Full Circle

When I began this blog more than two years ago I used the phrase "mama blanc". I had heard from a fellow adoptive mama this was our name that was given to us by the children. Honestly, even though this is our third trip here I really had never heard it. After the first trip I was considering changing the name, but really why bother?  It still meant "white mama" so it was still fitting.

Well...today I heard the phrase,"Mama Blanc". Rachel told me the children use it to describe us women coming for them. Apparently, the children had a lively discussion about their mama's this morning. Later, we went to the orphanage, I heard my own little Grace saying,"mama blanc" intermixed in a whole lot of Kreyole. She was talking to her friends and "mama blanc" was all I could pick up. I asked Rachel later what she was saying. Rachel said she was telling he other children I was HER mama blanc and they were not to touch me.   After we left the orphanage, we went for a wonderful lunch. I needed to take Grace potty, and as she sat there seeming to study my face I looked at her and said,"Mama Blanc?" She just smiled and said,"Oui".

In that moment, I had been claimed. I was her mama. Somehow been though we do not speak the same language we knew where we belonged in eachother's lives.  I responded back with a simple,"Oui".

As for Alex, I am mama to him too. I was not allowed to put him down at the orphanage. That was funny too. He wanted to be where the children were in the middle of the action, but safely in my arms where I could hold no one else.

Now, you may be wondering, hmmmm..... How does that work?  Claimed by both children. How will I manage?  Funny thing is, they have claimed one another too. She lovingly patted his knee in the car today and he likes to nap right on top of her. She doesn't mind though.

Somehow God knew these children from two different mountain tops are right where they are supposed to be.... With their siblings from the other end of the world from two different villages in Russia and their parents from plain old USA.

Finally...a problem worth enjoying

Until now, our adoption has followed a typical Haitian path. I guess I should clarify, the only thing typical about a Haitian adoption is it is unpredictable. Delays when things seemingly should go easily, speed when things seem impossible, up and down, up and down. In the last two and half years we have been victims of hurricane delays, paperwork snafus and delays that can only be a mysteries that will never be solved.  So, here we sit, on the US side proceeding through the embassy for the last five weeks. Yes, this was supposed to be easy. On to the US with limitless technology, and "superior" systems. Guess what?  Government shutdown. Although the embassy is open for business, they're short staffed and frustrated. Then, Thurs an answer. A paper from three years ago was not signed by us. The fix?  Go to Haiti. Go now.

We learned of our impending trip 24 hours ago. I was able to give immediate notice of my maternity leave, book flights for us, and pack for six people. Now, I sit, head spinning, exhausted and unable to even think about bed. It dawns on me, this little error is driving my children into my arms in approximately 48 hours.  Funny how one error can finally work in your favor. This time I get to keep my children. The paper will represent all that is needed for the visas.

In other news, with great joy we will show our boys Haiti. I am interested to see what they say about seeing an actual orphanage. They both came from Russian orphanages. What will they think about when they see the children?  What will they think about seeing poverty?  Will they notice smiling people who have nothing?  What will their view of life be after this?  So many questions. I have dreamed of all these things for two years and it is finally time for the answers. I have a feeling this blog is gonna get a whole lot more interesting!

Mount St. Haiti

Superstitions. I think if you asked any waiting adoptive mothers they would admit to a superstition or two. Something we will or won't do convinced that by doing these , truth be told, mundane activities somehow there will be a profound attempt on our adoptions. For example, one waiting mama friend will not paint her child's room until a travel date is set in stone. I, too, suffer from superstitions.  There I said it. I have a small gathering, OK, more like a piling of things for Haiti and the babies. It occupies a corner of my bedroom. Now that I really examine it, it has become a rather large pile that I have affectionately termed to myself,"Mount St. Haiti".

This pile began over two years ago. After our first trip, I left our large duffel there. It had stuff for the babies in it from our first trip. There were toys, diapers, wipes etc...  Before our second trip 13 months ago, I got it all reorganized and repacked. When we returned home, it went back to its usual spot in the corner. Over the last thirteen months I have gathered all kinds of things that have added to the pile.  There are bags with nanny gifts, more toys, Christmas presents for the babies that are unopened, baby clothes, and I am sure much more.  The purchases remain in their bags.  The pile is ever growing. In case you were wondering, yes, we do clean and dust our bedroom, careful not to disturb the pile. I must admit this is superstitious on my part, and yes, we could probably feature this corner on a Sunday night on an episode of "Hoarders".

In my own defense though I must admit there is more to this than superstition. It is a fear. I spent months with long lists of things to do. I had painting, furniture to buy, house rearranging, all kinds of things. I had lists and errands and endless work. Now, here it is. Down to one pile. Mount St. Haiti. Somehow if I get this done and they are not here I will be at a loss.

So, this week we are anticipating good news from the US Embassy. That would be that they have all the evidence they need to issue Visa appointments for my babies. Once I hear that, Mount St. Haiti will become a distant memory and replaced with all new memories or our new family.

Weary

Weary.  Yes that is definitely the word. I guess I have been hesitating to write a new entry as I somehow thought I would have this explosive exciting adoption news. It was going to be an entry that came off like fireworks with an amazing celebration that spread to all our friends and family. The reality is, no, I do not have one of these. We are still waiting. Now we have passports and are waiting on translations to be done so we can get submitted to the US Embassy for a visa. In true adoption form our translator had surgery. We a waiting for her to recover enough to do the translations. This is an unforeseen delay and one that is quite reasonable. People get sick, people have surgery. Just victims of circumstance is all. My logical brain gets this. However, combine it with the ever changing government causing delays, the hurricane delays, the birth certificate error and the multitude of other things that have slowed things down I find myself simply weary.

So, today I have decided to throw away the pity party and try a pick me up for the whole clan. W are celebrating. I decided there really is no reason to wait for fireworks and excitement. We need to listen to the Brother Charlie song,"Times Like These". Yes, my husband is in the band, but no this is not a shameless plug. The song says,"times like these I feel I should praise The Lord."  So, at a time like this, we are praising. In my typical culinary fashion we are praising with salami and provolone calzones from scratch and chocolate cake. Praises we are here and healthy. Praises that although Jack totaled the car two weeks ago, they are ok, and yes even praises for our adoption process and a coordinator that never gives up on our case. A lady who has fought hard through this process and loved our children every minute. Yes, praises for her. Now that we discuss it over cake, there is lots to be thankful for in the midst of the difficulties. We may just be a little thankful for chocolate too....:)

Nana

To my readers who pay attention to the time I am writing this, yes, I know it is 4:00am.  I also am aware that it seems to be a crazy time to be blogging, but I am actually holding down the fort in the ER and grateful to have just a bit of downtime after last night's busy shift.  Nonetheless, I find that during the down time I tend to get online and check my email, twitter, facebook, etc...Inevitably there are messages from my fellow mamas.  I am not just referring to the other moms from my orphanage, but the greater adopting from Haiti community.  Through the last two and a half years I have come to lean very heavily on these people.  Some of them I have cried with, some I have laughed with, some have vented to me and I to them as we claw and scratch our way through this process.  It dawned on me how fortunate I am to have these women in my life to hold me up through the rough periods. 

Suddenly today as I reflected on that, I was struck by the thought of another important woman in my life.  My nana.  She was my mom's mom.  I always knew my mom was adopted as well.  The story goes, "nana had fibroids and couldn't get pregnant".  I guess I have lived with that story my whole life that I never really thought about it.  It was the same sort of story that went along with them living in Iowa, or being german and irish.  I never considered the real depth of that circumstance.  Today I did.  My mom was born in 1944.  There were no ultrasounds.  There weren't hormonal tests, pee strips to figure out ovulation.  There were not hysterosalpingograms, inseminations or any of the other modern medical procedures we have come to rely on to create life.  Nana just couldn't get pregnant.  I suddenly thought about all the months of her waiting to get pregnant, all the disappointment.  I considered that at that time these things were not discussed openly.  She would have to keep these things to herself.  Then, the adoption.  I thought about her and grandpa waiting just like me for their little girl.  I suddenly wondered what it was like for her when she was handed her baby after all the years of disappointment.  Suddenly, Nana and I have so much in common.  However, I have these wonderful mamas to share my hard times and happy times with when she did not. 

I find myself wishing I could talk to Nana.  I wish I could hear HER story, not the pat answer story I have heard my whole life.  I guess in a sense I would like to be her Facebook, her email and her twitter.  I would like to hear how she felt God's touch in her new baby like I do in my children.  One day I will see her again and we will share our stories.  I can almost see her knowingly smile as I share the stories of meeting my children for the first time, and I will get to smile as she tells me about God having a sense of humor in that several months after bringing my mom home she found out she was 5 months pregnant.  We could share our heartaches and joys as only adoptive mothers can, and celebrate the one lady we have in common, my mom. 

Tomatoes

 I sit here at my laptop a little sweaty, a little dirt covered and definitely smelling like tomatoes.  When I was growing up my dad always had tomato plants (still does), and my grandmother REALLY had tomato plants.  She always planted 50 of them.  She planted loads of other things over their one acre garden plot.  There were beans and onions, grape vines and cherry trees and always lots of roses.  I liked the tomatoes the best though.  She did all kinds of things with them.  She made juice, canned them, and of course, always had fresh ones on hand.  I never was quite able to find tomatoes like hers through my adult life, although I never planted any myself...until now.  This year I got just a large bucket planter and Zachary and I carefully selected three plants.  I thought I would start small.  I then selected a tomato cage, that might make things grow right and easier and we planted them in a matter of minutes.  I guess I was not fully prepared for what would happen next.  They grew.  I mean GREW.  I found myself tucking the little branches into the cage so they would grow straight.  I would check them in the afternoon to see if they needed water.  Pretty soon, I realized my dad spent a lot of time by his tomatoes not to smoke his pipe (that was what I always thought, LOL) but because they needed attention.  Pretty soon, my plants seemed a bit monstrous.  This large ball of green leaning to one side despite the cage covered in little yellow flowers.  Hmmm..... I thought, this must be the time to "stake them", as I always heard Nana and Dad talk about.  Well, as I said, I am a novice.  I don't have that stuff, like stakes and twine.  I did however have some super long metal marshmallow sticks in the garage collecting dust.  That will work.  I had some plastic twine too.  That evening I staked them up, and made it stand tall again.  Little by little, it began leaning again.  Fruit appeared all over the vines but it became worse and worse with the leaning.  Today, I found myself at Lowe's and thought I should get some real tomato stakes and make this thing stand straight.  So, I picked up six bamboo stakes and tonight I got busy.  I first undid the marshmallow sticks and came to realize, the plant had become so heavy in places that the stalk was completely bent.  I went to work, carefully lining up stalk after stalk.  Pretty soon I realized that this plant that had grown so large had needed help in little ways to be healthy. 

I decided that this adoption was so much like these plants.  It started with a small idea.  I remember the day that we decided to adopt.  Tim actually had gotten a bonus, just what we needed to move forward.  He texted to me "I'm thinking mustard seed".  We started with one referral, it grew into mountains of paperwork, months of faith, disappointment, sadness and unspeakable joy.  Each little branch was my faith journey.  Boy, I really needed that God shaped bamboo stick to put together my fracture of trust at times, He tied Himself to His promises on another vine that at times I was not so sure were really true, He supported my sadness and heartache and restored my joy with the bamboo of His peace.  He stood me straight up just like I righted my tomatoes when the disappointment of delays grabbed hold.  Yes, although this adoption is huge just like my tomato plants, there are so many little parts where I needed God to fix little things and provide the ultimate support.

Now, my tomatoes are busily ripening in the sun, just as my last passport is being printed and we are headed off to visas.  I did get  my first tomato yesterday.  It tasted just like Nana's.  The bite of that tomato took me back to her house in Clinton, IA.  A tomato warm and juicy from the sun, so sweet.  I can only imagine holding my babies will be even sweeter. 

Ducklings

My mom loves to read. She loves a great mystery she can sink her teeth in or a historical fiction books among other things. No, she isn't a new fangled reader with an aptly loaded up iPad, she loves the smell of the crisp pages of a new book, or the crackle of the binding of a book being opened for the first time. She even enjoys the black fingertips that go with reading a fresh newspaper. Therefore, it is no surprise that my children get many books as gifts. I also have an amazing sister-in-law who has a degree in library science who manages to find amazing children's books. Today, I was sorting through things for the babies as I prepare for their homecoming. I came across an Amazon box from my mom.  I knew it had "Make Way for Ducklings" inside with a note that it had been her favorite book.

In my extreme preoccupation with passports, birth certificates, on and on, I think my brain had misinterpreted this gift. I now realize I thought it had,"The Chick and the Duckling", the classic story of two different birds. I had made the association of my children having different colored skin than me and thought, yes, this is a good story. Only that was not the book. I soon realized I did not know,"Make Way for Ducklings". I pulled it out and looked at it. It was cooyrighted in 1941. Yes, mom was born in 44, I bet this was popular in her childhood.

I read the story. It is the story of a duck family.  In particular the mother duck is looking for a home to raise her children. They fly until they get tired and find an island in a city park. However, there is rushing traffic, people and what appears to be chaos. Finally she finds a quieter place to lay her eggs...eight ducklings were born. Ultimately she returns to the same park, only the park is different.  She realizes people are there to help her. A police officer helps her cross the street, people feed them peanuts, and they go on to lead a happy life in the loving arms of a whole community.

I beganto reflect on this a bit. Somehow I decided the mama duck was like God.  We as ducklings need to have faith and follow Him and he will provide us with a home even if it is in a place we would not imagine. I wondered if this was how Grace and Alex's birth parents felt about God providing a home for their children here. America must appear scary. People bustling around, so much modern technology, so many things they do not have, not to mention a whole different culture.

When we return to Haiti soon we will have a meeting with their birth parents. A chance to connect our families and for them to say goodbye to their children. Until this point I have focused so hard on their sacrifice,  on the tragedy of them being unable to raise their children.  This book gave me a new focus. I now feel compelled to convey the safety and love of their new home and environment for these mamas who have given me the gift of their babies. I only hope we can do these amazing women justice.

Grace

Grace. Yes that is my new little girl's name. I picked the name myself. Nineteen months ago when we got her referral I thought, by the grace of God she will be ours. Yep, simple as that. God's grace. We will call her Grace. Looking back I now think God had a hearty chuckle over my rationale. Over the last 19 months I have learned so much more about grace. I now see it is so much more than the gift of a child. It is God's love for me even though I am fatally flawed. That love comes in so many varieties. Like the day a barista gave me a free coffee for no good reason, or all the times Zachary struggles to get my attention, "Mom! mom! mom" only to say,"I love you."  It is all those little things that remind me of God's love for me, God's grace. Not a single event or a beautiful little girl.

There is a song that seems to come on right at the right moment these days for me.  It is by Christy Nockles,"Grace Flows Down."  She says,"Grace flows down and covers me."  I have come to truly appreciate that song. It reminds me that grace is all around me and will flow down when I pay attention and let it. What a comfort that is. So, yes, God's grace is bringing her home, but also teaching me a bigger lesson on God's ever present grace all around. I have a feeling I have only just begun to see how deep grace really goes.

Why????

First, an update, then my thoughts for the day. On Tues, I got an email from our coordinator. English is not her first language so as I waded through the message I took away that Alex's file was complete. His passport was waiting to be printed. As I sat back and marinaded in this, I suddenly noticed a paper clip. A paper clip next to the email. Wait a minute...an attachment. What was this?  I opened the email again. There at the bottom after multiple exchanges between my coordinator and myself was the most beautiful piece of artwork I had ever seen. It was Grace's passport!!!  This marks the end of the Haiti side of the adoption. I saved it to my phone and just kept opening it. Her name was Summers. She was really mine. She is MY daughter.  No longer do I have to call her "that little girl we are adopting". She is now,"my daughter."

With that, I began reflecting on the last two years. Two years of hurry up and wait. Two years of overwhelming joy meeting our children for the first time, and crushing sorrow as we got on a plane for home without them. There were holidays without them, birthdays without them. So many difficult times as my family was not under this roof. I was suddenly reminded of when this all started. People asked us,"Why?"  Why would we adopt?  We had three children. Two were nearly grown, one now in school. Why was our family not complete?  Why would we take this journey?  I even was asked by a close family member,"um aren't you getting a little old for this?"  

Well, the "why" is answered easily. God told us to. There were the gentle nudgings in a dream, the informant, Zachary, who said "God told him he would have a brother who was brown" a year before we started this, there was the money that showed up to the penny what we needed, all in yes, this is of God. I think the best answer to "why" is the feeling I got looking at Grace's passport. She came from another mom, she is not the same color as me and is from another corner of the world, yet she is mine. It is such a magical blessing.  I have had this same feeling with my other three and will be excited when I see Alex's passport. It makes all the delays and heartache begin to slip away.  It reminds me that all the delays were worth it and grateful God chose me to take this journey.

Hurricane Sandy

We have had a tremendous amount of rain so far this summer. It has brought to mind that old phrase "Don't tell God how big your storm is, tell your storm how big your God is". I guess until this point I had considered that phrase something I would use to provide comfort in difficult situations. Thinking of the storm in the proverbial sense as opposed to the real sense. However, yesterday it was a real storm that once again brought this phrase up for me. Tropical storm Chantal blew through Haiti closing the government Thurs and Fri. Yes, my friends here we are again on storm delay. The last big delay we had due to a storm was Hurricane Sandy last fall. Grace's birth mother made the 18 hour journey to Port Au Prince during the storm for her birth parent interview. She was late, then rescheduled. As if that were not bad enough, the storm killed the cell service and they could not locate her for weeks. Even when our coordinator sent a man to get her he brought back the wrong woman. Yes, God was bigger than that storm. Despite the delays, He overcame and got that birth parent interview done.

As I was thinking about this today in an attempt to remind myself last week's storm was not fatal, something else dawned in me. Hurricane Sandy was more than my adoption delays in my life. It was the realization that Grace's mother is so committed to her future she would walk through a hurricane to give her away. As if the pain and tragedy of losing her daughter was not hard enough, the vision of her walking through this storm all those hours was downright humbling to me. Sandy was not done yet in my life though. Today I spent the afternoon with Jack. We picked out snacks, sunscreen, insect repellant and various other things. He leaves in one week to go to Rockaway Beach Island to continue the clean up efforts after Hurricane Sandy there. It is his first mission trip. To think of God working in him as a result of the same storm was a bit overwhelming to me as well. I began to wonder if maybe this phrase was not accurate at all. Maybe it was not about God versus the storm at all, but really how big God is in the storm that matters.

Empty Water

Time is dragging on here. Every day with no passport news is excruciating. Somehow not being near the end was difficult, but now that we are closer it is almost harder. A good friend warned me of that. The fact of the matter is I am not a "go with the flow" person. I am a planner, detail focused person. These nebulous situations can...well...make me a little crazy. So, on Weds on a whim I decided, at the urging of my oldest son and his friends, we needed a distraction. I packed up the car and took three teenagers and my 7 year old for an overnight at Great Wolf Lodge and a trip to the Cincinnati Zoo. Yesterday I found myself, as I often do in the summer, poolside. I looked out over the water and became acutely aware it was empty. I tried to insert Grace and Alex into this scenario. I thought about them in their bathing suits I bought them, hers a white Polo one piece with pink polo ponies all over it, and Alex's a light electric blue, also with a big Polo pony on it just like Zachary's (and yes I love the Polo outlet!). Thinking about them missing and the reality of the empty water settled over me. No, my friends, not an easy emotion.

I turned to prayer. Isn't that what we do when times are hard?  I asked God why I got empty water. Empty arms and empty water. At that moment my attention was turned to the water flowing down some rocks into the pool I was in. That water was not empty. It was moving, alive almost as it cascaded down. It reminded me of the analogy that Jesus is the living water. I thought about how all this crazy adoption started in the first place. The money showing up where it had not been there, meeting the man who would bring us Grace now almost two years ago at a rudimentary vegetable stand on the side of the mountain. So many things along the way. Gracie's impact on orphanage visitors, and Alex's. As a newborn his imprint left such a lasting impression on someone she began her own adoption. All those thoughts came rushing at me at once and I finally realized the water may be empty right at this moment but it won't always be. It will spring to life just as our adoption has and will probably be warmer, sunnier, and more beautiful than I can imagine.

Long Time...No Blog...

I guess at this point it is my time to turn myself in to the blogging police. I see I have not posted since January and honestly have just left our adoption followers hanging. No updates, no news. I am guessing at this point even my loyalest of followers have likely given up. The truth is, I nearly did too. We entered the ministry of the interior in the beginning of December. We exited ....wait for it..... Last week. We had umpteen frustrating delays each one more difficult to deal with than the last. I spent a lot of time in tears. I asked God over and over why?  I could not stand to hear the phrase,"in His timing". I could not stand to be asked over and over,"when are they coming?"  I smiled through gritted teeth while I heard phrases like,"why won't they let them come home? Don't they realize these children need homes?" Seven solid months of questions. Seven solid months of no answers.

Now....an answer. We are in passports hoping to exit there this week and on to the US Embassy. They get to come home then. It still seems a bit unbelievable and I guess it will until we make flight arrangements. During this time I heard the song "Everlasting God" quite a bit. The lyrics rang out,"Strength will rise as we wait upon The Lord."  Somehow lo these 7 months there were many times I was anything but strong. I was sad. I was angry. I missed the children so much I felt physical pain in my heart. However, I know today I am in fact stronger. I look at a close friend quite a bit behind us in the process. I saw her pain this week and was able to just know to encourage her. I spend a lot of time with Zachary, my 7 year old. I got to take the time to learn he felt left out of this. His heart needed time to prepare.  He needed time to transition from baby of the family to big brother. He is beginning to look at every situation and picture how Grace and Alex would fit in. As he prepares, I got his passport. He needs to come pick up his new brother and sister.  This is definitely something I would have missed if they were already home. As hard as this time has been, God's lessons in my life are coming to light, and yes, I am beginning to believe the strength has started to rise as I wait (albeit impatiently) on The Lord.

First Presents

I have spent the last week or so tormented over the first gift. I always do this for an adoption. I feel that when our children are given to us, I should have something very special for them. Something they will remember and we can see in their room for years to come and say, there is the first thing I ever gave you. This is such a tall task. For Katya it was a little doll dressed in blue with yellow yarn hair. For Zachary, it was a stacking toy I bought in a Russian toy store, and on from there. I guess people are just used to babies coming with "stuff". Like a blankie or a toy or a pacifier. International adoption is not that way. In the past, I pulled clothes out and changed them into stuff I brought right in the orphanage. Literally, they were naked when we got them. These children have never owned anything. They have never had a toy that was theirs or a favorite shirt. So, the first possession I give seems to carry a lot of significance.

I have scoured the Internet, considering this and that for each. Finally, the gifts are bought. For Grace I bought the American Girl Itty Bitty Baby. I think the initial reaction I get when I tell people this is that perhaps I am spoiling her. OK, I would agree to a certain extent, however, the doll is black. It has hair like hers and dark eyes. She comes with a book about her homecoming we can write in and lots of outfits are available for her. Grace is easily overwhelmed in new situations. I have two sets of grandparents dying to see her. So, both sets plan to bring outfits for her baby. They will come to visit Grace's baby with clothes. The thinking being if we made the visits about her baby she would be less overwhelmed. As for Alex, I had to get him a lion. I cannot explain it, but he seemed to just quite a lion. Perhaps I considered Alexander the Great, or the king of the jungle, nonetheless, something to signify his very important station in this family. I found a two foot tall fleece lion that is made of striped fleece. It is soft, fuzzy and snuggle able. After turning two earlier this week, my baby just may need something to snuggle with. Yes, I realize a two foot lion transporting to Haiti may be a bit difficult, but we are taking it nonetheless.

As I sat back completely satisfied with completing this very difficult decision, I found I could not rest long....I had forgotten something important. Something vital to the adoption process when you have multiple children...there is the issue of what Grace and Alex will bring their new siblings. I think this especially applies to Zachary. He needs to feel important too!  So, back to the drawing board I go!

The Color is Chosen...

Yesterday, I blogged about trying to figure out a good playroom color. Fortunately today I had two very solid advisors with excellent track records. First, I had Jack. He is 16 and loves to paint. We moved into this house three years ago and has painted his room twice. Then, there is Zachary, age 7. One of the players for the play room. After much careful consideration, we selected blue. Not just any blue a dreamy bright yet muted blue somewhere between sky blue and periwinkle. Yes, it has one of those fancy paint names, but somehow ocean mist just does not describe it enough for me.

As I stood in the new playroom tonight looking at those blue walls, Zachary was rolling on the now clean floor in his Angry Bird jammies. He was singing and chattering away. I tried to imagine this combined with Grace's singing in creole as she loves to do, oh yes, quite a beautiful chorus was forming in my head. I saw Zachary with his Darth Vader busy marrying Grace's Princess Tiana under a beautiful blue sky instead of a plain wall. I see Alex quietly playing with Elmo and drawing looking up every once in a while taking in his sister with a look on his face that tells me he clearly thinks she is crazy, something he likes to do. I kinda think this look will come in handy for Zachary too.  Somehow that bright blue is the perfect backdrop to this expression. Yes, we did it. We captured the perfect Summers family playtime. Up next?  The perfect Princess Grace room.

Nesting...for real

It seems like I have written many blogs about nesting. Early on I characterized nesting by buying sippie cups. Later it was clothes and a blankie for Alex.  I have bought room decorations, but today I took the plunge. Paint. I started in what will be our guest room. I Painted the top half of the room a cement gray and the bottom a deep mauve with glitter mixed in. The glitter is very subtle, you can only catch a glimpse at certain angles. Anyway, I put my praise music on and sang along and realized this is real.  I allowed my mind to wander and think about, what next. Grace's room?  I made a list in my head of what I needed. Pink paint. Lots of pink paint. I would do the glitter thing but take it up a notch. I thought about her playing dress up today and even found a trunk to start putting those close in. I made a list of what she needed...frilly dresses, long gloves, hats, many beads, a tiara,,,good thing the trunk was big!  And so the day went. Painting, planning, singing and happily nesting.

Tonight, I finally am sitting in my favorite chair, with my heated blanket, dried paint on me despite the shower mulling over a new dilemma. What color?  I finally decided next I would do the playroom, and save Grace's room for last. Our living room is two stories. There is a staircase that goes up to a bonus space that overlooks the living room. This is our new playroom, currently it is empty. The main wall is shared with the living room so i do not want to change the color, the living room leads to the dining room and open to the kitchen. I would be painting the whole first floor!  Anyway, I want to do an accent wall. I need a color that is not too outrageous as the space is open and visible from the living room, however, I want something fun. As I mull this over my mind wanders to what will go on in that room. I picture Zachary, age 7 playing Star Wars, Grace age 3  playing princess, maybe a tea party and Alex enjoying Elmo. Do you suppose Home Depot has a color that says, the marriage of Darth Vader to Princess Tiana with a tea party featuring the guest of honor Elmo?