Waiting Child Wednesday: Dodi

I know it's not Wednesday.  Don't judge the sleepy mommy.

I had every intention of writing this post after the kids went to bed last night (while it was still actually Wednesday).  Getting the boys to sleep means one of us has to lay on their floor until they're both out.  The boys (especially Li'l Man) like to know that they're not alone in their cribs, and I can't say that I blame them.  Last night laying horizontal pretending to be asleep resulted in me actually falling asleep...until almost midnight.  Oops.

I couldn't not write this post, though.  Because the sweetie I want to introduce only has a day or two left on my agency's list.  Once she's removed from their list of designated children, her file could be very difficult to find.  (Plus I'm just selfish and want to know she has a family coming for her.) 

Meet "Dodi" (not her real name).  She's seven years old and waiting in Ch*na for her family.

This beautiful pixie has been waiting for way too long.  Want to see what I mean?  Here's a baby picture from her file.

This girl stole my heart the minute she appeared on our agency's list three months ago.  It was so discouraging to hear that her time with them is almost up, and her family hasn't found her yet.  This girl needs a mommy to brush her hair and a daddy to chase her on the playground.  She's already celebrated too many birthdays alone.

Dodi's special need is a deformity of her tongue that affects her speech.  She also previously experienced weakness in her right leg, but her file states that she can now jump and run down stairs.  My guess is that the biggest factor keeping Dodi from finding a family is her age.  She's not a baby anymore.  She's 7.  

Please don't hear me say that there aren't challenges inherent with adopting an older child, but stop and think about a seven-year-old you know.  They're not very big.  They lose teeth and have imaginary friends.  They're in first or second grade and think their teachers are the coolest people on the planet.  Seven-year-olds still have so much growing up to do, and that should happen in an family - not an orphanage.

Please take a moment to pray that Dodi's family finds her soon.  If you are interested in more information about her, let me know ASAP.  (You can email me at whatitmeans2beheld@gmail.com.)  As I mentioned above, I have access to Dodi's file for another day or two; after that I'm not sure where it will end up.  Dodi is considered a Special Focus child.  That means that anyone can inquire about adopting her.  You don't have to have considered adoption or started any adoption paperwork.  Single moms are also eligible to adopt Dodi.

Please share this sweet girl's information and pictures with anyone you think might be interested in adopting her.  Thank you from the bottom of my heart!

The Weekend We Stole our Christmas Tree

For the past four years, we've had an artificial tree.  I hate actually writing that for the world to see because I always swore I would be a real-tree mom.  We had a real tree every year growing up, and I love them: their imperfections, their bare spots that have to be hidden in back by the wall, their yummy smells.  Love. Them.

Four years ago we had a huge ice storm right before Christmas.  We'd waited until the last minute to tree hunt so that we could get our tree with family from out-of-town.  It was Li'l Miss's first Christmas, and I had grand aspirations of making memories picking the perfect tree with our extended family.

Here's my sweet girl all loaded up and ready to Christmas tree shop.  (How is it possible that she was ever so tiny?)

 
Unfortunately, after the storm there was ice on everything.  Not kidding.  Everything.

We went to our local hardware store to pick out a tree, and they were all covered in ice.  A very sweet and overachieving employee offered to find a blow dryer to melt a tree for us.  We politely told him that we needed our tree - fully melted - before Christmas 2015 and left to check out our other options. 

There weren't many.  It was a few days before Christmas, and every tree that had been outside during the storm looked like an ice sculpture.

Our church had offered us an artificial tree that wasn't being used.  We gave in and took it.  (We were desperate, people.  We couldn't go tree-less for daughter's first Christmas.)  Every Christmas since then we've decided to stick with the artificial tree.  It was cheap.  It was easy.  It was right down the stairs in our basement.

But this year we were determined to ditch the fake tree and cut our own.  So, Sunday afternoon, we braved a trip to the tree farm with our three very jet-lagged children.  (Everyone goes Christmas tree hunting three days after bringing two children home from Ch*na, right?)  We bundled everyone up, bribed the boys into their car seats with oodles of Cheerios, and made the twenty-minute trek.

The farm was adorable.  It's run by a sweet old couple (Think: Mr. and Mrs. Claus) who make hot chocolate while your family tree hunts.  Totally perfect.

We found our tree in record time.  (Notice Li'l Man still has his Cheerios; that boy likes his food.)

The tree farm employees shook off all the needles and wrapped the tree for us.  Li'l Miss snagged some hot chocolate, and Jeremy loaded the tree on top of our fam van.  A few Cheerios later, we were loaded back up and headed home.

It wasn't until we'd gotten all the kids into the house and out of their various layers, unwrapped the tree, and started setting it into the stand that we noticed a little tag on one of the branches.  It said this.

Ummmmm...our last name is not Langmaid.  Oops.

I have to confess that we did not reload the tree and drive back to the farm.  Cheerios were quickly losing their hypnotic power and the jet lag was definitely taking over at this point.  So, Langmaid Family, whoever you are, we are the Grinches who stole your Christmas...tree, that is.  Please know that it is getting lots of love from our three kiddos.  We wish you loads of luck in finding an even better tree.  (This one kind of has a bare spot at the top anyway.)

Tonight we pulled out all the indestructible ornaments and decorated our pilfered tree.  It was crazy but really fun.  When we plugged the lights in, Li'l Dude's face lit up and he said, "Yay!"

Li'l Miss helped corral her brothers and hang ornaments.

Li'l Dude ran around begging to be flipped upside-down and getting into everything.  (He is so not the kid we met two weeks ago.)

And Li'l Man, well, that jet lag thing is hitting him hard.

As completely insane chaotic as our life might be right now, we are so thrilled to be sharing the Christmas season with all three of our children at home.

(Yes, it was pretty much impossible to catch everyone looking at the camera at the same time.  But this one is close.  Not exactly Christmas-card worthy, but still close.)

It's amazing to think that our boys are not only experiencing their first family Christmas traditions this year (first tree, first presents, first cookie decorating), but they are also probably hearing the true story of Christmas for the very first time.  How awesome that we get to introduce them to their Savior who came to earth as a tiny baby 2,000 years ago.

We are so blessed.

What We're Doing Now...

Eating breakfast, lunch, and dinner in our pjs.

Mothering our brothers baby dolls.

Loving that all three of our little ones are really here...under the same roof.  Amazing.

Home, Sweet Home

We have The. Best. Friends.  

You might think your friends are pretty awesome, but we've got you beat.  Truly.  Our friends are rockstars.

We got home last night about 7:30.  Our trip was long.  (Two-hour train ride + fourteen-hour flight + three-hour drive + thirteen-hour time change = Half-dead mommy and daddy)  We were excited to be home but ready to crawl under the covers and sleep for three weeks.

When we walked in the door, we found this.

That would be our living room floor.  When we left our house at the beginning of the month, it looked a lot more like this.  (Except I think it was actually covered in even more paint.)

Really?  Someone refinished our living room floor while were gone?  No. Way.

Then we went into the dining room.  The floor in here used to have a gigantic rectangle of paint right next to the table.  (Picture a painter thinking, "Hhhmmm, perhaps this floor should be tan to match the walls", painting for a few minutes, and then changing his mind.)

Not anymore.

I'm really not OCD enough to set my table for Christmas before leaving my house on November 1.  This lovely setting would be courtesy of our rockstar-wood-floor-refinishing friends.

Just wait.  There's more.

Check out Li'l Miss's room.  It was definitely blue when we left.  And the picture of the nasty floor above?  Yup, totally her room.

Could it be any cuter?

And, no, our friends didn't just do the big stuff.  (You know, like painting entire rooms and refinishing our downstairs.)  They totally added all these fun little touches: parenting and adoption books on the coffee table, sweet little decorations to match the birdhouse theme in Li'l Miss's room...

...Christmas ornaments on each place setting...

...and super gorgeous wood trim.

(You're totally rethinking your friend choices, right?  It's okay; I'll share mine.)

Oh, wait, still not done.  Check out our 'fridge.  I'm so not going to have to make that day after vacation crap-there's-no-milk-in-the-house-and-the-kids-won't-eat-mustard-on-their-cereal shopping trip.  Because my friends seriously rock.

The food even came with sweet little notes and labels.  (Be still, my OCD heart.)

There's still more.  They repainted and decorated our bedroom.  I now have a sweet teal-and-tan room with way fun curtains, an awesome reading chair (that Jer was oh-so-stoked about), and this very cool teal toss pillow from Target.  (Which one of you caught me drooling over that pillow the last 27 times last time I was there?)

Our bathroom has also been repainted (love you, Mom & Dad), our yard straightened, and our Christmas lights hung.  (Sorry for the total picture fail on the bathroom and our bedroom.  Blame the jet lag.  Oh yeah, and the three kids that I now have to feed.)

We left on this journey feeling so loved and blessed; I had no idea we'd come home feeling a thousand times more so.  I don't have the words to say how much we love everything that was done while we were gone or to express how thankful we are to have friends who truly are our family in Christ.  Our friends love Jesus, and they love us.  A. Lot.

We are blown away.  (And you thought your friends were cool. :)

I used to worry that our three bedrooms were going to feel pretty tight after the boys got home.  But I've changed my mind.  

I'm totally living here forever.

Our Trip: Great Wall Pictures

I have a few quiet minutes (I love you, naptime), so I thought I'd get caught up on posting pictures.  These are from The Great Wall so no Li'l Man or Li'l Dude (such a weird thought that they were both still in orphanages two-and-a-half weeks ago).  There are plenty of my sweet Li'l Miss, though.  

Here we are getting ready to head up on the cable car.  Yes, we cheated and took the cable car.  We decided the 3km uphill on the wall would be enough for a certain little lady.

Our time on the wall was incredible.  I kept finding myself thinking, "I can't believe I'm really standing on The Great Wall.  I can't believe that's Li'l Miss walking on The Great Wall.  We're on The Great Wall.  AAAAHHHHHH!" :)

This uphill section was at the end of our climb.  (You can just barely see the Chinese flag and the final lookout in the top left-hand side of this photo.)  Oh. My. Goodness.   It was crazy steep.

I'm super behind on pictures since our internet was so unreliable in Beijing and Shanghai.  I'll try to get more posted soon.  (And, yes, I'll do my best to squeeze in a few of our handsome boys. :)

Is He/She Your Own?

Please don't ask me this question.  Ever.

I've heard it (and its unsavory variants - "I'd never have guessed she wasn't your own." "Don't you want your own kids?" and "She looks like she could be your own.") more times than I care to count.

No, I don't know what it feels like to have a baby grow inside my body for nine months; I've never given birth; and none of my children have my DNA.  But that doesn't mean my love for my children is lesser (or even different) than it would be if they had my genes.  It doesn't mean that I secretly wish for something more when I hug my sweet kiddos.  Because I don't.  Period.

I know what it's like to look at my child and feel as though my heart could explode inside my body.  I've experienced the paralyzing fear of letting my precious little one go out into the world (read: cross the alley) alone.  I've questioned how parents go on breathing, moving, living after losing a child because I can't imagine that my heart could keep beating if I lost one of mine.

I've cried at the first glimpse of my new baby, lost sleep worrying that one of my kids was hurting, and agonized over my less-than-perfect parenting decisions.  I've cleaned puke, changed exploding diapers, and been peed on.  I've had moments where I've wondered if I'd ever sleep all night again, ever go to the bathroom by myself again, ever sit down for an entire meal again.

  I know what the people who ask these questions mean to say.  They want to know if my children are biologically related to me.  No, my kids are not my biological children.  (What, you noticed that I'm not Chinese?)  

But all of them are irrevocably, without-question, forever-and-always, 100% my own.

I Am Thankful...

(I swear I started this post for real on Thanksgiving.  Darn you, unreliable VPN.)

...for my three little blessings.  None of them came into our family easily, but I would walk any of our adoption journeys again in a heartbeat if I knew one of these kiddos was waiting at the end.

...my sweet girl who became a big sister twice this month.  She loves her brothers already and is going to do an awesome job bossing them around loving on them.

...my little ham.  I've known this guy for eleven days, but it feels like he's always been part of our family.  I love his kisses, his energy, and his goofy sense of humor.

...my peanut.  Li'l Dude has changed so much this week.  He has an ornery smile and gives awesome kisses, just like his big brother.  I love this picture because you can see his super-adorable little dimple (and because he's still baby enough to chew on his book instead of reading it - aaahhhh, I have a baby in my house again :).

...my very best friend.  Where would I be without this guy beside me?  He's a rockstar husband and daddy, and he loves me in spite of my control issues failings.  Love you, babe.

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God has given me much more than I could have hoped for this Thanksgiving (pretty awesome the way he does that), and I am beyond thankful.  Happy Thanksgiving, everyone!  

(I toyed with the idea of claiming that this post was written so late because of the time change in Ch*ina, but some smarty pants out there would know that we actually had Thanksgiving the day before the U.S.  That makes me really behind...)