sentimentality and zombie toddler love

Nate just took both boys to the store. I can actually hear myself think. Mostly I’m thinking how quiet it is. I don’t remember my thoughts being this boring before.



I have only cried once while putting away the clothes that Talron has outgrown.  It was the sleeper he wore the first night with us. White with little blue whales on it. I put it in the bin next to a grey sleeper with little white elephants on it that Thane wore his first night with us. I am pathetic like that.

And as my pile of too sentimental to give away little baby clothing grows I figured out a solution: I’m totally making a patchwork quilt out of it. Not for them. I doubt they will care one whit about tiny baby clothes. Nope, that blanket is totally for me. I will be taking it with me when they haul me kicking and screaming to the nursing home.

Then I’ll spend my medicated afternoons sleeping away with it clutched in my withered hands dreaming about my big strong men when they were little bitty men. And the nurses will stop by and think how sad it is that I cling so tightly to the past. And I will probably yell at them and they will hate me because I have no intention of being a nice old lady. Just a sentimental one.

I’m going to demand to be buried with it too. Wearing my wedding dress. They can slit it up the back to make it fit me. Actually I want to be cremated but whatever. They can cremate me with it then.  In other news, I’m fairly certain I’m not sleeping enough these days.

<Insert clever bridging-thought here. Or not.>

Watching Thane and Tal’s reaction upon seeing each other in the mall playground is like watching a bromance movie featuring zombies. They gingerly approach each other with gaping smiles, hands outstretched, stumble around each other, then run off. Happy to be near each other but lumbering in their attempts at communicating it.

One of the happiest things in my life is that we were able to adopt twice from the same country. That they share that heritage with each other. But such individuals they are. Such a blending of the unique bloodline and giftings given to them by their other families and by the sprinkling of Divine Light in their souls. That all that combined to create them is the only miracles I ever imagine myself seeing. But what miracles they are.


{{We spend a lot of time jumping off of furniture these days.}}

I so want them to be friends. It’s far more important to me than if they like us when they get older. Confession: because I think too much about these kinds of things I have two futures imagined for myself. One where my sons like me as adults, and one where they don’t. The one where they don’t involves a lot more cruises.

They started wrestling with each other this week. And by wrestling I mean Thane lays down on the floor and Talron climbs on top of him and they laugh. I tried to take a picture but the memory card was missing from the camera. I blame the dog.

We don’t have a dog.

The next day I managed to get this picture of Talron sitting on Thane’s lap. I’m planning on framing it because this is quality photography right here. I mean why hire a professional when you can get shots like this with your momtography right? Also, totally watermarking that.


Note to self: hire a photographer for the Christmas card photos.

Categories: Uncategorized

8 replies »

  1. I have had exactly the same thought about the baby clothes quilt, whilst packing away my little girls 0-3 month clothes! Maybe not so in depth, I mean I didn’t entirely imagine myself with it as an old lady, but seeing as I plan on being a cantankerous old dear anyway, taking the quilt along for the ride and throwing in sentimental would work!

  2. Hi, Wendy!!
    Just had to “reach out and touch” after reading your latest blog….you are such a wordsmith! The humor and heartfelt sentiments aren’t lost on any of us who have had children, but, especially those of us in the “adoption” sphere. Thanx so much for sharing not only your thoughts but also the photos of your handsome boys. Has it really been six months???

    Looking forward to your next post,

    Patti Hagy (Xavier and Ava’s Grammy, aka, Lyndsay Hudson’s Mom)

  3. That had me in stitches, to say the least. Can’t stop chuckling . . . poignant too. I think I keep seeing a change in Talron’s eyes. He’s happy.

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