Flip Flops

I love that I have a pair of feet that fit these shoes in my house!

Nathan decided he didn't want to wear his though!

Pantry

The rental we currently live in does not have the luxury of a pantry.  Thus I've had to make due with this open style shelf to store all our pantry items on.  It also happens to be the perfect height for Nathan to play on.  Note:  It took forever to train Nathan that the items on these shelves are not for playing with!  We've now decided that as long as he's not opening the jars and throwing them we've made progress. 

Who needs stacking cups when you've got spice jars?

My shelves for all of our spices are also the perfect size for Nathan's cars to drive on.

Water Table

Nathan loves being outside.  We bought him this water table to use while he's enjoying the outdoors.  He loved it!

Love his facial expression when he figured out the water came out of the bottom of this toy!

Otto wanted to play too.

Moose wanted in on the action as well.

Cars

Cars are probably Nathan's favorite toy to play with right now.  He is constantly pointing out all the real cars he sees. (Who knew a parking lot could be such a fascinating place to a toddler?!)  The other day I found him lining them up in a row.  Maybe he's simulating a traffic jam?

In this picture Nathan is signing "Grandma"

He is constantly bringing me the car he's pointing to and telling me who bought it for him:  Grandma!

Adoption Day!

One year ago today we finalized Nathan's Adoption in court!

Happy Adoption Day!

Every year we plan to celebrate Nathan's Adoption Day just as if it was another birthday.  I'm so glad I had this banner made last year out of fabric to use each year!

Weight Lifting

If you're going to be strong like your Daddy you've got to start training early!  (And you've got to start small!)

 

 

 

A high five for a job well done!

 

Ab Wheel

You're never too young to try out the ab wheel!

 

 

Look at that form!  He'll have abs of steel in no time!

 

Horsey Ride

Ben took Nathan for his first "horsey ride" the other day.  To say Nathan liked it is an understatement, he LOVED it!

 

Giddy up Daddy!

 

Daddy is pooped.  Nathn is not!

 

Silly Boy

 

Moms of Adopted Children

A woman I met through the adoption and infant loss community shared this on Facebook today and I had to share it here on my blog too.  This really touched my heart.  It's hard to explain but sometimes as an adoptive mother I feel like I'm in a different category than biological Moms.  My heart was touched by this woman's writing!

(The original link to where this letter came from can be found here)

Dear Mom of an Adopted Child,

I met you in adoption education class. I met you at the agency. I met you at my son’s school. I met you online. I met you on purpose. I met you by accident.

It doesn’t matter. The thing is, I knew you right away. I recognize the fierce determination. The grit. The fight. Because everything about what you have was a decision, and nothing about what you have was easy. You are the kind of woman who Makes.Things.Happen. After all, you made this happen, this family you have.

Maybe you prayed for it. Maybe you had to convince a partner it was the right thing. Maybe you did it alone. Maybe people told you to just be happy with what you had before. Maybe someone told you it simply wasn’t in God’s plans for you to have a child, this child whose hair you now brush lightly from his face. Maybe someone warned you about what happened to their cousin’s neighbor’s friend. Maybe you ignored them.

Maybe you planned for it for years. Maybe an opportunity dropped into your lap. Maybe you depleted your life-savings for it. Maybe it was not your first choice. But maybe it was.

Regardless, I know you. And I see how you hold on so tight. Sometimes too tight. Because that’s what we do, isn’t it?

I know about all those books you read back then. The ones everyone reads about sleep patterns and cloth versus disposable, yes, but the extra ones, too. About dealing with attachment disorders, breast milk banks, babies born addicted to alcohol, cocaine, meth. About cognitive delays, language deficiencies. About counseling support services, tax and insurance issues, open adoption pros and cons, legal rights.

I know about the fingerprinting, the background checks, the credit reports, the interviews, the references. I know about the classes, so many classes. I know the frustration of the never-ending paperwork. The hours of going over finances, of having garage sales and bake sales and whatever-it-takes sales to raise money to afford it all.

I know how you never lost sight of what you wanted.

I know about the match call, the soaring of everything inside you to cloud-height, even higher. And then the tucking of that away because, well, these things fall through, you know.

Maybe you told your mother, a few close friends. Maybe you shouted it to the world. Maybe you allowed yourself to decorate a baby’s room, buy a car seat. Maybe you bought a soft blanket, just that one blanket, and held it to your cheek every night.

I know about your home visits. I know about your knuckles, cracked and bleeding, from cleaning every square inch of your home the night before. I know about you burning the coffee cake and trying to fix your mascara before the social worker rang the doorbell.

And I know about the followup visits, when you hadn’t slept in three weeks because the baby had colic. I know how you wanted so badly to show that you had it all together, even though you were back to working more-than-full-time, maybe without maternity leave, without the family and casseroles and welcome-home balloons and plants.

And I’ve seen you in foreign countries, strange lands, staying in dirty hotels, taking weeks away from work, struggling to understand what’s being promised and what’s not. Struggling to offer your love to a little one who is unsettled and afraid. Waiting, wishing, greeting, loving, flying, nesting, coming home.

I’ve seen you down the street at the hospital when a baby was born, trying to figure out where you belong in the scene that’s emerging. I’ve seen your face as you hear a nurse whisper to the birthmother that she doesn’t have to go through with this. I’ve seen you trying so hard to give this birthmother all of your respect and patience and compassion in those moments—while you bite your lip and close your eyes, not knowing if she will change her mind, if this has all been a dream coming to an abrupt end in a sterile environment. Not knowing if this is your time. Not knowing so much.

I’ve seen you look down into a newborn infant’s eyes, wondering if he’s really yours, wondering if you can quiet your mind and good sense long enough to give yourself over completely.

And then, to have the child in your arms, at home, that first night. His little fingers curled around yours. His warm heart beating against yours.

I know that bliss. The perfect, guarded, hopeful bliss.

I also know about you on adoption day. The nerves that morning, the judge, the formality, the relief, the joy. The letting out of a breath maybe you didn’t even know you were holding for months. Months.

I’ve seen you meet your child’s birthparents and grandparents weeks or years down the road. I’ve seen you share your child with strangers who have his nose, his smile … people who love him because he’s one of them. I’ve seen you hold him in the evenings after those visits, when he’s shaken and confused and really just wants a stuffed animal and to rest his head on your shoulder.

I’ve seen you worry when your child brings home a family tree project from school. Or a request to bring in photos of him and his dad, so that the class can compare traits that are passed down, like blue eyes or square chins. I know you worry, because you can protect your child from a lot of things — but you can’t protect him from being different in a world so intent on celebrating sameness.

I’ve seen you at the doctor’s office, filling out medical histories, leaving blanks, question marks, hoping the little blanks don’t turn into big problems later on.

I’ve seen you answer all of the tough questions, the questions that have to do with why, and love, and how much, and where, and who, and how come, mama? How come?

I’ve seen you wonder how you’ll react the first time you hear the dreaded, “You’re not my real mom.” And I’ve seen you smile softly in the face of that question, remaining calm and loving, until you lock yourself in the bathroom and muffle your soft cries with the sound of the shower.

I’ve seen you cringe just a little when someone says your child is lucky to have you. Because you know with all your being it is the other way around.

But most of all, I want you to know that I’ve seen you look into your child’s eyes. And while you will never see a reflection of your own eyes there, you see something that’s just as powerful: A reflection of your complete and unstoppable love for this person who grew in the midst of your tears and laughter, and who, if torn from you, would be like losing yourself.

The original link to where this letter came from can be found here

Mother's Day

This year marks the second Mother's Day that I am celebrating being a Mom.  I wouldn't trade my role of Mom for anything.  Yes, there are days when I look forward to nap and bed time but there are other days when I want to freeze each moment so I can enjoy every second possible with Nathan.  Yes, Nathan may throw fits, hit and even bite at this stage but he also gives the best hugs and kisses!  And his giggle always brings an instant smile to my face.

Even though I now get to experience Mother's day as a Mom my thoughts are never far from those women who's deepest desire to join the ranks of motherhood still feels like a far off dream.  I also was reminded this year that many women also may experience a different kind of pain on Mother's day.  The pain that stems from the loss of their own mother.  My heart goes out to these women as well.  I am blessed to still have my own mother in my life and am so thankful for the time we get to spend together. 

So to those women who long to be called Mom or are missing their own Mom this Mother's day I pray that God's perfect peace would surround you and comfort you this day.  And for those of you who get to enjoy Mother's day as a Mom I pray it will be a special day for you to count the blessings in your life.

Dear Birthmom,

I don't know if you even know there is special day for you.  But today is the day.  Whoever came up with naming the day before Mother's day, Birthmother's day, was really thinking because without you I wouldn't be able to celebrate being a Mom.  I think of you often.  The little boy you gave us more than 18 months ago is the light of our lives.  He is a ball full of energy and definitely all boy.  But he's got a soft side as well and is constantly coming up to us to give us hugs and kisses.  We pray for you a few nights each week at bedtime.  We want Nathan to know that the reason he has a Mommy and Daddy is because his Birthmom loved him enough to give him life. This is the first letter I'm writing directly to you and it is my hope that one day I'll be able to give it to you in person, along with any others I write.  Thank you for the gift of our son!

Love,
Alisha

Popsicle

I made some homemade popsicles out of applesauce.  This was Nathan's first time to try one.

 

 

He took about 2 licks and then decided he was done!  Maybe he'll enjoy it more the second time he tries it.

 

Spoon & A Bowl

Nathan is now using a spoon and a bowl all by himself!  And Mommy and Daddy are now taking extra time to clean up afterwards!

 

 

 

How To Eat Rice & Beans

Step 1:  Use your spoon to carefully put rice and beans onto your quesadilla

Step 2:  Carefully raise the loaded quesadilla to your mouth

Step 3:  Eat the rice and beans off of the quesadilla

Step 4:  Take a bite of quesadilla