My Overthinking

Philly Area mom, Life forever changed by adoption

What I’m doing {Visiting Orphans}

There are times when God’s hand is moving in such a tangible way that you know that turning another direction from the one you’re witnessing unfold in front of you would be disobedient.

That’s where I am, where we are.

We love China. For several months, we’ve been building our support team so we can serve students in China formally. And, God has been providing and equipping and moving. We love adoption and adoptive families and have walked steps directed by Him to grow The Sparrow Fund so that we can pour into them and mobilize them to understand what more about what it means love their kids well.

And, things are falling together in front of us, in spite of us really.

The Sparrow Fund is now partnering with Visiting Orphans to do something special that we’ve only dreamed about doing—taking a team of people this March into a Chinese orphanage to serve the children who wait and the staff who care for them.

It’s not about us. It’s not about a feel-good trip so that we can check off our proverbial James 1:27 box in our conscience. It’s about mobilizing people to change the world through going, being, loving. I know that I alone cannot change the world, but I can cast a stone across the waters to create many ripples. And, you can too. Let me know if you want to be a part of this.

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The post I want to read

Having a little trouble sleeping tonight. It’s because I napped today. So, here I am in bed with my laptop in front of me as my husband is sound asleep beside me. Naps are worse than an afternoon coffee.

As I do the 2013 version of counting sheep (surfing blogs), I’m realizing that I’m subconsciously looking for a post tonight that simply does. not. exist. anywhere. And, for the life of me, I’m wondering why the heck not. I’m looking for a post…oh…somewhere along the lines of the-summer-disorganization-and-constantly-full-sink-is-giving-me-hives or I-really-wish-my-kids-would-sleep-in-longer-so-that-I-can-actually-taste-the-coffee-I-need-in-the-morning-rather-than-drink-it-like-it’s-a-shot-of-vodka or someone-please-remind-me-that-these-creatures-living-in-my-home-completely-dependent-on-me-are-a-blessing or yes-I-absolutely-did-give-my-children-free-license-on-wii-so-that-I-could-take-a-very-long-afternoon-nap. 

hiWhere are they? Instead, all I can find right now are posts about awesome looking recipes out of my budget or motivation to make, Pinteresting crafts that make me say “good for them,” and words that sound like they could be an autobiography from the Proverbs 31 woman (you know she would have been a blogger and had a massive Pinterest following had they been around in 900 B.C.).

Since all those Proverbs 31 women don’t seem to be writing with me in mind this week, I’ll write a few words for myself and the rest of us. They aren’t inspiring words really. And, this post won’t be one that is shared on facebook or tweeted out with the hashtag #mustread.

This mom stuff? It’s not easy. We may have some shining, proud Pinnable moments of fancy birthday cupcakes or clever road-trip games. But, the day after we share them, we’re just normal moms again with kids who never seem to  get enough of us and hearts and schedules divided into too many slices of our blogworthy pie. We have moments of yeah-that-was-a-good-teachable-moment mixed in with seemingly more moments of I’m-glad-no-one-was-with-me-to-witness-that-mom-fail. We ask ourselves, “Is this normal?” But, we’re smart, you know; we know exactly where to turn with our questions—our iPhones—which leads us to think, “Maybe I am the only one because Suzyblogger and JillTweeter are posting about selecting wool and flax and bringing their food from afar while our dinner tonight is likely going to be from a box in my freezer if I can even find one. Does that count as from afar?”

If you’re up late reading this tonight because you gave your kids a little too much screen time so that you could escape for a nap today like me, well done. We’re a little more sane tonight than we would have been had we made another cup of coffee and muscled through painting and stringing wooden beads.

And, while I can’t tell you you’re normal because there’s simply not enough data out there to warrant the use of the term, what I can tell is you’re not alone (clearly, since I’m still up writing this silly post as self-therapy to ease my own conscience).

Tomorrow’s a new day full of hope of a new beginning and less than 105-degree heat in our unairconditioned home. I’ll likely need a second cup of coffee to compensate for this late night which may make me want to grab another nap while some of you are teaching your 4 year olds to read or cook or design cathedrals. Whatever. I’m good if my four brush their teeth without me reminding them more than once and I don’t look at my husband with those eyes that say seriously?-can-you-take-this-issue-on-because-we-may-have-a-REAL-problem-if-I-have-to-handle-this-one.

Good night, moms like me…wherever you are.

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My to-do list

They’re pretty much everywhere. If they aren’t scribbled quickly between lines on a page, they’re scribbled quickly in my head or in the form of mail littering my dining room table or wooden play food put away all wrong in the play kitchen.

Hello, Kelly. Don’t forget about me. Add me to your list. 

The tone of a new text message or that mocks me in the form of a loud vibration that is full of sound when my need to tune out leads me to turn off the sound. The kind reminder to do laundry in the form of someone yelling about not having a clean towel for the pool. The alarm clocks for lunch time that sound remarkably like 4 children’s voices in unison saying, “I’m hungry. I’m hungry. I’m hungry.”

I feel like I can become enslaved to a to-do list, a list made up in part with living beings that I named myself.

Please tell me I’m not the only one.

There’s a list on my frig. The words are made up of faded red color ink though I think they started as black. It isn’t special paper and has often lost its prominent place to a Star Wars drawing, field trip permission slip, library story time schedule. But, when those things get shuffled as they always do, this list always stayed.

It reads:

Make the gospel apparent.

Guide.

Warn.

Cheer.

My alarm clocks are all asleep now. And, it’s fairly quite aside from the cries of our air conditioner window unit fighting a losing battle. And, I’m saying right here on this space to whoever is out there, there’s my to-do list.

Tomorrow, beds won’t make themselves and there won’t be any magical lego magnet corraling those babies off my basement floor. But, this mama? I’m going to make the gospel apparent. I’m going to guide, warn, and cheer. And, while I’m at it, I may feed a few hungry mouths and answer a few of my emails in the process. We’ll see.

gospel list

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Yes, my 4-year-old still takes a bottle

bottle feeding

At 12 1/2 months old, most mothers are training their babies to take a sippy cup.

When our daughter was 12 1/2 months old, we were training her how to take a bottle from us. Of course, we got nothing but support—she needed the nutrition, she needed the closeness, we needed the closeness, it fostered attachment both ways. No one questioned it.

A year later, at a chronological age of 2 with a family age of 1, maybe some people thought it odd that she still took a bottle several times a day. Being so teeny though, most people didn’t think twice about the bottle coddling going on.

Now, she’s 4…actually, 4 1/3 to be exact. And, yes, while her family age is behind that, it too is now 3 1/3.

bottle feeding 2

Every morning, this little one stumbles into our bedroom, wiping the sleep from her eyes, often with her “ren ren” (aka her most precious blanket friend ever). She climbs into bed between us, gets real close to one of our faces, and says, “Can I have a hot big bottle?”

And, every morning, one of us comes downstairs, searching for one of only 3 functional bottles we have left and give her exactly what she wants. She lays calmly in our bed and slowly sucks down a bottle of warm rice milk as she has done since soon after she came home 3 years ago. Most days, she wants another one in the afternoon when she’s feeling tired. And, she’ll predictably ask for one when she’s upset or is anxious or is just not feeling good. And, I give it to her. Then, every night before bed, she wants one more.

bottle feeding 3

Seems a little strange to give a 4-year-old a bottle still, I know. While she never is a public drinker, I’m sure if she were, we’d turn a few heads. But, here’s the thing—I. don’t. care.

For the first year of her life, arguably the most critical development time for a human being, she was not fed on demand. She was fed on a schedule, because that’s they way things work when you have lots of babies and few caregivers. What should have been comfort-giving early on likely became a race to get as much as she could before it was taken away.

One day, she’ll say to me in a tired voice, “I want my hot big bottle” as she lays on my shoulder, and someone will say, “A bottle? You don’t want a bottle. Only babies drink bottles!” At some point, she’ll hear it one too many times and decide she can’t drink a bottle anymore. But, until that day, when she tells me she’s too big for a bottle, I’ll keep stumbling downstairs to our kitchen, looking to see if any of the 3 bottles are clean to make one for her. And, I’ll hand it to her and watch her quietly drink it as she plays with my covers.

It brings her comfort, makes her feel safe, makes her feel protected, and reminds her that we’ll give her whatever she needs. Yes, my 4-year-old still takes a bottle.

bottle feeding 4

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