This year was a crazy one to say the least: new baby, new school, new responsibilities. Somehow I managed to read & listen to 79 books this year; I'm 80% complete on book 80, & I hope to finish listening to it before Saturday. I am thankful for mornings before work & long runs with my boy to listen to most of these. Because I don't have the time or patience to compile a #1 - 80 ranking, I compiled a Top 5 for fiction & non-fiction & a Bottom 5 across genres for the year. Each title is linked to its Amazon listing (technically, it's Amazon Smile that benefits our adoption agency - if you don't do Smile, you should.)
Top 5 Fiction
1. Modern Lovers by Emma Straub. We follow three college best friends as they age, and we see the repercussions of their actions across time. Strobe writes with a clear voice and created interesting characters who intertwined beautifully.
2. Orphan #8 by Kim van Alkemade. A nurse who was once an orphan in a "medical test trial" orphanage has the chance to affect the last days of the doctor who made her life miserable in her early years. This one truly made me think about the effects of vengeance and bitterness over time.
3. Don't You Cry, Pretty Baby, & The Good Girl by Mary Kubica. Yes, I know this is 3 books, but I couldn't outrank one of these over the other. Kubica can spin a twisted tale - of mistaken identity, psychosis, & kidnapping - but be sure to have your dictionary handy; she loves big words.
4. Lost and Found by Brooke Davis. An enjoyable tale of two crazy elderly folks and a young girl. I found the old lady to be delightfully tacky and brazen in an endearing way. It was a quick listen & a nice pick-me-up at a down time in the year for me.
5. The Nest by Cynthia d'Aprix Sweeney. A slight coming-of-age-ish tale about adult siblings and how their parents' actions & their actions all throughout life affected their current states of being. While the middle was very draggy for me and could have used some edits, it was a beautifully written work.
Top 5 Non-Fiction
1. The Run of His Life: The People v. O.J. Simpson by Jeffrey Toobin. This was the book that the FX series American Crime Story was based on. Meticulously researched and well-written, this doozy of a read consumed my life for nearly a month.
2. Troublemaker: Surviving Hollywood and Scientology by Leah Remini. I am fascinated by occult culture (think FLDS) and escape stories. Remini is a hoot and a half, and learning about the truth behind this "church" was eye-opening. Her TV series that is currently on A&E is equally fascinating.
3. First Women: The Grace and Power of America's Modern First Ladies by Kate Andersen. I will unashamedly admit that I love the Bush family - particularly Barbara & H.W. I loved this inside look at the lives inside the White House and the ladies who made it run. The author has also written another book about the life of "the help" at the White House that is on my radar.
4. A Mother's Reckoning: Living in the Aftermath of Tragedy by Sue Klebold. This heartbreaking mother's look at one of the Columbine killers was fascinating and sobering all at once. As an adolescent at the time of the shootings, this was intriguing. As a father, it was terrifying to realize that we can seemingly do all the "right" things, but we cannot control our children.
5. Wild Things: The Art of Nurturing Boys by Stephen James & David Thomas. In case you weren't aware, I am not a macho man. Raising a son can at times be terrifying for a guy who doesn't know all the "guy" things. I loved this practical look at the stages of boys and their mindsets and what we as parents and educators can do to help them become successful, productive men.
Bottom 5 (All Fiction)
1. The Girls by Emma Cline. I just don't get the hype y'all. This was terribly terribly inappropriate. And not at all what I was expecting. I can't fully describe how uncomfortable this made me feel.
2. 2 AM at the Cat's Pajamas by Marie-Helen Bertino. I'm still not sure if there were critters or humans involved in this one. Just weird all the way around.
3. The Children's Crusade by Ann Packer. This was truly a lesson in judging a book by its cover art. I loved the cover of the audiobook, and it sounded very much like a coming-of-age tale, but the characters were so static. And that made me sad.
4. The Versions of Us by Laura Barnett. While this did inspire another post on this blog, the book did not deliver in the way the synopsis promised. The premise was looking at how version A of my life might intersect with version C of your life and how that could alter history. It was very lengthy and not at all exciting.
5. The Giver by Lois Lowry. I understand that this is a classic, but I did not enjoy it at all. The infanticide and the overall subject matter confuse me as to how it is considered children's literature.
Maybe you agree with me on some and disagree on others, and that's ok! I hope this inspires you to think outside your traditional box of reading. Here's to 2017, y'all!
Wednesday, December 28, 2016
Friday, December 16, 2016
he provides
Dear Parent-in-Waiting,
I see you. I know where you've been. I know the pain, the hurt, the sorrow, the tears, the loneliness. I know the sleepless nights, the journal entries, the activities you take part in to fake yourself out. I know the uncomfortable feeling you get at holidays when mostly well-intentioned people ask when a baby is coming. I know the frequent trips to a quiet corner at family gatherings to wipe your eyes away from everyone. I know the fake smile you plaster on because it's what you do at Christmas - even if it truly is your favorite holiday.
I know because I walked that road. You see that man? He was faking his way through Christmas a year ago because it's what he was supposed to do. I remember last Christmas as a very dark time in my life internally. About a year ago while we were visiting my family for Christmas in my hometown, we got an email alert from our social worker. We received an info summary on a baby girl who had already been born. Immediately our minds went to the joy of being able to surprise our family with a new baby at the Christmas gathering. We said yes. And then the agonizing wait began. We even used some time on our Christmas break from school to research nursery organization and think of ways we could make the space unique.
We were getting ready for Christmas Eve candlelight service at church when we got the dreaded "she chose another family" email. While we rejoiced for this life and this baby girl's future, we grieved for the loss in our own hearts. And then we had to pretend to have it together in under 15 minutes because it was church time and that's what we do. The second song we sang that afternoon was "Away in a Manger." I sobbed my way through it so badly that I am genuinely shocked an usher didn't ask to take me to the prayer room.
When we got home that night, we read scripture - through a cloud of tears - about joy and reminded ourselves that our joy was internal and eternal.
The next day at our family Christmas gathering, we were surprised with gifts for the baby we hadn't even met yet. Needless to say, there were tears galore. In the moment, I realized how blessed we are to have a family who was loving and caring for the baby that we didn't know yet but had prayed fervently for for years. I realized how much I had missed in that Christmas season because I was so caught up in my own sorrow and heartache. But the Lord began to restore my heart and remove my sorrow. And now, I am preparing to celebrate my first Christmas as a Dada.
Wherever you are - waiting for a match through adoption, waiting for a court date, waiting for just one positive pregnancy test and a healthy pregnancy - know that the Lord sees your sorrow and knows your heart. He will provide in His time and His plan. He will provide just what you need when He knows you need it. We may not always like that time aspect, but He has written the entire book that we are only reading sentence by sentence. Remember that you have friends who will stand in the gap for you, a family who loves you, and a God who provides for you.
May your future Christmases exceed your wildest dreams.
Thursday, November 24, 2016
thanks
You know my name, my wife's name, our jobs. You've seen pictures of us, our day-to-day life, and our big, crazy family. You know how we handle and resolve conflict, our mindset on dating and what makes a marriage work. You've seen pictures of our son's nursery, pictures of our friends, and pictures of the church where we dedicated our son to the Lord when he was barely 6 weeks old. You know so many intimate details about our life that we compiled into our profile book.
We know your name. We know the part of the country where you live. We know your medical background. We know how you describe yourself and your temperament. We know about the medical history of your family. We have not met in person, yet we share the most intimate bond imaginable. For you made the bravest choice possible and gave life to this little man who's snoozing away soundly across the hall as I write this, and in so doing, you helped bring about a family in this home.
Birth mother, on this first Thanksgiving for my family of three, I am eternally grateful for you. Yes because you gave my wife & me a son, but for so much more than that. Thank you for looking outside of what was easy, convenient, or practical and choosing a selfless act of love instead. Thank you for honoring life and for giving this chubby-cheeked boy a life, hope, and a future. Thank you for giving me and my wife the family we have prayed for for years. I cannot imagine the difficulty of your choice and the thoughts that went through your mind.
Today, as we hope to do each day, we honor you in our home. We speak with our 8-month-old openly about you and how brave, how selfless, and how bold you are. He has heard your name countless times. He has heard us pray for you by name. And I pray as he ages and especially as he approaches young adulthood, that he truly understands the impact of you on his life. We want him to know how much you have impacted his life, our lives, and the lives of generations to come with a single, selfless choice.
While we may not meet in the flesh any time in the near future, we pray that we meet on the other side of eternity. We pray for your relationship with Christ regularly, and we pray that we can share in the joy of being brothers and sisters in Christ with you. There are so many other things that I want to say, because "Thank you" just doesn't seem to be enough. But I do want you to know that we love you, we appreciate who you are, and we are always grateful for your love.
We know your name. We know the part of the country where you live. We know your medical background. We know how you describe yourself and your temperament. We know about the medical history of your family. We have not met in person, yet we share the most intimate bond imaginable. For you made the bravest choice possible and gave life to this little man who's snoozing away soundly across the hall as I write this, and in so doing, you helped bring about a family in this home.
Birth mother, on this first Thanksgiving for my family of three, I am eternally grateful for you. Yes because you gave my wife & me a son, but for so much more than that. Thank you for looking outside of what was easy, convenient, or practical and choosing a selfless act of love instead. Thank you for honoring life and for giving this chubby-cheeked boy a life, hope, and a future. Thank you for giving me and my wife the family we have prayed for for years. I cannot imagine the difficulty of your choice and the thoughts that went through your mind.
Today, as we hope to do each day, we honor you in our home. We speak with our 8-month-old openly about you and how brave, how selfless, and how bold you are. He has heard your name countless times. He has heard us pray for you by name. And I pray as he ages and especially as he approaches young adulthood, that he truly understands the impact of you on his life. We want him to know how much you have impacted his life, our lives, and the lives of generations to come with a single, selfless choice.
While we may not meet in the flesh any time in the near future, we pray that we meet on the other side of eternity. We pray for your relationship with Christ regularly, and we pray that we can share in the joy of being brothers and sisters in Christ with you. There are so many other things that I want to say, because "Thank you" just doesn't seem to be enough. But I do want you to know that we love you, we appreciate who you are, and we are always grateful for your love.
Sunday, November 20, 2016
choices
Do you ever consider the impact of a single choice on your life? And I mean truly think about the weight of how that choice could mold the rest of your life? I recently listened to a book (one which I wouldn't recommend) that looked at different versions of individuals' lives and how Version 1 of Person A's life intersecting with Version 3 of Person B's life could produce a completely different outcome than Version 2 intersected with the same Version 3. And that got my wheels spinning.
Something I don't often share is that I did not officially begin college at my alma mater. I spent the first 2.5 weeks of my college career at the rival school across town. It was essentially the antithesis of my high school experience and one I swore I didn't need repeated for the next 4 years of my life. Turns out, I was miserable and cried nearly every single day. I eventually was able to transfer to the college that helped mold me into who I am today.
I remember the day I went to buy my books at my new school. It was about 3:00 in the afternoon before a hurricane was about to blow in, and I pulled into the bookstore parking lot where I saw a high school classmate and close friend, who had no idea of my plans to transfer (remember, this was pre-facebook). She immediately began jumping around and yelling as she say my car. We hugged and laughed and cried and caught up briefly before I went to buy my books. When classes began after the storm, she introduced me to a friend of hers in our literature class who she had met during SGA activities.
That mutual friend thought I was the biggest snob on the planet, and I thought she had no goals for her life. But I was drawn to her smile, her laugh, her zeal and passion for life. Over the next 7 years, a friendship developed into something more and we eventually could no longer be "just friends." I'm sure you can guess who that friend was. What if I hadn't transferred schools? I would have missed spending life with the one who God created specifically for me. I could have potentially missed a great deal of love, laughter, and some good eats.
If you didn't know me before my wife and I were married, you are probably not aware of the other choice that impacted our life. In the early planning phases of our engagement, we originally wanted a long engagement and to be married in the late fall of 2012. But the stress and noise of wedding planning caused us to change our wedding plans to a small family ceremony in the spring. April 2012 to be exact.
If you remember the details of our adoption journey, you know that we were unable to file papers to adopt until our third anniversary. We filed them on that day; we had a great meal at home, spend the night in our pjs, and clicked submit to God's plan for our family that night. We spent the next 6 months in counseling, interviews, and home study before beginning the matching process in October 2015 (which would not have been our 3-year anniversary had we not moved the date of our wedding). We waited for 5 months which were at times excruciating and at times joyous as we savored the final days of "just us." And on our fourth anniversary, we received the summary of our little man that God had chosen for us.
What if we hadn't chosen to change our wedding date? What if we weren't in the matching phase when our son's birth mother began to make her brave choice? I know that our son would have certainly been matched and placed with a loving family who would raise him to honor and serve God. I am not saying by any means that we are the supreme parents who have ultimately done some good deed. I am saying that God wove our story together in such an intricate way that even a choice such as the university I chose to attend or the date on which my wife and I chose to marry altered the course of my life, my family's life, and essentially generations to come.
Our God is in the details. As we sang in church this morning, He will not be delayed. He sets plans into motion and weaves together the threads of our stories in such major ways before we even realize that the loom is being threaded. Today, I am thankful for the day in 2004 that brought me to my knees and caused me to change what I thought was my plan for life. I am thankful for the day when I met that girl who thought I was a snob. I am thankful for the night we sat in her apartment and felt that tug on out hearts to change our plans to His plan. And I am thankful for every day with my family of 3. This is us, and I am thankful for us.
Something I don't often share is that I did not officially begin college at my alma mater. I spent the first 2.5 weeks of my college career at the rival school across town. It was essentially the antithesis of my high school experience and one I swore I didn't need repeated for the next 4 years of my life. Turns out, I was miserable and cried nearly every single day. I eventually was able to transfer to the college that helped mold me into who I am today.
I remember the day I went to buy my books at my new school. It was about 3:00 in the afternoon before a hurricane was about to blow in, and I pulled into the bookstore parking lot where I saw a high school classmate and close friend, who had no idea of my plans to transfer (remember, this was pre-facebook). She immediately began jumping around and yelling as she say my car. We hugged and laughed and cried and caught up briefly before I went to buy my books. When classes began after the storm, she introduced me to a friend of hers in our literature class who she had met during SGA activities.
That mutual friend thought I was the biggest snob on the planet, and I thought she had no goals for her life. But I was drawn to her smile, her laugh, her zeal and passion for life. Over the next 7 years, a friendship developed into something more and we eventually could no longer be "just friends." I'm sure you can guess who that friend was. What if I hadn't transferred schools? I would have missed spending life with the one who God created specifically for me. I could have potentially missed a great deal of love, laughter, and some good eats.
If you didn't know me before my wife and I were married, you are probably not aware of the other choice that impacted our life. In the early planning phases of our engagement, we originally wanted a long engagement and to be married in the late fall of 2012. But the stress and noise of wedding planning caused us to change our wedding plans to a small family ceremony in the spring. April 2012 to be exact.
If you remember the details of our adoption journey, you know that we were unable to file papers to adopt until our third anniversary. We filed them on that day; we had a great meal at home, spend the night in our pjs, and clicked submit to God's plan for our family that night. We spent the next 6 months in counseling, interviews, and home study before beginning the matching process in October 2015 (which would not have been our 3-year anniversary had we not moved the date of our wedding). We waited for 5 months which were at times excruciating and at times joyous as we savored the final days of "just us." And on our fourth anniversary, we received the summary of our little man that God had chosen for us.
What if we hadn't chosen to change our wedding date? What if we weren't in the matching phase when our son's birth mother began to make her brave choice? I know that our son would have certainly been matched and placed with a loving family who would raise him to honor and serve God. I am not saying by any means that we are the supreme parents who have ultimately done some good deed. I am saying that God wove our story together in such an intricate way that even a choice such as the university I chose to attend or the date on which my wife and I chose to marry altered the course of my life, my family's life, and essentially generations to come.
Our God is in the details. As we sang in church this morning, He will not be delayed. He sets plans into motion and weaves together the threads of our stories in such major ways before we even realize that the loom is being threaded. Today, I am thankful for the day in 2004 that brought me to my knees and caused me to change what I thought was my plan for life. I am thankful for the day when I met that girl who thought I was a snob. I am thankful for the night we sat in her apartment and felt that tug on out hearts to change our plans to His plan. And I am thankful for every day with my family of 3. This is us, and I am thankful for us.
Tuesday, September 20, 2016
adulting
I know that y'all know my general feelings about #adulting. As in, it is equal parts liberating and frustrating. I'm only a few months into this new decade, but the 30s have proved to be much more freeing than their predecessor. I find that I'm more sure of myself and ready to face life head on. But wow, the responsibility. Throw in a tiny human into the mix, and it's. just. wow.
It's amazing how this child who I love more than life can also be so incredibly frustrating. You go from wanting nothing but snuggles to realizing why some animals eat their young. It's a weird range of emotions if you've never been there. And people will warn you of this, and you will roll your eyes and say, "___ doesn't know me. She doesn't know my life!" And then it will be true. You truly wonder how the same thing that brings you such joy can also be so maddeningly frustrating.
Have you ever been through a season of life in which you know your obedience was directly in line with the will of God and then things almost instantly start to cave in? I know that I know that I know that we were called to adopt our #HWD. God placed that call on our lives and orchestrated that before we were even us. Through a lot of prayer and the Lord's faithfulness and provision, we were able to adopt our son relatively quickly and debt-free. We, along with so many of you, covered the journey in prayer, and God proved his faithfulness in our lives. And the enemy doesn't like that. At. All.
Satan will try to find any way he can to tear down what God has built up. He will cause work troubles and the stress of an unexpected job hunt with a 2-month-old at home. He will bring about unexpected financial situations like a broken air conditioner (I know I know #firstworldproblems). He will cause relationships that you thought were stable to unexpectedly implode over pettiness. He will bring on emotional pain and heartache in your marriage.
But Christ is our redeemer. He holds the keys and none of this is a shock. He provides financially beyond your wildest imagination. He brings you even closer to home in a great school. He brings true friends into your life. He brings emotional healing and immense love out of the dare to love deeply in your marriage. He brings life, hope, and peace. And that is who I choose to place my trust in. Regardless of what the world throws at you, Christ is in control. And at the end of the day, I rest in that comforting embrace.
"I will not be moved. I'll say of the Lord, 'You are my shield, my strength, my portion, deliver. My shelter, strong tower, my very present help in time of need.'"
It's amazing how this child who I love more than life can also be so incredibly frustrating. You go from wanting nothing but snuggles to realizing why some animals eat their young. It's a weird range of emotions if you've never been there. And people will warn you of this, and you will roll your eyes and say, "___ doesn't know me. She doesn't know my life!" And then it will be true. You truly wonder how the same thing that brings you such joy can also be so maddeningly frustrating.
Have you ever been through a season of life in which you know your obedience was directly in line with the will of God and then things almost instantly start to cave in? I know that I know that I know that we were called to adopt our #HWD. God placed that call on our lives and orchestrated that before we were even us. Through a lot of prayer and the Lord's faithfulness and provision, we were able to adopt our son relatively quickly and debt-free. We, along with so many of you, covered the journey in prayer, and God proved his faithfulness in our lives. And the enemy doesn't like that. At. All.
Satan will try to find any way he can to tear down what God has built up. He will cause work troubles and the stress of an unexpected job hunt with a 2-month-old at home. He will bring about unexpected financial situations like a broken air conditioner (I know I know #firstworldproblems). He will cause relationships that you thought were stable to unexpectedly implode over pettiness. He will bring on emotional pain and heartache in your marriage.
But Christ is our redeemer. He holds the keys and none of this is a shock. He provides financially beyond your wildest imagination. He brings you even closer to home in a great school. He brings true friends into your life. He brings emotional healing and immense love out of the dare to love deeply in your marriage. He brings life, hope, and peace. And that is who I choose to place my trust in. Regardless of what the world throws at you, Christ is in control. And at the end of the day, I rest in that comforting embrace.
"I will not be moved. I'll say of the Lord, 'You are my shield, my strength, my portion, deliver. My shelter, strong tower, my very present help in time of need.'"
Sunday, August 14, 2016
think before you post
Parents,
Congrats! You've survived another summer, and now the chaos and regularity of school begins again. You are now entrusting your bundles of joy with adults who care about them more than you or they will ever know. And that can be scary, terrifying even, especially if you haven't had the chance to have a "meet the teacher" night - and sometimes even if you have.
I get it y'all. I think about the day in a few years when I will have to let go of HWD's hand and send him to school all day with a teacher who I know will love on him and hopefully pass on a little knowledge to him along the way. She or he will discipline him too, and HWD might be a little sad or angry about it, but guess what? He needs it! I trust even now that his best interests will always be considered.
Can I let you in on a secret? Never in all of my career have I worked with a teacher who was out to "get" a student, or to bring harm to anyone in that classroom. I've worked with some remarkable educators in the last 9 years - many who have high expectations, teach so much more than their content, develop an uncanny rapport with their students, and who challenge me daily to step up my game. They may do things that frustrate students or parents, but they've never been like Ms. Trunchbull with a "gotcha" attitude. A teacher's being hard on your child will only help prepare him or her for their future - whatever that looks like. I've bounced back from multiple unexpected turns in my career because I had teachers who taught me early on that it's ok to fall down, but it's not ok to stay there. They guided me back to success, and that's made me who I am today.
While there is no formal Hippocratic Oath for teachers, I would like to believe that we all take an oath to constantly grow our field, research and use best practices, instruct with passion, teach with rigor, and to always have the students' best interest at heart. Parents, your babies are our babies. I still call anyone who was in my class ever "my kid" or "my baby." Do they sometimes stand on my nerves - not like our own children ever do that - to the point of my nearly going bananas? Yes. But I still love them and will care for them just the same.
I say all that in preparing to ask you all for a favor. When you get frustrated with your child's teacher, when you feel they're not hearing you, when you wonder just how to fix the problem, please take a deep breath. Talk to that teacher one-on-one and don't come in guns blazing. Try to resolve the issue peacefully. If that doesn't fix the problem, seek an administrator.
But for the love, please please please do not take to social media to shame that teacher in an arena in which he or she is defenseless. Remember that while you were wondering when summer would ever end, that teacher was spending time, energy, and resources to prepare a classroom in which your child would feel safe. Remember that your child's teacher has a family at home too - one who they love dearly and are working hard in the classroom for in order to earn a living. Remember that your child's teacher is a member of a community that may or may not overlap with yours; no one on your friends list really should have to be put in that awkward position of having to "choose a side" if you will. In the age of internet shaming, let's all consider whether or not we would want to have someone with limited knowledge of a situation that took place at our place of work to blast us on the interwebs for all to see. Ms. Greene might frustrate you once or even twice, but social media is not the place to announce that. You may feel she should not hold that position, but remember you are looking at it through a momma bear or papa bear lens. On behalf of teachers everywhere, please think before you post.
Congrats! You've survived another summer, and now the chaos and regularity of school begins again. You are now entrusting your bundles of joy with adults who care about them more than you or they will ever know. And that can be scary, terrifying even, especially if you haven't had the chance to have a "meet the teacher" night - and sometimes even if you have.
I get it y'all. I think about the day in a few years when I will have to let go of HWD's hand and send him to school all day with a teacher who I know will love on him and hopefully pass on a little knowledge to him along the way. She or he will discipline him too, and HWD might be a little sad or angry about it, but guess what? He needs it! I trust even now that his best interests will always be considered.
Can I let you in on a secret? Never in all of my career have I worked with a teacher who was out to "get" a student, or to bring harm to anyone in that classroom. I've worked with some remarkable educators in the last 9 years - many who have high expectations, teach so much more than their content, develop an uncanny rapport with their students, and who challenge me daily to step up my game. They may do things that frustrate students or parents, but they've never been like Ms. Trunchbull with a "gotcha" attitude. A teacher's being hard on your child will only help prepare him or her for their future - whatever that looks like. I've bounced back from multiple unexpected turns in my career because I had teachers who taught me early on that it's ok to fall down, but it's not ok to stay there. They guided me back to success, and that's made me who I am today.
While there is no formal Hippocratic Oath for teachers, I would like to believe that we all take an oath to constantly grow our field, research and use best practices, instruct with passion, teach with rigor, and to always have the students' best interest at heart. Parents, your babies are our babies. I still call anyone who was in my class ever "my kid" or "my baby." Do they sometimes stand on my nerves - not like our own children ever do that - to the point of my nearly going bananas? Yes. But I still love them and will care for them just the same.
I say all that in preparing to ask you all for a favor. When you get frustrated with your child's teacher, when you feel they're not hearing you, when you wonder just how to fix the problem, please take a deep breath. Talk to that teacher one-on-one and don't come in guns blazing. Try to resolve the issue peacefully. If that doesn't fix the problem, seek an administrator.
But for the love, please please please do not take to social media to shame that teacher in an arena in which he or she is defenseless. Remember that while you were wondering when summer would ever end, that teacher was spending time, energy, and resources to prepare a classroom in which your child would feel safe. Remember that your child's teacher has a family at home too - one who they love dearly and are working hard in the classroom for in order to earn a living. Remember that your child's teacher is a member of a community that may or may not overlap with yours; no one on your friends list really should have to be put in that awkward position of having to "choose a side" if you will. In the age of internet shaming, let's all consider whether or not we would want to have someone with limited knowledge of a situation that took place at our place of work to blast us on the interwebs for all to see. Ms. Greene might frustrate you once or even twice, but social media is not the place to announce that. You may feel she should not hold that position, but remember you are looking at it through a momma bear or papa bear lens. On behalf of teachers everywhere, please think before you post.
Sunday, July 17, 2016
a voice
There's a side to parenting that no one really discusses. Sure people talk about the poop and pee stains, the zombie-like state due to lack of sleep, and the film of powder that perpetually coats that corner of the kitchen counter where you store the formula. They tell you to make sure you communicate with your spouse, to shower the baby with love but not too much, and that you really do need to soak in every single moment because it all moves so quickly. But no one dares mention the soul-crushing anxiety that can encompass every waking moment if you let it.
As a type-A, OCD-diagnosed, perfectionist, have-to-do-it-myself type of person, fatherhood has been difficult at times. Don't get me wrong. It's filled with wonderful moments when he looks in my eyes and grins the gummiest, sweetest grin you've ever seen; when he coos so loudly when I sing to him my favorite vocalises (momma made me mash my m&ms, red leather/yellow leather, et al); and those blissful moments when I tell him I love him and he sinks even deeper into my arms. At that point, I know that I am doing at least one thing right.
But then there are the moments when he literally will not stop screaming, despite the fact that his diaper is clean and his belly is full. There are the moments when you just want one moment for yourself in a slightly selfish way. There are times when you are so determined to be so over-the-top great and do-it-yourself that you do all the things and end up hurting your wife's feelings because she only sees herself as a warm body in the church routine. There are moments when your tunnel-visioned self literally cannot think of something as simple as standing up and walking to assuage the crying, and when your wife finally does that for you, you break down in sobs. It. is. so. hard.
And then there's the issue of dealing with all of this. Yes, I take my me time to run almost every day while I train for my next half, but sometimes that just doesn't do the trick. I've always been one who struggled with voicing my feelings, but I could easily write about them. But lately, not only has it been hard to put my feelings into words, I've struggled with the way I am perceived. It seems that my intent is not always clear on my blog, and I have turned some people away. If that is true for you, then I am sincerely sorry; this is my voice, and it's the only one I know.
Say what you will about millennials needing a safe space, but shouldn't everyone have somewhere where it's ok to speak your mind in a low-judgment arena? I don't claim to be an expert in parenting at all, or really in any area of my life, so the observations I've recorded have just been that - observations. I attempt to add humor to them to defer the anxiety, but then I wind up being misinterpreted and turning more people away. And this leads to more anxiety because I worry about how I'm going to get all these frustrations out {some of you are probably thinking a journal, right?} while still seeking some consolation that it's all going to be ok. It's a vicious cycle.
And it has to end. Parents, we HAVE to stop burning each other at the stake for every transgression that we notice about each other - whether it's recorded on social media or not. Parenthood is tough enough as it is; we don't need to be at odds with each other over the way our babies are posed in a picture, the number of times we feed our babies, or whether or not we post about our babies on social media. Do we see what's happening here, y'all? We are missing out on our blessings because of adults who are acting like children, and we are experiencing more anxiety ourselves as a result.
So here I am. An imperfect dad who struggles with the weight of this burden of raising a God-fearing son in our society. A man who loves his wife fiercely but doesn't always show it in a way that honors her. A friend who worries about the way his friends perceive his heart in all of this. An anxiety sufferer who hopes that at least one of you find comfort in these words. A child of God who prays that He receives the honor & glory in all things.
As a type-A, OCD-diagnosed, perfectionist, have-to-do-it-myself type of person, fatherhood has been difficult at times. Don't get me wrong. It's filled with wonderful moments when he looks in my eyes and grins the gummiest, sweetest grin you've ever seen; when he coos so loudly when I sing to him my favorite vocalises (momma made me mash my m&ms, red leather/yellow leather, et al); and those blissful moments when I tell him I love him and he sinks even deeper into my arms. At that point, I know that I am doing at least one thing right.
But then there are the moments when he literally will not stop screaming, despite the fact that his diaper is clean and his belly is full. There are the moments when you just want one moment for yourself in a slightly selfish way. There are times when you are so determined to be so over-the-top great and do-it-yourself that you do all the things and end up hurting your wife's feelings because she only sees herself as a warm body in the church routine. There are moments when your tunnel-visioned self literally cannot think of something as simple as standing up and walking to assuage the crying, and when your wife finally does that for you, you break down in sobs. It. is. so. hard.
And then there's the issue of dealing with all of this. Yes, I take my me time to run almost every day while I train for my next half, but sometimes that just doesn't do the trick. I've always been one who struggled with voicing my feelings, but I could easily write about them. But lately, not only has it been hard to put my feelings into words, I've struggled with the way I am perceived. It seems that my intent is not always clear on my blog, and I have turned some people away. If that is true for you, then I am sincerely sorry; this is my voice, and it's the only one I know.
Say what you will about millennials needing a safe space, but shouldn't everyone have somewhere where it's ok to speak your mind in a low-judgment arena? I don't claim to be an expert in parenting at all, or really in any area of my life, so the observations I've recorded have just been that - observations. I attempt to add humor to them to defer the anxiety, but then I wind up being misinterpreted and turning more people away. And this leads to more anxiety because I worry about how I'm going to get all these frustrations out {some of you are probably thinking a journal, right?} while still seeking some consolation that it's all going to be ok. It's a vicious cycle.
And it has to end. Parents, we HAVE to stop burning each other at the stake for every transgression that we notice about each other - whether it's recorded on social media or not. Parenthood is tough enough as it is; we don't need to be at odds with each other over the way our babies are posed in a picture, the number of times we feed our babies, or whether or not we post about our babies on social media. Do we see what's happening here, y'all? We are missing out on our blessings because of adults who are acting like children, and we are experiencing more anxiety ourselves as a result.
So here I am. An imperfect dad who struggles with the weight of this burden of raising a God-fearing son in our society. A man who loves his wife fiercely but doesn't always show it in a way that honors her. A friend who worries about the way his friends perceive his heart in all of this. An anxiety sufferer who hopes that at least one of you find comfort in these words. A child of God who prays that He receives the honor & glory in all things.
Thursday, June 30, 2016
color blind
Let me make something abundantly clear before this goes any further: I could not love my son any more. He is my pride and joy, and I will go to battle for him to the ends of the earth. If you've been in touch with me in the last few months, you know that my son doesn't look like me and never will. I couldn't be any more ok with that fact. Regardless of his looks or the color of his skin, he is and always will be my son. Plain and simple.
A lot has been said in the past few years especially about which lives matter and which do not. The reality of this situation is that I know my son will have a tougher go in some areas of life than I did, but I can still equip him to be a man of character, a man who loves the Lord and his family, and a man who is proud to wear this last name of his that will soon be official. People have asked me if we will tell him he's adopted, and I jokingly answer "well if he doesn't know, he may need to get his eyes checked." {Humor in uncomfortable situations is my coping mechanism du jour.}
I've also been asked several times which race he will identify with. Part of our adoption education courses included a session on transracial adoption; we had always been open to the idea. But I guess I never really processed the depth of that question or the underlying sorrow. Because here's the reality y'all. He's a human, end of story. Why can't he identify as being a member of the human race? Why must we look at it through that lens so often in our society? Why can't we see this little brown baby as just a baby who brings his parents so much joy? Why do we have to label every single thing?
I know, I know. In the age of social media outcries and political correctness, this can be a touchy subject. My son is a human who was created in the image of a perfect God. It doesn't matter if he had 11 toes or webbed feet; he would still be the perfect child God had planned for us. {PLEASE don't misread that as "He thinks his child is perfect," because I know he isn't.} If you see the color of my son's skin first before your recognize those beautiful lashes, those chubby cheeks, the big feet, or his infectious grin, then perhaps you need to check your own eyes and check your heart. The truth is, we are all humans. We can all use a little more love, mercy, and grace. And we can start treating each other a lot nicer too.
I also need to apologize / clear the air over a slight ruckus I created on the book o face yesterday in posting about our court date and inviting those who could to attend. We have been asked if we plan on sharing every picture from our journey, to which we responded that we couldn't for the sake of time {seriously, 3.5 months worth x 2 oversharing parents with camera phones = too many pictures to post}. There seems to be a misunderstanding that people deserve or have a right to what has been a very intimate time for us and for our families.
Yes, we have been transparent about the adoption process and journey, partially because we feel society just doesn't have the proper education about it and we desire to be ambassadors of sorts. But we have been far from oversharers. We didn't share each time we got a birth mother summary, each mother who chose someone else and left us brokenhearted, the families we said no to simply because of the situation, leaving us absolutely broken. We haven't shared the nights we simply sat and cried in an empty nursery because of the weight of this journey.
We have not and WILL NOT share the details of our son's journey home or his entry into the world and all that that entailed. That is his and his birth mother's story first and foremost. When he is old enough to comprehend, he will hear that from us; then he can share what he feels others need to know. While we are appreciative and grateful for those who have earnestly prayed for us daily, have donated of their time and resources for fundraisers, and have actually sent us messages of encouragement, no one has a right to this story except for Christ and the 3 people in this home. And if that's not ok with you in the age of oversharing, then perhaps you need to evaluate where you are in our life. We desire to honor Christ in our adoption, not get likes on Facebook.
A lot has been said in the past few years especially about which lives matter and which do not. The reality of this situation is that I know my son will have a tougher go in some areas of life than I did, but I can still equip him to be a man of character, a man who loves the Lord and his family, and a man who is proud to wear this last name of his that will soon be official. People have asked me if we will tell him he's adopted, and I jokingly answer "well if he doesn't know, he may need to get his eyes checked." {Humor in uncomfortable situations is my coping mechanism du jour.}
I've also been asked several times which race he will identify with. Part of our adoption education courses included a session on transracial adoption; we had always been open to the idea. But I guess I never really processed the depth of that question or the underlying sorrow. Because here's the reality y'all. He's a human, end of story. Why can't he identify as being a member of the human race? Why must we look at it through that lens so often in our society? Why can't we see this little brown baby as just a baby who brings his parents so much joy? Why do we have to label every single thing?
I know, I know. In the age of social media outcries and political correctness, this can be a touchy subject. My son is a human who was created in the image of a perfect God. It doesn't matter if he had 11 toes or webbed feet; he would still be the perfect child God had planned for us. {PLEASE don't misread that as "He thinks his child is perfect," because I know he isn't.} If you see the color of my son's skin first before your recognize those beautiful lashes, those chubby cheeks, the big feet, or his infectious grin, then perhaps you need to check your own eyes and check your heart. The truth is, we are all humans. We can all use a little more love, mercy, and grace. And we can start treating each other a lot nicer too.
I also need to apologize / clear the air over a slight ruckus I created on the book o face yesterday in posting about our court date and inviting those who could to attend. We have been asked if we plan on sharing every picture from our journey, to which we responded that we couldn't for the sake of time {seriously, 3.5 months worth x 2 oversharing parents with camera phones = too many pictures to post}. There seems to be a misunderstanding that people deserve or have a right to what has been a very intimate time for us and for our families.
Yes, we have been transparent about the adoption process and journey, partially because we feel society just doesn't have the proper education about it and we desire to be ambassadors of sorts. But we have been far from oversharers. We didn't share each time we got a birth mother summary, each mother who chose someone else and left us brokenhearted, the families we said no to simply because of the situation, leaving us absolutely broken. We haven't shared the nights we simply sat and cried in an empty nursery because of the weight of this journey.
We have not and WILL NOT share the details of our son's journey home or his entry into the world and all that that entailed. That is his and his birth mother's story first and foremost. When he is old enough to comprehend, he will hear that from us; then he can share what he feels others need to know. While we are appreciative and grateful for those who have earnestly prayed for us daily, have donated of their time and resources for fundraisers, and have actually sent us messages of encouragement, no one has a right to this story except for Christ and the 3 people in this home. And if that's not ok with you in the age of oversharing, then perhaps you need to evaluate where you are in our life. We desire to honor Christ in our adoption, not get likes on Facebook.
Saturday, May 28, 2016
an education
I would like to begin by saying that my intent in writing this is not to bash any person, any school, or any system. I am writing to shed light on the harsh realities of my career, which has now included 8 years in 3 schools in both the private and public sector. The realities are the same for each.
48 hours ago, I was arriving at school for my last day with students. My plan for the day was to give my final exam to one last class, make a few parent contacts, collect some signatures on my sign-off sheet, and then kill time with some adult coloring since I had completed all I could at that point. About an hour and a half later, that all changed.
In the high-stakes world of education, a teacher without tenure can easily be non-renewed without explanation. I was the victim of that this week. And before you say, "Well that's what's wrong with tenure; it keeps good teachers out of a job," please know that I have seen and worked with just as many fantastic tenured teachers as excellent non-tenured ones. That's simply the nature of the beast in the world in which I work. I have witnessed teachers who earn their tenure thrive just as much as I have seen others receive their tenure and begin phoning it in. Also know that tenure is not job security. There are teachers who receive tenure that get mistreated to the point of packing it up just as often.
It would be one thing if I were frequently called into the front office for meetings about my job performance not meeting expectations, but that did not happen. I was under the impression that I was doing the job well enough to return next year. In fact, others in supervisory roles over me were under the same impression and were just as shocked as I was that I received that infamous letter of non-renewal. (Side bar: Why do we call it a pink slip when I've never gotten one that's pink?) In fact, parents of students often praised me to my supervisors and one had even gone so far as telling me she was going to try to request me for her next child who would be coming through the high school next year.
To summarize what followed: shock, phone calls to my moving team (shout out to my wonderful wife & fabulous fil for all of their help), packing, and saying goodbye to what I thought was home. Several tears were shed, both out of anger and sorrow. But I packed my toys and headed home. I can hang my hat on the fact that countless colleagues stopped me and told me that I would be missed, that I am a great teacher, and that I always did my job the right way - with integrity. Sometimes it really is the small things.
As a colleague and dear friend asked earlier in the week, "We are told to give feedback, provide strugglers extra help and communicate if in danger of failing. Shouldn't we offer the same to teachers?" One would think that if we expect our students to get this courtesy, our teachers should get the same. So why do we invite teachers to teach 3 different courses in their first year in a building - which means preparing countless lessons, materials, assessments, interventions, and the like - and never intervene if they are in danger of failure? Y'all, I have had colleagues in my building observe me for my techniques. I am halfway to be a Nationally Board Certified Teacher. I am really really good at my job. Why do we send administrators into the classroom to observe and offer feedback that is overall very positive and then non-renew these teachers without the knowledge of the observers? Why are we expected to share our hard work and lessons with other teachers in our subject-area-PLC without their having to work for it? How are some of these same people still around? Who do they know that I don't? Why do we pit teachers against each other into the "in club" and everyone else? These are the questions I have been pondering for the last 2 days.
So here I am, involuntarily searching for a job for the second time in thirteen months. Sometimes this adulting thing is entirely overrated. Here's how you can pray specifically for me and my family: (1) that doors would be opened for interviews with principals, (2) for favor on those interviews, and (3) for discernment for me as I sift through job offers. I want to be in the center of God's will, but I selfishly also want to earn my tenure so I don't have to do this song and dance annually. And guys, let's pray for the state of education. If we want to reform things and be on the forefront of things globally, perhaps we should change the way we value and treat our educators.
48 hours ago, I was arriving at school for my last day with students. My plan for the day was to give my final exam to one last class, make a few parent contacts, collect some signatures on my sign-off sheet, and then kill time with some adult coloring since I had completed all I could at that point. About an hour and a half later, that all changed.
In the high-stakes world of education, a teacher without tenure can easily be non-renewed without explanation. I was the victim of that this week. And before you say, "Well that's what's wrong with tenure; it keeps good teachers out of a job," please know that I have seen and worked with just as many fantastic tenured teachers as excellent non-tenured ones. That's simply the nature of the beast in the world in which I work. I have witnessed teachers who earn their tenure thrive just as much as I have seen others receive their tenure and begin phoning it in. Also know that tenure is not job security. There are teachers who receive tenure that get mistreated to the point of packing it up just as often.
It would be one thing if I were frequently called into the front office for meetings about my job performance not meeting expectations, but that did not happen. I was under the impression that I was doing the job well enough to return next year. In fact, others in supervisory roles over me were under the same impression and were just as shocked as I was that I received that infamous letter of non-renewal. (Side bar: Why do we call it a pink slip when I've never gotten one that's pink?) In fact, parents of students often praised me to my supervisors and one had even gone so far as telling me she was going to try to request me for her next child who would be coming through the high school next year.
To summarize what followed: shock, phone calls to my moving team (shout out to my wonderful wife & fabulous fil for all of their help), packing, and saying goodbye to what I thought was home. Several tears were shed, both out of anger and sorrow. But I packed my toys and headed home. I can hang my hat on the fact that countless colleagues stopped me and told me that I would be missed, that I am a great teacher, and that I always did my job the right way - with integrity. Sometimes it really is the small things.
As a colleague and dear friend asked earlier in the week, "We are told to give feedback, provide strugglers extra help and communicate if in danger of failing. Shouldn't we offer the same to teachers?" One would think that if we expect our students to get this courtesy, our teachers should get the same. So why do we invite teachers to teach 3 different courses in their first year in a building - which means preparing countless lessons, materials, assessments, interventions, and the like - and never intervene if they are in danger of failure? Y'all, I have had colleagues in my building observe me for my techniques. I am halfway to be a Nationally Board Certified Teacher. I am really really good at my job. Why do we send administrators into the classroom to observe and offer feedback that is overall very positive and then non-renew these teachers without the knowledge of the observers? Why are we expected to share our hard work and lessons with other teachers in our subject-area-PLC without their having to work for it? How are some of these same people still around? Who do they know that I don't? Why do we pit teachers against each other into the "in club" and everyone else? These are the questions I have been pondering for the last 2 days.
So here I am, involuntarily searching for a job for the second time in thirteen months. Sometimes this adulting thing is entirely overrated. Here's how you can pray specifically for me and my family: (1) that doors would be opened for interviews with principals, (2) for favor on those interviews, and (3) for discernment for me as I sift through job offers. I want to be in the center of God's will, but I selfishly also want to earn my tenure so I don't have to do this song and dance annually. And guys, let's pray for the state of education. If we want to reform things and be on the forefront of things globally, perhaps we should change the way we value and treat our educators.
Sunday, May 8, 2016
to our birth mother
It's Mother's Day, and you are heavy on my heart today. I wonder what kind of emotions you are experiencing today, and in spite of the joy of this day, my heart breaks for you. You made the bravest choice you could make when you chose to place your baby with us as his forever family. Today my wife celebrates her first Mother's Day, and I rejoice in the joy of parenting with her.
I only know your first name, I've never seen your face, & I've never heard your voice. Yet we share the most special of bonds in this little life the Lord has entrusted to us. But there are so many things I want to ask you, namely what do you want us to tell our son about you? I want to tell you that he is a long, lean snuggle bug who hates sleeping on his back and is adjusting to a swaddle after some time.
Above all, I want to tell you that he is loved. He is fiercely loved by his parents, his grandparents, his aunts, uncles, cousins, friends, and even strangers who've only seen him once. Everyone who meets him tells us how beautiful he is and how he looks so peaceful and happy.
I want to tell you that he was dedicated to the Lord on this Mother's Day. We committed to raise him in a way that will show him Jesus from an early age and to be the Godly examples he needs. He is a precious gift who would not be in our lives were it not for you.
We have prayed for you daily during our adoption process, and we continue to pray specific things over you by name today. It has been such an honor to pray for this little life & for your life as well - who you are becoming, your relationship with the Lord, your relationship with your family.
Today, I pray that you realize how brave you are, that you are loved by your Heavenly Father, and I pray that your heart is full. I pray that you know how valuable you are to this family and. I pray that he never loses sight of the fact that your intense love for him gave him and us what we needed the most - each other. I pray that we can honor you in the choices we make. And I pray that you are at peace with a decision that had to be difficult beyond belief.
"I prayed for this child, and the Lord has granted me what I asked of him. So now I give him to the Lord. For his whole life he will be given over to the Lord." - 1 Samuel 1: 27 - 28
Sunday, May 1, 2016
dad life
Y'all. I'm a dad. As in I have a son. I am one of 2 humans responsible for the well-being of this tiny human. And hey hey, we've all remained safe & sound for 18 days now! Score one for the home team. It still hasn't sunk in that this is all real.
A little over 2 weeks ago, we were traveling to another state to meet this ball of life for the first time. I'll spare you the histrionics of that meeting, but a summary of the emotions can be described as such: nervousness, shock, fear, elation, tears, joy, tears, more fear, tears, and the reality that this is what we've worked for. {Also, more tears.}
Then reality began to sink in, so we did what any normal Millennial couple does: head to Target! Strangely in spite of all we packed, we didn't bring formula. {Praise the Lord for those specials they run where you buy 15 of one product to get a $2 gift card!} We were in a hotel for the first few nights that we were out of state, which is an experience on its own - an even more stressful one when you're carrying a newborn with you.
Our first night included, but was not limited to: multiple attempts at cosleeping because the bassinet just wasn't cutting it, several trips to the conference room on the first floor as to not disturb our neighbors, and a 2 AM Wal-Mart run for gripe water {and an impulse purchase of those amazing month-by-month stickers shaped like neckties} in my pajamas. Regardless of locale, the clientele at the Mart is always intriguing at that hour. He eventually settled into a routine in the hotel before we had to move to the camper, which turned out to be his 4th new home in fewer than 3 weeks.
{Side note in our travels: whoever drew the roads in the state to which we traveled must have been inebriated. Too many twists and turns when a straight line would have been sufficient. And for the love, why would someone make a sharp turn as you crest a steep hill in the woods?}
The camper proved to be the toughest place to stay, even though it was filled with our things, our food, our comforts. Being confined to that small of a space was exhausting. With each passing day, the walls seemed to cave in. We were free to leave the camper, but we were in an unfamiliar area with a newborn, so our options were limited. We ventured out on occasion, but we mainly stayed inside while we waited for the all-clear to head home.
When a child is adopted across state lines, both the birth state and the eventual home state have to communicate and grant approval through the ICPC process. We learned that our packet was headed to our home state within 36 hours of our meeting our son, so we were hopeful that we would get the all clear much sooner than the initial 2-3 week window that we were initially told to anticipate. I was granted a short leave for work, so there would have been a point at which I had to come home regardless, even if that meant my family was not with me.
We knew that Friday was our absolute deadline for having our prayers answered, and as Thursday afternoon rolled around, we began to get antsy. We reached out to our social worker and learned of some specific hangups that I will not mention here for the sake of my family's privacy and safety. But we took to social media to ask our friends to pray for this specific thing, and boom, that piece of the puzzle was in place by the end of the working day. I was overwhelmed with gratitude for our friends who interceded with us. I was humbled by God's goodness.
Friday came, and my anxiety was at its peak. Would it happen? Would the pieces fall into place as needed? Would we have to go grocery shopping again? {Guess what? We did. I won't spoil it. I promise.} In my anxiousness, I pulled out my adult coloring because I didn't have another good book to read with me, and I needed to soothe myself. When I finished my picture, I posted it on instagram with an anxiety-related caption. A dear Godly friend commented "It's happening. TODAY!" I later asked her if that was a specific word that she received from the Lord for us or whether she was speaking that in faith; she responded that it was the latter. My faith tank, sadly, was running on empty. I was in tears at the thought that I would have to leave my family to return to work, and it was barely lunch time. We once again asked our friends and family for a very specific prayer to be answered. I was beside myself with anticipation. We prayed together, and I simply told R that she would have to have faith for me, because I was running on empty. Within minutes of this prayer, we got THE call from our social worker that we were headed home.
We of course hastily packed the cars, loaded up our baby, and headed home. I have never been so happy to see I-65 southbound in my entire life. We got home to elated neighbors, a clean house thanks to our precious family, and more packages for this little man than we knew what to do with. After dropping our luggage, we did what was most important: EAT. In a full circle moment, we revisited the place we ate on our last night as just us. It was purely magical to be home in our space, adjusting to each other.
Then we attempted to find normal. Or something resembling normal. I've gotta say. My little man is a champ. He is such a chill baby unless he's naked and getting his diaper changed. I'm seriously considering investing in a set of stirrups for diaper time, because he will not keep his legs still. Ever. He sleeps really well, and my wife and I have worked out a system in which I take the first feeding and change of the night & she takes the second so I can at least be remotely rested for work the next day. It works for us, but we know it's all unpredictable. What works today may not work tomorrow. And that's ok, because that's pretty much the journey of parenthood.
In my short time in the realm of parenting, I've learned a lot. No one, and I mean NO ONE has it figured out. We can read as many expert-written books, researched blogs, or parenting magazines as we can get our hands on, but we will still never know it all. And guess what, y'all? We don't have to! That's the beauty of parenting. It's all so full of love & grace that we don't have to have all the answers. It's like a game of "Who's Line is it Anyway?" where the rules are made up & the points don't matter. Fellow parents, if you think you've got it all figured out, check your ego at the door and spend some time in the floor playing with your kid. Please. And each and every child is wonderfully unique and different, so what worked for all 17 of the babies on your mom's side may not work for my son. And that is OK! I've also learned that God equips parents to survive on way less sleep than we ever thought imaginable. That's not to say I'm not sleeping at all - seriously, he lets us go at least 4-5 hours in between feedings. He's great. I've also been granted patience when I needed it the most, an increased capacity for love of my son and my rockstar wife, and grace for the moment.
Who cares that I haven't read a physical book in over a week or that there's a stack of ironing that I need to do? Right now, there's a precious one-month old strapped to my chest in my sling while I write this and cry over a weeks-old episode of Grey's. And all is right in my world.
"Children are a gift from the LORD; they are a reward from him." - Psalm 127:3
A little over 2 weeks ago, we were traveling to another state to meet this ball of life for the first time. I'll spare you the histrionics of that meeting, but a summary of the emotions can be described as such: nervousness, shock, fear, elation, tears, joy, tears, more fear, tears, and the reality that this is what we've worked for. {Also, more tears.}
Then reality began to sink in, so we did what any normal Millennial couple does: head to Target! Strangely in spite of all we packed, we didn't bring formula. {Praise the Lord for those specials they run where you buy 15 of one product to get a $2 gift card!} We were in a hotel for the first few nights that we were out of state, which is an experience on its own - an even more stressful one when you're carrying a newborn with you.
Our first night included, but was not limited to: multiple attempts at cosleeping because the bassinet just wasn't cutting it, several trips to the conference room on the first floor as to not disturb our neighbors, and a 2 AM Wal-Mart run for gripe water {and an impulse purchase of those amazing month-by-month stickers shaped like neckties} in my pajamas. Regardless of locale, the clientele at the Mart is always intriguing at that hour. He eventually settled into a routine in the hotel before we had to move to the camper, which turned out to be his 4th new home in fewer than 3 weeks.
{Side note in our travels: whoever drew the roads in the state to which we traveled must have been inebriated. Too many twists and turns when a straight line would have been sufficient. And for the love, why would someone make a sharp turn as you crest a steep hill in the woods?}
The camper proved to be the toughest place to stay, even though it was filled with our things, our food, our comforts. Being confined to that small of a space was exhausting. With each passing day, the walls seemed to cave in. We were free to leave the camper, but we were in an unfamiliar area with a newborn, so our options were limited. We ventured out on occasion, but we mainly stayed inside while we waited for the all-clear to head home.
When a child is adopted across state lines, both the birth state and the eventual home state have to communicate and grant approval through the ICPC process. We learned that our packet was headed to our home state within 36 hours of our meeting our son, so we were hopeful that we would get the all clear much sooner than the initial 2-3 week window that we were initially told to anticipate. I was granted a short leave for work, so there would have been a point at which I had to come home regardless, even if that meant my family was not with me.
We knew that Friday was our absolute deadline for having our prayers answered, and as Thursday afternoon rolled around, we began to get antsy. We reached out to our social worker and learned of some specific hangups that I will not mention here for the sake of my family's privacy and safety. But we took to social media to ask our friends to pray for this specific thing, and boom, that piece of the puzzle was in place by the end of the working day. I was overwhelmed with gratitude for our friends who interceded with us. I was humbled by God's goodness.
Friday came, and my anxiety was at its peak. Would it happen? Would the pieces fall into place as needed? Would we have to go grocery shopping again? {Guess what? We did. I won't spoil it. I promise.} In my anxiousness, I pulled out my adult coloring because I didn't have another good book to read with me, and I needed to soothe myself. When I finished my picture, I posted it on instagram with an anxiety-related caption. A dear Godly friend commented "It's happening. TODAY!" I later asked her if that was a specific word that she received from the Lord for us or whether she was speaking that in faith; she responded that it was the latter. My faith tank, sadly, was running on empty. I was in tears at the thought that I would have to leave my family to return to work, and it was barely lunch time. We once again asked our friends and family for a very specific prayer to be answered. I was beside myself with anticipation. We prayed together, and I simply told R that she would have to have faith for me, because I was running on empty. Within minutes of this prayer, we got THE call from our social worker that we were headed home.
We of course hastily packed the cars, loaded up our baby, and headed home. I have never been so happy to see I-65 southbound in my entire life. We got home to elated neighbors, a clean house thanks to our precious family, and more packages for this little man than we knew what to do with. After dropping our luggage, we did what was most important: EAT. In a full circle moment, we revisited the place we ate on our last night as just us. It was purely magical to be home in our space, adjusting to each other.
Then we attempted to find normal. Or something resembling normal. I've gotta say. My little man is a champ. He is such a chill baby unless he's naked and getting his diaper changed. I'm seriously considering investing in a set of stirrups for diaper time, because he will not keep his legs still. Ever. He sleeps really well, and my wife and I have worked out a system in which I take the first feeding and change of the night & she takes the second so I can at least be remotely rested for work the next day. It works for us, but we know it's all unpredictable. What works today may not work tomorrow. And that's ok, because that's pretty much the journey of parenthood.
In my short time in the realm of parenting, I've learned a lot. No one, and I mean NO ONE has it figured out. We can read as many expert-written books, researched blogs, or parenting magazines as we can get our hands on, but we will still never know it all. And guess what, y'all? We don't have to! That's the beauty of parenting. It's all so full of love & grace that we don't have to have all the answers. It's like a game of "Who's Line is it Anyway?" where the rules are made up & the points don't matter. Fellow parents, if you think you've got it all figured out, check your ego at the door and spend some time in the floor playing with your kid. Please. And each and every child is wonderfully unique and different, so what worked for all 17 of the babies on your mom's side may not work for my son. And that is OK! I've also learned that God equips parents to survive on way less sleep than we ever thought imaginable. That's not to say I'm not sleeping at all - seriously, he lets us go at least 4-5 hours in between feedings. He's great. I've also been granted patience when I needed it the most, an increased capacity for love of my son and my rockstar wife, and grace for the moment.
Who cares that I haven't read a physical book in over a week or that there's a stack of ironing that I need to do? Right now, there's a precious one-month old strapped to my chest in my sling while I write this and cry over a weeks-old episode of Grey's. And all is right in my world.
"Children are a gift from the LORD; they are a reward from him." - Psalm 127:3
Wednesday, April 20, 2016
marathon musings
Adoption is a lot like running a marathon. You complete questionairre after questionairre. You fund raise and fund raise. You pray and you pray. That's the training.
And then you get a call that you've been chosen and have fewer than 72 hours to pack for multiple weeks worth of a stay out of state to pick up this baby that God has given to you. You hit the road for the agency several hours early in case you pass the turn (which you do) and your life changes in an instant when you lay eyes on this precious boy. That's getting to the starting line (especially if it's one of those bigguns with corrals and scattered starting times).
And then you find out your state paperwork that has to be cleared for you to return home has been submitted earlier than you imagined and you think you'll be home in a couple of days. And your hopes escalate really quickly because you think of all the people you can introduce him to before you return to work. Pretty soon you look down at your watch and find you've run the 5K portion in 22:00. Oh. Crap. {Been there!}
And then the phone doesn't ring. And the days pass. Your legs grow lethargic. You realize you've gone through 3/4 of your water pack and have one peanut butter pouch remaining before you hit the half marathon mark. So you cry. And you cry some more. You cry out to God to ease this pain and give you some rest.
You trudge along and walk some because your legs literally cannot face the hills any longer. You realize your friends who have signed up for text updates won't be receiving them as frequently so you get anxious about that. And then you pray for God to move a mountain for you to go home and ease this mounting anxiety. This is miles 14-25, during which you think you will never sign up for another one {spoiler: you will sign up. Probably within weeks of finishing this one}.
And then you realize that you're only 1.3 miles (2K) from the finish line. So you wipe your eyes, blow a mean snot rocket over your shoulder, and you forge ahead. You realize that the time may not be the PR you had hoped for, but you sill accomplished something great. I see the finish line ahead. I'm trusting God to carry me there.
"Brothers, I do not consider myself yet to have taken hold of it. But one thing I do: Forgetting what is behind and straining toward what is ahead, I press on toward the goal to win the prize for which Hod has called me heavenward in Christ Jeaus." - Philippians 3:13-14
Thursday, April 14, 2016
reality
Well, y'all. This is it. Our last few hours of just the two of us. In fewer than 12 hours, we will officially be a party of 3. I get to meet my SON this afternoon! And of course, it's 3:00 am, and I am wide awake with anticipation. So I do what any normal over-sharer does - go to the nursery and blog while praying my phone restore will cause it to suddenly be able to find a signal. {Update: It worked. Hallelu! Can you imagine me without a GPS?} This is real life.
Let me rewind this. At the end of October, our profile went live, and then the reality and fear of waiting set in. No after no after no. But then God. While on our way to celebrate our 4th anniversary (which was exactly a year from the day on which we began this journey), we received an info summary on a birth mother. R was reading the information to me as I drove, and as soon as we got to dinner, I prayed over us before we got out of the car. I felt God stirring in my soul, asking, "Do you trust me completely?" After further prayer & discussion, we agreed to show our profile. Looking back, I realize that I was not as anxious in the waiting with this particular birth mother as I had been in the past.
Fast forward through the weekend to a Monday that started like any other in which the calendar in the kitchen was chocked full of events. I had gotten home from work and was putting away dishes when my phone rang, and it was R. At first her words of "It's us!" confused me, since she was babysitting, and I had a thought that she was calling me with the kids in the background to sing or something (don't ask - I have no justification for this thought process now). When I asked what she meant, she simply replied, "She chose US!" Cue tears upon tears upon tears. Picture D in his fat pants, sliding down the wall rejoicing that our prayers were being answered. Driving to family dinner, I began calling my inner circle & sending frantic "please call me when you can" texts (at red lights of course, because safety) to follow-up the voicemails that followed the missed calls. My favorite reaction was one of our dearest friends whose voice got higher and higher with each word she spoke/screamed. It was truly fantastic.
We had to keep the news under wraps for a short time and could only tell the people who had to know - our families, close friends who had been praying with us earnestly, our supervisors at work. While I wanted to shout from the rooftops our good news, I knew that I could not because of the legal process. We began receiving more information from our social worker & making our plans to travel out of state. I am grateful for an awesome school district who granted me a mini baby leave for travel, bonding, & settling. I am thankful for administrators who have loved on us & who held candid conversations about the gospel with me that really did my heart good. I am thankful for my wife's school who will allow her to return to the classroom in the fall.
In the past 60 hours, our washer has seen more cycles of sanitize than in the entire 7 years it's been used. We've run errands and met up with friends who had goodies for us. We've packed and overpacked - and shockingly enough, edited some of the packed items. We've written our final payment check to the adoption agency (#debtfree). We've received an overflow of love and support from our friends and family - sentimental books with inscriptions that made me cry, bottles from friends who had plenty and knew we only had 5, diapers and wipes, onesies that are so cute I just squeal when I look at them, money to help with travel expenses as we will be out of state for a time, prayers, prayers, prayers, shoulders to lean on, and so much more. We've gotten car seats installed (spoiler alert - neither as easy as it looks nor as complicated as it was in the '80s). We've packed our diaper bags, which may or may not have caused a mini-meltdown on my behalf ("I have no idea what I'm doing, and storing things in nooks & crannies is my thing!"). Oddly, we haven't cleaned the house or ironed, two of my favorite chores; I have already said I wouldn't be ashamed or offended to pass these off to anyone who offered.
We have rejoiced over God's goodness, his provision, & his timing. Guys, we shouldn't be able to adopt debt free. But God. Every single time we needed funds, he provided. Every single time we needed comfort after a broken experience, he sent a reminder of his love for us. Every time I've gotten outside of my head and stopped listening to his heart, he has brought peace. He provided a child within a year of our filing date - an anomaly in the adoption world.
He provided so many reminders of the perfection of his timing. We received information on this baby on our anniversary. We celebrated the traditional anniversary gift of fruit by planting an apple tree in the backyard over spring break. We later discovered that we planted it ON our baby's birth day and were basically making the final purchase when he was born. I get chills every time I think of that and the way God sent a reminder that he is faithful to fulfill his promises to us.
There are so many details I want to share with you all, but I cannot at this time. When he is officially ours in our home state, know that your news feeds will be blown up with pictures and stories of this precious gift (someone remind me I used that phrase when I'm covered in puke & cleaning up a blowout diaper!). Here are some specific things you can join with us in prayer over: 1. That our ICPC packet will clear before Friday, 4/22, so that we can all return home together as a family of 3. 2. Safe travels for us today and for my in-laws as they bring the camper for us to stay in. 3. Restful time of bonding with our baby & adjust to life as the three of us.
I cannot wait to see where God takes this little one & the way that he has received & will continue to receive all the glory. May the decisions we make and the way we raise our son be indicative of his love for us & the way that he chose to adopt us into HIS family. Friends, this has been a crazy ride, but I have a feeling that that was just the first loop around the track. Thank you for your support & prayer. And thank you for reading the random ramblings from my heart.
Let me rewind this. At the end of October, our profile went live, and then the reality and fear of waiting set in. No after no after no. But then God. While on our way to celebrate our 4th anniversary (which was exactly a year from the day on which we began this journey), we received an info summary on a birth mother. R was reading the information to me as I drove, and as soon as we got to dinner, I prayed over us before we got out of the car. I felt God stirring in my soul, asking, "Do you trust me completely?" After further prayer & discussion, we agreed to show our profile. Looking back, I realize that I was not as anxious in the waiting with this particular birth mother as I had been in the past.
Fast forward through the weekend to a Monday that started like any other in which the calendar in the kitchen was chocked full of events. I had gotten home from work and was putting away dishes when my phone rang, and it was R. At first her words of "It's us!" confused me, since she was babysitting, and I had a thought that she was calling me with the kids in the background to sing or something (don't ask - I have no justification for this thought process now). When I asked what she meant, she simply replied, "She chose US!" Cue tears upon tears upon tears. Picture D in his fat pants, sliding down the wall rejoicing that our prayers were being answered. Driving to family dinner, I began calling my inner circle & sending frantic "please call me when you can" texts (at red lights of course, because safety) to follow-up the voicemails that followed the missed calls. My favorite reaction was one of our dearest friends whose voice got higher and higher with each word she spoke/screamed. It was truly fantastic.
We had to keep the news under wraps for a short time and could only tell the people who had to know - our families, close friends who had been praying with us earnestly, our supervisors at work. While I wanted to shout from the rooftops our good news, I knew that I could not because of the legal process. We began receiving more information from our social worker & making our plans to travel out of state. I am grateful for an awesome school district who granted me a mini baby leave for travel, bonding, & settling. I am thankful for administrators who have loved on us & who held candid conversations about the gospel with me that really did my heart good. I am thankful for my wife's school who will allow her to return to the classroom in the fall.
In the past 60 hours, our washer has seen more cycles of sanitize than in the entire 7 years it's been used. We've run errands and met up with friends who had goodies for us. We've packed and overpacked - and shockingly enough, edited some of the packed items. We've written our final payment check to the adoption agency (#debtfree). We've received an overflow of love and support from our friends and family - sentimental books with inscriptions that made me cry, bottles from friends who had plenty and knew we only had 5, diapers and wipes, onesies that are so cute I just squeal when I look at them, money to help with travel expenses as we will be out of state for a time, prayers, prayers, prayers, shoulders to lean on, and so much more. We've gotten car seats installed (spoiler alert - neither as easy as it looks nor as complicated as it was in the '80s). We've packed our diaper bags, which may or may not have caused a mini-meltdown on my behalf ("I have no idea what I'm doing, and storing things in nooks & crannies is my thing!"). Oddly, we haven't cleaned the house or ironed, two of my favorite chores; I have already said I wouldn't be ashamed or offended to pass these off to anyone who offered.
We have rejoiced over God's goodness, his provision, & his timing. Guys, we shouldn't be able to adopt debt free. But God. Every single time we needed funds, he provided. Every single time we needed comfort after a broken experience, he sent a reminder of his love for us. Every time I've gotten outside of my head and stopped listening to his heart, he has brought peace. He provided a child within a year of our filing date - an anomaly in the adoption world.
He provided so many reminders of the perfection of his timing. We received information on this baby on our anniversary. We celebrated the traditional anniversary gift of fruit by planting an apple tree in the backyard over spring break. We later discovered that we planted it ON our baby's birth day and were basically making the final purchase when he was born. I get chills every time I think of that and the way God sent a reminder that he is faithful to fulfill his promises to us.
There are so many details I want to share with you all, but I cannot at this time. When he is officially ours in our home state, know that your news feeds will be blown up with pictures and stories of this precious gift (someone remind me I used that phrase when I'm covered in puke & cleaning up a blowout diaper!). Here are some specific things you can join with us in prayer over: 1. That our ICPC packet will clear before Friday, 4/22, so that we can all return home together as a family of 3. 2. Safe travels for us today and for my in-laws as they bring the camper for us to stay in. 3. Restful time of bonding with our baby & adjust to life as the three of us.
I cannot wait to see where God takes this little one & the way that he has received & will continue to receive all the glory. May the decisions we make and the way we raise our son be indicative of his love for us & the way that he chose to adopt us into HIS family. Friends, this has been a crazy ride, but I have a feeling that that was just the first loop around the track. Thank you for your support & prayer. And thank you for reading the random ramblings from my heart.
Thursday, March 31, 2016
parisian papa
I have a confession. I love parenting books. Like love love them. You're right, i don't have kids yet. But as we could literally be matched any day now, I want to be prepared. One of the weirdest things about adoption is that we don't get a typical 9-month gestation period. Next week will mark a year since filing our application. That's a long time to wait, but we also know that this is not atypical for adoptive families. Since it gives us a good bit of time to prepare, sometimes the nesting comes in phases - oooh, let's organize all the things today, rearrange the closet next week, but then not touch it for a couple of months lest I have a meltdown. It's really weird, y'all.
In the meantime, I am trying to do as much research before hand as possible. I realize that there is no one-size-fits-all method to parenting, and I am aware that even within the same family, different children have to be parented differently. With that being said, I think it's wise to have a quiver full of strategies that I can employ when needed. Here comes Pamela Druckerman's Bringing up Bebe. The Mrs. had read this last summer and told me how much I would enjoy it, so it had been on my radar for a while. Thanks to an amazon card, i finally decided to take the plunge and purchase this one - a rarity around here. The linked version has been expanded & updated to included Bebe Day by Day: 100 Keys to French Parenting, which can be purchased separately if you desire.
Druckerman is a US journalist who was eventually stationed outside of Paris, fell in love, and the rest is history. While pregnant with her first child, she began noticing how not unpleasant the children in France were in comparison to children "back home." Intrigued, she placed a notebook in her diaper bag and began taking notes everywhere & interviewing the mothers she encountered on what worked for them and what didn't.
There are some things that make French childcare very different from American childcare. Chiefly, there are numerous government-subsidized "day cares" of sorts called creches, in which mothers begin petitioning for placement as early as 3 months into their pregnancies. Children then go to free government preschools until they are school age. The caregivers at these schools are revered, trained well (only 30 of 500 who take the initial test to be admitted into the program are accepted for the year-long certification process), and excellent at what they do. The focus during these early years is not academics - children will learn to read in elementary school - but basic socialization, manners, and general life skills. For the French, earlier is not always better. They are perfectly fine with a 5-year-old not reading as long as he or she understands the basic cadre (framework) of the home and is generally polite to adults (hello, goodbye, looking in the eye, etc.). Another startling difference is the maternity leave available - 3 months PAID. We all know, especially in this election cycle, how behind the US is in terms of family leave at a birth, but this gap was startling.
In terms of core values, the French value independent children who are self-sufficient at an early age as opposed to the smother mothers, helicopter parents, and newly-dubbed lawnmower parents we often see in America today. The author cites her amazement when, one morning while she is ill, her 6-year-old happily and without direction prepares breakfast for the family, "but you have to do the coffee." French parents realize that one day, their precious ones will leave the nest and will need to be able to survive without them; they are merely starting the prep work early. They also believe that it is good for children to learn patience and how to occupy themselves when bored. They shouldn't always get what they want when they want (parents abide by a few firm "no" responses with freedom given in the small details) nor should they be constantly engaged. They believe that a little boredom teaches self-sufficiency and ultimately perseverance.
Another startling difference is how early French children "do their nights," meaning sleep through the night. Parents believe that it can be harmful to go in and rescue a child who is sleeping every time he or she whimpers in the night, so they recommend observing the child and knowing the specific cries (namely, the one meaning, "Oops I crapped my pants!") so you can respond accordingly. Like adults, babies sleep in cycles, and they sometimes stir in between those cycles; if parents run in to rescue them each time they stir, they will never learn to connect those on their own. The French also argue that it's ok for a baby to be hungry at night, as adults often wake up hungry in the night before returning to sleep. They believe that babies should eat, like adults, at meal time primarily with no snacking in between. Pediatricians will recommend the "cry it out" method if a baby still isn't "doing his nights" by four months old.
The French believe firmly in the idea of "adult time" at night. Their children are expected to go to bed or away from the family room so parents can enjoy each other alone. They also make sure that their dens are distinctly separate from the play room; this isn't an area for toys to lie in wait. The demarcation they create allows the child to make the distinction between adult time and parent time. Essentially, it is a life of balance - parent, spouse, employee. Most studies and reports indicate that French adults are more stable, more secure, and more confident than their American counterparts.
Say what you will about the French and their stuck-up reputations. They have several things figured out in the realm of parenting. If our mission as parents is creating independent humans, I think we can learn a lot from the French ideal.
In the meantime, I am trying to do as much research before hand as possible. I realize that there is no one-size-fits-all method to parenting, and I am aware that even within the same family, different children have to be parented differently. With that being said, I think it's wise to have a quiver full of strategies that I can employ when needed. Here comes Pamela Druckerman's Bringing up Bebe. The Mrs. had read this last summer and told me how much I would enjoy it, so it had been on my radar for a while. Thanks to an amazon card, i finally decided to take the plunge and purchase this one - a rarity around here. The linked version has been expanded & updated to included Bebe Day by Day: 100 Keys to French Parenting, which can be purchased separately if you desire.
Druckerman is a US journalist who was eventually stationed outside of Paris, fell in love, and the rest is history. While pregnant with her first child, she began noticing how not unpleasant the children in France were in comparison to children "back home." Intrigued, she placed a notebook in her diaper bag and began taking notes everywhere & interviewing the mothers she encountered on what worked for them and what didn't.
There are some things that make French childcare very different from American childcare. Chiefly, there are numerous government-subsidized "day cares" of sorts called creches, in which mothers begin petitioning for placement as early as 3 months into their pregnancies. Children then go to free government preschools until they are school age. The caregivers at these schools are revered, trained well (only 30 of 500 who take the initial test to be admitted into the program are accepted for the year-long certification process), and excellent at what they do. The focus during these early years is not academics - children will learn to read in elementary school - but basic socialization, manners, and general life skills. For the French, earlier is not always better. They are perfectly fine with a 5-year-old not reading as long as he or she understands the basic cadre (framework) of the home and is generally polite to adults (hello, goodbye, looking in the eye, etc.). Another startling difference is the maternity leave available - 3 months PAID. We all know, especially in this election cycle, how behind the US is in terms of family leave at a birth, but this gap was startling.
In terms of core values, the French value independent children who are self-sufficient at an early age as opposed to the smother mothers, helicopter parents, and newly-dubbed lawnmower parents we often see in America today. The author cites her amazement when, one morning while she is ill, her 6-year-old happily and without direction prepares breakfast for the family, "but you have to do the coffee." French parents realize that one day, their precious ones will leave the nest and will need to be able to survive without them; they are merely starting the prep work early. They also believe that it is good for children to learn patience and how to occupy themselves when bored. They shouldn't always get what they want when they want (parents abide by a few firm "no" responses with freedom given in the small details) nor should they be constantly engaged. They believe that a little boredom teaches self-sufficiency and ultimately perseverance.
Another startling difference is how early French children "do their nights," meaning sleep through the night. Parents believe that it can be harmful to go in and rescue a child who is sleeping every time he or she whimpers in the night, so they recommend observing the child and knowing the specific cries (namely, the one meaning, "Oops I crapped my pants!") so you can respond accordingly. Like adults, babies sleep in cycles, and they sometimes stir in between those cycles; if parents run in to rescue them each time they stir, they will never learn to connect those on their own. The French also argue that it's ok for a baby to be hungry at night, as adults often wake up hungry in the night before returning to sleep. They believe that babies should eat, like adults, at meal time primarily with no snacking in between. Pediatricians will recommend the "cry it out" method if a baby still isn't "doing his nights" by four months old.
The French believe firmly in the idea of "adult time" at night. Their children are expected to go to bed or away from the family room so parents can enjoy each other alone. They also make sure that their dens are distinctly separate from the play room; this isn't an area for toys to lie in wait. The demarcation they create allows the child to make the distinction between adult time and parent time. Essentially, it is a life of balance - parent, spouse, employee. Most studies and reports indicate that French adults are more stable, more secure, and more confident than their American counterparts.
Say what you will about the French and their stuck-up reputations. They have several things figured out in the realm of parenting. If our mission as parents is creating independent humans, I think we can learn a lot from the French ideal.
Saturday, March 26, 2016
top twenty
Y'all, adulating it so.very.tough. If I were to go back and tell fat baby Derek anything, it would be, "Slow down! Enjoy all this!" There are just so many responsibilities, places to be, things to do. Throw in a marriage, a semblance of having adult-y relationships, and trying to keep your own bucket full - or at least not bone-dry - and there are some things that get neglected. Namely, blogging. I've read - and listened - a lot this year. 20 so far in 2016, which is far beyond what I expected. So rather than do 20 individual posts - because all 5 of you don't need that much reading material - I decided to do a ranking of what I've read with my thoughts on each. As always, I've linked each work to its Amazon listing. Be sure to check out #readdoopsread2016 for "play-by-play" updates into our reading for the year.
1. Run of His Life - Jeffrey Toobin. If you haven't been living under a rock, you know how much this season of American Crime Story has overtaken pop culture. If you pay attention to the opening credits, you'll see this book cited as the basis for this season. I remember being enthralled with this case as an 8-year-old, despite the fact that I didn't understand the implications of it all. Toobin, a Harvard Law grad who covered the case when it happened, does a phenomenal job of explaining the ins and outs of this landmark case. But it is not for the faint of heart. At 450 pages of tiny, single-spaced print, this one took me 3 weeks. Worth every second.
2. Reconstructing Amelia - Kimberly McCreight. I have a confession. I have a slight obsession with tales set in high-school. Maybe it's my profession, but there is something weirdly interesting about the intricacies of the social circles of that age. We find a tale of girl gangs, hatred, seeds of gossip being planted, and the ultimate price that the victims pay when the mean girls win. Woven with insight into the group, flashbacks, and sadly accurate dialogue, this one was heartbreakingly wonderful.
3. A Man Called Ove - Fredrik Backman. At the recommendation of one of my most trusted book nerds, I gave this one a whirl. I can't fully say how glad I am that I did. I laughed, I identified with sad Ove, and I wept at the end. Ove is the man who we all fear we will become in some ways yet deeply admire for other reasons. My biggest complaint was the inconsistency of the language - I'm an admitted snob about what I call "beautiful prose" - but I have to remind myself this was translated form Swedish. If you have yet to read this, add it to your list today.
4. The Good Girl - Mary Kubica. While at first, I was billing this as Gone Girl: Lite, I eventually changed my tune. In a classic he said-she said back and forth, we are taken on a whirlwind of an abduction case. I will say, since the abducted is held in a cabin in the woods, that I don't recommend that you read it while in a cabin in a secluded town. Not that I know anyone who did that. Just a warning. An exceptionally written thriller with one heck of an epilogue.
5. After You - Jojo Moyes. A beautifully written sequel to Me Before You, so read that first if you want this to make sense. Moyes explores what it really feels like to move on after a tragedy while also investigating the way people get treated by others following the event. Also, this was not nearly as wrecking as its predecessor. I managed to not weep my eyes dry with this one.
6. Everything I Never Told You - Celeste Ng. When the middle child of an immigrant family goes missing and is eventually found dead, the effects of the trauma are far reaching. Ng expertly weaves a tale that shows how a tragedy can effect each family member differently. With flashbacks and chapters that focus on different family members throughout, she keeps the reader engaged.
7. Orphan #8 - Kim van Alkemade. When a young girl in 1920s New York is sent to a Hebrew home for orphans and is subjected to rounds of medical tests that alter her life permanently, she has a chance at redemption when she becomes a nurse. When the doctor who performed these experiments on her is suddenly her patient 30 years later, she has the ultimate decision to make in light of revenge or forgiveness. While I'm not typically into historical fiction or any work of fiction that isn't considered "modern" in my book, I really enjoyed the places that this book took the reader in location and in spirit.
8. More than Happy - Serena Miller. I'm a hippy at heart. Homemade, voodoo oils, crunchy granola, cloth diapering - these are my bread and butter. One of my great friends recommended this on the premise that my wife & I would get a lot out of it. While we are still waiting to be matched with our baby, I think it's never too soon to begin researching parenting strategies. The Amish have a lot of wisdom in the way they go about raising their children. They believe in the importance of a familial infrastructure, instilling respect and values from day one, and that less is more. I will purchase this book for my personal library. And that is a huge deal.
9. Sounds Like Me - Sara Bareilles. I love me some Sara B. I own all of her albums and have seen her live, a memory that I will always cherish because I remember how delightfully real she was on that stage. And she is supremely talented. Sara (whose last name always requires a google visit before typing) takes us on a journey of her life so far, backed by the lyrics of her songs and telling what they meant to her at the time. I heard her throughout and was left thankful for all she has done for music. (Side bar - if you follow one celebrity on twitter, it needs to be her.)
10. Before He Finds Her - Michael Kardos. Any time an audio reader tries accents from backwoods West Virginia, I chuckle. I chuckled profusely at times. The basic premise lies in a young girl who escaped 15 years ago when her father murdered her mother. He was never found, and she entered "witness protection" with her aunt and uncle, her only living relatives. While living in constant fear that he will find her, she could never attend school, have her photo taken, or have much contact with the outside world. When she learns she is pregnant, she wants to find her father so she can make peace with her past. What she finds in the process makes her question everything she has ever believed as truth. While it was billed as a thriller, I wouldn't go that far. Maybe "kiddie coaster" would suffice.
11. The Inner Circle - Brad Meltzer. The wife & I discovered the 3rd book in this trilogy at the end of last year and read it on a road trip. It was excellent, so we picked up with the beginning. It's essentially a fictional take on what I think is a not-so-fictional secret society that controls the presidency. Meltzer is a gifted story-teller, and he knows his history; it is evident here.
12. The Fifth Assassin - Brad Metlzer. See above.
13. The Cuckoo's Calling - Robert Galbraith. JK. It's JK Rowling. Cormoran Strike is the British Alex Cross minus the good looks. An overweight amputee injured in Afghanistan, he is now a private investigator. In the initial book of the series, he is investigating the alleged suicide of a supermodel, affectionately known as Cuckoo. Personally, I don't think the series would be as successful were Jo's name not attached to it. It's decent as a crime novel type series, but I am not obsessed with it in the way I am with Potter. Also, Jo has a potty mouth we never knew existed.
14. Where We Belong - Hoda Kotb. I.heart.Hodawoman. Here, she tells the tales of various people - some famous, others not so much - who overcame obstacles to end up - you guessed it - where they belong. I listened to this one, which she read, so I enjoyed hearing her. It was not particularly thrilling or enlightening though.
15. The Position - Meg Wolitzer. Meg's The Interestings will forever be one of my top novels of all time, and I love the narratives she weaves. But this was kooky. The basic premise is that a progressive couple in the 70s writes a kamasutra of sorts and invents a new "position." When their children discover the book - which has illustrations of the couple - and read it, the impact is far-reaching for all of them and effects each of them differently. If you're even remotely a prude, steer clear of this one.
16. Killing Reagan - Bill O'Reilly. I love the Killing series. I love the research and insight that Bill brings to various assassinations in our history. But this one just fell flat for me. All I learned was that Ronald was a player in her early days and his kids were kinda nuts. Nancy is still a class act.
17. The Innocent Killer - Michael Griesbach. If you followed Making a Murderer on Netflix (I didn't, but I did catch the Dateline special), then you will appreciate this book written by one of the lead prosecutors in the case. The first half of the book focused on the wrongful rape conviction handed down to Stephen Avery, and Griesbach was outraged at the injustice in that case. In all honesty, I was too. In the latter portion of the book, he dives into the murder case around which the documentary centered. The evidence he presents in the book - and from what I've been told, he was one of the corrupt ones - points straight to Avery unfortunately. This was a quick read, but it was not fantastic. However, it was heartbreaking that our justice system is not in fact just.
18. How I Shed my Skin - Jim Grimsley. As an adoptive dad open to transracial adoption, I was hopeful that this would be a useful read. The author grew up in the racist south and learned to overcome the lessons that were ingrained in him from an early age. What I hoped I would get was an honest approach to the race issue that I could share with others in the future. What I got was a memoir about a man whose story I was not entirely excited to learn.
19. The Martian - Andy Weir. I wanted this one to be good. I read the hype. I listened to everyone talk it up. But it just did not deliver for me. I enjoyed the math bits, but the science talk was just too much. I wanted character growth, and I ultimately got depressed. Although the audiobook reader was fabulous at the NASA engineer's voice. And geez, the language was over the top.
20. The Children's Crusade - Ann Packer. I have a confession. I judge books by their covers. And I am a cover art snob. If it's pretty, I'm intrigued; if it's ugly, I don't even consider it. This cover art drew me in in some strange way. The book follows couple and their coming-of-age teenagers in San Francisco. I am obsessed with coming of age for some weird reason - maybe because I was a bit of a late bloomer myself? The book focused mainly on the effect of divorce on the couple's now-adult children. I spent a week listening to this, and frankly, I am angry that I can't have that week back. While discussing this one with a friend who had also read it, she said she desired more character growth as they were all very static. Few things are as unfortunate as a static person who isn't real.
I wish I could say this is the last time that I won't blog each book, but let's face it y'all, life is busy. Hope you'll still come back when I've blogged again.
1. Run of His Life - Jeffrey Toobin. If you haven't been living under a rock, you know how much this season of American Crime Story has overtaken pop culture. If you pay attention to the opening credits, you'll see this book cited as the basis for this season. I remember being enthralled with this case as an 8-year-old, despite the fact that I didn't understand the implications of it all. Toobin, a Harvard Law grad who covered the case when it happened, does a phenomenal job of explaining the ins and outs of this landmark case. But it is not for the faint of heart. At 450 pages of tiny, single-spaced print, this one took me 3 weeks. Worth every second.
2. Reconstructing Amelia - Kimberly McCreight. I have a confession. I have a slight obsession with tales set in high-school. Maybe it's my profession, but there is something weirdly interesting about the intricacies of the social circles of that age. We find a tale of girl gangs, hatred, seeds of gossip being planted, and the ultimate price that the victims pay when the mean girls win. Woven with insight into the group, flashbacks, and sadly accurate dialogue, this one was heartbreakingly wonderful.
3. A Man Called Ove - Fredrik Backman. At the recommendation of one of my most trusted book nerds, I gave this one a whirl. I can't fully say how glad I am that I did. I laughed, I identified with sad Ove, and I wept at the end. Ove is the man who we all fear we will become in some ways yet deeply admire for other reasons. My biggest complaint was the inconsistency of the language - I'm an admitted snob about what I call "beautiful prose" - but I have to remind myself this was translated form Swedish. If you have yet to read this, add it to your list today.
4. The Good Girl - Mary Kubica. While at first, I was billing this as Gone Girl: Lite, I eventually changed my tune. In a classic he said-she said back and forth, we are taken on a whirlwind of an abduction case. I will say, since the abducted is held in a cabin in the woods, that I don't recommend that you read it while in a cabin in a secluded town. Not that I know anyone who did that. Just a warning. An exceptionally written thriller with one heck of an epilogue.
5. After You - Jojo Moyes. A beautifully written sequel to Me Before You, so read that first if you want this to make sense. Moyes explores what it really feels like to move on after a tragedy while also investigating the way people get treated by others following the event. Also, this was not nearly as wrecking as its predecessor. I managed to not weep my eyes dry with this one.
6. Everything I Never Told You - Celeste Ng. When the middle child of an immigrant family goes missing and is eventually found dead, the effects of the trauma are far reaching. Ng expertly weaves a tale that shows how a tragedy can effect each family member differently. With flashbacks and chapters that focus on different family members throughout, she keeps the reader engaged.
7. Orphan #8 - Kim van Alkemade. When a young girl in 1920s New York is sent to a Hebrew home for orphans and is subjected to rounds of medical tests that alter her life permanently, she has a chance at redemption when she becomes a nurse. When the doctor who performed these experiments on her is suddenly her patient 30 years later, she has the ultimate decision to make in light of revenge or forgiveness. While I'm not typically into historical fiction or any work of fiction that isn't considered "modern" in my book, I really enjoyed the places that this book took the reader in location and in spirit.
8. More than Happy - Serena Miller. I'm a hippy at heart. Homemade, voodoo oils, crunchy granola, cloth diapering - these are my bread and butter. One of my great friends recommended this on the premise that my wife & I would get a lot out of it. While we are still waiting to be matched with our baby, I think it's never too soon to begin researching parenting strategies. The Amish have a lot of wisdom in the way they go about raising their children. They believe in the importance of a familial infrastructure, instilling respect and values from day one, and that less is more. I will purchase this book for my personal library. And that is a huge deal.
9. Sounds Like Me - Sara Bareilles. I love me some Sara B. I own all of her albums and have seen her live, a memory that I will always cherish because I remember how delightfully real she was on that stage. And she is supremely talented. Sara (whose last name always requires a google visit before typing) takes us on a journey of her life so far, backed by the lyrics of her songs and telling what they meant to her at the time. I heard her throughout and was left thankful for all she has done for music. (Side bar - if you follow one celebrity on twitter, it needs to be her.)
10. Before He Finds Her - Michael Kardos. Any time an audio reader tries accents from backwoods West Virginia, I chuckle. I chuckled profusely at times. The basic premise lies in a young girl who escaped 15 years ago when her father murdered her mother. He was never found, and she entered "witness protection" with her aunt and uncle, her only living relatives. While living in constant fear that he will find her, she could never attend school, have her photo taken, or have much contact with the outside world. When she learns she is pregnant, she wants to find her father so she can make peace with her past. What she finds in the process makes her question everything she has ever believed as truth. While it was billed as a thriller, I wouldn't go that far. Maybe "kiddie coaster" would suffice.
11. The Inner Circle - Brad Meltzer. The wife & I discovered the 3rd book in this trilogy at the end of last year and read it on a road trip. It was excellent, so we picked up with the beginning. It's essentially a fictional take on what I think is a not-so-fictional secret society that controls the presidency. Meltzer is a gifted story-teller, and he knows his history; it is evident here.
12. The Fifth Assassin - Brad Metlzer. See above.
13. The Cuckoo's Calling - Robert Galbraith. JK. It's JK Rowling. Cormoran Strike is the British Alex Cross minus the good looks. An overweight amputee injured in Afghanistan, he is now a private investigator. In the initial book of the series, he is investigating the alleged suicide of a supermodel, affectionately known as Cuckoo. Personally, I don't think the series would be as successful were Jo's name not attached to it. It's decent as a crime novel type series, but I am not obsessed with it in the way I am with Potter. Also, Jo has a potty mouth we never knew existed.
14. Where We Belong - Hoda Kotb. I.heart.Hodawoman. Here, she tells the tales of various people - some famous, others not so much - who overcame obstacles to end up - you guessed it - where they belong. I listened to this one, which she read, so I enjoyed hearing her. It was not particularly thrilling or enlightening though.
15. The Position - Meg Wolitzer. Meg's The Interestings will forever be one of my top novels of all time, and I love the narratives she weaves. But this was kooky. The basic premise is that a progressive couple in the 70s writes a kamasutra of sorts and invents a new "position." When their children discover the book - which has illustrations of the couple - and read it, the impact is far-reaching for all of them and effects each of them differently. If you're even remotely a prude, steer clear of this one.
16. Killing Reagan - Bill O'Reilly. I love the Killing series. I love the research and insight that Bill brings to various assassinations in our history. But this one just fell flat for me. All I learned was that Ronald was a player in her early days and his kids were kinda nuts. Nancy is still a class act.
17. The Innocent Killer - Michael Griesbach. If you followed Making a Murderer on Netflix (I didn't, but I did catch the Dateline special), then you will appreciate this book written by one of the lead prosecutors in the case. The first half of the book focused on the wrongful rape conviction handed down to Stephen Avery, and Griesbach was outraged at the injustice in that case. In all honesty, I was too. In the latter portion of the book, he dives into the murder case around which the documentary centered. The evidence he presents in the book - and from what I've been told, he was one of the corrupt ones - points straight to Avery unfortunately. This was a quick read, but it was not fantastic. However, it was heartbreaking that our justice system is not in fact just.
18. How I Shed my Skin - Jim Grimsley. As an adoptive dad open to transracial adoption, I was hopeful that this would be a useful read. The author grew up in the racist south and learned to overcome the lessons that were ingrained in him from an early age. What I hoped I would get was an honest approach to the race issue that I could share with others in the future. What I got was a memoir about a man whose story I was not entirely excited to learn.
19. The Martian - Andy Weir. I wanted this one to be good. I read the hype. I listened to everyone talk it up. But it just did not deliver for me. I enjoyed the math bits, but the science talk was just too much. I wanted character growth, and I ultimately got depressed. Although the audiobook reader was fabulous at the NASA engineer's voice. And geez, the language was over the top.
20. The Children's Crusade - Ann Packer. I have a confession. I judge books by their covers. And I am a cover art snob. If it's pretty, I'm intrigued; if it's ugly, I don't even consider it. This cover art drew me in in some strange way. The book follows couple and their coming-of-age teenagers in San Francisco. I am obsessed with coming of age for some weird reason - maybe because I was a bit of a late bloomer myself? The book focused mainly on the effect of divorce on the couple's now-adult children. I spent a week listening to this, and frankly, I am angry that I can't have that week back. While discussing this one with a friend who had also read it, she said she desired more character growth as they were all very static. Few things are as unfortunate as a static person who isn't real.
I wish I could say this is the last time that I won't blog each book, but let's face it y'all, life is busy. Hope you'll still come back when I've blogged again.
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