of trees and foster mothers

We have a picture of Thane’s foster mother, “B” that was taken shortly before he joined our family. She is sitting with him on her lap with both of them facing the camera. And the first time I showed him the picture his eyes lit up and he reached out with chubby baby hands to stroke her face. It was a different expression that I’ve ever seen. It said there she is, she isn’t gone, she’s still here. And also, this person []

tales from a trans-racial family at target

Thane and I went shopping a few days ago. He happily helped me push the cart along until I stopped in front of the stuffed animal section to look for a gift for our maybe-baby’s care package.  Bored with this particular part of the aisle he walked a few yards away from me, past a very pregnant couple, to look at the toys that make noise (a sensible choice I thought.)  The couple said hi to him, he smiled back and then []

31 days to talk about (adoptive) mommyhood

“The Nesting Place” is doing a 31 days series. For 31 days she’s challenging us to write a post daily on one subject.  I thought it would be a fun exercise and might help me catch up on the loads of stories and thoughts rattling around my brain about our amazing son and being an adoptive mom. Let the games begin… tales from a trans-racial family at target of trees and foster mothers we see his face, part 5: together (a letter []

Dr Who meets Mr Toddler

The music swelled, our heroes raised their weapons, the film speed slowed to half, mouths opened, muscles tensed, they charged… And the screen went blank. Our little stinker found the power button to the X-box at the most perfect moment in all of time and space.  We laughed our heads off and he couldn’t have been more pleased.  So the next day I grabbed a picture of him trying to do it again, because perfect timing should always be remembered. {{That’s his []

storks and airplanes

I don’t feel the need to say I love my kid like he was my own flesh and blood.  The truth is I love him like he was adopted into my family. See, I don’t believe that blood is the all holy grail that everything must be compared to.  I don’t feel the need to somehow prove that we’re as viable a family as those who share a biological code.  I don’t need to compare my love to that of genetically linked []

random memory dump

When I’m rocking Thane to sleep for naps (Daddy does nighttime duty) my mind replays images and memories and I think – I should write that down! And then I don’t, and the next time I sit and rock they come back again.  They make me happy.  So even though I’m risking the well known “fact” that once I write something down it gets erased from my mind, here’s some recent ones along with some pictures from June/July I never posted. I think Thane’s []

the rituals of fridays

When Fridays come we do the “Garbage Truck Dance”. Garbage truck + recycling truck + yard waste truck x 2 sides of the street = six times that this little boy nearly jumps out of his skin with joy because garbage trucks are the single coolest thing on the planet (except for Daddy of course.) And he can hear them from any part of the house (score one for single pane windows!)  Last time it happened right after I pulled him out []