Good Riddance February!

As hard has January was for me, February was harder.
I kept thinking it would get better.
People kept telling me it would get better.

But it didn't. It just kept getting worse. And worse.
It was a great month for the billable hour, but other than that it was all around bad. Probably because it was a great month for billables.

It was a dark, dark month for me personally, and I hated almost every minute of it. I woke up each day (internally) kicking and screaming. Food lost its flavor. Sleep lost its restfulness.

But it wasn't all bad.

Tate's resiliency prevailed, and he came through his surgery with flying colors. (He's still hungry and on his liquid diet-- but less than one week of that left!) On the rare days I make it home before he's in bed, I get to enjoy his squealing delight to see me.

Casey's middle-of-the-night bathroom breaks became mother-son time, and he'd happily chatter about his day as he sat next to me, before I walked him to bed.

And Marcie. Marcie's a tough cookie to crack sometimes. But she still likes to sneak into our bedroom early in the morning, crawl into our bed and snuggle up with me.

I'm ever hopeful that March will champion in some warm, happy spring days . . .

A girl can dream, can't she?

Surgery Recovery and Recap

I’ve mostly blogged about Tate’s surgery day, but here are the photos to show you what it was like.  My apologies if these are repeats—

First, here are our our “before” photos—

Tate at home, in his stroller during our admissions, running all over the waiting area (he didn’t last long in the stroller).  They called us back to pre-op shortly thereafter, which was unfortunate because then we had to be contained in a small area with pretty much no toys, and one “wall” was a curtain that Tate kept sneaking under.  Fortunately, our surgeons were ready early, so they took Tate back to surgery early.

  These are our “after” photos:  The first two are in our hospital room around 6:00 p.m. (a couple hours after surgery).  You can see that Tate’s cheeks are a bit puffy, and his mouth is oozy with blood.  It wasn’t pleasant to look at, but it wasn’t unexpected either.  They had “no nos” on him, which are soft bands that prevent him from bending his elbows and sticking things (like his fingers) in his mouth.

He did drink from a cup before he went down for the night.  We could not really get him to drink from a bottle.  I think his mouth was too sore, and he didn’t want the bottle in it.  We started out with Tylenol, and when he woke up a couple hours later, we went to ibuprofen, and then finally settled on some Tylenol with codeine.  That was around 4:00 a.m.  This picture is of Tate closer to 5:00 a.m.—his first post-surgery smile.  The Tylenol with codeine kick-started him being up, and then he wanted to walk all over the place.  We spent an hour or two just wandering the halls, he and I.  He’s pretty cute—and he sure wasn’t talking or making noise, so the nurses didn’t seem to mind.

 

I began texting Jason around 4:00 a.m.  Our plan had been for him to return to the hospital at 9:00 a.m.  But after a sleepless night, I wanted him to come earlier.  So my texts got increasingly desperate sounding.  Until, finally, at 6:00 a.m. or 7:00 a.m., Tate and I both fell fast asleep.  When Jason did arrive around 9:00 a.m., Tate was ready for his next dose of Tylenol with codeine.  We drove all over the halls in this car they had, which Tate loved.  And when the activity room opened at 10:00 a.m., Tate wandered in there—he loved it.  They had a ball popper and lots of instruments, which he loved playing with.  This purple gown was his second because of all the drooling—and he did get a third gown at one point in time—you can see how wet it got.

Tate did crash again for a bit, thankfully allowing us some rest. 

Tate woke up just in time for Dr. Holmes to check on us and discharge us a day early.  So here’s Tate ready to go (and you can see our room in the background), and then in the car. 

Marcie and Casey were playing with my mom, but so excited to see Tate.  Casey immediately shared Ali the Alligator, his class pet, which Casey got to bring home over the holiday break because Casey will be star student next week at school.  Tate wasn’t interested in Ali (or anything else, except me) all weekend.

 

Tate was mostly angry, angry, angry about not getting solids for the first couple days.  We were able to manage his pain pretty well, but not his hunger.  He’s on a full liquid diet for another two weeks, and they told us we’d have to feed him every couple hours—but we didn’t really anticipate that happening all night long.  Though it did.  All week long.  On Wednesday night, he lasted one three-hour stretch.  Our plastic surgeon was surprised by this—he thought Tate should be sleeping longer at night (he also said Tate’s mouth looks great!).  On Thursday night, it was every 3 hours.  And last night, he went a whole long stretch—like five hours!  So far tonight, he’s been down for four hours so far.  Fingers crossed he’ll sleep all night. . .

The first few times we were able to get a bottle into his mouth, he still crooked his finger, even with the no-nos on, like he was going to stick it in his mouth.  And a couple time she tried to “pretend” to hold his bottle, and then he’d try to stick his finger in his mouth while holding the bottle.  But he seems to have stopped doing that now.

Getting Discharged Early!

Tate is a super star!
I wasn't feeling that happy about it at 4:00 this morning, when he was traipsing up and down the halls of Children's hospital. Or at 6:00 this morning, when he was still traipsing up and down the halls. Because I like sleep.

But I knew it was a good sign that the Tylenol with codeine alleviated his pain and helped him behave more like his normal self. They removed his IV in the early morning hours. They removed his pulse oxygen monitor around the same time. And then, a couple hours after the Tylenol with codeine, he crashed. Blessedly. Because it meant I got to crash for a couple hours with him.

When he woke around 9:00am, I could tell he was in pain, and they gave him another dose of the medicine close to 10:00am, at which point he led me and Jason to this toy car he'd seen in the hallway, and he insisted we push him all over the place. He eventually landed in the activity room, where he played and played and played until around noon, when he became fussy again.

Lucky for us, his surgeon was around and he came by to check Tate out-- he commented about how fantastic Tate was doing, told us that some patients really do need the Tylenol with codeine every three hours instead of four, and then said we could go home this afternoon!

Tate finally calmed down and is sleeping. Jason is trying to nap, too. When Tate wakes, he'll get another dose of the Tylenol with codeine, and hopefully he'll be nice and calm for our drive home.

Keep the good thoughts and prayers going-- for a speedy and painless-as-possible recovery, and for the grace to handle whatever comes our way. . .

I do have lots of photos- but they are on my camera, so check back later and I'll update this post with some photos from our stay.

Surgery Day! (With Updates! and Pictures!)

Today is the day.

We leave for the hospital around 12:30pm for Tate's surgery. I missed the pre-surgery appointment, but luckily my mom was in town to accompany Tate and Jason.

I've told Tate what's going to happen today.

He's already been cut off of solids-- though we don't anticipate he'll be truly cranky about that until around noon. I'm planning (hoping) to blog later, after the surgery. We'll see how things go in the hospital, though.


Tate-- before the hunger hits. . .

On the way to the hospital. . .


Even though Tate hadn't had anything to eat since 6:30pm last night, he was in pretty good spirits-- bouncing and singing on the way to the hospital. Running all over the waiting room. Following bigger kids around.


When we were taken to the pre-op area, Tate continued to run a bit wild. He kept sneaking under the curtain to see what was going on in the rest of the pre-op area.


About an hour earlier than expected, Dr. Holmes appeared. His bilateral cleft palate surgery-- the one before Tate's-- had gone well and he was ready to get started. So we finished up the paperwork and off Tate went. That was really hard. It was the first time Tate has been handed off to a stranger of any kind in a strange place since we met him. And the squawking and the expression on his face as they were carrying him away-- it was terrible.


Ten minutes after we said our good-byes, our ENT was back in the waiting room-- ear tubes all in. All is good.


We grabbed some quick food, then returned to the waiting area. (There was a family there that was clearly very upset, and the one thing I did not want was to sit across from them-- because I was already feeling so emotional about Tate going under anesthesia.) We started up a movie, promptly fell asleep, and the next thing I knew, a nurse was calling our name.


We went back to the consult area, where we learned that everything was, as hoped, "routine," that the repair went well, and that we'd follow up with the doctor in a week. Back to the waiting room for what we were initially told would be another hour for Tate to come out of the anesthesia, we were surprised when, less than 20 minutes later, I was called back to the post-op area. This was because they couldn't calm poor little Tate down.


I admit, his appearance was pretty shocking-- bloodied, swollen, and clearly angry. I did my best, but I couldn't calm him either. So that told them it was pain and not concern causing the crying, and they gave him some Demerol. He fell back asleep until it was time to transfer to our room.


So here we are, in our room. It's a beautiful room. The nurses have been super accommodating. At one point, when Tate's vitals were being checked, he woke up really cranky. He really wanted my gatorade bottle-- so we got a bottle from the nurse, filled it with pedialyte and apple juice, and he gobbled it down. Then he had some gatorade, too. He was still unsettled, so we opted for some regular Tylenol (no codeine-- we'll see how it goes), and he fell back asleep. That he is eating so soon after surgery is a huge surprise-- and terrific news. He is still fussy and oozy -- and I know the hardest part is ahead of us.

Here's Jason squeezing the apple juice into Tate's mouth. And you can see the crook of Tate's hand-- it's like he's wanting to stick that finger into his mouth, as has been his habit, but he knows he can't get his hands in his mouth with the no-no on his arm.

Please keep sending up prayers or good thoughts or whatever your thing is for us, for a relatively painless and quick recovery, and for the grace to handle whatever comes our way. . .

Baptism and First Reconciliation

This week has been a doozy.

First, the good. Here are a couple photos of Tate's baptism:



Jason ended up in urgent care then to the 24 hour urgent care/hospital for more tests while I was at the First Reconciliation with the kids. (I hadn't planned to take them all, but didn't have a choice.) Tate thought it was his job to: (1) squawk throughout the service. Very loudly; (2) run all over the place; (3) play "you can't catch me." (This is new for him.)

Tate completed his confession with "Father Casey," which he thought was hilarious.

Of course, between balancing the kids I didn't get very many photos. And by "very many" I mean I got one. Of course I can't figure out how to sync off my iphone at the moment, so you'll have to trust me that he looked great. . .

Bath-tized

This weekend was Tate's baptism. It was sort of a last minute thing because of his surgery this coming Friday, and Deacon Ron was so kind to fit us in.

We dressed Tate in his white Chinese outfit, with dragons on the front. It fit perfectly.
He also wore his brand-new big boy shoes.

The ceremony was brief and distracting because we kind of had to chase Tate all over the place.

He laughed when the water was poured over his head. Then stuck his hands in. After that, we couldn't keep his hands off the fountain at all.

After the baptism, the kids enjoyed beautiful dove cookies my sister sent.
Tate opened presents from his grandparents and a lovely card from his Godmother (who so wanted to be here but is not healthy enough to travel at the moment-- and it's not like we gave her any real notice).

Casey wrote about the experience in his journal at school today. He wrote how his grandma from North Carolina came to town. How they took a "short cut" to the church. And how Tate got "bath-tized." We kind of chuckled at that. But it's a perfectly legitimate understanding of the event.

Hello February

I feel like I work at a pretty family-friendly place. For a law firm.

• They are generous with parent leave for adoption.
• They are generous with paid paternity leave.
• They provide "back-up care" for employees so that we can have a nanny come to the house so we can work.
• They encourage telecommuting and offer good technology support.

But this month was a real doozy for me.
Pretty much the only day I did not do any work was the day I had the food poisoning/stomach flu thing going on.
There were days I didn't see the kids at all. And not because I was traveling.

But after months like this, I feel just terribly guilty. Especially when the kids are calling me at work and asking me if I can at least come home by 7:59 pm to kiss them good night and then go back to work. Or when I call to check in and hear Tate screaming in the background.

Glad that's over.

Hello February.

Something Lost

On the morning Casey turned 8, he reminded me immediately it was his birthday (of course, I knew). I made him wait until 9 to jump on our bed and wake up Jason.

We talked about the day he was born. We contrasted the weather here-- sunny, blue skies, in the upper-70s-- with the weather when he was born-- a snow storm. He knows all about how we were on vacation in Florida when we learned that he was going to be born, so all Jason had were shorts, which he wore.

We told Casey how amazing it was to hold him and feed him his first bottle. How happy we were to meet him. How important he was-- and still is-- to us.

We told him how much we love him and how lucky we feel to be his parents. (He told us he knows. If you know Casey, this is no surprise at all.)

After our morning conversation, I thought about Casey's Story. I thought about how much love was in that room when he was born. How much anxiety and hope for our future. How I knew I was lucky the moment I held him. And I wondered how Marcie felt, sitting on our bed and hearing Casey's Story. It's not lost on me how much we don't know about Marcie's arrival in the world.

Of course, Marcie has her own story; it just doesn't involve the day she was born. And thinking about that, I felt incredibly sad. Like somehow she's lost something and I can't ever help her get it back. I'm not sure that Marcie feels like she's lost something. And I don't think Marcie will feel less loved as a result. (I certainly hope she won't.)

I don't have any pithy, uplifting words to express how I resolved the issue in my own mind. Not sure I ever will. Or that there needs to be a resolution. For all I know, I'm thinking way more about this than Marcie (or Tate) ever will. I actually kind of hope so.

Toilets

Tate discovered them this week.
At least the water was clean.
Well, as clean as toilet water can be, of course. (Don't worry-- we washed his hands thoroughly.)

He hasn't figured out how to lift the lids, so that's our solution. For now.

And Then He Was 8

This weekend I learned how birthday parties can be like weddings.
Big crowds are over-rated.
They're about the experience and not the gifts.
Organization is key.
It helps to have a "wedding planner" there to help out and run things.
Oh, and keep your fingers crossed you're healthy on the big day.


When Casey said he wanted a sleepover, we figured it would be a good way to cut down on the giant birthday parties of yesteryear. But Casey's social circle runs pretty far-- we narrowed the list to 10 invitees, and that excluded his local cousin (only because my brother and sister-in-law said they'd prefer it that way). We figured, on a three-day weekend, odds were that not everyone would come. We were wrong. But not too worried.


We ran into a little glitch with the cake. I wasn't going to make one this year-- but we couldn't find a Super Mario cake in the local stores, so I found myself baking the day before his party.


I didn't want to go hog-wild on the party favors, and I found some pretty inexpensive dart guns and supplemented with a pack of sugar-free bubble gum. I labeled everything (darts, guns, gum) with a sharpee and put together a zip-lock bag for each boy.


At around noon, I was feeling a little off. I ate a slice of pizza and laid down for a nap. When I woke at 2, I felt worse. Jason had warned me he thought the pizza might be bad because his stomach was bothering him, too. I tried standing and walking around and cleaning-- but in between bouts of doing so, I had to lay down. Around 4pm, my stomach felt strong enough for a drive to the store and to my brother's to pick up some xbox remote controls.


At 5pm, the boys started to arrive. They were all prompt. The fresh air felt good, but I still felt weak and ill. At 6:30, it was time to serve the hot dogs, hamburgers, salad and chips. Thankfully, one of my good friends decided to stick around and tag-team with her husband because their son wasn't going to spend the night. She served the food while I went and laid down. I was too woozy to stand.


At 7:30 we did cake and ice cream. I served the food sitting down. We put Tate down at 8pm and started a movie. Thankfully, my good friend's husband (also a good friend of ours) was there to help keep the boys in check. I laid down for the night.



At around 11:30pm, Jason came in and said he needed help (remember he hadn't been feeling well either). Casey had just thrown up and he and the bathroom needed to be cleaned. He'd had too many Doritos.


At around 1:30am, I could still hear the boys so I went to check on them. One was actually walking around because he still couldn't sleep.


At 3:00am, the dog woke me up. He'd peed in my room. I took him outside. The boys were all asleep, but a couple stirred.


At 6:30am, I woke to the sounds of the boys playing in the TV room and wandered out momentarily. I felt better, but not great.


At 7:30am, two of the boys came in and asked for breakfast. And I totally rallied. When the last child left at 11am, sitting on the couch, I put my head on my hand and promptly fell asleep. I slept hard until Tate woke up from his nap. And I seem to be feeling much better. I still feel weak and tired and groggy. But I can sit up. And I don't feel like I want to throw up anymore.


The boys were about what we expected. It was like hosting a fraternity party without the beer. They were loud, crude, and stinky. They were careless (one child got hit in the eye with a dart during their games). They argued over video games; they challenged each other to Kinect soccer; they worked together to make it through the Super Mario levels. They loved the gum. They devoured their breakfast food after a night of hard play. And I think, all in all, they had a good time.


Casey sure did. And that was the point, after all, wasn't it?


Sorry for the lack of photos-- I'd like to say it's the result of me being so involved I didn't have time to snap many. But it's actually a product of me being too sick to follow the kids around. I don't even have one of the whole gang watching the movie or anything. Shame on me.

Baby Steps

Tate took his first steps on Christmas morning, so I could be with him. And cherish the moment. And, of course, document it on my iphone. But unless we set him down and coax him, he hasn't had much interest in walking. And that's been fine with us-- after all, walking means more confidence and that leads to climbing, and you can see where I'm going.

Tonight when I came home, after he made a crawling bee-line for me, I put him down in the kitchen so I could put batteries in Marcie's glo-mate. He pushed himself up and walked across the entire kitchen to me. It was amazing.

Tate has other big changes coming soon.

We finally have a surgery date to repair his cleft palate. February 11. We'll be in the hospital for two nights with him. As you might imagine, I have quite a lot of anxiety about this surgery. It means putting my littlest boy under anesthesia. We, like other parents who have gone through this before us, are pinning all our hopes (for now) on the success of this surgery. There's kind of a lot at stake for little Tate.

Please keep him in your thoughts.

Santa's Packaging

The other day, after running around outside, up and down the side yard of our home, Marcie turned to Jason last week and said with wonderment something like:

"Dad, Santa unwrapped our toys on the side yard before he brought the gifts down the chimney!"

Ahem. Well, there you have it . . .

Happy New Year!

2010 was a year of many changes.

We said some good-byes:

• To the kids' preschool, which one or more of our children attended for almost half a decade.
• To Aunt Megan and Uncle Timour, who moved east.
• To several fish and a couple of frogs.
• To our dining room (which became our home office).
• To watering our backyard grass, which kept dying anyway.
• To day care and after school care.
• To a whole income (gulp).

We said some big, important hellos:

• To the arrival of our nephew/cousin Kai.
• To severl fish and a couple frogs.
• To kindergarten.
• To Tate.

We flew a lot of miles (more than 20,000 miles in the air in 2010).
We experienced an up-close-and-personal 4th of July Fireworks show.
We danced down the Pearl River in China.
And we bowled our way through southern Ohio.

We had some colds and fevers and a couple trips to urgent care (but none to the ER!).
We had some cuts and scrapes and a few teeth removed.
We had visits from the tooth fairy, the Easter Bunny and Santa Claus.

And we've come out of 2010 a very rich family. Because we've got each other.
That makes us some of the luckiest people in the world.

Here's to a healthy and happy 2011!

January 1, 2011: Lila, Marcie, Tate, Casey & Lucas (after our annual Rockin' New Year's Eve kids-and-adult party)

The Day After

It’s the day after Christmas
And all through the house
The toys are piled up--
Nerf guns, toys balls and Marcie’s zhu zhu mouse

Dad’s working hard
To clean up the mess
And Mom’s on the computer
Working- or trying her best.

“Dear Santa, I like to be nice to my family. I like to cook cookies for you and and apple for your reindeer. Sincerely, Casey.” [And we didn’t help Casey with the spelling at all.]

”Dear Casey (and Marcie and Tate), Thank you for the delicious cookies. Dasher loved the apple. Next year please leave milk. Love, Santa.”

Casey’s reaction to his gifts from Santa.

And Tate and Marcie’s gifts from Santa (below):

Playing with new gifts Christmas morning:

T

Some of the ornaments Marcie made for the tree:

After the gift-opening and breakfast, while Tate was napping, Casey was playing Donkey Kong Country and Marcie and I were making Christmas ornaments, Jason climbed up on the roof to see what caused our leaking during the storm last week. The culprit was a couple broken roof tiles. He laid some plastic down, and even though it’s kind of a bummer of a way to spend Christmas, it couldn’t have happened at a better time. The rain that was supposed to arrive today came early, and it rained throughout the night. But no leaks. After we spent most of the day lounging in our pajamas and playing with new toys (and baking and making ornaments and fixing the roof), we headed over to Grandma and Grandpa S’s house for a Christmas meal. This was the view we were greeted with:

It took a long time to get through all those presents, too. But good food, good company—what more could a person really want?

Jason’s parents were incredibly generous this year—as they are every year. This year, we asked people who were having trouble thinking of gifts for us to donate money to one of our favorite charities. We didn’t think anyone would do it—but Jason’s parents did. I got a lot of really great stuff this year. Some boots, a nice bag for work, a beautiful locket engraved with the words Forever Family, but I think the donation to Eagle’s Wings China (a group foster home located in Jiaozuo City in Henan, where Tate is from—the organization we actually visited while in China) was the best Christmas gift I received. I get emotional still, even now, just thinking about it. I really, really wanted to donate more money to them this year. Every little bit makes such a huge difference to them. (And to other organizations like them in China, including Philip Hayden Foundation, which is the organization that took care of Tate.) But dropping down to a single income and paying for an adoption have really spent us. So to know that money went there anyway . . . well, I just don’t really know how to put into words how that makes me feel. My eyes pool with tears, I get a lump in my throat. I feel so . . . so very, very grateful.

I hope everyone reading this, likewise, had a magical Christmas with their families—and that the magic and joy carry you through the new year!

Merry Christmas!

Hope your day is filled with lots of giggles and hugs, laughter and play. And, most of all, love.

Merry, Merry Christmas!

Twas the Night Before Christmas

       

Christmas always sneaks up on me when I'm working full time leading up to it, and this year was no different.  Even though we’ve been doing Chrismassy things all month.  For example, this year, for the first time, we went to Christmas in the Park, which our town holds when it lights the town Christmas tree.  It was actually a super warm afternoon (just before the big storms hit).

 

Then, last week, we had our annual Christmas party with our our good friends, and we took all the kids to the area nearby known for its spectacular light display.

And, of course the kids made a gingerbread house.  It even stayed standing up this year!

And Jason was good about keeping me posted in the last few days of the week.  For example, yesterday, the kids made and decorated sugar cookies with some dough I prepared.

Today we went for a morning walk as a family to grab some last minute groceries (and Starbucks).  At Starbucks, one of Casey’s art projects from school was on display, so of course we had him pose with it for a photo.

Then we visited with my brother and his family.  Tate and his cousin are just three months apart in age.  Isn’t she a cutie?  (You already know I think he is.)

(Sorry that last picture is a little, uh, revealing.  Darned scoop-neck shirt.)

We also went to mass.  Despite arriving 40 minutes early, there were no seats.  So we sat outside.  In the cold.  Brrr.

The kids are watching A Christmas Story now—and in about 10 minutes, we’ll attempt to ready them for bed.  They know Santa won’t be here until they are asleep.  And they know not to wake up before 6:00am.  (A time they picked out!)  So we’ll see how the night goes.  Tate had been waking up nightly for about 10 days there—and today I discovered he’s broken through two molars.  No wonder the poor kid can’t sleep!  (He’s also learned to blow kisses, play peek-a-boo by covering his own face, and he uses the signs now for “more” and “all done” with regularity—he’s a regular boy genius!  I’m so excited he can communicate with us—it only took us three kids to get to this point!)

Hope your Christmas Eve has been full of sweet smells and time with family.  And may all your Christmas wishes be fulfilled!

Role Reversal

I’m back at work.  And I’m busy.  I think both of these things are good.  It’d be hard to be back at work and not be busy.  I’d spend all day wondering what the kids are doing.  But I don’t.  It helps that (1) Jason has become our own version of Mr. Mom; (2) I like my job; and (3) I get little photo text messages every day or two that look like this:

With Casey, he was such a tiny infant—he didn’t even really understand that he was going to his grandmother’s house instead of staying with me.  He just knew that he was being well-fed, well-loved and well-snuggled.  With Marcie, I was in law school, and I had to start back in school pretty much a day after we got back.  I didn’t have a choice by to take her, kicking and screaming, to her grandmother’s house.  I knew she was well-fed, well-loved and well-snuggled.  And I knew she was fine a few minutes after I left, but boy- those transitions were heart-breaking.  (And, let’s be honest, if she didn’t cry when she separated from me, I would have been bothered by that, too.  It’s a lose-lose.)

But with Tate, he doesn’t go anywhere.  He sticks around our house with his dad.  He sees his brother and sister at the same time every day (and his little feet kick out when they get home, he’s so happy to see them!).  Of course he is well-fed, well-loved and well-snuggled—but all without that awful transition.  And when he hears my voice or sees me come home, he screeches and crawls right on over to me, demanding that I hold him. 

Yeah, I’m missing out on stuff.  He learned how to wave last week.  And finally started doing the sign for “all done.”  And he starting to stand without holding on to anything.  I will probably miss his first step.  But thank goodness for smart phones (what did we do without them?).  And I know the whole family is better off with Jason home.  Homework gets done the right way.  Meals are eaten at a reasonable hour.  The house isn’t an embarrassing disaster if someone drops by (at least not usually).

Of course, it’s only been two weeks—and I’ve already come down with two eye infections, a cold, and some weird esophogal cramping thing.  Tate decided this past week that he’d spend at least an hour each night- in the middle of the night- wide awake.  And Casey likewise has been waking in the middle of the night and slipping into our bed.  I blame the latter two lack-of-sleep issues on causing the former (health) issues.  But I’m chalking all of it up to this being a time of transition.  I sure hope I’m right. 

It’s Beginning to Look Like Christmas

Certainly it is, commercially speaking:

Don’t they look old?

Happy Thanksgiving!

The kids have the week of Thanksgiving off each year. This year we decided it'd be the perfect time to take a trip to Ohio to visit Casey's birth family. We always have fun when we visit them. And this year was no different.

They just finished off their basement, and it was beautiful:

It doesn’t really matter to us how we spend our time—it’s about being with family. And we always have such fun. One day, we took a walk to a nearby lake (and when I say nearby, I mean next door—literally):

One afternoon, we went bowling:

We saw a movie and met some new people. And generally hung out. Marcie became Casey’s older sister’s shadow. Casey loved being with his big brother and his cousin. And even Tate had someone to look up to: Casey’s other cousin. I’ve never seen Tate take to someone so immediately. I could have left the building, and he probably wouldn’t have noticed.

And I think it’s worth mentioning—though I describe these relatives in terms of their connection to Casey, we consider all of them our extended family, too. And they us. If you ask Marcie, she’ll probably tell you that she has a big sister, too. If there’s one thing adoption has taught us, it’s that family is not about blood relations. It can be. But it doesn’t have to be. And we feel so lucky that Casey’s birth family sees it that way, too.