Discipline, rinse, repeat. repeat. repeat...

Many have heard me state that one of the things I most love about my little girl is her strong and infinitely energetic personality. Unlike her mommy, L seems to have been born with this deep and endless well of confidence. She is charismatic, loud, stubborn, extremely bright (frightengly so, sometimes), outspoken, opinionated...all of these things make up the girl that I adore.

While I still say these are the parts of her that I cherish, lately I've been saying it through gritted teeth and with a face reddened by frustration. I'm sure my parents will raise their hands in the air and shout with the happiness that comes only with true justice when I say DAMN! my girl is STUBBORN and I am at the end of my wits. That's a lie. My wits are long gone.  

Lately it seems that my days are filled with disciplining her in the following fashion:

"L, don't stand on the rails of the chair, sit in your chair properly."

No response from L.

"L (slightly louder), please do not stand on the chair that way, the rail is going to break."

Slight or no respose from L.

"L! Sit down!"

At this point, L may sit down temporarily, but often tries to worm her way out of obeying by talking and talking and talking about anything but what is currently transpiring. It's at this point where I usually lose it...

"L! SIT DOWN IN YOUR CHAIR RIGHT NOW OR BREAKFAST IS OVER! I'M SERIOUS, THAT FOOD WILL GO INTO THE GARBAGE!"

Yep, those capital letters mean that I'm full-on yelling. I really do hate yelling, but it seems to be the only thing that can break through the outright disobedience and general non-stop chatter that L employs to get what she wants.

I think what is the most frustrating thing is that almost nothing can happen (with regards to L) without some kind of challenge and/or debate. Getting dressed, eating, picking out a video, getting ready to go anywhere, all of these activities not only take twice as long as they should, but they become infinitely more stressful than they should because I'm constantly engaging in a massive battle of wills with a child who has a seemingly endless supply of energy and, let's say, chutzpah. She's no wallflower, my girl.

Thankfully, I am stubborn as well (who, me?), and so I am able to hold my own and make sure my little lady knows who is actually in charge here. But lordy is it freakin' exhausting. I honestly think I would faint with sheer surpise if I ever asked L to come over and get dressed and she just plain old DID. And stood still. And helped. And didn't wiggle around, grab at her animals, run away giggling half-naked to jump on the bed leaving me kneeling on the floor holding her underwear yelling at her and feeling like not only a total loser, but a complete failure as a parent.

For my part, I know that I need to perhaps choose my battles a bit more wisely. Or at least just be choosier. The more frustrated I become, the more I seem to want to punish myself by scolding L for every tiny little infraction. Each scolding is then met with more disobedience...things kinda snowball from there, you can imagine.

I don't want to take away any of her spirit. I want her to have her own opinions, make her own conclusions about her world, learn the natural consequences of her actions (within reason, of course), and become her very own person. But I also need to figure out how to disengage from this constant battle of wills. I need for her to realize that there are certain things it is simply not her place to challenge.

Ok, Mom & Dad, laugh it up. I know, I deserve it...

Baby Mine

I think it's because my little man has recently given up the bottle that I've become a wee bit sentimental as of late. L was so tiny and infant-like when we brought her home, I definitely had more time to enjoy her baby-ness. E's babyhood seems to have zoomed on by and I'm still struggling to call him what he is, a toddler.

So, to indulge my weepy sentimental state, here are the lyrics to one of my most favorite lullabys - the one I sang to E all the time when we first brought him home:

Baby mine, don't you cry.

Baby mine, dry your eyes.

Rest your head close to my heart,

never to part, baby of mine.

Little one, when you play,

pay no heed what they say.

Let your eyes sparkle and shine,

never a tear, baby of mine.

If they knew all about you,

they'd end up loving you, too.

All those same people who scold you,

what they'd give just for the right to hold you.

From your hair down to your toes,

you're not much, goodness knows.

But, you're so precious to me,

sweet as can be, baby of mine.



Six months home, Christmas, and other miscellany...

It's been so very long since I've posted, so much to talk about! But I must begin with our Christmas triumph. About two years ago, my darling girl lost this random plastic dinosaur she had named "Wheezie" (after the dragon on Dragon Tales). Seriously, this thing was lost a LONG time ago. Unfortunately, Lila has a freakishly good memory, and thus she has never given up hope that Wheezie might someday return. My memory not being so great, all I could remember was that my mom had gotten "Wheezie" at the local Walmart and I vaguely recalled that it had something to do with Dora. Thankfully, Wheezie came in a package with two other dinosaurs that hadn't been lost, so my most amazing and resourceful hubby was able to track it down using some serious internet cunning and the stamped product number on the other dinosaur's foot! To be honest, I pride myself in my researching capabilities, so I was a bit jealous that I was not the one to find the treasure online, but I digress...

Lila had no clue. Here is her reaction opening up her beloved "Wheezie"...

Every time I think of her reaction I giggle. It was priceless. Also one of those rare moments where you truly manage to get exactly what your kid wants for Christmas.

I will admit that a rather big event went rather unobserved in this house due to the overall holiday chaos. My little man celebrate 6 months home on December 14th. Most of the time I absolutely cannot believe it's only been a mere 6 months, he is so very much an integral part of this family: it simply wouldn't work without him.

At 16 months he is now walking and making quick progress on running (Lord help me). He is quick to laugh and quick to cry...full of emotion is my little guy. Not to be outdone by his very dramatic expressive big sister, Elijah can put on quite a production when he doesn't get his way. He says "Mama," "Dada," "Bubba" (the dog), and "Ball." He also postively lights up when you say the word "snack." I've actually witnessed him tremble with anticipation and excitement at mealtime, hence his Lila-given nickname, "Snacks." He still prefers to be held and cuddled most of the time, mainly by me (you should see my biceps). He is definitely a mama's boy, through and through, and I wouldn't have it any other way.

The way my kids play together frequently fills my heart to the bursting point. Sure, we have our fair share of sibling rivalry and drama, but on the whole I think it's pretty clear that my kids adore each other. Lila has taken to big sisterhood with a joy and energy only she could posses. The other day Elijah was heading for the stairs and I asked her to please hold him off so I could walk over and shut the gate. From the end of the hallway I watched my daughter FULL BODY TACKLE my son at the foot of the stairs. Such was her fear that Elijah might climb the stairs and get hurt. Quite the mother hen, she is. Now we just need to work on using a slightly gentler approach...

But the love is there. Behold...

Words cannot even begin to describe how thankful I am that he is my son. As I sit here typing my eyes fill thinking about how scary and chaotic the first few months of his life must have been. How strong he must be to have survived and grown to become the amazing toddler he is today. I think of a newborn baby boy left behind a bush in the cold Ethiopian night and I can barely stand it, my heart aches that I cannot take away that part of his story. I also think (with a gratitude I will never be able to fully express) of the nannies, nurses, and doctors at the orphanage who clearly doted on my little boy. One of the doctors had nicknamed him "September," because she thought he was just so sparkly and bright. I am beyond joyful that he came to be mine. I get to walk into his room each morning and see him smile and say "Mama," stretching his arms out to me. I have the privilege of being his mommy, and knowing there is a woman out there who made the impossibly difficult decision to let him go, I will never take my job as his mother for granted. 

I don't think I have any set New Year's Resolutions. Perhaps set aside a bit more time to sew? The hubby very much thinks I should open up my own Etsy shop, but I'm still skeptical that anyone would actually pay money for the things I make. I mean, Lila liked her Christmas dress and all, but would she buy it? Not so sure...