Nora at 3 years old is the most adorable human to ever grace this planet. Also the most sensitive and most clingy. So you take the good with the difficult, right? Just some cuteness I never want to forget.

Preparing Friendsgiving dinner and had out some heavy whipping cream. Nora asked me what it was. I told her it was heavy cream. She picked up and held it above her head and proclaimed, "It's not heavy to me, Mama!"

Matthew is always getting into trouble and keeping us on our toes. He is an escape artist and a climber and just a very energetic 2 year old. And still so tiny. He is adding new words to his vocabulary every day - but at almost 2.5 he still hasn't said mom. Here is a list of words he has said:

Thorton
Daddy
Eliza
Owie
Cracker
Water
Milk
Teacher
School
Shoes
Car
Door
Bye
Awww
TV
TIME! (baby signing time)
Cookie
Cereal
Buckle
Olivia
Abby
Book
Cow
Stop
Go

Seriously! All these words but not mama. And I know (trust me, baby #6, I KNOW) once he says I will be like, "Okay enough!" but it's not like he doesn't try to get my attention. He just howls and yells generic attention grabbing sounds until I look at him and he tells me what he wants. And eveyr time I tell him to say "mama"... some day!

Him and Nora are always hugging and playing and usually getting into trouble together. Nora will copy his behaviors and it drives me nuts. But I do love to see them playing together more and more.

That time we drove across the country and back again.

Earlier this month we left on an epic trip to visit my family in NJ. We left on a Monday morning and made it there by Wednesday night. Long days in the car, but we had a great time, for the most part. The only real stressful times were at the end of the day, unloading everyone and everything to stay in a hotel to try to sleep for a few hours.

We had a great trip. The kids had a blast seeing everyone. We went to the beach, the water park, Chuck e cheese, breakfast at Nanny's, paddle boarding at Jackie's, swimming at my aunts', and lots of quality grandparent time for the kids and my parents. Aaron and I went to see Jimmy Eat World and Third Eye Blind at PNC Bank. It was a lot of fun.

One funny memory - we played this game on the way out, "Word Dominoes". You say a word, then the next person says a word that is somehow related to your word, and so on.

"Spider"
"Web"
"Internet"
"Computer"
"Library"
"Books"
... and so on.

We were having a good time playing it with the oldest 4, but Nora desperately wanted to play along. Except she is 3. So she just kept randomly yelling, "GARBAGE TRUCK!" which made us all laugh hysterically.

On the way home we stopped in North Carolina to hang out with my sister. We also stopped and saw friends from medical school days, and spent the night with them. Then we listened to Lake Pontachatrain, while driving over Lake Pontchatrain, which was amazing. We ate alligator in New Orleans. We saw where Aaron served his mission in Houston, TX. We toured the Blue Bell Factory. We saw the Alamo. Then we drove for 17 more hours.

just some memories

I went to the car wash yesterday. Nora loves to "help" me with the vacuum and the compressed air thingy, so she was out of her seat bouncing around the car. I was finishing up and it was time to get her back in her seat. She was in the driver's seat and I told her to go get in her seat. I walked around the van to the passenger door, where I could buckle her in. But she wasn't there. I look back in the front and she's not there either.  "Nora!" I call out. No answer. I look around under the seats. Don't see her, so now I'm afraid she's hopped out the driver side and took off somewhere. So I'm looking around outside the car, just as a worker happens to be walking by. I am panicking at this point, as I tell him I can't find my 2 year old. He sprints off and pushes some emergency stop button that then causes alarms to start blaring. I'm yelling, in bewilderment at this point. Like, where could she have gone in the literal 30 seconds it took me to walk around the van? And then she pops her head up from under a blanket in the passenger side foot well area. With a huge smile on her face, thinking she was just hilarious. The whole incident was less than 5 minutes, but it kept me reeling all day.

Then we were driving to Eliza's preschool graduation and the weather has been abnormally cold lately. Eliza's comments on this:

"Mom, sometimes when I'm cold I wish I could be hot. But when I'm hot, I wish I was cold! Like, when I'm so hot I feel like a ball of dough, I just wish I could be a Popsicle. It's so hard to be the right temperature! Only one day was it the perfect weather. Just ONE DAY! ("What day is that?") TURKEY DAY! On Turkey Day it was the perfect weather. I wasn't too hot and I wasn't too cold. But it okay because Turkey Day will come again."  

She really is an absolute riot and I should write down more of what she says. She is insightful and hilarious. However on the way home she then said something heartbreaking. So during her performance she looked absolutely miserable up on the stage. I asked her why she looked so sad up there, expecting her to maybe say something about stage fright, but no. She says, "It's just that sometimes I feel like you're not really my mom. Like I don't even have a mom. And I just feel like I'm all alone." Uhm, WHAT! I have no idea how she could feel this way, but if you ever wanted to know exactly what to say to someone to make them feel the worst mom guilt imaginable - those are the words you need. I tried to get her to clarify but she was pretty clear. I see some more one on one time in our future.

643 days later...

Abigail came into our room tonight at about 2:45am because she has a fever. I got her some medicine and sent her back to bed, and then tossed and turned for an hour. I went to bed at 9, and was asleep before 10, because of just sheer exhaustion. So now feeling more rested, my mind is just racing with all the thoughts of the day. So many thoughts, feelings, emotions, swirling around inside my head, sleep is just not even close to an option. Though I hate starting a day before 3:00am, I really enjoy this quiet peaceful time in my home.

Anyway, I wanted to write some of the thoughts and feelings of this day. A different kind of birth story. What a journey it has been. There is always an element of sadness when someone becomes an adoptive parent. It's of course, happy and joyful and exciting. But there is an undertone of loss. It's not ALL happy, like when a new baby is born into a family. No judgement for this feeling, just acknowledging that it's there. 

I think I've shared some of these thoughts and parts of Matthew's story before, but I'm going to put it all in one place anyway. When we first got the call about a baby boy needing a home, I immediately said yes. And then called Aaron to make sure it was, indeed, yes. Just two days prior, I had been talking to my sister-in-law telling her how I wished someone would just call and tell me they had a baby boy for me. This phone call felt so serendipitous.  

 I excitedly pulled out the baby boy clothes I'd been saving since Nathan was a baby. Got the bassinet next to our bed, and of course called everyone we know to tell them we were getting a baby!  Then we waited to hear again from the social worker. And waited. And waited. No one ever called again, and before 5, I decided to call them and see what I needed to do. It did not occur to me that they could have given the baby to someone else. Apparently the way it works is that once DCS has custody of a child, they let all the agencies know. The agencies contact their families, and whoever gets back to DCS first is typically who gets the child. In this case, our agency was not first to get back to them, and Matthew went to another foster family. When the social worker apologized for not getting back to me, but that another family was taking the baby, I was so confused. I had no clue that was how it worked. I remember telling her it was okay, but I was choking back tears. Even though I hadn't lost anything, it felt like a loss. I decided to let myself grieve a little bit. But I couldn't shake the feeling that this baby was already meant to be mine. I prayed on my knees so hard that night, and for a long time the next day. I went about all I had to do for the day, but could not stop thinking about this baby boy I had never met. 

Two more days went by like this. I still hadn't brought myself to put away the clothes and bassinet. I never stopped praying or thinking about the baby boy. And then on Friday I got called to sub at my kids school. While I was there my phone rang, and even though I shouldn't have, I answered it. It was the same social worker, "Are you still interested in that baby boy? The other foster family changed their minds." Tears immediately stung my eyes and I choked out a, "Yes. Yes, of course!" And because I just overshare in general I started telling the social worker all about this connection I'd already felt, and how I'd been praying for the last 3 days. She was very gracious in listening to me babble, and then told me someone from the hospital would be calling me to let me know the details. 

The anxiety of that day is still palpable. I was subbing for a special ed teacher who went to different classrooms to work with students. It was good, because I got to keep moving and staying busy, but had time between kids to check my phone incessantly. No one from the hospital ever called. I called my licensing worker and excplained what was going on and asked what I should do. She wasn't sure either, and I told her I was going to just go to the hospital as soon as school was over. She said that was probably fine. I called Nancy and asked her if her daughter, my babysitter, could stay after school and watch them while I went to pick up a baby at the hospital. What a long day that was for the poor babysitter.

I showed up at the hospital with my infant carseat washed and ready to go. I walked up to labor and delivery and explained who I was. The front desk person had no idea, so she called the hospital social worker. She came and greeted me, and knew exactly who I was there for. She explained on our walk back to the NICU that there was some mix-up with messages, and she didn't know another foster family had been called. She was glad I decided to just show up. She explained that Matthew (the first time I heard his name!) had been really fussy, had some trouble with feeding, and the other family was just too overwhelmed. She led me to his tiny bed, and there was the tiniest baby I had ever seen. He was sleeping, but I asked if I could pick him up. She said of course. And I scooped up all 5lbs of him and just melted. I studied his tiny features and my mind just raced. How could anyone given this baby up? What was his story? I looked up and saw the social worker, and NICU nurses all gathered around, and one wiping a tear from her eyes. They explained a bit about the other family, but they could already tell how comfortable I was holding him. Initially they wanted him to stay another night in the NICU, to make sure I knew how to take care of him, but after watching me hold him, change him and feed him they changed their minds. They got the doctor to check him out, and after hours of snuggling, we were able to leave. The first place I went was Fry's. With my new 5 day old baby, so I could buy formula, and show Aaron our new baby. It was dark by the time I got home, and honestly the rest is a blur.  I had very little information about why this baby was removed. I was initially told there would be no visits, and there was no family who was able to care for him. It felt like this was actually going to be our baby.

The next day a social worker came to our house and explained there would be supervised visits 3 times a week with the bio dad, and 3 times a week with the bio mom. They couldn't be together because they both had restraining orders, etc. This is a messy part of Matthew's story, and part I probably shouldn't publish on a public blog. But the thoughts of this being our baby were quickly dashed. It seemed possible and even likely that Matthew would be reunited with his dad. 

And then there were aunts and grandparents.

Looked even less likely Matthew would be with us forever.

Yet, I couldn't deny or shake the connection from that very first phone call. We went to court 4 times, each time hoping we wouldn't lose him, but terrified we might. There was a period I was honestly rooting for his dad to really get it together. It was clear he loved his son. Unfortunately, love isn't all it takes. 

The emotions during this year are strange. Is there way to stop from getting "too attached"? Aaron had a sacred experience where he got his confirmation that Matthew was truly our son. And yet, still it was hard to not be afraid. There is this guard you try to put up, but it's impossible. Especially with our sweet Matthew. To know him, truly is to love him.

The scariest court date was when an aunt had come forward and wanted to take Matthew to Texas. They would have moved him when he was 6 months old, but his dad was still doing his visits and doing well, the judge didn't move him. Same story 6 months later. But then dad's rights were severed and this aunt was still fighting for him. So we make it to yet another court date, expecting the aunt to be there, and likely having to say goodbye to our almost 18 month old son. And she wasn't there. She didn't get a bus ticket on time, and the bus was sold out. Mom's rights were severed and we moved forward in total shock. Grateful, but completely shocked. 

Then we waited to get a court date for the final adoption hearing. A date we were never sure would come. A date that we are planning our entire summer around. Getting the email with that date was significant. May 13th. A day we'll celebrate forever. And of course celebrated today with a party with our friends, who are like family, here in Yuma. 

 When it looked like the aunt was going to get Matthew, I told Nathan one night, hoping to prep him a little bit. Honestly, Nathan didn't pay Matthew much attention most of the time, so I was surprised when he burst into tears crying, "No! No! They can't take him away!" Of course I then burst into tears and hug him and tell him again it might not happen, but it is possible and we should be prepared. This morning as we were getting ready to go to court Nathan said, "Mom, I can't believe it's really happening. I actually have a brother now. I never thought I would have a brother." *cue tears.

The kids did pretty good. Eliza thought the 15 minute, anticlimactic court hearing was way too long, and Nora had to go potty, but overall they did great. When we were being sworn in they asked the Opies to stand and raise their right hands. Aaron was whispering, "No, no no..." And I was like, "What? Am I using the wrong hand? Are we supposed to do it seperately? Why are you saying no right now?" Apparently all of our kids were also standing and raising their hands to be sworn in. 

A day at the river and funny Nora ...

Nora has been stuck to me like glue. I needed some space. So I put on a show for her then went in my room and locked the door (like all good moms). Not five minutes later, there is a knock on my door. "Go awayyy!" I moaned. The small voice talking into the crack of the door replied, "No, it's just me, Nora. Mommy, it's just me, Nora." And of course the cuteness of that was enough to get me to unlock my door and allow her to resume her position of trying to crawl back into my uterus. 

But we did dye easter eggs today. And we played at the river. And we set up the bounce house/water slide thing. So I don't feel too terrible about trying to lock myself in my room.

Going gray

I guess I feel like I need to write this in order to avoid possible awkward conversations. But by writing this, there is a good chance I'm creating even more opportunities for awkward conversations. Whatever. These thoughts keep swirling around my head and until I put them to paper they won't stop.

My mom found my first gray hair before I was even in my teens. She found it hilarious and unbelievable that there was a gray hair on my head. But, she reminded me, Mary was born with her first gray hair. She plucked it out, and I didn't think much of it. Then by the time I was teenager there were several grays popping up here and there. I didn't think it was a sign of aging since I knew I was only 16. And they weren't very visible. Though around this time I did start highlighting my hair. If I wasn't having it professionally done, I was using sun-in and laying out in the backyard, like every other teenage girl of the 00's. There was also the time my mom and I got a new box at the drugstore and my hair turned bright orange. Sebastian's fixed me right up. The point is, back then dying my hair was for fun and it helped my lack of confidence I had in myself back then. Nothing a fresh cut and color to make a girl feel fantastic.

Fast forward throughout my 20's, and the grays increased, but I never knew by how much because dying my hair had become a regular thing. Sometimes from a box, sometimes a splurge at the salon. But stopping never seemed like an option. I told myself I enjoyed it. "Self care". It was fun to change it up once in a while. My hair had been every natural shade from blonde, to almost black, with occasional reds thrown in once in a while.

Entering my 30's, I played around with the idea of just letting it go gray. I posted a picture of my roots on Instagram and asked for honest opinions. The overall response was "DYE IT!" With a few exceptions who said I should whatever makes me feel comfortable and happy. I decided to dye it.

Then my daughters (9 and 7) started asking me if they could dye their hair. They both have gorgeous hair with natural highlights. I told them, "No way. God made your hair to match you just right... but maybe when you're older if you still want to."

"Well then why do you dye your hair? Didn't God make your hair just the right color?" Kids will always call you on your hypocrisy.

"I have to dye my hair. It's gray. When your hair is gray then you can talk to me about dying it." As the words left my lips I internally cringed. When did dying my hair stop being about "self-care" and become something I had to do.

I asked Aaron what he thought about me not dying my hair anymore.

"Whatever babe. You can never stop being beautiful to me, no matter what color your hair is." I knew I married him for a reason. Seriously, he is the best.

So it's been a few months now since I last dyed my hair. I tried a few times before but then always when it got to about where it is now, I would dye it again. This is the longest I've ever gone without dying my hair.

And when I see how much gray I have I am astonished. But I'm also, like, really excited. I don't know how to explain it.

To me, my gray hair is a physical reminder of the time I've been alive. Each day really is a gift, and getting old is a privilege denied to many. So I am grateful for the visual reminder of aging.

Then there's this feeling of self acceptance. This is me. This is who I am. I do not need to cover it up. I don't need to apologize to anyone for having to look at my gray hair. I literally had to stop myself from doing this.

I also feel like a trendsetter. Just a couple of years ago I literally felt like going gray was not even an option. I couldn't even consider it. "Why would you let yourself look like that? A box of hair dye literally costs like $8." This was the tape inside my head. I want to be an example for other woman, to let them know, Hey this is an option! And you can still look and feel beautiful. That was another reason I had given my girls. That dying my hair helped me feel good about myself. Their thoughtful questions, "Why don't you feel good about yourself if your hair is gray?" really got me thinking.

So there you have it. A million reasons why I'm done dying my hair. 

I supposed a blog post like this deserves a picture. This one doesn't quite do my gray justice, but its the best I've got. My hair grows incredibly slow, so I am sure it will be a long time before my decision is really that obvious.

When life is absolutely insane sometimes I just stop and write...

This is one of those times. And I don't have much time to write but I'm going to write as much as I can before someone needs something. Someone always needs something.

Aaron's dad had a stroke last week. Apparently there are lots of sub-categories when it comes to strokes, and his was of the really bad variety. He is still with us, but recovering very, very slowly. I won't go into all of the details of what's going on, but he is still in the ICU. So the day of The Stroke, I also had an appointment for Matthew with a developmental pediatrician. So Aaron went to Mesa to be with his family and I went to Tucson, and my life-saver BFF, Nancy took care of everyone else.

Matthew is slightly developmentally delayed but they didn't give me any kind of diagnosis besides that. Recommended I follow up with ENT for his mouth breathing. And their test results showed his language is about a 9 month old development, but his cognitive ability was at 15 months (he's 18 months) so I was happy to hear that. And he is talking more and more every day, and understanding more as well. One of their "concerns" was that he didn't play appropriately with toys. Like they wanted him to feed this bear with a fake spoon. He threw the bear across the room. Then threw the food. In his defense, that might sometimes be what it looks like when I feed all of these children.

So Aaron spent two days in Mesa. Then worked for two days. Then we packed up and went back to Mesa for two days. Then we went to Disneyand. Disneyland has been planned for a few months, and we didn't get travelers insurance, so figured Dad would want us to go anyway. So we went. And it was great. Overall. There were hard moments. Eliza was sick with a fever and sore throat. Nora threw up in the car on the way there. But we laughed until our bellies hurt, and the last day the crowds were so low we were able to walk on most rides. Which is always a rare treat at Disneyland. I literally had to spend all day yesterday doing as little as possible to gear up for this weekend.

What's this weekend, you ask. Well, I'm driving back up to Mesa to see Dad and visit Mom. And the kids are off from school on Monday as well so we'll spend some time Saturday-Monday. Then I'm bringing Ammon and Ruth's kids home with me so they can enjoy Ammon's graduation from chiropractic college without worrying about lugging the kids along. Then next weekend I'll bring them back home (or possibly meet someone in Gila Bend because Saturday night is a daddy daughter dance that Aaron really wants to bring the girls to).

So I'm sitting here next to a suitcase and a pile of laundry. The last two weeks have been so crazy with so much traveling. And next week will be crazy with cousin fun. And then we'll have a couple of weeks of peace, I hope. Then I'm taking Olivia to Universal Studios for her birthday. And then the kids are off the first week of April, and we'll probably spend it in Mesa.

It is crazy how life can change in an instant. My mother and father-in-law had plans to come with us to Disneyland. They had errands they were going to run that day before they left. They were supposed to be going to Ammon's graduation together next week. It's just so hard and so sad. I keep thinking about how we chug on through life, and have no clue when some major thing will happen and just change everything. Can't dwell on that too much, but it's hard not to when something like this happens and that reality kind of slaps you in the face.

Here's some pictures of disneyland.

Eliza is 5!

Eliza turned 5 a couple of weeks ago. We celebrated 3 times. We happened to be in Mesa the weekend before her birthday so we had a last minute cousin party. Then on her actual birthday I made her a special dessert, she got the special birthday treatment, and we had a pretty great day. Then she had her birthday party with friends from school and church and lucky for us, cousins again! She has the funniest little mind. Here are some funny recent quotes,

"Now that we had my party - I'm OFFICIALLY 5!" -- apparently the first two celebrations were nothing.

"Mom - I just love Satan a teenie tiny bit. Like, I think he'll be fine, once he just calms down." -- This one had me stifling my laughter so much. I wasn't even sure how to handle this. I just see it as her sweet way of seeing the good in everything. But also, how she freaks out sometimes and then calms herself down pretty quickly (most of the time).

"Mom, is it okay if I love you more than Jesus? I know I should love Jesus more than anyone, but I love you a tiny bit more." Yes, yes that is okay darling one. I love how much this girl loves Jesus though. She talks to Him a lot and reminds me a lot of my childhood self.

This one is from a few weeks ago after I told her we were going to go play with her best friends (who had recently turned 5). "Kimi and Kami don't even care about me anymore. Why would they care about a 4 year old when they're 5?!" She was happy to see that they did indeed still care about her. But she was absolutely thrilled to turn 5 and make their bond that much stronger.

Though she has been wishing she could turn back time so she can turn 5 again. She has loved getting cards, going shopping and all of the parties. I really will miss this girl so much when she goes to kindergarten in August.

I do a lot of stuff wrong as a mom. I yell when I should probably hug. I don't give time outs when I probably should. And I shut down emotionally when I should I probably open up.

 But I think I do fun really well.

The other day it rained here. That is a rarity here in Yuma so it always brings happiness to almost everyone. I took Nora and Matthew with me to the gym, and when it was getting close to time to leave I decided to leave a few minutes earlier than I had to so that we could jump in all the puddles on the way to the car.

When we're walking through a store and Eliza proclaims that stepping on a red tile means you die, and a purple tile is worth extra life, you bet I'll hop on one foot to avoid the red tile like the plague.

When we walk past a ledge, I can't help but climb up and balance across -- with my little kids following behind.

Messes don't bother me much. Taking time to have fun is always worth it.

I hope and pray that this is what my kids remember when they grow up, instead of the yelling and craziness.

The Court Story

I am not sure how much I'm legally allowed to share, but I don't remember them saying the whole thing about this being closed and not to say anything so I'm assuming it's fine. I'll leave out names and stuff just in case, but I want to document everything for my own memories.

I have spent countless hours stressing about testifying. Honestly I was more worried about that than losing Matthew. I was fairly confident no judge would send my baby away to someone he hardly knew - though we all hear the horror stories, so I had a smidge of doubt. I was just scared of what I was going to say, how I was going to say it, how it might hurt his bio mom's feelings, etc. etc. 

So my heart was just racing as Aaron and I sat holding hands in the car before going into the courthouse. As usual with court, Aaron's hands were cold as ice. Apparently that's what happens when he's super nervous. I held his icy hand to my cheek and look into his eyes and told him we were going to be okay. We said a prayer and I felt oddly peaceful. 

Once we got into the courthouse I immediately took note that no one from mom's side was there. No aunt, no mom, no lawyer. We were brought into the court room where I half expected to see them, but no one was there. We waited a little over a half hour and only the lawyer showed up. She apologized that she told her client court started at 9, because she had mistakenly wrote down 9 herself. So we continued to wait, and wait for what felt like forever. I started fuming inside that they were giving her so much time, asked people to call her etc. However the judge finally decided to just proceed. He also informed us that the aunt could not get bus tickets because the tickets were sold out when she tried to buy them on Monday. Just hearing that was like a huge weight lifted. I also couldn't help but see Heavenly Father's hand so clearly in this journey. Not only were we going to get to keep Matthew, but I didn't even have to step foot on the stand. 

As we continued to go through the legal proceedings I had the thought of what an odd labor this was. Obviously not pregnant - and not a perfect analogy at all - but the feelings of waiting, anticipation of a person joining your family, those were all there. I also don't understand legal jargon very well at all and I was only half sure of what was happening.

The lawyer for the State motioned to just forgo the trial, keep the baby where is he, and proceed without going through with the trial. The judge agreed, and even though I just summed that up, that's not exactly what was said, and so I was looking over at the lawyers and the one lawyer who is the baby's GAL, who I've had the most contact with, looked at me and told me to breathe now. I cried and breathed, and cried. 

The baby's paternal grandmother came to court just to be there, for us. I was so touched by that and grateful to have her there. She gave me a huge hug after and thanked me and told me how wonderful I am and how glad she is that we'll get to keep him. She came back to our house afterwards and played with the baby for a bit and brought him Christmas presents and spoiled my own kids with lots of candy. She is such a sweetheart and I'm excited to have her as part of family as well.

I won't lie. Until we have that official adoption paperwork complete there is a bit of a cloud of fear still hanging over our heads. I know it's completely unnecessary, and everything that's left is just technical stuff, but I can't wait until it's all completely over.

But for now we're celebrating. For the last 17 months we've juggled bio parent visits. Our entire lives have revolved around accommodating this visit schedule. Making sure he was perfectly clean, well dressed and ready to go on time. Often to find out at the last minute that the visit was canceled. Or forgetting about a visit and the stress of not having him "visit ready" and worrying if a call would be put in to DCS because he had a wet diaper or food on his clothes (which YES has happened). Even 4 year old Eliza asked, "So this means no more visits??" and was thrilled to find out that yes, no more visits.