eras

For the better part of the last 3 years, I have been in a very dark place. Friendships have been hard. Marriage has been HARD. Parenting has been full of tears, frustrations, and near hopelessness. If you know me well, you know that my younger cherub has not been the easiest to parent. She is hard-headed (don't know anyone like that), fiercely independent (again, don't know anyone like that), and sometimes just a lot to handle (are you sensing the same theme I am?). Sleep training was hard, potty training continues to not be a cakewalk, eating was a struggle until we began early intervention, and in general I just struggled to enjoy being her dad. 

Every time an era ended, I would silently rejoice and think, "Phew! One more hurdle done and closer to her being an adult." In the trenches of it all, it was just so hard. I can't tell you how many times I told my therapist, "I know I'm not supposed to wish her life away, and everyone keeps telling me I will miss this, but right now I will not miss ____." And it's true. I am a fairly sentimental and emotional person, yet I was constantly in a mindset of "welp, that's over; no love lost." But this weekend, I had one of the first moments in a while of almost mourning the end of something. We sold our changing table this weekend, and I was a little sad. [This changing table was special because we had bought it on consignment the weekend we were supposed to bring home our Bennett before his birth mother decided to parent instead. It wasn't perfect, but it was loved.] And now for the first time in 8 years, the Dupuis home doesn't have a changing table in it. I've been full of emotions about it all. We are entering into a new phase of our parenting journey.

For most of my teenage and early adult years, I always envisioned myself as a girl dad. I was going to have 2 girls (Gillian & Genevieve if you must know), and we were going to go to Bama Softball games together, go to all the father-daughter dances, and shop at Target with frappuccinos like the basics we truly were. But God had other plans - our first was a boy, and I was terrified. I know that's counter-intuitive, but I've never been the outdoorsy mountain man type. Heck, I struggle to pull into the oil change bay and pop my hood some days, and I was truly afraid of stains on clothes and all the boy things. Yet, my boy was just what I needed. I learned to lighten up and enjoy the unexpected and share some really special things with him (turns out he also likes Bama Softball and Lego). 

For the past 3 years, I have struggled to enjoy being a dad to Thugalina. Some of that might lie in my expectations of what a girl dad would be, and some of that might just be her personality. I told my wife this week that, by comparison, he was far easier to parent at age 3 than she was. (And yes I know I'm not supposed to compare my kids because they are unique individuals blah blah blah.) It was just not enjoyable. But Friday night, I got to go to a Father-Daughter Dance at our church, and it was so much fun. I finally got to enjoy being her dad. We dressed up, had flowers and a CFA dinner, and then danced / chased each other around the atrium at church before she eventually began to spiral and we went home. But it was truly a sweet time, and for the first time in 3 years, being her dad was a joy. I am continuing to learn about lightening up and leaning into the Type B side of life and dadding. 

I know that not every day will be a cake walk, and I don't expect that by any stretch of the imagination. But I feel hope. I feel hope for my marriage, hope for my family, and hope for friendships. So if you find yourself at the end of an era in your life, consider where the Lord is leading you and look ahead joyfully to the beginning of a new chapter in your journey. 

"like you"

If you follow me on facebook (and let's be honest, that's probably the only reason you're reading this), you have probably seen the video of my son mimicking his Queenie at breakfast last week. And when I say mimic, I mean every single hand gesture and voice inflection is en pointe. He repeats a lot, as most toddlers do. He soaks up everything like a sponge.

He also has this somewhat new thing in which he will see how I'm standing (typically with legs crossed, with one foot pointing down on top of the other, and arms crossed) and starts to stand the same way. He then proudly says, "Dada, I stand like you!" That phrase, "like you," has been a staple of his behavior since the early part of the summer. "I have a plate like you," "I have a hat like you," "I have smoothie like you!" (#priorities with that last one). 

I've been mulling that mindset over for several days, and I keep coming back to the idea of his doing ____ like me. I miss the mark more than I hit it in terms of my behavior and the example that I set for him. I yell, get self-absorbed, don't listen and love with patience. But I hope at the end of the day he sees a Dad who loves Jesus, his Mama, and him in that order; who works hard at everything he does; and who points others to Jesus. Parents, we have a high responsibility, which I know you know. But this has just become even more real for me recently. 

I pray that I have that same mindset about Christ. I want to stand like Him, talk like Him, serve like Him. Ultimately I want to be like Him and point others to Him in all that I do. I have stepped on my own toes just in putting this into words, but I pray that it impacts you so you can impact others for the kingdom. 

you do you, boo

As a teacher and dad, I think I always had visions of what my summers with my kids would look like. Enriching library activities, minimal screen time, healthy snacks, books galore, academically enriching tasks and chores. I'm sure you're all laughing at this point. You see, when you see the effects of certain trends in parenting (electronic devices from day one, junk food as the norm, the list is endless) play out in your job, you tend to don your white hat and say, "I would never do that." If you're reading this and are not a parent, let me just say, never say never. HW is only 3 and the number of my nevers that have come back on me is absurd.

I know I tend to be judgy. Without getting too deep into my enneagram obsession, it's part of my makeup as a 1 - I tend to want the world to be "right," which we all know won't happen this side of eternity. I am working on that, even if it isn't always evident. Parenting has a way of humbling you and making you realize that there are things you never thought you would do that you do. I had read so many books before we were even matched that I had all these strategies and tools in my tool belt, but sometimes we just revert back to what worked for us as kids. Sometimes I yell, sometimes (ok often) I spank, sometimes I tell him he has to just figure it out on his own because I won't always be around to fix it for him.

But every day, I have to do what keeps me sane and what keeps him mildly satisfied and alive. At the end of the day, that's what we all want as parents, right? I know that HW will never be happy 100% of the time, but he does know he is loved and that his basic needs are met. Some days you may have a nutritious, organic meal prepared for lunch after a morning of imaginative play and no screen time. And then there are some days when you throw on a movie so you can iron and dust the house and keep the sliver of sanity you still have on your last week of vacation. I'll let you guess which one is my Monday morning. Imma do me, and imma let you do you, boo. You're keeping a tiny human alive. Congratulations, it's harder than you thought. 

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. 

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

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. 

brain biology

One of the positive side effects of OCD is planning ahead for just about every single situation. So you shouldn't be surprised to learn that I've already started reading parenting books. I mean, it's never too soon to get some strategies and ideas. Our adoption counselor recommended Daniel Siegel & Tina Bryson's The Whole Brain Child as a resource for our preparations, and I was on board from the start. It met my needs for nerdiness and preparing to be the best parent I can be for our #babydoop.
Their work focuses on the science behind our brains and how to integrate the parts of the brain (left and right, upstairs and downstairs, etc) into a cohesive whole. While you might think this would read like a biology textbook, it doesn't at all. I was able to read it in a day and half that were interspersed with driving and visiting with family and friends in my hometown, so it's not excruciating at all. Siegel ad Bryson write in easy-to-read language and present 12 easy strategies for you to use with your child to encourage a healthy brain and healthier child, teen, or young adult. One of the best aspects of this book is that it has scripted conversation starters you can use with your child to use the strategies, broken down by age category. There is even an accompanying workbook with worksheets and exercises that you can find here. I highly recommend this if you're struggling with how to handle the arguing, the emotional outbursts, the general weariness of parenthood; I guarantee you will find something you can apply to your life with your child this week. It is a book that I have already planned on purchasing for the #babydoop library.

4 (of 4) dusty book jackets.