As the nice lady at the grocery store told me all about post-adoption depression and how I should look into it I vowed to never again run to the grocery story without doing my hair and throwing on some makeup. So not worth the self-esteem hit. I know PAD is a real condition and no one should feel guilt for experiencing it but surely there is a difference between that and just looking like crap. Now if there’s a pill that helps with the latter I’m all ears.
My sister was here for almost two weeks. It was amazing. First time she’s met either of my boys. Then we were home by ourselves for a week and then went to Colorado for a week and a half. I probably won’t blog about any of it because I usually journal family visits privately, just easier that way. And because, well because I like to process feelings slowly. Like a cow chewing it’s cud. And that picturesquely too. Memories don’t get stored in nice linear sequences, instead they are a jumbled mismatched mess. I love it because it means that random feelings can jump into my present at any moment. So that’s how I journal too, a mess of memories that resemble “eat all the leftovers in the fridge” night.
Thane refused to be quiet while I was rocking Talron to sleep this morning. So I put him in his room, instructed him to play with his toys, and shut the door. About ten minutes later I hear “I’m here, rescue me! I’m here, rescue me!” I feel that way too sometimes but do you hear me shouting it? No. (I call my husband instead.)
Thane’s talking has exploded again. It’s by far his strongest skill set (along with singing random snippets of pop songs but that’s another day), at eighteen months we counted 150 words and now I have no idea because he can say pretty much anything. Like a little parrot. It’s hard to remember that he doesn’t always have the comprehension skills to go along with the vocab. We were going through the grocery store a month or so ago when he started raising his arm at people and shouting “polite! polite!” I couldn’t figure out what was going on until I caught myself praising him for interacting with people by saying “you’re so polite!” heh.
Having a little parrot is scary of course because parrots lack filters but sometimes it’s only adorable, like the morning I walked into the living room where they were with Daddy and he asked me “how you sleep?” To my credit I didn’t respond “Great! I love being kicked in the back and being climbed all over while I sleep. I especially love it when your brother drapes himself across my neck, I find the lack of oxygen relaxing.” Co-sleeping is the sweetest thing that has ever irritated me. I love the snuggles, the morning snuggles especially. I wouldn’t change our half in their crib and half with us routine for anything. I think that’s been the most surprising thing about motherhood. How easy it is to adore these kids who are kind of driving you nuts. It’s like motherhood is kicking my butt but I’m loving it.