Easter nostalgia

Some Moms do the Christmas Eve photo in front of the Christmas tree with all the kids in their Christmas pajamas. I'm not one of those Moms. In fact, despite that I really enjoy taking photos, it's rare that ask my own children to sit and take a photo all together. And getting myself in the picture is even more rare.

For whatever reason, Easter is the one time a year I hand off the camera and force beg coerce bribe my kids (and husband) into taking a yearly family photo. It rarely ends well (and by well, I mean that we are all perfectly posed and I've not issued threats or made unreasonable promises), but it always makes me laugh. At least, afterwards. Many years afterwards.

It also appears to be the one thing that Lucas hates most on the earth. Olivia, on the other hand, has always rocked the Easter photo. I'm guessing it's her favorite holiday, ever. Besides her birthday and Christmas and whatever holiday is exactly next.

Easter 2010 can be found here on my blog. It's hilarious. But for comparisons purposes, here's a quick picture.

That would be itty bitty Ella on my lap next to Olivia. Goodness

Easter 2011 was apparently not blogged about and this is probably why:

The best one we got that year features our dog's back. Again, LUCAS. He's probably mad because he's wearing the exact same sweater vest that he wore the previous year. Fashion is clearly his thing. Or not. Seeing as how he's worn the same pair of jorts for the last week.

Easter 2012 things seemed to go a big more smoothly.

That's teeny, tiny Abigail on my lap.

You know, except for Lucas. At least Olivia is rocking it out. And Aaron. Clearly they were being bribed with excessive amounts of candy. Momma had a newborn. Momma was tired.

Easter 2013 apparently did not exist because I have no photographic documentation of it. Not even looking back through all the pics from my phone. So weird.

Which brings us to this year. Easter 2014. I knew I wanted a pic of all of us. My parents, my two grandmas and all the kids. Please note Lucas' over sarcastic smile because it took several photos of him not doing pointy, happy fingers at the camera, or throwing up some sort of gang symbol or staring off into the yard in the opposite direction.

23 photos later, grandparent photo: check. I mean, one kid out of 8 isn't looking but LOOK AT ABIGAIL. The cute. I can't even handle it.

And then, I politely asked Abigail to remove herself from my Mom's lap and sit with me for a nice family photo. She also loved that idea. Or not.

Okay, Abs, please just stop before you upset your baby sister.

Well, at least Lucas is happy for once.

I hope your Easter was a scream.

Happy 4th Birthday Aaron!

It's a season of birthdays in our house! I remember four years ago today like it was yesterday.

Our foster parent license had been submitted to the state about 4 weeks prior and I was anxiously awaiting news that we'd been processed and were available for a placement.

The phone rang and for some reason, my heart didn't jump in anticipation like it had done every day since our license had been submitted. As I recall the conversation between myself and our social worker (you can read about that by clicking here) tears well up in my eyes. God's goodness it unbelievable.

Four years ago today our foster parent license was approved. Within a matter of hours, our sweet Aaron was born across town, unbeknownst to me.

I always think about his birth mother on his birthday. I wonder if she thinks about him, if she replays his birth in her mind like I do on our birth children's birthdays, and if she wishes she could see him. I thank God that she chose life for our precious son and I stand in awe that God allowed me the privilege of being his Mother, though he came from another woman's womb.

His laughter is infectious. He can cause our whole family to crack up with even his fake laugh. This boy is a comedian for sure. He's inquisitive and asks approximately 7,599 questions per hour.

He adores trains, big trucks and lately, killer whales.

He's got the most crystal clear blue eyes I've ever seen and they garner a lot of attention from everyone he meets. In fact, he's even started telling me, "Momma. I got boo-tee-ful bwoo eyes, don't I?" He gives fantastic bear hugs and can shower you with compliments.

He's officially a member of the "big kid" crew in our house. He dropped afternoon naps a while back and he sleeps through the night without a pull up! He and Lucas have started to really bond as the lone boys in our house and they do their part in equally protecting and alternately terrorizing our girls - the latter when they think they will get away with it! He's a lover not a fighter and loathes any food that is green - except salad.

He continues to prove to us that God can ask mighty big things of you, often stretching your desire to obey His callings on your life. However, with obedience comes heaping shovelfuls of mercy, grace and blessing.

Four years ago, we could have never guessed the blessings that this sweet boy would pour into our family. His determination, smile, laugh and humor are a constant reminder that God's plans for us are certainly better than our own. How we treasure this boy!

He's beginning to ask questions about when came out of my tummy. I gently remind him that he came from another Mommy's tummy but I am the one who God chose to be his Mommy forever. I pray that God gives us wisdom as we proceed in telling him how God wrote his story perfectly. And that one day he understands that even in the Master's perfect plan there will be pain.

Thank you Lord for this boy of ours! Happy Birthday Aaron boy! We love you so very much!

You can read about his 3rd, 2nd & 1st birthdays by clicking on those links.

Happy 3rd Birthday Aaron!

Three years ago today, my life changed, though at the time I didn't know it. On the other side of town a piece of my heart was being delivered and I was probably casually sipping my coffee, or changing a diaper or maybe even asleep.

There's this crazy phenomenon about being an adoptive Mom.

You see, in the weeks leading up to our biological children's births, I can recount for you the happenings in our home, the trips our family took and probably even the tell you which outfits could still fit around my bulging waistline. I could tell you which positions were the most comfortable for me to sleep in and tell you every detail of the day of our biological children's birth, down to what I ate for breakfast those mornings.

But being an adoptive Mom is different. Things that come flooding back to my memory so easily in the days before our biological children were born don't come as easy for our adopted babes.

But never, EVER will I forget anxiously waiting a whole weekend knowing that Aaron was just miles away at the hospital but legally I couldn't go visit. NEVER will I forget seeing our own social worker, herself ripe with child, walk up our sidewalk next to the social services investigator who was carrying our baby in a huge infant carrier.

I'll never forget holding him that night, feeding him and wondering if his birth mother was thinking about him at that very moment. In fact, every birthday, my thoughts turn to her. I wonder if she remembers. I thank God for her and that she chose to give him life.

Our Aaron boy is a blessing in so many ways. And today, marks 3 years of me sitting in awe of the blessings God has poured out on us through obedience to His call on our family to foster and adopt.

At three years old, Aaron is constantly changing. His vocabulary has taken off and he talks all.the.time. His cute little voice just melts my heart. He's quick to say, "Pweez" and "Tanks Mom!"

His newest thing to say when he comes to me is, "I wuv you too, Mom." He's quickly outgrowing the irrationalness of a 2 year old and growing into a real, live 3 year old boy. He frequently can skip his nap and still be okay at the end of the day. He drinks from a big boy cup and has ditched the booster seat.

He's still strong willed and determined and I'm praying I don't break him of either of those traits. Instead, I pray that I will be able to direct him in the areas that require self-control and allow his steady, persistent, strong will to advance the Kingdom for the glory of God.

He LOVES cereal, all things related to trains, big trucks, his cowboys boots, Daddy, his littlest sister, Toy Story and, Nick (heavy emphasis on the CK).

(Aaron, Nick & Lucas)

He's got the brightest blue eyes I've ever seen and the best belly laugh of anyone I know. Aaron's genuine belly laugh can break through the toughest of bad moods and can crack even the most pouty of faces.

(Seriously. Those eyes! This picture is UNeditied. Can you even stand it?)

Basically, Aaron and I have found our meshing point. During his extensive stent in the I'm-so-freaking-irrational-that-your-breathing-makes-me-cry period, it was hard for me to remember tender moments during the day with my youngest son. But over the last several months, he's grown and I think I have too. I've stopped worrying so much about being right and standing my ground and I've tried to focus on the fact that my stubborn, determined boy is growing up right before my eyes and I was missing it. Blinded by frustration, I was missing the joy that this boy brings to me and our family.

His story, his life, is God's grace heaped into our laps. As I look back over the last 3 years, I realize that God has been excessively merciful with us. He's given us a child that has a story that can only reflect His glory. He's blessed us with a son who is becoming more bonded to his big brother by the day. He's given us life where there once was no hope.

He's given us a treasure that on our own we could have never gained. We pray Aaron's life will glorify the Lord on every level. What an incredible privilege we have in parenting this sweet boy. We cannot imagine for one second what our lives would be like without him!

Happy 3rd Birthday Aaron boy! We love you so, so, so much!

-------

To read previous posts about Aaron, specifically his birthday posts, click here and here.

**Most images courtesy of Matt Bryant Photography and PK Photography**

Parenting a Strong Willed Child

Parenting a stubborn and strong willed child is interesting to say the least. I really thought Lucas was strong willed as a 2 year old. Little did I realize that God gave me Lucas as merely preparation for Aaron.

Before I launch into all of the difficulties that I face with my sweet 2 year old boy, I want to make one thing very clear. I love this boy of mine. Love him so much that if I dwell on it my insides ache. When he wraps his skinny little arms around my neck and asks for a "tiss" and "ug" my heart almost explodes. His laugh infects my soul and his smile brightens my days. I love him so much more than I ever thought possible. Nearly 3 years ago when the social workers walked him into our home, I never could have imagined how I would love him as my own flesh and blood. And now, it rarely crosses my mind that he's adopted. I cannot imagine our family without him. He's an integral part of what makes our family feel full of joy, life and love.

Earlier this morning, he sat on my lap and cuddled with me as we watched a movie for school. As I rubbed my lips and cheeks across his hair and smelled the top of his head, I thanked God for everyday that I get the privilege to be his Mom. I don't take it lightly that the Lord specifically chose me to be his Mother.

But the truth remains that he tests me on just about every level that a two (nearly 3) year old can. I've known he was strong willed since he was about 8 or 9 months old, when the temper tantrums began if I took a forbidden object from his pudgy fingers. They weren't your ordinary temper tantrums that a typical 8 or 9 month old would display. They lingered and lasted much longer than a baby of that age's memory should allow.

Potty training him has been a constant battle. I've said time and time again that I'm done with trying to break him of diapers. But, every few days he asks to go in the potty and every, single time I think, "Maybe this is it! Maybe he's ready!" So, we strip off the diaper, sit him on the toilet and battle begins.

"Okay Buddy, push out some pee pee and poo poo," I plead.

"No. I done. I go pay," he retorts, before his bottom has even rested firmly on the seat.

"But Bud, you've not even gone potty yet. You want a piece of candy? If you put your poo poo in the potty you can have a GREAT BIG piece of candy!" I try to not let the frustration well up within me as I hear his whining begin.

"No! I go pay!" His excitement with the potty turns to a furrowed frown as he looks at me with his chin nearly touching his chest.

"If you don't potty you can't wear your Thomas undies," I remind him. "You want to wear Thomas, don't you?"

"No! Put.on.my.diaper! I poop in my pants!"

And with those words, I'm done. Because how can I make him go poop in the potty if he understands that he can just go in his (requested) diaper? I've tried candy, TV, more Thomas stuff, everything I can think of to get him to go to the potty and still, NOTTA.

Unless it's on HIS terms.

And I wish it stopped there. Meal times are a battle. EVERY.SINGLE. meal time. He's not a picky eater, per say, but a defiant eater. One night he will dog down some mac and cheese and chicken nuggests. Two days later, he refuses to even take a bite of mac and cheese and gags, spits and chokes when I demand he put some in his mouth.

One day he LOVES potatoes, the next day he shuns all of his dinner because his potatoes are touching the other food on his plate.

And then there's days like yesterday.

Aaron LOVES Mexican food. He has never rejected it when I cook it at home and when we go out to a Mexican restaurant he gets his own bowl of salsa and eats it using a chip to spoon it into his mouth. But on Monday night I made a new recipe. A super yummy, totally edible Quesadillia Casserole. (for real, click on that link and then look for those little packs in your grocery store, tasty stuff!)

It was good! Even our picky eater (Elizabeth) ate two plates of it - and she is super picky! But, since it didn't look good to Aaron, he didn't even take a bite. Instead, he shoved it across the table, frowned and said, "I no wike it!"

The one bite I forced him to put into his mouth (because a few times in the past when he's rejected food he's not even tasted, I've made him take a bite and he's realized he likes it and then eats) he spit into his hand.

So, we began our multi-time a day mealtime routine of excusing Aaron from the table to his room. We do not allow disrespectfulness at our dinner table and he was certainly being disrespectful. We have a rule that everything on your plate MUST be tasted. And, if it's something you've eaten previously and enjoyed then you must finish it before you can get seconds of another item. (Does that make sense?)

Since Aaron refused to taste his dinner and began scowling at everyone in sight he was excused. Then began Aaron's screaming, crying, stomping and fits that are now also a mealtime routine in our house. Once he settled down, we again offered for him to come eat dinner but he refused.

This isn't the first time he's refused to eat something I've cooked so, like the other times, he went to bed without dinner. Man! That is a hard to do! But, I REFUSE to be a short order cook. Everyone else in the house has likes and dislikes too, and I try to make something at every meal that I know will please all of our eaters.

The other rule that we have had to implement for Aaron is that if he rejects a meal all together, we wrap up his plate and he receives it at the next meal. We've done this a couple of times and each time he's initially acted as though he wouldn't eat the reheated leftovers. But, after realizing we were not budging, he ate.

Yesterday was a different story completely. At breakfast I reheated his plate of Quesadillia Casserole. After 30 minutes of him screaming, kicking and whining at the breakfast table, I excused him and told him he would not be offered breakfast any longer and since he'd still chosen to not eat his food, he would be offered it for snack. I rewrapped his plate and put it back in the refrigerator.

At snack time, the same fit followed. While everyone else at their snack he was offered his plate of untouched, reheated food. Again fits, screaming and generally nasty behavior. But this time it was not only fueled by his hatred of the food on his plate, but his food deprived body's hunger. A hungry 2.5 year old is a MEAN 2.5 year old. Anybody picking up what I'm putting down?

I reminded Aaron that he'd need to eat his food if he wanted a snack. He refused. I then told him that if he chose not to eat it now, it would be his lunch.

Repeat the food rejection for lunch and afternoon snack. By the time Aaron woke up from his nap he was fit to be tied. The only thing he'd consumed since afternoon snack the day before was WATER.

Man o mighty he was a jerk. I mean a REAL LIVE JERK. His hunger was overtaking his body and he began flinging his body on the floor or against any hard surface he could find to prove the point that HE WAS PISSED.

Luke and I joked that he was fasting for something and just forgot to tell us. Dude, we would have prayed for him. (Actually, I did.)

Dinner time rolls around. By now, I bet you can guess what happened, can't you? Everyone else gets potatoes, pork chops and carrots. Guess what Aaron was served?

Yep. Reheated Quesadillia Casserole. By this point I'm questioning whether or not it's even healthy for him to consume food that's been reheated so many times. But I knew if we caved at this point all of my efforts all day would have been in vain.

After much crying, screaming, being excused from the table multiple times and allowed to return, Luke basically force fed him the now crusty, dried and totally gross casserole. He ate it while rubbing his tummy and saying, "Yummy, yummy" and slightly gagging. (I'm not even kidding.)

After he ate the (get this) FOUR BITES that it took clean his plate of the wretched Quesadillia Casserole he was offered the same dinner the rest of us ate. He gobbled up the carrots because those are his favorite and then REFUSED TO EVEN TASTE THE REST.

ARE YOU FREAKIN' KIDDING ME?!?!

So guess what Aaron was offered for breakfast this morning? Delightfully reheated pork chops and potatoes.

And, after I sat him down and talked to him, saying, "Buddy. You can have some cereal but you must eat your dinner from last night first. Please eat it Bud. Please don't go all day without eating like you did yesterday."

And after leaving him at the table for 40 MINUTES with a frown on his face, he ate it. Followed by 2 bowls of cereal.

Sweet mercy. I've got Dr. James Dobson's book on order at the library and I hope to have it picked up tonight.

But while I wait to glean some of Dr. Dobson's knowledge, do any of you have any words of wisdom for parenting a strong willed child? I'm all ears. I'd love to talk to you about this in the comments section, so if you comment, check back for replies.

A Modern day Fairytale An Everyday True Story

One upon a time a mother had a little boy. And though she didn't grow him in her womb, she knew that he was hers from the moment she laid eyes upon him.

He was the most dashing little fellow. Handsome is so many ways, with soft, creamy skin and the blondest hair imaginable.

He had bright blue eyes and a giggle that could bring joy the hardest of hearts. Truly he made his mother's heart grow with love each and every day.

Much to his mother's dismay, he tried to give her daily heart attacks by leaping from heights more daring than a two year old should attempt. Yet almost every time, he landed firmly on his feet and chuckled to himself with a proud smile spreading across his face.

He was stubborn and willful and tested all of his mother's patience each and every day.

But his mother prayed fervently that the Lord would use his willful spirit and strong determination for the glory of God (and also that her own spirit would make it until her beloved son grew out of his irrational season - whenever that may be).

Truly his mother knew that the Lord had created her son for a very specific purpose in mind. She knew God created this treasure to bring glory to the name of the Father and that their lives were blessed because God chose their family for him.

You see, she knew from the time her son was a small baby that God had big plans for him. Plans that she didn't quite understand. But she clung to the promises that God has so clearly revealed to her, knowing that no great blessings come without their fair share of growing pains.

Every day God reminded this mother that her son was a blessing, even on the days that seemed more stressful than the last.

Because she knew that at the end of the day her sweet boy would wrap his skinny arms around her neck, hug her tight, kiss her lips and go to bed.

And every night as she clicked his bedroom door shut behind her, with her sweet boy resting comfortably in his bed, there would FINALLY be a moment where he would STOP TALKING LONG ENOUGH TO GO TO SLEEP.

Because as much as she loved her sweet boy's company, she longed for his mouth to STOP RUNNING FOR ONE SOLITARY SECOND SO THAT SHE DIDN'T HAVE TO KNOW HIS EVERY THOUGHT EVERY WAKING MOMENT OF THE DAY.

And they lived happily ever after.

The end.

The day the music potty training died

Dear Two Year Old Son of Mine,

I love you so much sometimes I wonder how my heart holds all the love. I look at your big, blue eyes and your sweet smile and I know that God purposed for you to be my son long before I even thought I wanted to be a Mom.

The love I have for you is inexplicable.

As is my frustration with you today.

Today is the day the music my desire to potty train you died.

Sweet mercy. Please use the bathroom in the toilet. All of it. Not just the pee. I know you are capable because YOU'VE DONE IT BEFORE. Perhaps you prefer your Dad to be home to poop in the potty, since that's when you seem to do it best (like I'm a freaking liar who only claims that you won't poop in the potty).

If there are many more days like today, you will certainly have your wish FULL TIME. Because I, your Mother, will return to the work force and allow your Dad to play poop with you. We may make half the income we currently live on and your Dad might go crazy but, sweet mercy, I AM DONE POTTY TRAINING YOU.

Done.

You can wear diapers the rest of your life, for all I care. But be warned. If you are still crapping in your diaper a year from now, you will be changing yourself.

I refuse to get into a battle of the wills with you over the toilet and your poop. I REFUSE. So now, I will be that Mom who allows her very-capable-of-using-the-potty 2 year old to wear a diaper. I will be that Mom who, when her sweet and (not-so) innocent 2 year old lovingly says,

"Mommy. I pee pee in potty?"

will respond, probably too harshly, with, "Go in your diaper."

And when other people, who have not cleaned your poop off of things that should NEVER have poop on them, look at me and wonder why I won't rush a "ready to potty train" two year old to the bathroom at his deceleration that "I pee pee in potty, Mommy?", look at me like I'm a cruel Mother who doesn't want her boy to ditch diapers, I will ignore them.

Because, FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THINGS GOOD AND HOLY PLEASE MAKE IT STOP, I refuse to battle you over an issue that is clearly you demonstrating your willpower.

I love you immensely. Much more than I ever thought possible. But you can crap in your pants until your 4, for all I care. Consider this your warning. You have 1 year, maybe less, and you're changing your own diaper. FOREVER.

With all my heart and love,

Mommy

It's a lip, it's a lip, it's a lip, lip, lip

Remember that time Lucas "swallowed" a brass peg?

Remember that other time Lucas pushed Ashlee and we had to have her forehead glued shut?

Remember how when both of those things happened, I wasn't actually supervising my kids? Instead, they were playing in our basement, unattended, both times.

You should also note that both times when I took each of my kids in to the pediatrician, we saw Dr. "R." Dr. R is the oldest doctor in our peds office and, despite the claims of other Moms I know, I really like Dr. R. He's seen a lot in his years of practicing medicine so I trust that what he says is usually right.

However, Dr. R always questions, to the detail, how mishaps happen in our family. When we took Lucas in Dr. R kept asking, "So did you see him swallow the peg?"

To which I had to answer, repeatedly, "No. I was upstairs and he was in the basement."

"Unattended?" Dr. R asks.

"Yes," I mummer, lowering my head in shame.

Then, just ONE WEEK later, I had Ashlee in the peds office and again, we see Dr. R. I mean, there are like 7 different doctors in that office. Seriously?

As Dr. R is looking at Ashlee's head he begins with the questioning. "So, how did she do this?"

"Well," I stammer, "I'm not exactly sure. She and her brother were playing in the basement and she hit her head on something, I'm not sure really. Maybe the floor or a toy..." I trail off.

"So, no one was with them?"

"No," I say, as Dr. R glues Ashlee's forehead together.

I'd like to proudly announce that we made it a WHOLE YEAR without having to endure Dr. R's questioning again. A whole 13 months actually, almost to the day.

Last night we broke our streak.

While I upstairs, I heard it. Aaron's first shriek came from the kitchen. I'll admit, I didn't run downstairs, mostly because Aaron cries. A lot. Over nothing mostly. He's a tough kid. He jumps off of things that make my heart stop and he can stick a landing better than most Olympic Medalists. He runs and dives face first in the yard on purpose, then giggles.

Yet, I wipe his nose and he cries for 3 minutes because "It hurt wite der." (Points to nostril) or he stubs his toe ON THE RUG and "Owwwwiiiiiieeeee. I hurt Mommy, wite der."

Seriously dude? Whatever.

Anyway, so I don't rush downstairs. But then, I hear it. That sorta silent gasping.

Uh oh.

Then Ashlee says, "Mom! Aaron's bleeding."

That could have been the understatement of the day. Or week. Or whole year.

I descend the stairs to find Ashlee escorting a bleeding, sobbing Aaron. His whole chin is blood. So much blood I can't tell where the bleeding is coming from.

I scoop him up and rush him to the sink. Blood is still pouring, literally, from his mouth. "Lucas, what happened? Tell me what happened!"

"Well, we were playing monkey and Aaron's mouth bonked my head," Lucas says sadly.

Mercy. So much blood. He's lost a tooth I bet. LOST A TOOTH.

Wipe, rise, wipe, rinse.

By now Aaron's pretty much stopped crying. I've soaked most of the blood out of his mouth and I finally find the source. It's not a lost tooth, instead it's a sizable gash on the inside of his upper lip.

He needs a stitch. I'm convinced.

Call the peds. 6:30pm appointment. Luke's meeting me there to switch off the other kids.

"Oh, and who's the doctor we'll be seeing?" I ask the receptionist as I begin looking for shoes for everyone.

"Dr. R." she states.

LOVELY.

-----

(PS: No stitches were needed.)

(PSS: 100 points to anyone who can name the source of the title for this post.)

My bucket filling, boogie boarding, blue eyed boy at the "beek"

Aaron, our most independent child, quite possibly had the best time of everyone at the beach. He loved the freedom to roam anywhere his heart desired. (Except, you know, into the ocean. I think he would have kept going and going and going had we not kept stopping him. He'd get bowled over by a wave, tumble through the small whitecaps, stand up, smile and charge into them again.) He loved the freedom to dig and play in the sand, get dirty and not be told to stop.

And, he LOVED his Daddy pulling him on the boogie board in the surf.

He got mad when he wasn't allowed to take shovels or buckets or toys from his little sister

and decided laying in the sand was a good protest.

He wore the same, "my parents are exhausted" shirt just about everyday to protect his fair skin from the blaring rays of the sun and to also let everyone know the true state of mine and Luke's energy level.

He got his beach bucket filled with Atlantic salt water 5,739 times and followed his Daddy out for a fresh helping almost every time.

And, in turn, led Daddy back to his desired location an equal amount of times.

He helped dig holes and make sand castles and fill buckets of salty water with sand. He played hard, slept soundly, awoke early and probably had the most fun of his entire 2 years of life.

And we loved seeing the beach and ocean, waves and birds, boats and adventures through his 2 year old eyes. He keeps asking when we could go back to the "beek." Buddy, if it were up to me, we'd go back tomorrow.

Happy Birthday Aaron!

Two. Two years ago yesterday our lives changed forever. As we went about our normal day, just minutes down the road our sweet boy was taking his first breaths, unbeknown to us. Yes, our lives changed that very day even though we had no clue they were changing.

How we thank God for Aaron's life. As a step of obedience to God's calling on our life, we chose to pursue foster care for our family. Aaron (and his little sister Olivia) are God's greatest rewards for our choice of obedience. And even though somedays life with two toddlers (and 4 other kids) is chaotic and a struggle, we wouldn't have it any other way.

Aaron,

At two years old you are a fiercely independent little man. You prefer to play alone most of the time even though you want to know what everyone else is doing. You like all starchy foods and defy most everything else put on your plate. You have the sweetest laugh and your chuckles tend to get everyone else vying for your attention to see who can cause the most belly laughs in a row.

You love to climb on anything that will allow you. You live to ride on our battery powered cars for hours on end. You love all things to do with animals, especially fish. You are sweet on your littlest sister and love to give her kisses over and over and over again. You can jump and get both of your chubby little feet completely off the floor and you adore wearing shoes, particularly your boots. And, you continue to give the best, most snuggly hugs of anyone.

We love you so much sweet Aaron boy. And though your independence and strong determination continually challenge us as parents, we can't imagine our family without you. We pray that God will use your story of adoption and redemption for His glory. We pray that your life is devoted to Christ and you love Him with the fierceness and determination that you live the rest of your life. I love you so much sweet boy, so much more than my words on a page could ever express.

With all my heart,

Mommy

Obsessed

Recently, I've come to know a little program called Lightroom.


And now, I'm a little obsessed.

PS: This little somebody turns TWO this weekend. TWO YEARS OLD. When did that happen?

Bound by birth, Adopted with love

God orchestrates all things for His glory for those who love Him. Did you know that? I had read it right here before but it never really hit me exactly how it worked until many months after we had taken Aaron as our first placement as his foster parents. You see, shortly after the phone call we received informing us of Aaron's birth and, additionally, asking us of we'd be willing to take him into our home, I was on the phone with another woman who cared deeply about our sweet Aaron.

She was not someone from the Department of Social Services (DSS) office. She was not his birth mother. However, she cared deeply for him even though she'd never met him.

I remember sitting there at our table, listening to her voice through my phone, not totally understanding what was about to happen. I remember wondering what her role in his life would be, what it could have been, if only circumstances had been different.

You see this woman, who told me how much she loved our new little baby, had a very special connection to him.

She is the mother of Aaron's biological brothers.

She had walked the road that we were about to journey down. She had the dirt and blisters on her feet and sweat and blood on her brow from miles of walking a road that is tough and not for the faint at heart. She and her husband knew what it meant to love someone as your own flesh when they come from the womb of another woman.

And although much of Aaron's story is for him to tell and not me, I wanted to share with you all a very special relationship that our family is forming with some very special people.

These two precious boys share the same birth parents as our sweet Aaron. "N" and "C" are so sweet and all boy, just like our Aaron. They share similar features, like their bright blue eyes and a sweet, round nose. In fact, when their Mom "S" shared some of N and C's baby photos with me, it was like looking at photos of our Aaron, except with double vision!

And one day, they will share in being told the same story. The story of entering into foster care for reasons privileged only to them. The story of being placed into the arms of a mother who grew them in her heart, rather than her womb. The story of being loved, unconditionally, even though they didn't belong to this new family by birth.

The story of Mr. T and Mrs. S desiring to begin their boys' relationship with our son early on, when Aaron and N and C were only tiny babies.

(This is Aaron, at 2 months old, with N and C who were 14 months.)

The story of love, that brought them from what could have been to what truly is. Currently, we enjoy a loving relationship and special bond with N and C's family. They have kept Aaron on several occasions, even overnight. Both Mr. T and Mrs. S, as well as Luke and myself, desire for our boys to know that they are brothers.

This special relationship, we pray, will help them understand their unique situations as they grow older. And, as they one day struggle to understand the circumstances with their birth parents, we pray that having each other will help. We pray that growing up more than just birth siblings, but as friends, they will be able to identify with someone who comes from where they come from.

And ultimately, my prayer is that each of them will be able to cling to the One who provided a way for us all to be adopted, even when they are uncertain about the reasons for their worldly adoption.


This is what is unique about adopting a child through our local foster care agency (or in our case, our county's DSS). Often, ties with birth family is available. For us, being adoptive parents isn't about cutting them off from their birth family. It isn't about alienating them from who they are by birth.

However, they did come into foster care for a reason. Unfortunately, and all to often, those reasons prohibit us from feeling like there is a safe way for them to interact with birth family. In Aaron's case these boys, his birth brothers, are in a safe and loving home where spending time with them is not only possible but pleasurable. Mr. T and Mrs. S love Aaron so very much and it is evident on their faces each time they see him. Likewise, we adore N and C, although our time with them is much more sparse right now (due to the needs of our other children, we don't get 1 on 1 time - or 1 on 2 time - like we'd enjoy).

For neither of our fostered/adopted children, a relationship with their birth parents is not healthy or possible at this time in their lives. But, we when the time comes that they ask questions, we will not lie. Truth will prevail in our answers about their past. And while we will have to reveal things to them that will surely break their hearts and make them question their value, we pray that they will find their answer right in front of them.

We love them. God loves them.

For Olivia, having a relationship with birth family is proving more difficult. We wanted to wait until her adoption was final before pursuing those relationships. Now that her adoption is legal, we plan on beginning that process so that she may begin forming relationships with stable members of her birth family.

These are new waters for us to navigate, this balance between birth family and our family. But, we feel confident that the Lord placed these children into our home for a purpose. He placed them here for His purpose. And our desires are to allow our adopted children as much interaction with birth family that is safe. We feel blessed to have such with Aaron's birth brothers. For Olivia it will be new ground that we will walk on lightly, with our eyes prayerfully fixed on the One who knew all of this before the creation of the world.