning to feel in all kinds of ways. In addition to showing his opinion when he's frustrated, he is also starting to show love. And it just makes mama melt! He will come up and grab my legs, he likes to be carried a lot (mostly to see what's happening up high, I think) and he lays his head down on my chest while I'm holding him sometimes. It makes sense that if he trusts us enough to show us he's pissed off, he can trust us enough to show us he loves us. </div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; text-align: left;">Samuel - we're so proud of you, baby boy! You're so brave and so strong. So funny and full of life. And we love you more each day. Thank you for learning to trust us as we take this journey together.</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; text-align: left;">Mama + Samuel + Jackson on Easter </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjT_iLWgqIqZ-O_qp-YUv3cbsgfRxurVIjsE7GtsNdTmI_OftugZ3qYwcL4DSdGxVji5y3VJaDoMNv1PucMkYNzNNQU6B-DodEaoz3Ksyr2_Frc3orN1RIlzDLaZNnkB0diLxr9lY3FBn4/s1600/photo.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjT_iLWgqIqZ-O_qp-YUv3cbsgfRxurVIjsE7GtsNdTmI_OftugZ3qYwcL4DSdGxVji5y3VJaDoMNv1PucMkYNzNNQU6B-DodEaoz3Ksyr2_Frc3orN1RIlzDLaZNnkB0diLxr9lY3FBn4/s320/photo.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><div style="text-align: left;"></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Just doing one of our favorite things together - reading! </div><br />
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</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Bubbles are fun, daddy! </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFMkzwcdW0PastRv3Z4OFA7R1KvN0-BETL66yagKYZTR02T2p07QfWAB5qM-dAACzltQgAhBRG8InI2qDAIKCWYD0e6f-EAbES4eSqB-Q08b1_936MEfRxh_0DuCkt06xTBT6ilKWudxI/s1600/photo2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFMkzwcdW0PastRv3Z4OFA7R1KvN0-BETL66yagKYZTR02T2p07QfWAB5qM-dAACzltQgAhBRG8InI2qDAIKCWYD0e6f-EAbES4eSqB-Q08b1_936MEfRxh_0DuCkt06xTBT6ilKWudxI/s320/photo2.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Peek a boo!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqYIWBBE87m1lLyx28v-EB9DyeTPuQGqC9Y9TQs8h-Kk86GPPzvrMAZOzVGZN-By666AyEqkh3riJj7XTh_N5X0_NpazNqA8TPnSVVfip6-YTF0dkUsE3cfaqSz2D7S7aabc-9GwMW8wo/s1600/photo3.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqYIWBBE87m1lLyx28v-EB9DyeTPuQGqC9Y9TQs8h-Kk86GPPzvrMAZOzVGZN-By666AyEqkh3riJj7XTh_N5X0_NpazNqA8TPnSVVfip6-YTF0dkUsE3cfaqSz2D7S7aabc-9GwMW8wo/s320/photo3.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br />
</div></div>Pebble to Stonehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11991239383449688960noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7290205587019694726.post-2318552574769197602012-04-08T12:43:00.005-06:002012-04-08T13:11:12.755-06:00The Arch<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">No, not this one:<br />
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Or this one:<br />
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I'm talking about "<u><b>THE ARCH</b></u>". The one where the little brown toddler throws his head back, arches his back, screams his opinion. Yup. The arch has arrived in the Stone household. We knew it would come. And here it is. The first sightings were in the past week when we took away things said toddler was throwing. Yesterday was the most spectacular viewing yet when we took away the "car" and firetruck" flashcards to bring the little pork-chop to the table for dinner. Arched back, arms flailing, tears, screaming, and the eventual head on the floor. Guess he really likes those cards. The incidents have only lasted a few seconds, and the subject's attention can be quickly diverted. But we know that the arch will be with us for a while, and will be come more, uh, <i>persistent </i>in nature. The kid has opinions and he's more and more willing to share. (Again, my husband and parents remind me often that this is my biological child. Pffffffft.) I'm overwhelmed with the multitudes of parenting advice on how, exactly, to deal with the arch.<br />
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Samuel continues to be doing great - he's still a mimic, always "talking" with about 10 words now and double as many "Sam words". He still loves books, following us around, going to the playground and throwing things. He's currently progressing with peek-a-boo and now covers his mouth instead of his ears (getting closer!). He greats all passersby with "hiiiiiiiii!!!" and a big smile. He's learned to say "boo" since he loves being scared. We sneak up on him when he's not expecting it and say "boo!". His eyes go wide, he falls on his butt and dissolves into giggles. Sometimes, after we put him down at night, there will be silence on the monitor, then... "boo!" He's really into "this little piggy", which often becomes a diversionary tactic (see THE ARCH, above). This little piggy went to the market:<br />
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Spring has sprung, and we're spending lots of time outside. It unusually warm and dry - so we have lots of exploring to do. Just as road rash from one tumble on the cement heals, another crash happens, usually when he insists on stepping off the curb on his own. He's a happy, active and funny little guy. Our Samuel: loves to learn, loves to smile and laugh, loves to explore - and very proud when he's learned something new, like: "this is my head":<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJHYURvLYoXyuruFdkbn55JNJEAmP-SJ01F7YfJYyHF5hW3Efjd5i0I9oRD4p-2pv_4DTWialVvqAOtn_roIvFV3d6qOcH6FuTzcT1zdWTiN9qFKngnlT9qT9IGWQGqcrnx00kuATBUkU/s1600/simply.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJHYURvLYoXyuruFdkbn55JNJEAmP-SJ01F7YfJYyHF5hW3Efjd5i0I9oRD4p-2pv_4DTWialVvqAOtn_roIvFV3d6qOcH6FuTzcT1zdWTiN9qFKngnlT9qT9IGWQGqcrnx00kuATBUkU/s320/simply.JPG" width="239" /></a></div><br />
Mama, well, I'm another story. I had my first business trip this past week, and I am still recovering from being away from Sam. I have such guilt, and while we always knew I'd be the primary breadwinner, I'm struggling with how little time I have with the pork-chop. I had a bit of a breakdown when we went on (our second since he's been home) date last night - so much so that we almost turned around. But my sweet husband had so thoughtfully planned a fun night out. And our wonderful friends Tracy and Dana, his aunts, were excited to be with Samuel. So we went. But we decided that being out of town, then having a date night in one week out is just too much for mommy. So after we got home, it was a double-header, and I took him out of the crib twice for mommy time - him sleeping on my chest - wondering the whole time - do you know I'm holding you? Do you know I'm your mommy? Do you know everything is ok? <br />
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I've decided, also, that we need to tighten the reigns back a bit on other people holding him. We had planned on being super diligent the first year of him being home in terms of who holds him, as all of our books and adoption friends have advised- to help build connection to us as mommy and daddy. Since he's so social we've relaxed a bit. But while it's good that he's so happily social, I need him to continue to learn that I'm mommy. So, I've pulled the sling back out for more carrying time, and we're spending lots of time with him in my lap reading and playing "piggies" and learning our flashcards. While he's not a cuddly guy, he loves those things in my lap, and tolerates the sling (mostly because he's into everyone's business, and he has a better view from my hip than from the floor...)<br />
<br />
So on we go. Building a family. I have to remind myself that attachment is a long process, and that the dishes and floor can wait. After all, despite how amazing he's doing, he's not yet been home for 6 months.That's less than half the time he lived in an orphanage. We have much work to do to let him know we're here to stay. I guess it's like anything else, adjust, move forward, maybe even take a step back. Adjust. And so on.</div>Pebble to Stonehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11991239383449688960noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7290205587019694726.post-23149453791166108232012-03-24T22:51:00.001-06:002012-08-19T14:32:21.912-06:00This pup.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifceMuKIPmmRQR7pgmgJjoJ9F_8n353MhKGU6cCWZO_Ti6-ugSNj-QV0pDpTI8XlTpBqME6Ci-nAKh2riAWCnV5YiqDhqgQFHuATrQuJrL0XmcA3BnZ5s6IBArsfAh4JXzq-Q693Oy7Ak/s1600/photo.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifceMuKIPmmRQR7pgmgJjoJ9F_8n353MhKGU6cCWZO_Ti6-ugSNj-QV0pDpTI8XlTpBqME6Ci-nAKh2riAWCnV5YiqDhqgQFHuATrQuJrL0XmcA3BnZ5s6IBArsfAh4JXzq-Q693Oy7Ak/s400/photo.JPG" width="300" /></a></div>
<br />
Many times in the last year or two I've sat down to write about my love affair with this pup. But each time, before I get very far, tears blur my eyes so I can't see the screen. He is simply the most unconditionally loving and gentle soul I've ever experienced. <br />
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Jackson has been my best friend for almost 10 years. I inherited him when I met Terry. At first - we didn't click. But over the years he's become my hiking buddy, my couch buddy, my confidant and my love. <br />
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It's hard to see your pup age. He has trouble getting up. His muzzle is more and more white. I know that the addition of Sam has been hard on him most of all, and it breaks my heart to have made such a profoundly hard change to his life in his late years. He wags less, he goes away to find a quiet place more. I'm sorry, fluffernutter.<br />
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So: to my pup for the time we have left: I promise to love on you every day, punkin pie. I promise to take you swimming when it's too hot to hike, and take you hiking when it's not, puppernuter squash. I promise to scratch your chin they way I know you love it, furry. I promise to pay attention to all that you've tried to teach me (and I've mostly avoided), Flurry McFluffersston. I love you, pup. Thank you for everything you bring to our lives. <br />
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I will close this post with a note from a fellow dog lover, my good friend Ross, who recently wrote me a note when I was feeling sad about Jackson aging. (Please read with a British accent):<br />
<blockquote>
He's a grand old man, and getting grey around the muzzle as he helps the next generation grow up grounded and balanced. That's the badge of honour for a dog, and he wears it well. It's natural, it's doesn't feel good, but it's how life is. His life has built up to helping Sam come through. Don't believe in heaven or hell, but I do believe in a big dog park in the sky. If it ain't there, I don't want to go. </blockquote>
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Pebble to Stonehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11991239383449688960noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7290205587019694726.post-53872441323337415592012-03-22T13:36:00.002-06:002012-03-22T22:10:18.195-06:00March 22, 2011One year ago today, <a href="http://pebbletostone.blogspot.com/2011/03/o-m-g.html">we got the call</a>. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_1-KmZfmL-A_ExQ6MYI5rbFey0cVvz-_dJHq4u4Xz4IaKzzGc1gvEfm8m-vCVknW-huXY0ng7tD4u3tIwCpBdMjkKQtdGgcoTMpqXEzZnw1YS3ZpYfzkC6viw3AisceKrHHm6kC21gio/s1600/text.PNG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="400" width="267" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_1-KmZfmL-A_ExQ6MYI5rbFey0cVvz-_dJHq4u4Xz4IaKzzGc1gvEfm8m-vCVknW-huXY0ng7tD4u3tIwCpBdMjkKQtdGgcoTMpqXEzZnw1YS3ZpYfzkC6viw3AisceKrHHm6kC21gio/s400/text.PNG" /></a></div><br />
On March 22, 2011 at just before 2pm, I was in my office at work, giving a yearly performance review to one of my team members, Lisa. My cell phone rang and I glanced down at it - feeling guilty because I know it must annoy Lisa that I'm such a chronic multi-tasker...especially during a review. I saw the area code was "503". Within 1/2 second the following went through my mind: "Hmm, that's the area code of the adoption agency." Hmmm. "Maybe it's a customer from Oregon, and not the agency?" Hmmmm! "Do I answer?" Hmmmmmm? "Good Lord, Anne - it's Lisa's review for crying out loud, Anne - focus! Just ignore the call, it has only been 2 and a half months since our paperwork was submitted. We'll be lucky if we get a referral by July." HMMMMMMMMMMM. "But wait - I really think it's the agency!! - I have to answer!" <br />
<br />
(Background - we had worked out the "communication plan" prior to the call - keep in mind - this was back when referrals were coming much faster than they are today. The agency had a policy that they'd only call my cell phone if it was THE CALL. They didn't want to get parents all excited every time their cell phone rang with the agency's number. So the plan was that the agency would call mommy on my cell phone for "the call" when we got a match, and we'd conference Terry in.)<br />
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Back to the call, my phone has rung 3 times, I must make a decision! I said: "Lisa - I'm sorry - but I think this is the area code for the adoption agency. I have to answer this." She nodded.<br />
<br />
Now. You have to know Lisa - she is a wonderful and caring person - and foremost an amazing mom. AND - she worked for me when we started the Nepal process, and was physically with me when I got the news that Nepal had shut down. She was already a part of our adoption story, and about to become more so...<br />
<br />
(AND HERE'S THE GOOD PART!!)<br />
<br />
So I answered. And I heard in a singsong voice: "Hi Anne, this is Tammi! We need to get Terry on the phone!". My jaw dropped. My body froze. I knew that instant that this was THE CALL. I looked at Lisa. I remember her face: hopeful. I teared up, and barely uttered "Are you telling me we have a referral?" (And I tear up writing this.) "Yes, she said, I am." (OMG. Emotions raced through me that I can't explain, but I remember vividly.) She continued: "I'm going to go on the other line and call Terry." <br />
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The following things all happened within 3 minutes: I started crying. Lisa started crying. Of course the agency disconnected me. I told Lisa - who was nearly as emotional and in shock as I was - that I needed a minute. Lisa left. I put my head down on the desk for a minute and cried. I picked up my cell and called Terry. No answer, of course. I called him again. No answer. I called a third time and he answered with a bit of concern in his voice: "Is everything ok?" I blurted out: "We got a referral!" I was sobbing and he couldn't understand. "What?" He said? "We got a referral", I tried to repeat - but I couldn't talk. I tried one more time: "Call Tammi, and call me back. We got a referral". His response "What??!! Oh my God. Really? Well what did she say..." Me: "TERRY CALL TAMMI AND CALL ME BACK!!!" I hang up on him for the first time in our relationship.<br />
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I crawled up on to my desk to be closer to my window since I don't have good cell reception in my office. FINALLY my phone rang - it was Tami. Terry was on the line. She said: "Well, what do you want to know?" "EVERYTHING!" I responded. So she told us that we were matched with a little boy, 5 & 1/2 months. And his name is Samuel. She told us pictures are on the way. OMG pictures - we get to see him, NOW? My hand was shaking as tears streamed down my face and I clicked on her email. And there he was. The most beautiful, tiny little guy. His eyes were, and still are, piercing - alert, aware and saying "I'm here, world. I'm here, Mama! Where are you?"<br />
<br />
The rest of the conversation is mush to me now. I just stared at the baby boy on my screen. I remember, as Terry asked details, saying "I have to go!" and hanging up. (I laugh at this now. That is so me. Immediate action, I had to go prepare for this baby.) <br />
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I went to Lisa's office. I told her we had a referral. I didn't tell her that he was a he, or anything else, but I said that I had to go. She hugged me, we both cried more. I don't cry at the office as a rule - and in a miracle I saw no one else during this time. And I will always chuckle that Lisa knew about our baby before Terry by a few minutes. She'll forever have a place in our story.<br />
<br />
I went to my car and called Terry back. He told me the additional information about where Samuel was from, etc. We agreed we'd call our families that day, but would wait to tell anyone else and wouldn't update my blog for a while. We called families. <br />
<br />
I remember so clearly. I remember bursting with joy. I remember needing to get to Terry as soon as possible. I remember needing to make lists, organize and prepare. And I remember looking at Samuel's pictures every few minutes and reading the paperwork over and over. It was one of the most amazing moments of my life - that call.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZFXjxw-uYcmd_5Ravqw4UaC4cIG_OuG0WhcUh97mOk_b9qmyCiiLwRglCcM3lHWqzxYpPSEM7xeS5vfj5iDYPhEr9IgkD-gFIVsg3MQUnoms_46dgLj4xbhGt_Bhlv6X-nBdZWfmsg_A/s1600/Sam+1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="400" width="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZFXjxw-uYcmd_5Ravqw4UaC4cIG_OuG0WhcUh97mOk_b9qmyCiiLwRglCcM3lHWqzxYpPSEM7xeS5vfj5iDYPhEr9IgkD-gFIVsg3MQUnoms_46dgLj4xbhGt_Bhlv6X-nBdZWfmsg_A/s400/Sam+1.JPG" /></a></div>Pebble to Stonehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11991239383449688960noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7290205587019694726.post-57834818813942722532012-03-11T13:29:00.002-06:002012-03-11T13:34:08.477-06:00Yee-haw!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVm6kMxPTfXrkktOECVPVoS8D3cBBg2kak8wHAzwZYQiSnA2OUSRRDn6MDgNf7IHCbHmQABnuugxrnQHUma78-Ij9WkDOj2KyRLon_Z7ZJeSiydVG2ifcz0RNafzj29KtK3Kyq44pswrs/s1600/Yee-haw.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="400" width="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVm6kMxPTfXrkktOECVPVoS8D3cBBg2kak8wHAzwZYQiSnA2OUSRRDn6MDgNf7IHCbHmQABnuugxrnQHUma78-Ij9WkDOj2KyRLon_Z7ZJeSiydVG2ifcz0RNafzj29KtK3Kyq44pswrs/s400/Yee-haw.JPG" /></a></div><br />
Giddy-up cowboy! With the beautiful weather over the last few days, we've had some great time hiking and going to the playground up the trail from our house. It's so nice to be outside!<br />
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Samwell (how we pronounce his name - the Ethiopian way) is continuing to thrive. He's such a walker now! Our baby has become a toddler seemingly overnight. It's amazing how when he started to walk, not only his world, but his little body just stretched out. He seems taller/longer. He's a good sleeper, we're lucky and we know it will probably change. At night, I pull him out of his crib for cuddle time while he's sleeping. I lay with him on my chest for :30 minutes or so. He sleeps right through it, but somehow I hope he knows his mama's holding him, and that it's making up for lost time... it's my favorite part of the day. He's too busy to cuddle much during the day, so this is "our time".<br />
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Samwell's new-found walking and freedom has resulted in road rash on his forehead, and more than one busted lip. Despite the blood - he's such a super-happy and super-busy little guy. Besides walking, his other favorite past-time is throwing things. Mostly blocks and food. So, we're working on this... it's ok to throw a ball for the dog, and throw soft things. It is not ok to throw sweet potatoes at the wall or blocks at your dog. The learning continues. On both sides.<br />
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Meanwhile, mommy is adjusting to being back at work full-time, which has gone well, I just miss the little dude. I'm about to start traveling for business again - so I'm a little worried about that... And daddy's business is doing well - more than expected new projects coming in, so we're having to re-think having Sam in daycare or with a nanny more than we'd planned for his first year home. Samwell is a total extrovert, so that might not be such a bad thing. We're thinking of having him with the nanny - who also takes care of 2 other little ones, for 4 days a week, (only 5 hours a day), instead of our original plan of 2 days a week. The good thing is that Terry is right next-door in his office, so he's not far away and checks in on Samwell a few times a day. But oh my...the guilt. Guilt. Guilt. Guilt.<br />
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I guess that's what it's all about. Adjusting and altering course as we go. And letting go of the guilt.Pebble to Stonehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11991239383449688960noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7290205587019694726.post-89770305025916981642012-03-04T13:39:00.002-07:002012-03-04T14:37:47.284-07:00Sam I am. (And wild turkeys.)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhb3k2d8h-mZNItSZy2Mp61lOXr1d0QnMJMVAz3a5NN3ULpYrHTwFVj316mKz96zrY8hZqjhg9A6sKYHfqE5l7Cip7H4Z6V7qAJliZPp_sHE0zCO-yfO37zczECEZmQ2T-xx2jfhTuEOY0/s1600/photo.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="400" width="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhb3k2d8h-mZNItSZy2Mp61lOXr1d0QnMJMVAz3a5NN3ULpYrHTwFVj316mKz96zrY8hZqjhg9A6sKYHfqE5l7Cip7H4Z6V7qAJliZPp_sHE0zCO-yfO37zczECEZmQ2T-xx2jfhTuEOY0/s400/photo.JPG" /></a></div><br />
Sam continues to thrive and become more and more, well, Sam. I don't think, in our wildest dreams, we could have imagined we'd be blessed with such an amazing little soul to help learn to live and love. His personality is just huge and beautiful.<br />
<br />
Sam continues to be happy, willful, chirpy, funny as all get out, curious, busy and more and more loving each day. (Did I mention happy?) He's big into swimming, his music class, throwing things, meeting new people, mimicking us - but also making up his own little language through which he expresses himself all day, and walking and more walking.<br />
<br />
We had our first "date" last night as Terry's mom (Mupper) is in town. It was great to have some time alone, but of course we spent much of the night talking about Samuel and wondering if he was driving his grandmother crazy. Turns out "he was perfect" and she loved the time with him. I have been really, really feeling the sadness of being so far away from our families right now. It breaks my heart that they're all a plane ride - or two - away. And my goal this year is to have Samuel with his grandparents and aunts, uncles & cousins as much as we possibly can. <br />
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Here are a few videos from recent escapades with our little Ham.<br />
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<a href="http://youtu.be/H4T9cND_Es4 ">Sam's first time swimming.</a> Loves it. Loves going under, loves splashing, loves jumping off the side to mommy and daddy. <br />
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<a href="http://youtu.be/Yw4mMFG9l3M">Fun at the playground.</a> Also loves the slide, the swings and the dirt. <br />
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<a href="http://youtu.be/-9m4Oa1-U1s">Sam being a ham!</a> I'm not sure exactly what he's doing, but he loves to take his cups and crawl straight-legged. It's really, really weird. And really, really funny.<br />
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In the most random of segues, it's the year of the turkey here in Golden, Colorado. (Last year was the year of the mountain lion.) There's a herd of 11 <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_names_for_the_Wild_Turkey">wild turkeys</a> taking over the neighborhood. This is all fine and good until they eat my garden or clematis. Then, they're roasted.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6CiA0YKS072C7OqqG8f_dqC9AbaLxSmIJeJk78YYRXkGafDKNQPwEUjQsThu-8ajP-y90-c5tKbL_HKXb8Ld-L64rGAf3vF4wCHn-dwhDgFMKy3lPK7ARitQhExOCVf0Oh1xjws0zBKk/s1600/photo.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="400" width="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6CiA0YKS072C7OqqG8f_dqC9AbaLxSmIJeJk78YYRXkGafDKNQPwEUjQsThu-8ajP-y90-c5tKbL_HKXb8Ld-L64rGAf3vF4wCHn-dwhDgFMKy3lPK7ARitQhExOCVf0Oh1xjws0zBKk/s400/photo.JPG" /></a></div>Pebble to Stonehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11991239383449688960noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7290205587019694726.post-28045370951817907772012-02-20T14:54:00.002-07:002012-02-20T15:13:15.238-07:00Eating Crow...by the way:<br />
<br />
YOU WERE RIGHT!<br />
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All of you who told me to patient, that OUR baby would find us, that we would find OUR baby. You stuck with me through the pain of Nepal closing, some of you got referrals when we didn't or before us. You stuck with me through some major crazy. But you had faith in our family coming together when I didn't. Sometimes I loved you for telling me our family would come together and sometimes I wanted to strangle you. You told me, as my sanity unraveled, that someday I'd look back and go "Oh, I see, yep, there's my baby."<br />
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And you were right. Now, I'll do what you did, and support the families coming after us, and tell them what you told me. Thank you.Pebble to Stonehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11991239383449688960noreply@blogger.com6