Transition and Tradition...And a Little Matchbox 20

Watching Daddy in the Turkey Bowl-a must have tradition!

You know you've been watching too many episodes of Gilmore Girls when you dream that you're opening an inn. And you've pulled your short jackets out of retirement and thrown them back into the clothing repertoire even though one had a missing button-until you cut off the other two buttons so it would match.

Wow.

It's not like I'm trying to escape my completely overwhelming life or anything.  No. Don't be silly.

All day staring at the ceiling 

Making friends with shadows on the wall 

All night hearing voices telling me 

That I should get some sleep 

Because tomorrow might be good for something

Here's the thing though, I don't feel constantly stressed, just like I'm on the edge-of being crazy.  I still do all my normal things like buy groceries, braid hair, and be on time.  But it's there, simmering, waiting for a reason to boil over.  

Just like Max.

Hold on

Feeling like I'm heading for a breakdown

And I don't know why

See, kids who have been through trauma constantly survive in a flight or fight mode. Max is actually doing really well-he's growing, stronger, learning, connecting, and taking his little baby steps to catch up with a typical 18 month old-which is what he'll be tomorrow.  The Dr at UW and Max's physical therapist are both thrilled with his progress-he's in a growth phase and he's made leaps and bounds improvements in gross motor skills. Don't tell our social worker but Bard and I are investing in duct tape as the only possible means to keep that child still for longer than 4 seconds! However-here's the fight or flight-this morning I put him in our jogging stroller to go for a run.  He hasn't ridden in it for over a month because blah blah blah and was instantly agitated.  I could see him tense up, he became fussy, whining. We take almost daily walks and he loves it. But simply sitting in a different stroller put him over the edge.  We see this in a hundred different ways throughout his daily routine-different bottles, new people, different food.  His therapist even noticed that he grows nervous when a new toy is first introduced.  Well that will make Christmas fun!

It's the Most Wonderful Time of the Year

I love Christmas. So. So. So. Much. It's not for naught that I was a history major, ritual and tradition are my middle names.  If I do something once, I'll do it a million times again-in the same exact way and be utterly thrilled every time.  Christmas feeds my insanity perfectly. Watching Elf every year. Christmas tree the Saturday after Thanksgiving every year.  Baking cookies for the neighbors every year. Zoolights with friends every year.  Every year.

There'll be much mistletoeing

And hearts will be glowing

When loved ones are near

I love the busyness.  In fact, if my family could handle it, I would add more.  But that's the thing, somehow not everybody wants to watch 18 Christmas movies every year, live through a day of driving and decorating, make eight pounds of delectables, and fill every evening with a new-or old-tradition.  

And a partridge in pear tree.

No seriously, Bard actually said to me, "Of course I like Elf, but I don't need to watch it every year."

The girls at The Nutcracker

Yes, we're still together, he teaches me how to show grace :)  But we knew-we knew with Thanksgiving-and we know with Christmas-Edge.  To keep things normal for Max we hosted Thanksgiving Dinner. So he napped in his own bed, it was a relatively small group of people, and he went to bed on time.  The difference between Thanksgiving and Christmas is that Thanksgiving is one day and Christmas is a whole month.  Or more if you ask Target!  (A little aside to everyone whining about Christmas decorations being up so early.  Ummm.  Stores would not put them up if they were not making money, probably hand over fist.  So if you had to buy that adorable snowman towel or Christmas cookie, then cut it out, you're clogging my facebook feed!) We've planned and prayed over what will be fun holiday traditions yet keep our transition going smoothly.  We know we can't do everything but still want to celebrate a fun season.  And let's be honest, that's probably a safe plan for me too. Of course it was not fair that the first tradition to get the ax was me taking the girls to PNB's Nutcracker.  We were supposed to both go with the girls but we couldn't get a sitter for Max (and I couldn't choose just any sitter) so Bard went without me. Yes he offered but I really wanted him to be with the girls and there are many more traditions waiting for me. I love so much about this time of year-the music makes me smile (the GOOD music people, pay attention, you can't just put Christmas in front of a song and think it's good.  If it was crap to begin with then you just made it Christmas Crap. Way to go.) 

Uh...Oh yeah, the music makes me smile, I love seeing our tree as I come down the stairs in the morning, Christmas blend is the only Starbucks coffee I like, and nothing makes me happier than finding the perfect gift-and ordering it from my couch on Amazon :) But, add in a million doctor's appointments-Max had his eye appointment which went well but we still have genetics testing and an ear exam, along with his 18 month check up, and weekly physical therapy sessions-a super strict schedule since he still needs to be fed 6 times a day, and a mom who is adjusting to adoption while not getting much sleep and you have a recipe for something other than yummy Christmas cookies.

But I'm not crazy I'm just a little unwell

I know right now you can't tell

But stay awhile and maybe then you'll see

A different side of me

Max and I are both adjusting to totally new situations.  Every time I care for a very needy child I am reminded how incredibly impatient I am-which is weird because in other situations I'm the most patient person in the world. And aside for the hint of craziness seen in the fact that I want to sit on the couch all day watching Gilmore Girls, if you ask me to help you with something my eyes will get completely glazed over as I retreat into my head and say to myself, "DO THEY KNOW I JUST ADOPTED A BABY FROM UKRAINE??!!"  Then I will snap back, smile politely and say, "Thanks, I'll think about it." And email you later with a big fat no.

I'm not crazy I'm just a little impaired

I know right now you don't care

But soon enough you're going to think of me

And how I used to be...me.

Max's First Christmas ornament-that I bought
in 2013.

And a big fat no is probably exactly what my stinker monkey wants to say when I do crazy things like put him in a different stroller or go to a snowy mountain for a tree that goes inside the house. Little by little though, Max will discover a new self-a safe self, a loved self.  And little by little I will settle in too (and not just because I'm starting the last season of Gilmore Girls).  Reality will blend with escape and that will be okay.  I'll emerge again, at ease with my life and not constantly ready for flight or fight.

Maybe it's extra crazy to be adjusting-and asking him to adjust over the holidays. But maybe it's extra hopeful too.  I'm constantly reminded of where I was at this time last year-moved in to my parents house because we had a crazy remodel take place at the absolute last minute. Reeling from the pain of a broken relationship that knocked me flat on my back.  And oh yeah, waiting for a country to open that never did but meanwhile my son was sitting in a Ukrainian orphanage -waiting for me.

The very first Christmas Story tells of fear-not just fear-utter terror, anger, the unknown, lies, poverty, shame, and complete chaos.  But it doesn't stay there. It moves through all the change to create the greatest tradition of all. Hope. Blessings. Love. Family. Max might already be a one year old, but this is his first Christmas.  Because he has hope. And we get the best new tradition of all. Christmas with our whole family.

It's The Most Wonderful Time

It's The Most Wonderful Time

It's The Most Wonderful of the Year