Baby #4 Needs Your Vote!

(If you're coming from FB and you want to vote quickly, click here to go to the voting page.  Our entry is the very last photo, so scroll all the way to the bottom.  Thank you!)

Hi.  It's me…the girl who used to blog here.  

(At least, I think I'm that girl.  I swear I do way more dishes and laundry than she ever did.)

I miss blogging and sharing our crazy life with all of you, and one of these days blogging will be at the top of my priority list again.  Truly.  But today I'm here because I need a little help from all of you.

Li'l Miss has been asking and praying for a sister for a long time.  We'd love to add Baby #4 to our family sometime in the near future. The adoption agency that helped us bring our boys home is having a Holiday Photo Contest.  The prize is a $1,000 grant towards a future adoption.

I've submitted a photo of our kiddos.  Here's a little sneak peek...

Now we need votes to help us win the contest.  If you'd take just a minute to vote for our picture, we'd appreciate it a ton.

Just click here to vote.  Our photo is the very last one, so scroll all the way to the bottom and click on the "thumbs up" button to vote.  You can vote once per IP address, so vote away!  (And if there's anyone you can bribe sweet talk into voting for us, please do.  Feel free to share this post on your FB page or via email.  FYI…the direct link to the contest will not share on FB for some reason.)

Thank you so much!  I promise to share pictures when we meet Baby #4.

Happy Birthday, Li'l Dude!

Exactly four months ago today, we became a family of five when we signed the papers to officially adopt Li'l Dude.  (In case you missed it in November, here's our first family picture with our tiny guy.  As you can see, he's totally thrilled to be in mommy's arms...or not so much.)

Today our baby boy turned two.

We're celebrating the boys' birthdays together next month, but Li'l Miss insisted that her brother needed a rocket ship cake on his actual birthday day.  Mommy is not so good at planning ahead these days and may or may not have started searching for cake ideas at 11:00 this morning.  Here's what we ended up with.  (The gobs of multicolored sprinkles are courtesy of big sis.)

The birthday boy was pretty stoked about the blue frosting.

He was also excited to open his present from Mommy and Daddy.

And even more excited to rock out on his new keyboard.  

(He's so our music child.  What are we going to do with him?)

Li'l Dude, it breaks my heart that we missed your very first birthday.  I plan to never, ever miss another one.  I am so thankful for today.  For together.  For you.  You've stolen my heart with your impish grin, your spontaneous hugs, and your tiny dimple.  I've seen you grow so much in the past four months, but I know we still have a long road ahead of us.  Thanks for trusting Mommy and Daddy more and more every day.  I can't get enough of your tiny voice saying, "I love you."  I love you, too, sweet baby boy.  Always and forever.

Happy birthday, Li'l Dude!

Happy Valentine's Day!!!

This Valentine's Day, our life is filled with more smiles...

...more hugs...

...more craziness....

...and more love...

...than ever before.  

We are blessed beyond words.

Happy Valentine's Day!  Love and hugs from our family to yours!

"See what great love the Father has lavished on us, 

that we should be called children of God!"

-1 John 3:1

My Daughter, The Addict

You read that right.  My four-and-a-half-year-old child has an addiction.  

And it's serious.  

We're not talking about a need-a-fix-every-now-and-then craving; this is a can't-live-without-it, major-withdrawal-inducing, can't-eat-can't-sleep obsession.  I should probably be spending my time planning an intervention instead of writing this post.

Want to meet the object of her addiction?

Yup, my girlie can't live without this pink, rabbit-headed square of blanket that we all affectionately call Lovey.

Here she is when she first fell for Lovey's satin-bordered snuggliness.

Her addiction is my fault.  I know we often try to blame our mamas for our deep-seated issues, but this one really is on me.  When Li'l Miss was about five months old, I read an article that said something like this, "Babies who develop an attachment to a comfort object are more likely to bond with their parents, sleep well at night, attend an Ivy League school, get an advanced degree, stay married, avoid jail, and contribute to the good of humanity."  (New mamas, beware of articles like this one.  They will give you nervous twitches and panic attacks.)

I was a first-time mom, still completely freaked out about this enormous responsibility called motherhood.  I had my nurse friends on speed dial, and I was taking notebooks full lists of questions to my pediatrician at every check-up.  I read this article and was instantly convinced that my sweet, tiny, comfort-object-less baby girl was headed straight for the principal's office (and a life of crime after that).

Thankfully one of my students had given Li'l Miss an adorable pink rabbit/blanket at one of my baby showers.  (I was an elementary teacher for five years before I got the priceless blessing of becoming a full-time mommy.)  I whipped out the little rabbit, steeled myself against my steadfast conviction not to put anything other than a sheet into my baby's crib, and gave Li'l Miss her first taste of Lovey. 

The rest is history.  I oh-so quickly learned that the author of the aforementioned article completely neglected to mention the fact that the parents of the children involved in the study had to pry their child's comfort object out of his/her clenched fist as he/she headed off to Harvard or Stanford or Yale.  

I'm 100% sure I will be doing exactly that.

Li'l Miss can't sleep without Lovey.  This means if there's any chance that we'll be out past bedtime, we'd better bring Lovey along.  If Lovey needs a bath (a.k.a. a spin in the washing machine), it has to happen during waking hours only...and is very likely to happen with a certain little lady's face pressed against the lid of the washing machine.  Li'l Miss has gone to sleep more than once with a slightly-damp Lovey snagged from the dryer.  (She also may or may not have gone to sleep with a slightly-damp Lovey rescued from the potty right before naptime.  Don't judge.  We're talking no Lovey = No naptime.)

 Thankfully, four years later, I'm getting a little bit better at giving myself grace as a parent - something I really couldn't wrap my mind around on that long-ago day when I just knew that my Li'l Miss wasn't going to make it in this world without a comfort object.  I'm a teeny bit less OCD, not quite so paranoid, and daily working to love my children with open hands.  Most of the time I'm able to say, "My four year old has a rabbit-headed blanket attached to her wrist.  So what?  It will fall apart before she starts high school.  (I hope!)"

And, now that I'm a parent again, I can avoid making the same mistakes twice.

Nine Years Ago Today...

...I married this hot guy.

The road we've walked together has been bumpier than we ever anticipated; we've waded through disappointment, heartbreak, and dreams lost.  Our life today isn't exactly the life we pictured on that January evening nine long years ago.  (I mean, my rockin' 2001 P*ntiac Montana is kinda' close, but...) 

I can't tell you how thankful I am to know that I'm married to a man who will hold on to me even when things are tough.  When doors close.  When life takes a crazy turn...or ten.  And, though we've faced some take-your-breath-away struggles, we're surrounded by more unexpected blessings than I could ever count.

So, while life isn't always what I anticipated, the man I married is who he promised.  He's faithful, loving, and a total rockstar daddy.  I'm so glad he wanted to marry me, because I can't imagine sharing the next nine years' worth of adventures with anyone else.

Jeremy Chad, I love you.  No matter what tomorrow holds.

Snapshots of 2012

January

We celebrated eight years of marriage, grieved the loss of a domestic adoption, visited with special friends, and soaked up some very un-Januaryish weather.

February

We got a snowstorm for Valentine's Day and said "YES!" to Li'l Dude's file on the 29th.  (Yup, he's our Leap Year baby.) 

March

Our Ch*na home study was FINALLY completed, Emma got a new look (short hair!), we had a great visit with my family in Southern California, and Li'l Pup joined our family.

April

We celebrated Easter Sunday with family, welcomed Miss R and her mama to hang out with us for a while, and sent our dossier off to our agency.

May

We enjoyed a gorgeous Mother's Day, a super fun visit with Tia (my sis), and a memorable Memorial Day with dear friends.

June

We welcomed summer with a family vacation in Northern Michigan and then were blessed with a visit from two handsome boys.

July

Our little princess turned four (yikes!), we hung out at the County Fair, Jeremy and I snuck away for a few days together at a conference in Palm Desert, and we got LOA!!!

August

We were part of what could arguably be the best family reunion ever in the California mountains.

September

We went to the fair - yes, again, we're all Midwestern like that - had fun camping with friends, and got Travel Approval to bring our boys home!

October

Apparently we did nothing but make hotel reservations and pack in October, because the only pictures I took were of Li'l Miss dressed up for a birthday party.  Oops!

November

We went to my brother's in California and then kept right on flying to bring our boys home from Ch*na.

December

It's been a fun, crazy, trying, joyful, memory-filled month.  And we're all still alive. :)

I really enjoyed putting this post together.  I was surprised how many of the small moments, represented by these photos, I had forgotten: splashing in puddles, playing in the snow, getting dressed up.  In some ways, I feel as though I spent 2012 consumed with adoption; this year brought us to the end of a very journey to our boys.  But that end is also the beginning of our new adventure together as a family.  In 2013, Li'l Man and Li'l Dude will share 365 days worth of small moments with our family.  May those moments be filled with love, peace, and contentment; and may I make the time to treasure each and every one of them.

Christmas Thoughts from Li'l Dude

Hey there!  Not up there...down here.  It's me, Li'l Dude.

(I know.  Totally not my best picture ever.  My mom thinks anytime is a good time for a photo shoot.  She seriously snatched me out of bed, plopped me on the toilet seat, and started snapping pictures.  So not cool.)

My mom asked me to blog for her today.  (Don't tell her I said so, but I think this whole going-from-one-kid-to-three thing is stressing her out a tiny bit.)  She said today's post would be best coming from me because I've only been home for 36 days.  Even though it feels like I've been part of this family forever, just 37 days ago I woke up in an orphanage.

Thirty-seven days ago my world was a completely different place.  There were a lot less hugs.  A lot less stories.  A lot less bedtime kisses.  A lot less of this crazy-delicious stuff my mom calls pizza.

Thirty-seven days ago I was alone.  Sure, there were forty-nine other kids and some nannies in my orphanage, but none of them were mine.  I'm talking mine like these two are mine.

Yes, they're both seriously bossy, but they're 100% mine.  Like beat-up-the-kid-who-called-me-names mine.  Forever and always mine.

Thirty-seven days ago I woke up in a place without a lot of hope.  A place where I'd spent so much time laying in my crib that the back of my head got flat and a whole strip of my hair got rubbed off.  A place where I'd learned to soothe myself to sleep by banging my head against my crib mattress.  A place where my caretakers weren't 24/7 mommies and daddies, but people who clocked out at the end of each day and went home to their real lives.

Thirty-seven days ago I was an orphan: one of 15,000,000 children living without parents.

If you're honest with yourself, thirty-seven days ago it wasn't difficult to imagine that I was just a picture. A statistic.  A little person far, far, far removed from the comfortable life many of you are living in this amazing land full of resources.

It was easy to reduce me to a tiny prick to your conscience or a $45/month donation.  Easy to confine my story to a hidden corner of your heart...or to not let it in at all.  Easy to allow Christmas shopping or swimming lessons or dinner plans erase me from your mind altogether.

My mom has been there.  She tells me that a few short years ago, she did these things.  She wants to believe she was ignorant, but perhaps she just chose to ignore the reality that all 15,000,000 of these children are just as real as I am.

All of them have personalities.

And potential.

(I know you might not have met me yet, but I'm very real.  My dimples, my teeny-tiny voice, and my mischievous streak are real.)

How can 15,000,000 very real children waiting for families not rip your heart to shreds?  How can tiny boys like me spending Christmas alone in their cribs not bring tears to your eyes?  How can knowing that I celebrated Christmas with my family this year not make you want that for one more child next year?

I hope I get to meet you someday.  And when you hug me, I hope the illusion that you can keep our world's orphan crisis tucked away in a neat corner of your consciousness is totally shattered.  Gone forever.

This Christmas, imagine the gift that you could give to one of these children.  Imagine one of them knowing that they will never be alone again.  Imagine one of them opening presents under your tree next year. 

Before I say good night, I want you to meet one very special little girl.  Her "name" is Eve Noelle.

Three years ago, on Christmas Day, she was found abandoned in Ch*na.  She's spent four Christmases alone.  I want this one to be the last.  Next year, I want this sweet girl to have what I've had today: love, joy, family.

You can chat with my mom (whatitmeans2beheld @ gmail . com) about Eve Noelle or about adoption in general.  (Look out, she gets a little passionate and might talk your ear off.)

This morning my daddy read me a story about a little baby named Jesus who was born long ago in a manger.  That baby grew up to be a man who called people to follow him, not to an easy life but to sacrifice and servanthood.  He grew up to be a man who cared about those the world considered worthless - those who were the least worthy, the least fortunate, the least valuable in the eyes of humanity.  

These children are some of the least.

What are you going to do about it?