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My Overthinking

Philly Area mom, Life forever changed by adoption

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Who my 6-year-old is

3.10.15

6 year old birthdayMy baby is 6 years old.

We gave her gifts as expected. She ooo-ed and ahhh-ed over the scuba gear that she begged for. She jumped up and down about her Elsa get up. But, I think her favorite gift of all, the one she will remember long after the fake chiffon is ripped to shreds and the plastic snaps into pieces is this…

Everyone at the table gave her the gift of one word to describe her now that she’s 6.

Spunky.
Creative.
Fearless.
Cheetah-fast.
Fast-as-a-spaceship.
Brave.
Sweet.
Fantastic.
Adorable.
Playful.

Melting with every word uttered, at the end, as a gift to herself, she called out her own three words to describe herself.

Special.
Good.
Beautiful.

No one cared that a few gifts didn’t arrive in time and that Lydia didn’t even like the cake she insisted I create for her and ended up with a bowl of vanilla ice cream instead. This was the best birthday celebration this family has ever shared.

Truly.

Really.

Seriously.

I’m pretty sure she went to bed with sore cheeks from smiling too much. And, maybe I did too.

Lydia is six 2

Lydia is six 3

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Posted by Kelly the Overthinker
Filed Under: Everyday life, Lydia

Every time

2.13.15

She was pretty darn excited to bring in these little Valentines to her first ever Valentine’s party.

Lydia Valentine 2015 1

Kudos to her father who raced over to the pearl market hours before he boarded a plane to come home so that he could haggle with some feisty Chinese lady to get a big bag of these.

IMG_4097 IMG_4096

I won’t even say anything about how strange it is that most of them are angry birds.

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Posted by Kelly the Overthinker
Filed Under: Celebrations, Lydia

Dear daughter

1.16.15

Lydia with Mama 2There’s something pretty cool about us. You and I look pretty different. You’ve got dimples; I’ve only got wrinkles. You have a freckle on your tummy; the only fun thing I have on my tummy is a turtle tattoo. You’ve got long dark hair; I’ve got short brown hair with highlights of gray. You’ve got Chinese eyes that look like crescent moons; I’ve got big eyes that scrunch up when I look at you because you always make me smile. I like that we’re different. We go perfectly together, and our differences make us a really colorful and fun pair.

Some people assume that pairs are the same. They think pairs should match on the outside as well as on the inside. So, the fact that we’re different on the outside may make some people not know right away that we go together. They might do things like that man did last week and ask you where your mommy is when I’m standing right next to you. We might laugh when that happens, but sometimes, we won’t. And, that’s okay.

People may ask you other questions too. I expect they will because I’ve been asked lots and lots of questions since you became my daughter. Sometimes the questions are easy ones, and I can answer them right away without even thinking really. Other questions make me feel a little funny inside, and I have to think before I answer. And, sometimes, there are questions that make me feel a little sad or mad, and I just don’t want to answer at all. I imagine you might feel like that too. We may be different, but I bet we might feel a lot the same.

When people ask you questions or say things to you about us being different, it may be because they’re being mean. It’s true. Sometimes people are just mean for reasons I really don’t understand. But, you know what? I bet that most of the time, people will ask you questions not because they are trying to be mean at all. Maybe they are interested in the fact that we’re different because they want to have a family that looks different too. I like when that happens. Maybe they ask a question because their family already looks different, and they want to know if we’re like them. Those can be fun conversations too. Some may ask simply because they are curious, and that’s okay. We ask people questions when we’re curious too.

The thing is, we may think we can tell why people do the things we do, but a lot of times we really can’t. People’s hearts are pretty mysterious things, you know? But, regardless of what’s in their hearts and if they are curious, interested, or just plain mean, we need to respond with respect. Let me explain to you what I mean. When someone asks you a question, you have a choice to make. You can share something about your story—after all, you’re an amazing girl with an amazing story. You can respectfully answer their question and tell them something about yourself. Or, you can share something that’s not about you specifically but is about families like ours that look different from each other. That’s another good option that may be a little easier because it’s not as personal as sharing about yourself. Or, you can respond in another way entirely and not respond at all. That’s a perfectly fine option, and you don’t need my permission in advance to choose that one. I’m telling you right now that it’s fine with me. But, if you choose that option, know that you need to do it always with respect. You can tell them you don’t really like the question or ask if you can talk about something else. You can tell them they’re your friend but you’d rather not answer that question. You can even blame me if you want and tell them your mom told you not to talk about that. Don’t worry; I can take it. I’m your mom, and moms are cool like that.

I’m not expecting you to have some sort of issue tomorrow or even next week; so, you don’t need to worry. But, if you do—whenever you do—know you aren’t stuck; you have a choice to make. You’re the one in charge of how things go. And, know that even if I’m not there to help you, I’m cheering you on just like how you cheer me on when I wrestle with the kids in the living room and you yell, “Go Mommy! Go Mommy!” And, I wanna hear all about it afterwards so I can scrunch up my eyes again and smile real big at you because no matter what choice you make and how things go, I’m going to tell you I’m proud of you and that I love that we’re different and that I really, really love that you’re mine and I’m yours. I hope on those days that I need it, you can do the same thing for me because you’re my daughter; and daughters are cool like that.

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Posted by Kelly the Overthinker
Filed Under: adoption, attachment, Lydia

Just another dinner at our house

1.14.15

I never thought seating 6 people for an evening meal would be such a challenge. But, it is. And, it’s not something I can check off my to-do list and let out a sigh of relief that it’s done. Perhaps the most challenging part of sitting down together as a family for dinner is that it happens everyday.

Helen and Caleb are not nearly as challenging to corral as my clan. But, their presence at our table everyday has presented a new challenge—who is going to pray?

Before even all our seated, Caleb starts…

I’m going to pray!

I’ve learned the response I need to give immediately.

Wait. Wait. Not everyone is ready. Ashlyn’s getting her drink, and Drew’s still washing his hands. Hold on, please. You can’t pray until everyone’s here.

Then, Lydia starts.

No! I’m going to pray!

How about you both pray?

I’m first!

No, I’m first!

I’m certain this is not what Jesus meant when He told His disciples to be persistent in prayer.

Two mothers start dishing out words instead of noodles—one in English, one in Mandarin. Caleb starts crying. Lydia bangs her fist on the table with her face all scrunched up. And, I start wondering if we aren’t fit to pray at all or if we should spend the rest of the night in prayer!

That’s it. Caleb goes first and then Lydia. Tears supernaturally stop, and Lydia crosses her arms in protest.

Lord Jesus, thank you for our food. Thank you for our friends. Thank you for our house. Thank you for Mom and Dad. Thank you for your love. Thank you for Jesus. Amen.

Okay, no one move. Lydia’s turn. Lydia?

wait for it…wait for it…slowly…

Dear God, thank you for our day. I hope everyone enjoys their dinner. Amen.

Phew. There’s the sigh of relief I was looking for. Done.

Sort of…

No fair! My prayer was like 1 minute, and Caleb’s prayer was like 1 hour!

Oh, Lord, teach us to pray…and teach me to accept the increasing number of gray hairs that prayer-givers under 3 feet tall are giving me.

lydia caleb living room1

(This couple who adamantly offers that they are going to marry needs to learn some better conflict resolution before tying the knot. #workcutoutforus)

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Posted by Kelly the Overthinker
Filed Under: Everyday life, Helen, Lydia, why can't they just stay little forever

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I overthink everything. This blog is a prime example. Make yourself a cup of coffee and sit down for a read. Actually, make that a pot of coffee. There’s a lot of overthinking here.

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