Just so happens…from last February

I have been a bit nervous about February. I have been a bit excited about February and a little anxious about February’s approach!  With this month comes my 1 year anniversary of being a mom.  I guess the greater thing to remember is that it’s also the 1 year anniversary of my son HAVING a mom!  It was 1 year ago this month that I was packing my bags, being celebrated by friends, coworkers and family at multiple showers and crying pretty much every second that I was alone!  Even though I had 17 months to prepare, I had only seen his face in a photo 4 months (almost to the day) before I was to get on a plane.  I was nervous, excited, worried, concerned, stoked, frazzled, and sleep deprived.  There was so much to do to fly to the other side of the world to meet my son!

Now, a year later… I am still nervous, excited, worried, concerned, stoked, frazzled, and sleep deprived.  But for different reasons (as all of you who are parents can understand).  There isn’t a day that goes by that I don’t think, “Am I doing a good job?  Do I even know what I am doing?  Does anyone?”  On the other hand, there are days that I think, “I GOT THIS!!!”  True, those moments are short lived when he is fighting going to sleep or running into the street and laughing at me when I try to chase after him to save his life!  But I digress!

It is also this month that he turns a year older and I am ever thoughtful of his birth parents.  While what I know about them is limited—I love them!  Truly!  Oh Lord… without them, there would be no “us”.  I don’t know what they look like, but in a sense I do—I look at my son’s amazing smile and his happy eyes, and I can see them…  I know, I know… that sounds so ridiculous and cliched, but it’s positively true.  Z and M (I am purposely not spelling out their names) are my heroes in the purest sense of that word.  I know they will never read this (heck they don’t even speak English or even know who I am), but without their love, their sacrifice, and their gift, I wouldn’t have K!  I am constantly reminded of their true gift of love when he tells me, “Mommy, I love you forever!”

So… it’s been a year!  We keep plugging along.  We continue to get to know each other and trust each other.  We continue to grow in love with each other.  We continue to mess up and then make it right with each other.  We continue to laugh and cry and hug and be goofy with one another!  And even though I know that he is a hint of who his birth parents are, he is also a representation of who I am!  He is my son and I am his mommy!  God I love that!!!

Philophobia! Really??? You have no clue who I am!

So I was told by an ex that I am have philophobia! For those of you who don’t know what that means—it’s a phobia of falling in love.  I was reminded of this appalling conversation when I saw a post on FB from a girl at my church (Rachel A) when someone said this to her… REALLY? 

As I look at my son, asleep (FINALLY) after a LONG day of urgent care, picking up prescriptions, being up all last night, sitting in a bath with cold water with him, wiping his snotty nose, and holding him basically all day—I got pissed about this conversation from way back when! 

Being someone who prides herself on being open to relationships and who frequently uses the phrase, “I love love!” I was blindsided by this statement.  Not only that, the only reason he knew this word existed (wit his dumb a$$) was because I had used it in reference to a movie we had watched.

So I guess, my problem is, because I am strong, intelligent, motivated, and awesome, I have a fear of falling in love?  because I won’t settle for less than what I deserve in a partner/significant other, I have a fear of falling in love?  Because I own my own home, have a fabulous life, adopted a child internationally without a man, and am ok with who I am with or without a man, then I have a fear of falling in love?  Oh puhlease!!! POPPYCOCK!!!

What so funny is that I want to fall in love—and for those of you who know me, you know this is true!  I would love to meet me equal.  I would love to find my “partner in crime”.  The guy who gets my humor.  The guy who digs my kid and me!  You know, that guy!

So to you (nameless ex-boyfriend who I dumped because you are a loser and didn’t deserve my time and who will never read this because we aren’t “friends”, but I feel better having written this), I say, SUCK IT!!!

Cusp of Crazy or Calm Cool Collected

Discipline!  Oi vey!  This is probably one of the worst part of the parental gig! Seriously, it is!  We all know it’s a must.  We all know we have to do it.  We all know we should do it.  We all know… yadda yadda yadda!  But still—it remains.

I love K so much and waited so long for us to become a family that it’s tough for me to look at discipline in a way where all parties “win” (he gets the point of why he is in trouble and I don’t feel like a big fat meanie).  Yet, having said that, I sure as heck don’t want a snotty, rude, disrespectful, kicking, spitting, biting, brat—so discipline is a must.  I have read a ton of books and subscribe to a blog that gives me parenting/disciplining advice.  I also really try to employ the consequences method as opposed to punishment.  He has seemed to be responsive to it and we have been able to work some things out in this area (well…. mostly… he’s 3 y’all!  His critical thinking skills are forming, but…).

For those of you who have met my son—you know he’s a pretty sch-nazzy fella!  He is respectful and kind (for the most part) and tries really hard to be a “I a goo listen Mama, right?” kind of kid.  I speak to him in Amharic (his native language) as well as English and always give praise for even, at least, trying to be polite and use manners and whatnot.

However—the other day, as I came around the corner from the kitchen, I see him about to jump off the couch onto my grandmother’s heirloom coffee table that has a glass top, I screamed, “KWALI ROBEL MUSE!  WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU ARE DOING?????? DON’T EVEN THINK ABOUT IT”  He stopped in mid air, fell back on the couch, laughed at me, stood up, looked at me and sweetly said, “Chill out Mommy!  Jus chill out!”  What I realized was that my tone and body language wasn’t one of discipline or control but that of a crazy person!  I went strait up wack-a-doodle on him!  I might as well have been running toward him with my arms flailing in the air screaming nothings for all he cared—I would have gotten the same reaction from him.  

Here is the hard part—how do you not laugh to your 3 year old repeating back to you what you have said to him at least 100 times?!  How do you not laugh when you know that he doesn’t really know what “Chill out” means except that I say it to him when he is whining!  So basically, in his mind, I was whining!

I know we all share the same dilemma, but seriously, going wack-a-doodle as a solo parent isn’t cool.  Not cool at all Mama! 

Peer Pressure!

So, clearly I have had this blog for a while, but I also have a Tumblr blog which I have spent more time on.  Some of my friends have begged me to resurrect this one, so that is what I have done!

Yeah, I caved in to peer pressure!  And I am ok with that!

Please STOP the WHINING!!! Pretty Please!?

For those of you who have met my dad, you know that he is very sarcastic—to go along with this, he has about 4 shirts that have the word whining on the back with a big slash through it.  He HATES whiners!  I know, I know, hate is a strong word, but I feel it’s appropriate here.  True story, Chuck, hates whiners!  I am PROUD to say that I inherited this dislike for whining and whiners.  It truly is annoying, right?  Please tell me I am not alone in this?

Side note: there is a vast difference between whining and begging.  I have been known to beg!  I ain’t too proud to beg!  Just sayin’!

Ok, focus Char… for those of you who know me, you also know that I don’t have the greatest relationship with either of my sisters and I am ok with that.  Life is what it is.  Part of the reason—both of them are friggin’ whiners!  Oi vey!  Get over yourselves, quit being victims and man up!!!  But I digress! 

I am a mom to a 3 year old! So whining seems to be the “norm” around the house lately.  If you have seen my lovely little chocolate lava cake in action, you know that he can whine with the best of them and NOTHING annoys me more.  I would much rather have the full-blown cry and even (dare I say) temper tantrum than the whining.  It grates on my nerves like nothing else. I am convinced he knows that I dislike whining, but doesn’t care.  He thinks it gets his point across or that I will listen to him even more if he does it. When I was a mom for 9 seconds, I responded to everything and coddled him and listened… Well those days are LONG gone buster!  Sadly, now, most of the time, I just laugh out loud at him and walk away!  What else can I do except get crazy on him (please see my comments about Cusp of Crazy)?

But wait—it gets worse.  You would think that I would be able to come to work and get a break from the whining, but NOOOOOOOOOOO.  Clearly adults shouldn’t whine right?  Oh but they do… I get no fewer than 3 whiners a day, it seems.  If it’s not something, it’s another thing.  Good Lawd!  Be thankful you have a job.  Be thankful you have a significant other/partner/spouse/family who loves you and who you love.  Be thankful that we live in a state that has had great weather.  Be thankful for blue skies. BE THANKFUL YOU ARE ALIVE!  Be thankful for SOMETHING! 

See what these people got me doing—now I am whining!

*Rant over, I promise*

“Mama, I’m brown and you’re… (index finger tapping his bottom lip)…kinda brown”

Yes, more thoughts about my kid, race, and (possibly) adoption!  I know, I know, for those of you who hate the fact that my life has come down to me ONLY talking about my kid, let me say—go ahead and just close this screen out right now.  It’s about to happen again!

I get it!  I really do.  I have only been a mom for a year, so I am still working on the whole thing of balancing MY life, HIS life and OUR life!  I used to despise people who couldn’t talk about anything other than their kids.  But now I get it.  He has CONSUMED my life and I am proud to say that I love it.  Everything I do is for him.  Every choice I make affects him.  Every person I bring into our lives effects him.  So, every time I think about my life, it includes him.  And every racist, ignorant, and completely baffling encounter with a stranger pisses me off!!! 

So let’s get into it—I am ALWAYS aware of the race difference between K and me.  It’s not a secret, right?  We all know he’s black and I am white.  He will always be brown and I will always not be.  In an attempt to keep a dialogue going about race and how, even though we are different, we are still family, we always read books about race (Brown Like Me, All The Colors of the Earth, Black is Brown is Tan, The Color of Us, just to name a few) as well as books about diversity (Whoever you are, The Skin you live in, It’s Okay to be Different, Whose in a Family, etc).   But as I am sure that you can gather, what kind of REAL dialogue can I have with a 3 year old about the intricacies of race.  Ha!  You’d be surprised.  We actually have meaningful conversations about race that I hope are a part of our repartee for years to come!  I want him to know that we can talk about our differences, who we are as individuals, but also, who we are as a family; as people who love each other no matter what.

What I don’t get are adults who clearly DO NOT get it.  Why would you walk up to a stranger and say, “Wow, your kid sure is dark!”  or “Where are his REAL parents?” or my favorite (directed at him), “Is this your Mommy?  Are you sure?!”  Like I said before, EVERYTHING I say, affects him, so I curb my tongue on most occasions.  For the most part, I usually grunt, smile and walk away!  I know myself all too well and once I open that big ole mouth of mine—it’s over. 

Now don’t get all spiritual/judgmental on me—I am a Mama Bear, and I don’t care what anyone says, you mess wit (yes, I said wit) my baby and it’s SO on!  I guess that it really comes down to a few things.  Weren’t we given instructions, even as young children about how to treat others?  I mean really, this is Pre-school stuff.  Shouldn’t we just treat people like we want to be treated?  I don’t know, I guess I am just a dreamer… but I’m not the only one… right?

Nuff said!

So, uh, yeah

So I have basically avoided blogging during my entire adoption simply because it was too painful, so happy, so wonderful, too dramatic, and so on and so forth. Now on to the good stuff--with December upon us, I feel ready to just have my thoughts here! I don't know why. maybe it's that I have been reading some amazing blogs. Maybe it's that I wish I was better at this. Maybe it's just that I just wanna write! Who knows!

On December 24th, it will be 1 year exactly that I legally became K's Mama! Who knew that the holiday season would forever be marked with this wonderful news! In Ethiopia, this really means nothing, so when I shared this incredible news with my attorney (when I was there to pick up my son), he just scoffed it off! But yes, what a way to celebrate the season of thanksgiving and living, and lights, and love and peace and job--by becoming K's mom!

However, no matter how much I enjoy this--it always reminds me of K's birth mom! Oh this amazing woman!!! How many times I have thought of her gift of love. How many times I have thought that she must miss him so terribly. Having been him Mama for only 10 months, I know that her choices were made out of a deep, deep, deep sense of pure love for him! So today, as I think about Hanukkah, Christmas, Ganna, Winter Solstice, Kwanzaa, and our life together--I also think of her!!! Thank you ZM. Thank you!