And the posts I’ve been working on have ran the gamut of
subjects, but most of them have been about the challenges of being tired
parents caring for a 2-year old who is totally into everything. It’s funny,
because around here we groan and cheer at the very same time. We groan because
Matthew is into absolutely everything. But we cheer too because he’s learning
new things and showcasing his skills in a veritable cirque de soleil.
I’m not kidding about him being into everything. For
example, one of his favorite things to do is drive little matchbox cars on the
keys of the new piano we just brought into our house. He opens the lid, then
proceeds to play at being Mozart with a metal car in his hand. Sometimes he
takes to banging on the keys so hard it sounds like the walls will cave in.
He also likes to pull the wooden vents out of the floor and
fling them across the room. He chucks very large toys across the hardwood
floors. He crawls under the table and plays and laughs to himself. And one of
his favorite games is being chased around the dining room table. He literally
squeals with delight as his brother or sister chases him.
When we put something up high, he promptly does everything
he can to reach it down again. And if he can’t reach it, he starts to yell and
cry. He expresses frustration—which is frustrating and lovely to me, both. He
yanks on his high chair when he’s hungry, pushes away the spoon when he’s full,
and fusses in a sing-song tone when he’s tired.
It’s all rather exhausting, but we’re so delighted that we
don’t mind being tired. Our boy is learning so much. When I look back to
January 1, I can’t believe all the skills he’s gained in less than two months.
But perhaps one of the most amazing things happened this
very night when Matthew and I were sitting in the living room reading bedtime
books. We read the same ones every night, mostly to build routine with him, and
I’ve selected a few specific ones that have objects in them that he likes and
knows. His favorite book right now is Spot Loves His Daddy. In that book, a
father and son pair of dogs have a little adventure together. They play in the
park with a ball, go to the beach, play on the hillside with a kite while a
little bird watches, feed the ducks at the pond (“quack, quack”), and read a
bedtime story at night. The very last page is of Spot, the dog, with a soccer
ball (the same one earlier in the book).
We’ve been working on the word “ball.” Matthew obviously
knows this word because when we ask him to go get a ball, he does. But tonight
we were looking at the book and I got to the last page. I said, “Matthew,
where’s the ball,” and my boy stuck out his pointer finger and pointed right to
it.
I could hardly believe it!
Just so I knew this momentous achievement wasn’t an act of
luck, we read the entire book a second time so we could arrive once more on the
back page. And I said again, “Matthew, where’s the ball?” And of course my
smart boy pointed to the ball again with his pointer finger.
It’s such a delight to watch him learn and begin to
understand the world around him. I can’t tell you what a gift it is to finally
have him come up and grab me by the hand and lead me somewhere in the house.
Usually it’s just because he’s dropped a car behind the bookshelf and needs me
to fetch it, but I’m thrilled no matter what he needs from me. The point is HE
NEEDS SOMETHING FROM ME. And he has learned to express it.
One last little blessing of the past week has been finally
meeting another adoptive family whom we’ve been in communication with since
last fall. They traveled in early January to pick up their daughter, who was
also born with a cleft lip and palate. I’ve mentioned them before, but we were
so grateful to have them join us for dinner on Saturday night. It warmed my
heart to see Matthew and their youngest daughter side by side in the high
chair—both China-babes, both having lived through placement in an American
family, and both going through a similar process to repair their cleft lips and
palates.
And the big siblings enjoyed their time together too. In some
ways being an adoptive family is so normal and feels the same as being an
all-biological family. But it’s also different, and this is complicated by
having a child with a cleft lip and palate. We are grateful for these new
friends who are walking a similar journey to us. And I feel especially thankful
that Matthew will grow up knowing other children who share a similar life
adventure.
This is a long post—if you’ve made it all the way through,
you show great fortitude. We continue to be encouraged by this adoption journey
and all the amazing people we’ve come to know through the process. And we are,
of course, always grateful for the love and support of the family and friends
who have seen us through this long season and promise to stay beside us no
matter what comes.
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| A sink bath during a weekend away at a log cabin in Anacortes. |
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| I'm not so sure about this, Mom. |
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| Matthew and his new buddy Amara, who came home from China in January. |
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| Smiling kids who all have little siblings adopted from China (plus they really enjoyed each other's company!). |
