A Sight For Sore Eyes

I spent the most wonderful week watching my friends baby.  One day, after I put her down for a nap, I was looking around my usually really tidy living room.  The little toys and socks scattered all over the floor made me so happy.  The mess was evidence of fun time spent together.  Books were out because we had been reading stories.  A burp cloth was out because we had been playing peek-a-boo.  As strange as it sounds I can’t wait for my floor to be scattered with baby toys on a regular basis.  I long for the reminders that there is someone little and precious sleeping in the next room, more than I long for a perfectly clean house.  

Perspective

Lots of things have been on hold lately, adoption among them.  Knowing the long wait we have ahead of us, we wish we could at least start the process.  It’s definitely a hurry up and wait situation. 

I have felt like I am literally running in place lately.  I am trying so hard, and getting so tired, but not moving anywhere fast.  However, you know what?  I am getting stronger.  My endurance is growing.  I am learning just how much I am capable of.  Running in place isn’t altogether bad. 

The scenery isn’t changing, but I am.

My Own

I heard something a few days ago that has been on my mind ever since. There is a lady we know who has a beautiful little family with six children. When she was making introductions in a group setting, she introduced her oldest three as “her own” children and her youngest three as “adopted” children.

This made me really sad for a few reasons. If I am ever able to adopt, I do not plan on introducing my baby with the title of “adopted.” I fully intend on introducing my child as: my child. If we are ever in the situation that we have both biological and adopted children, I certainly don’t feel the need to distinguish between the two when introducing them. Especially using hurtful phrases such as, “my own.” The adoptive children may come to the conclusion that they are “not my own!”  All of my children will be MY OWN whether they are adopted or biological.    

It may be apparent that my child is adopted. Perhaps we won’t share the same skin color. Even if we do, there may be other physical characteristics that set us apart. Nevertheless, I still don’t think it is necessary to identify a child to strangers according to their status of adoptee. I in no way intend to hide this information from them. They will know they are adopted. I want them to know their birthparents. If people ask questions about the adoption process, or the relationship we share with our adopted child, we would love to answer (and in some cases educate) them.

I think that Brittany hit the nail on the head in the post she wrote about how adoption is often thought of as “charity.” As she mentioned (here) all too often I hear couples who talk about adopting after they have had “their own” children. I worry about such motivations to adopt. Adopting a child is not a hobby or a project. I don’t think their intentions are intrinsically bad. They want to provide a good home for a child in need. But no child wants to be “saved.” To think of adoption as charity is demeaning to the child.

When adoption is thought of as charity, it takes the focus away from the child and puts it on the adoptive parents. Instead of being a natural means to extend a family, adoption kind of becomes a badge that highlights the benevolence of the adoptive parents. I don’t think that is healthy.

I thought of an analogy that might help me make my point. Take Sister Missionaries in the church, for example. We are speaking of Sisters because, unlike the Elders, serving a mission is not commanded of the women of the church. Most of the Sister Missionaries serving in the church are wonderful, hard-working women who know why they are there. There are some, however, who are not necessarily serving for the right reasons. Perhaps the experience for these Sisters will not be as positive as it might be. A mission is a good thing, but it is not for everyone. I think the same of adoption.

Brittany said it so much better than I could. To quote her:

If both you and your spouse feel that your child is out there, waiting to come to your family through adoption, then please look into getting approved to adopt! Adoption is a valid way to build a family. 

Adoption is not charity, but it is love!

Currently

My guess is that if you are like me, and spend many of your waking moments thinking about/ researching adoption then you have already heard about some of the crazy proposed adoption bills going on right now.  If you haven’t here’s a quick summary:
The bill in Oregon, HB 2904 will prevent a birthmom from placing her baby for adoption until it is eight days old.  This will note be an option, but a requirement.  The bill will also require the birth parents to attend six counseling sessions (three before placement, three after).  If this requirement isn’t met, the birth parents cannot proceed with the adoption.  The bill also requires a thirty day minimum period in which the birthparents can change their mind.  She cannot waive the right to change her mind, the thirty day wait will be mandatory.  The thing is, the current law already allows birthparents the options that the bill is trying to make a requirement.  For a more in-depth explanation you can go here.  There is also a bill in Idaho, HO499, which will change the present laws to allow birth fathers thirty days post placement to contest an adoption.  You can read more about that one here. 
Opposition to forever families continues to rise.  I had never thought about the attack on the family as it pertains to adoption.  But I certainly think about it now. 
In other news, I don’t know if all of you hopeful adoptive couples know this, but http://www.hopingtoadopt.org is going to become a free adoption profile listing service as of March 1st.  Hooray for one more way to get our names out there!  Just thought I would spread the word. 

Out of My Element

Just a couple minutes into Sunday School, one of the Primary workers came in and found me (Whitney was in the hall doing some YW stuff, so I was sitting alone) and asked if I could sub for one of the primary classes. I said, "Sure" and followed him to the Primary room.

Just as I sat down with a row of five 4-year-olds, the Sharing Time teacher was handing out information sheets for the children to fill out about themselves. I helped them write the things it asked for. That was easy enough. So far, so good. But when singing time rolled around, Brock was getting antsy.

"Please don't kick the back of her chair."

(Brock): "I'm not kicking it."

(Me): "Well she doesn't like it when your shoes touch her chair."

After several times asking him if he wanted to sing the song everyone else was learning (and him saying nothing), he informed me he had to go potty. So away we went. After assuring me he knew how the short urinal worked, and after pulling his pants all the way down to the ground, he said, "I don't want you to see me."

"I don't want to see you. I'll be here inside this stall."

.......nothing..........

......silence............

....uneasy grunting.......

"Brock, are you okay?"

"Um, I think I need to go in there."

"You need to come use the big toilet?"

"Yeah."

He proceeded to waddle across the bathroom with his pants around his ankles and fortunately, made it to the big toilet and could handle everything from that point on (which was quite impressive, if I do say so myself).

At that point it was just about time to head to class. I was given a manual that had the lesson about families in it. I'll say this much: the manual provided me with plenty of stuff to teach a class of adults, but you tend to use up bullet points and discussion topics a lot faster when your pupils are 4.

As I tried to get the kiddos to answer questions, Brock decided he'd had enough of his shoes. Hannah was very encouraging of his behavior. That meant the following dialogue actually took place:

"Brock, please put your shoes on."

"Brock, don't hit her with your shoes! That's mean."

"Brock, stop licking the bottom of your shoes."

(Brock): "I'm not licking it!"

(Me, in my head): "I'm terribly sorry. Please quite sucking on them with your open mouth."

Something had to be done. Game time!

"Okay, everyone take off one of your shoes and put it in the middle of the room."

(Tanner): "I don't want to take mine off" (in a very shy, timid voice).

"That's okay. Brock has both of his off. We'll just pretend one of his is yours. Now everybody grab someone else's shoe. When it's your turn, that person will tell you why they love their family."

The mad scramble ensued. Naturally, the size 13 dress shoe was a hot item, but of course, only one person could come away with it. But after the pile was cleared began the exclamations of "Hey that's MY shoe! She has MY shoe!"

"I know. She won't keep it. That just means you get to tell her why you love your family."

The game kind of worked. Madison was very relieved once she had her white, flowered sandal safely back on her left foot. I looked at my watch.

11:40.

I still had to fill 20 minutes! Thank goodness for paper and crayons.

"Okay, we're all going to draw our families!"

Guess what. Purple is in. That crayon had to be passed around so many times. But everyone was actually enjoying this activity. There was some chatter, but it was okay, because everyone was drawing (and liking it). Tanner approached me at one point with his paper.

"I think Brock should have to use this one because he drew on the back of it."

That seemed fair enough. Brock now had two pages and Tanner had a fresh one. When everyone starting finishing up and returning their crayons, I thought class was surely over.

11:50.

Luckily, that was when Madison and Allison remembered very important artistic details.

"*Gasp!* I didn't color the garage!"

"*Gasp!* I didn't draw my brother!"

I happily redistributed the crayons. Brock decided the best course of action at this point was to crawl under any chair or stack of chairs that he could.

"Brock, you need to sit in your chair like everyone else."

"But I want to hide from my Mom and Dad!"

"Why?"

"I don't want them to see me when they look through the window!"

"Brock, your parents aren't going to be here for a few more minutes, anyway."

"I need to hide!"

"No, you don't." And then came what I thought was ingenious reasoning. "Besides, no matter where you crawl in this room, your Mom or Dad will see you when they look through the window."

I guess the obviousness of the idea was lost on him. That or he refused to believe it. Note to self: Don't try reasoning with a 4-year old; play his game, and beat him at it.

"Brock, are you sure you want to hide from your Mom and Dad?"

"Yeah!"

"But if you hide, they won't see you and they're going to leave without you! They'll get in the car and go right home and you'll still be at the church."

Allison the Wise chimed in, "Yeah, you don't want to be here forever!"

Brock responded, with only a slight hesitation, "I'll run out there and grab onto the back of the car and fly home like this: Woooaaaaaahhhh!"

"Nope. The car will be too fast. Mom and Dad will leave before you even get to the parking lot."

I swear I saw a little Christmas light of realization turn on above his head. That was my chance to change the subject.

"Hey! Who likes songs?! We're going to sing 'I Am a Child of God."

Obviously that went quickly. Next up was 'Families Can Be Together Forever.' That one consisted mostly of the kiddos humming along indistinctly while I belted out the words.

12:55. Close enough.

Allison joyfully said the closing prayer (she had asked at the beginning of class to be the one to say it, don't you know).

Immediately I opened the classroom door. Only a crack, mind you, so that I could see any parents coming our way but the kiddos couldn't run out like fugitives. I confess, it was quite interesting to see which kids belonged to which parents (I didn't know all of their last names). Brock's mom, in a very I'm-aware-of-what-he's-like voice asked, "Was Brock causing problems?"

"He was...a handful. Was he any better for you when you were his teacher last year?"

An eye roll and a smile told me all I needed to know.

Growing into a Dad will be quite a ride.

The Way We Communicate

A good marriage is all about good communication right? Well, we are excellent communicators, let we tell ye. Us communicate really goodly.
We wanted to share with you some of the delicate and beautiful ways we communicate with each other.
We have really strange nicknames for each other. Don’t ask us how we come up with them. The origins are usually ridiculous, and I don’t know why they seem to stick. We don’t usually go by these names in public or anything (because that would sincerely weird people out, I think), but at home we probably go by these names more often than our real ones.
Spencer’s super strange nicknames for Whitney:

• Mo
• Model (rhymes with Yodel)
• Clanky
• Clanky-Doodle
• Clankadilla Sarsaparilla
• Cuticus Rex (derived from cute, especially weird)
• Ye
• Beautiful Girl (I like this one)

Whitney’s ultra stupid nicknames for Spencer:

• Mo
• Model
• Clanky
• Stinkpot
• Mister
• Spencie
• Anchor Man
• Hunk Of Studly Muffinlyness, Boyish Good Looks, and Charisma

Our nicknames for Lizzy:

• Fuzz Bum
• Slipper Foot
• Apple Head
• Little Miss
• Lizabeth
• Lizabeth Stinkpot Blake
• Blonde Bumpkin
• Chihuahua Face
• Pupilup
• Pupilupugus
• Aladdin Pants
• Stinky Little Magician

I know right? We are ridiculous. You can roll your eyes if you need to. I guess that our strange nicknames communicate affection.
We also communicate through the ancient art of hieroglyphics. Here are some messages that we wrote to each other during after church. ;) In case you can’t decipher them, I have taken the liberty of translating.

You are so beautiful to me. – written by Whitney
(I didn’t really need the eyeball. Whoops. Pretend it’s crossed out).
…………………………………………………………………………………………………

You are a stink pot.- written by Spencer
…………………………………………………………………………………………………….

Line 1:You are a toot. – written by Whitney
Line 2: No (know) I’m not – written by Spencer
…………………………………………………………………………………………………….

Si, ye are- written by Whitney
…………………………………………………………………………………………………….
Finally we have a special form of communication known as ESPN (Whitney insists that the “N” remain). Or to be more accurate, we know exactly what the other one is thinking, despite what they may say.
For example:
When Spencer asks, “Do you want the last brownie?“, Whitney says: “Kind of,” in a very innocent unassuming voice. What Whitney really means is: “I would like that brownie with all my heart please.”
When Spencer says, “Are you gonna need a limeade?” and Whitney answers, “Maybe” (with a long emphasis on the first syllable), Spencer knows that Whitney has been thinking about a limeade all day.
When Whitney says, “I think that shirt would be just perfect for mowing the lawn in,” Spencer knows that she means “That shirt is old and turtle-like. Please don’t wear it in public ever again.”
When Whitney says, “EWW what is that smell?” Spencer knows he is being accused of tooting.
When Spencer says, “I just love pulling your hair out of the bathtub drain when I get up to shower at three in the morning; it reminds me of you,” Whitney knows he means, “I just hate pulling your hair out of the bathtub drain when I get up to shower at three in the morning, even though it reminds me of you.”
When Spencer hollers, “Really? Are you really doing this today? Great, that’s really mature!!!” Whitney knows that he is talking to an inanimate object that is misbehaving a.k.a. the computer, dishwasher, back door, etc…
When Spencer asks Whitney, “Are you hungry?” Whitney knows he means, “I’m hungry and hoping that we can end this post and go eat dinner.”
Speaking of, he just said that.

Diagram of Us