I really wish it were easier. I mean, really, it would be the best for all involved. Parents could be proud of themselves, kids would have a better upbringing. Whose idea was it to make all this so complicated anyhow?

Tonight I had one of those nights where I find myself feeling a failure. Even though we came home after school and Boomer helped me unload the dishwasher while dinner was cooking. Even though Supergirl sat at the counter doing her homework while we worked. Even though we ate dinner together and had a great discussion about school. Even though after that we worked together on a voluntary art project for school. Even though we did all of that without arguing. Somehow, in the 15 minutes between bath time and bed things fell apart.
Sometimes I feel like it is the tiniest moments that I get onto them the most about.
Tonight it was asking Boomer to get his clothes out for the next day and wait for me to come read him a book. Suddenly he was running around downstairs getting the dogs all riled up. Because he wanted to get a ‘different’ blanket from the sofa. I was instantly completely frustrated. I started in about his not listening, he started in about needing a blanket, I made him take the blanket back, I started in about his clothes not being out. He started in about “I KNOW I heard you already now just stop talking” I started in about don’t talk to me that way. He started in about don’t yell at me. I started in about follow directions again. Then came the low blow. He pulled the ‘I wish I was in Ethiopia instead of here’ line.
Somewhere in that 2 minute exchange I think I threatened to take tv, toys, and “all fun” away for the unforeseen future.
I finally just turned out the light and started to walk out, angrier than ever… But I stopped. I stood in the doorway for a while, and then I went back. I sat on his bed with him and we talked. We were both still mad. But we talked. I told him we both don’t like it and we need to figure out how to not yell at each other. We talked about Ethiopia. He told me he feels sad about it. (I honestly don’t know how much of that is true and how much is a ploy, but I am going to assume that, on some level, it is absolutely true). He told me he doesn’t like to tell people he’s sad about it. I told him he can always tell me he’s sad about it, but it’s harder for me to help when he only yells it at me when he is angry. I told him the story of our meeting (again). Except this time I added my emotions. Just how nervous and excited and scared I was. He loves that story. Then I tucked him in and told him I love him. Forever.

Then I began searching the house for Supergirl, only to find her on my bed upset. She asked if I had heard her calling for me. I had not. She said she had been downstairs and the dogs began playing tug-of-war with her robe (which she was wearing) and wouldn’t let go and she was scared. I apologized profusely and let her cry. She asked what I had been doing in Boomer’s room and I told her. I told her that sometimes, even though he doesn’t say it, it probably is hard for Boomer to be different. To know he didn’t grow in my belly like she did. To know he doesn’t look like any of us. To know somewhere, on the other side of the world, is another family that we share him with. And yet he is our Boomer. And we love him. Forever.


2 Comments (+add yours?)

  1. Delanas
    Dec 13, 2011 @ 19:33:09

    Hang in there! We adopted our daughter 4 1/2 years ago. In the beginning she had a lot of tough days and grieving days. She missed the orphanage…and everything she knew. From time to time now she grieves being abandoned and misses her birth mom, but not to the extent of before. Keep being there for him…and keep being a person he knows he can go to when he is sad.



  2. Laura
    Dec 13, 2011 @ 20:46:40

    Love this post. Love. Love.


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