Mother of Invention

Today I took my two little boys on a date! We ate lunch at McDonald's, went to see Gnomeo and Juliet in the theater, and then splurged on ice cream! Yes folks, today I ate McDonald's, a whole bag of popcorn (I had to get LB his own popcorn or he would have eaten all of mine), and a dish (or maybe 1.5) of ice cream.

BB drinks a lot, which makes sitting through a movie a challenge. He made it through most of the movie but then at the end needed to go. LB was comfortably engrossed in the movie under a crocheted blanket I brought (thanks, Granny), and I certainly didn't want to leave at that point to take both boys to what always turns out to be a really long trip to the loo.

Because I had to bring so many warming items for our movie adventure I had to bring the diaper bag - which just happened to contain a pull-up. A lightbulb moment! BB agreed to wear the pull-up long enough to pee, and pee he did. The theater was pretty empty so I just changed him into and out of the pull-up right there in our seat. Voila!

We just threw out that puppy on the way out of the theater. Cute movie, by the way.

Silence

I'm really tired. I think the events of the past few months have caught up with me. Also, I had a sick boy last week so I didn't get my two "days off." I had a good time hanging around with BB, though! We went to get the oil changed in the car and he thought that was "so fun." It made me look at the occasion with a fresh perspective. Then we went to the library, the farmer's market, and the grocery store - all of which were very exciting for the wee one.

Those who wait on the Lord will renew their strength (Isaiah 40:31). I think this is true. But I'm still tired. So far 40 hasn't been the happiest year of my life. My Nana died, my dad got sick, my best high school friend died, and my dad is still quite ill. It's not a pretty picture. And yet I will praise the Lord.

Habakkuk 3:17-20 states,

17 Though the fig tree does not bud
and there are no grapes on the vines,
though the olive crop fails
and the fields produce no food,
though there are no sheep in the pen
and no cattle in the stalls,
18 yet I will rejoice in the LORD,
I will be joyful in God my Savior.

19 The Sovereign LORD is my strength;
he makes my feet like the feet of a deer,
he enables me to tread on the heights.

Isn't that something? Even when things on earth look bleak, eternity does not. I still find joy in the day to day. My hope comes from the Lord.

Gorgois!

Isn't it the most? Thelma has designed this beautiful new title picture for our blog. I just love it. Thank you so much, Thelma! First off, it's so creative and took a lot of time, I know. Secondly, it's just so...so...awesome! I am blessed yet again.

I can really appreciate beauty these days. When faced with death (a good friend) and illness (my dad), aesthetic beauty is not a luxury these days, it's a must. Randy asked me earlier today what I needed for myself today. I told him I just needed to experience something beautiful, and I have. My new header, yes, but also a perfect sunny day with a nice breeze and about the perfect temperature - 70 degrees.

Sometimes I feel like I am walking around in a fog. And then I remember that my joy comes from the Lord, the Maker of heaven and earth (Psalm 121:2), not from life's circumstances. God created the universe and He created me. I am my best when I am in close fellowship with Him. It's hard to be close to God when I'm on Facebook playing Scrabble and Scramble and whatever word game I can get my hands on. I feel much better when I am outside soaking up the sun and the Son.

So thanks, God, for sending Thelma to my rescue today! Talk about beauty.

Growing Pains

Not the TV show, you silly, this blog. My new header picture is HUGE! Am I allowed to use our professional photographer's pictures like this? Do I need to attribute? Can I make it smaller? What is this blog anyway? Is it a parenting blog, a stream of consciousness blog an post-infertility blog? Do I have to define it? Should I try to? Do I have enough on my plate already? Enquiring minds want to know.

Today on our way home from an errand LB asked me, "Mommy, are we in our neighborhood?" Yes, I answered, we're in our neighborhood. He replied, "I don't think so. I think we're in Mr. Rogers' Neighborhood." I thought that was so funny. How clever! This is the kid who doesn't know the difference between a letter and a number and doesn't care, thank you very much. But he has mad skills, this little brother.

Yesterday morning we went for breakfast tacos before going to the zoo for the afternoon. In the car Randy and I were talking about letting our friends and loved ones know we care about them. LB raised his hand and said, "I have friends who I care about!" Samuel, he said. Samuel is a friend we care about, that's true. But how sweet. My little sweetheart. BB chose Grandma as a friend who he cared about.

Here is the part where, if I was really trying to host a great blog, I would tie in these conversations with my blog title. But I'm not going to. Instead, I'll self-depreciate so I can wiggle out of an editor-worthy finished product. I'll wrap it up, apply some jammies to a sweet angel, and move on downstairs for some housework, mindless TV, and an important phone call I've been planning. There will be time for a glamorous finished product tomorrow. Or 2012. Someday.

Sweetly Broken*

I smell like frosting. Earlier LB smeared vanilla frosting from a friend's birthday cake all over my black sweater. It looked terrible, it was sticky, and I had to take time to clean it up. I was disappointed to have gotten dirty, as I was going to wear that sweater to sing in choir later. Yet now I smell like vanilla frosting. That's not such a bad deal.

Even when disappointing or painful things happen, sometimes you're left with something lovely that you didn't anticipate.

*(Sweetly Broken is a song by Jeremy Riddle)

We were on a break!

Obviously I haven't been posting lately, but I haven't given up posting! I am in Iowa visiting my parents and just happened to be able to attend the funeral of a dear friend today. How sad.

I've had the chance to see my dad and he looks pretty good! He is alert but totally worn out from recent events. We think he is going to be getting stronger every day since the infections seem to be mostly gone and we have said good-bye to chemotherapy. He's getting radiation to continue to address those pesky brain lesions. One day a time is what we get, and each day is a new blessing.

Yesterday I got to cry with my dad for my friend. It was a special memory. He just held my hand while I wept. What a great dad - he didn't try to fix it (who could), he just held my hand. I love my dad.

Later, gater.

(This is an older picture of my dad. He still looks like that except lying down and both eyes open.)

When You're the Best of Friends.

(This is a reprint of a Facebook note, so you may have already read it.)

She was the most loyal friend I've ever had. We met in the 10th grade and were instant best friends. It was a deep and loving friendship. There was a time when we were closer in distance that I would have said she was my heart. In fact, "The Wind Beneath My Wings" was a song I would have ascribed to her. "You were content to let me shine - that's your way," is a good quote to describe her.

When some older girls ganged up on me, Johnna stuck up for me and would have fought for me.

My dad called her Jonah. It was an inside joke. Sometimes I called her Johann because once an Army recruiter called her house looking for him.

When a boy broke my heart nine words from her summed it all up to me and brought me relief. "You weren't ready for it to end, were you." I wasn't. And I'm still not. Not where she is concerned.

There were times I did her wrong and betrayed our friendship. But she always took me back with open arms, no questions asked.

She came to my college graduation in California. She visited me in South Carolina several times when I lived there. My ex-husband was a jerk to her and yet she took it - for me. She gave me a beautiful topaz necklace as a wedding present and she wasn't even invited. She was in my heart, though. I was a terrible friend then, I was hurting and scared, but obviously she waited for me to come to my senses. Which I did and we resumed our friendship. She was a faithful friend.

I was a bridesmaid in her wedding. She was so generous she picked a style off the rack for bridesmaids dresses so we could actually wear them again. I wore it for years. I wish I hadn't finally donated it somewhere and that I could still wear it. I am wearing my beautiful necklace right now and probably won't take it off for awhile. I loved her. She was a considerate friend.

I remember when her sister Jamie let me know that Joshua had been born. I was in Colorado and called just to check up on Johnna. I visited Jaden in the hospital when he was a preemie. Johnna was so good with him and didn't seem nervous at all. "I cook 'em fast," she said. She had a chance to meet my kids that I thought might never come to be. We all ate at Hickory Park together. My youngest LB and her youngest Jessie were about the same age.

Time and physical distance took a toll on our friendship just like it does, but we were always ready and able to quickly pick up. Because of my dad's illness I've been back to Ames twice in the past few months and got to hang out with Johnna and her kids. They're such great kids and she was an amazing woman and mom.

I'm angry. I'm mad that she's gone. I'm jealous. Jealous that other people have memories with her too, and many that were made before she and I even met. And I'm sad. I can cover up my feelings in denial when I'm busy, but as soon as time stops a little bit I just can't believe she's gone. It's especially hard to look at pictures of her. I'm sure I'll go through some albums when I'm home for her funeral. Funeral. How sad.

I'm not ready to let it end.

Music Ministry

I wish I could find a recording of this song online actually performed by Tommy Walker, but for now I just wanted to post these lyrics to a song that brings me great comfort. The actual song is awesome so I'll look for it more later.

I Will Not Be Shaken
By Jacob Park & Tommy Walker

He is my rock, my shield, my fortress
He’s my salvation and my strength
The cords of death, they were surrounding me
But He heard my cry for help

He is my refuge, my high tower
He’s my deliverer so strong
The snares of death, they were confronting me
But He heard my cry for help

Chorus
So I’ll stand and trust I’ll stand in faith I will not be shaken
Bridge
Our God will not be moved Our God will never change Our God will reign forevermore

Jacob Park, Tommy Walker / © 2009 Medic Music, WeMobile Music

Salvation Story Sunday

We all have a story about how we became who we've become. An important part of my story is how I became a Christian after considering myself an atheist, at the very least agnostic. It's a long story, but to make it short there was a time before I married my oops husband that I was broken, hurt, and felt very small. A friend told me about Jesus and how he died for me, and that knowing that had brought her a lot of peace during a low point in her life. And she was so peaceful. And lovely. Her name was Genie.

I accepted Jesus Christ as my Lord and Savior after attending church with Genie and her husband for a few Sundays, asking Him into my heart to save me from my sins. We all sin, folks, we call it making mistakes or errors in judgment, but it's sin all the same. Each morning when I woke up to get ready for work I read a chapter or two from the book of John. Each day on my way to work I would experience such great joy listening to praise music and knowing that however bad my earthly situation felt in my heart, the truth was I had a Savior and a God who would walk through it with me.

So off I went, with some little detours, into the world of church services and Bible studies, and eventually music ministry. There I met my husband and many wonderful friends, and I guess you might say I'm a big ol' Jesus freak now. I resemble that remark! It's not like I became the Church Lady overnight, I spent a few years being saved in Christ but not acting like it, but gradually I'm conforming to be more like Him.

Some people I knew before this change don't understand how this became so important to me. I sometimes speak "Christianease" that sounds weird to their ears. I get that! It sometimes sounds weird to me too if I am being honest. Words like "saved" and "my walk" and "the Holy Spirit showed me." It can be like a foreign language.

So without all the verbiage let me just say this: I felt scared and alone and Jesus brought me comfort. My life feels complete because I know that God loves me, and because of that love I can more fully love other people. The Bible promises that when I claim Jesus Christ as my Lord, the Spirit of God, called the Holy Spirit, is present in me always. The Holy Spirit interprets God's word and earthly situations from within my spirit. What others call a hunch or intuition I call the Holy Spirit. All that is good within me is what God has made good. He can make even bad things good. (Romans 8:28 again.)

This was a part of yesterday's post but I pulled it out in order to try to be more succinct. Maybe I'm starting a "Why am I This Way" series. I so, I should have started with "family," but honestly I'm going out with my husband tonight and I wrote most of this last night.

If you love Jesus, how did you find Him? What brought you to reach for His hand? If you're not into Him and would like to know more, email me. I would be thrilled to respond.

I wasn't always this way.

Ever seen "What's Eating Gilbert Grape?" Besides the fact that I think Leonardo di Caprio brilliantly portrayed a boy with a cognitive disability (Arnie Grape), there is a scene in the movie that both breaks and warms my heart.

Gilbert Grape's mother Bonnie is morbidly obese. She spends most of her time in her bed because she can barely walk. Gilbert's girlfriend Becky, played by Juliet Lewis, comes to visit and wants to meet Bonnie. The mother is lying pitifully in the bed and Becky sits down next to her. The mom says sadly, almost apologetically, "I wasn't always this way."

Becky's reply: "I wasn't always this way, either."

Let that sink in for a minute. I think it's so powerful.

How did you get this way? What are the experiences that have really shaped you? Mine are, in order of appearance, family, salvation, divorce, my forever husband Randy, infertility and now cancer. Half of those things are not fun things at all. But those are the things that have really shaped me.

I'd like to say I wouldn't want to trade any of them, but currently I'd like to trade in my dad's cancer for something nice. Maybe looking back someday I'll feel differently, and maybe I won't. We'll see. I do know that I can't take any of them back, and I wouldn't be "this way" had I not experienced those things, good and bad. I like being this way.

Romans 8:28 says, "And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose." I love this verse. It's one of my favorites. Notice it doesn't say that only good things will happen. It just means that no experience is wasted.

I want to know, what are the top three life experiences that have made you who you are?

Blog Wire

I'm cutting it down to the wire here on my 19th day of blogging. It's 11:03 p.m. by my clock. I need to write earlier in the day so this kind of post ceases. Uncreativity abounds!

Miss Thelma recently listed some helpful articles about blogging like this one. Upon reading them it occurs to me that I might need to streamline my blog in order to improve upon it. Maybe I won't, because the goal of this blog isn't to become a well-read blog, but mostly a way for me to get down my thoughts and keep like a journal. However, the idea of sprucing things up around here is intriguing.

One thing that spruces up today's post is the awkward holiday photo! This just makes me giggle. Enjoy.

18 days in a row

Have I made a new habit yet? I don't know! But I do know that I've enjoyed blogging a lot these past few weeks. A lot has gone on and it's been nice to process those things. I also think I have spent less time on Facebook since I've started back.

Tonight we're all home together. The weeks are really busy with Bible studies and music rehearsals and the support group, so Friday through Monday nights are usually the four evenings we all have free. We'll go back to that schedule next week. I know this is not going to get any less busy as the boys become involved in activities, so for the time being I really enjoy our nights at home.

Tonight we ate leftover chicken taco soup and watched American Idol. I think I fell in love with Jennifer Lopez a little. Now I'm just wrapping it up with a little extra mindless television watching, wondering if I should eat some ice cream or not. Has Randy already cleaned the litter box? Do I really have to fold the laundry tonight or can it wait until tomorrow?

I should get up and quit asking so many questions.

"I don't want you to cry, Mommy."

Big Brother said this to me about 1/2 hour ago. Tuesday nights are late nights around here so I decided to enforce the non-negotiable nap time today. I'm pretty tired myself so I lay down with him. He takes a long time to fall asleep and kept telling me, "I love you, Mommy."

My dad isn't doing well. He could still bounce back, but we're only doing one day at a time and today doesn't look so good. But also it does. It looks beautiful because we are a family and we have had a billion wonderful memories together. We're not at odds and I know we have many more happy times ahead of us.

It's hard to know what is too much to tell a small child about illness and death. BB is a sensitive little guy and I think he's starting to get it, but that doesn't make it easier. He also said to me earlier, "I want you to be with me forever and not go to heaven." He has been praying for my dad and says, "Dear God, please let Papa Bruce grow up." He started talking about Papa Bruce a lot when I was lying down with him and as he began to settle I began to cry.

I cried out some beautiful memories - swimming with my dad when I was small, skiing with him as I grew up, and the time before Randy and I were engaged that we went intending for Randy to ask for my hand. It didn't quite happen that way but my hand he has and my dad approves big time. For awhile we weren't sure if my parents would ever be grandparents to our children, and they are. BB loves grandpas and it just breaks my heart that he might not have any in the near future. Randy's dad died of colon cancer years ago. BB doesn't remember him and LB never met him, but PawPaw and BB were kindred spirits. I attached a picture of BB reading a map because my dad's a map guy. They too are kindred spirits.

I'm not a total stranger to grief but this is really something. It is an indescribable pain. It feels sort of like being scheduled for an amputation and you don't know how you are going to be happy without your missing limb. You won't be the same and you'll have to learn how to do a lot of things differently. With cancer, on the one hand you have some time to wrap up loose ends (we now have none) and to tell one another how much you love each other. On the other hand, you watch that person slowly change and become different from the person you've known forever. It's a slowly dawning kind of grief that eventually feels unbearable. It's especially hard with all the back and forth that comes with a cancer diagnosis.

As I said, it's not over! My dad is still fighting. He has a blood infection and is very weak, but peaceful. I think the big question right now is do we continue the chemotherapy if he doesn't start to improve. It's all a little vague today. Tomorrow may hold some new information, or it may not. Then we wait another day.

Lamentations 3:22-23 (New Living Translation)

The faithful love of the Lord never ends!
His mercies never cease.
Great is his faithfulness;
his mercies begin afresh each morning.

In the meantime, we just breathe in and out and love each other. You do the same.

What Not to Wear

I like this show. I think I actually liked Ambush Makeover better, but there is now AM anymore.

I love to see people reach their potential, especially the underdog. The poor folks on WNTW look so sad at first and by the end - wahoo! Sure it's fashion potential and perhaps fashion does not have eternal value, but self-esteem is a good thing.

I'm a sucker for a good makeover story, and What Not to Wear is quality, mindless television, which I can appreciate.

Tough Mommy day.

I did not feel like being a mommy today. The morning went well enough, but when we got home from the gym later than anticipated the boys were really hungry and I had a hard time getting their lunches prepared. Then we had issues involving "sassy sauce" and I sent them to bed. BB didn't fall asleep and came on out to play, and then LB soon woke up. I didn't sit down to eat lunch, instead eating cheese, turkey pepperoni, and corn chips while I swept up said tortilla chips a billion and one times as the boys continually crushed them up. I didn't have more than 10 minutes to sit down by myself and I felt like I really needed it.

Enter neighbors. I called up my lovely knitting neighbors in high hopes that they would be doing exactly what they were doing - knitting while their children played. I head on over with my shawl I'm knitting, one boy in jammies, and one in rain boots (it wasn't raining). They had a blast playing while I got to knit and get all of my daily words in with friends. What a blessing!

I wouldn't trade my life for anything ever. But I admit there are some days I do, for a fleeting moment, long for the easy days of being a free-wheeling childless woman who could sit down whenever she wanted. A lot of times gals like me who have experienced infertility feel like we should never take our little blessings for granted and never desire a break more than anything. But most of us do. And that's OK.

Right? ;o)

Gracie

Last year around this time the boys and I were out playing in the yard when I heard a terrible mewing. Each time I got close to where the sound was coming from it stopped, and each time I walked away it started up again. Finally I was able to locate the source to a soft gray paw stuck through two broken boards in our fence.

When my neighbor and I finally freed the fluffy feline from the fence we discovered that she was just a wee lass. Her swollen paw had made her look bigger than she really was. I nursed her back to health with some help from the San Antonio Feral Cat Society and two neighbors. We had originally planned to find another family for her but after all we went through (I guess I forgot to mention that she had to have her left front leg amputated) we decided to keep her.

Gracie is now a member of the family but there is a problem. Our other female cat Chez hates her. Shall we also say they hate each other? I think that's a fair assessment. Because of this we have at least one cat fight a day in our bedroom and more than a handful of times this comes with little brown accidents under the bed. Oh the joys of pet ownership!

How's this for a profound blog post? I'm racing to get back downstairs to spend some time with my husband. I've been out this afternoon galavanting around the Hill Country with my good friend Jennifer. Hasta.

Lost at the Museum

We went to the Children's Museum today and that place is a lot of fun! But about 5 minutes after we went in we could not find the littlest one. I wasn't too worried as he is not our flight risk and I had seen him walk through the gift shop toward the exhibits. But still, what better place to steal a kiddo than from a crazy childrens museum (hopefully I don't have any kidnappers reading my blog)!

The calm girl at the front desk had obviously searched for children there before, because she asked me some good questions. What is he wearing? How old is he? What is his name? Some days a mother might not remember what her child was wearing. However, LB will only wear pajamas so it's easy to remember. What was he wearing? Orange pajamas with robots on them. A very easy description. He was found within 2 minutes, sitting in an airplane upstairs.

Perhaps this should have been a scary experience that I shudder to think about. But because of the jammies and the happy ending it was a funny experience that still has me laughing. What mom lets her child wear nothing but PJs? Me! I'm just barely going to mention that BB was dressed with his pants on backwards.

Sitting on my fricker-fracker

Why am I sitting at the kitchen table with Team Umizoomi in the background and Facebook active rather than reading like I'm supposed to be doing? Because my books are upstairs and I am not.

I wasn't feeling well earlier so I canceled my plans for a haircut and market research at a local movie theater. Instead I decided to come home and lie in bed all day and that is just what I did. I watched Grease, took a nap, and spent time in online pursuits. I had thought I might read in preparation for my infertility support group starting again next week, but instead I slept. I guess I needed the rest.

I'm feeling better now, and I am perfectly capable of dragging my butt (don't say butt) upstairs and getting some reading material. Then I think, by the time I get it the boys won't be occupied with TV anymore and I won't get to read anyway. So I've been sitting here for almost an hour. Ugh.

I think I'm ready to work on our book, Mom, because with the advent of social media I spend even more time in front of the computer spending time on unimportant, non-urgent items like checking my email every 5 minutes and cycling between Facebook, People.com, and my online ministries (that actually are worth spending time doing, don't get me wrong).

Is there something in my personality that gets me stuck like this? I know what I want to do - read. But what I'm doing is not reading. I haven't opened a book all day. I just had a scripture pop into my head from Romans. Romans 7:15 (NIV) says, "I do not understand what I do. For what I want to do I do not do, but what I hate I do."

Hate is a strong word, I don't hate Facebook. But I think I'd feel more fulfilled and even energetic at the end of the day if I did more life-affirming things like reading, writing, scrapbooking, playing the piano, etc. Those are the things that I think about doing when I'm out and about, but when I get home, eh - not so much do. (There is no try, only do.)

Sounds like Umizoomi is about over, so I think my time here is through. I've done a good job at sticking with blogging, however many days now I've blogged in a row, so how can I make myself stick to doing other things too. A sticker chart? That's thinking like a mama. ;o)

Ugly cry.

Yesterday I went to my Bible study (Bible Study Fellowship), sat down, and was asked a very profound question: "How are you?" I promptly and without warning dropped my head in my hands and burst into tears. Then I realized that everyone was staring at me (I mean, duh!) so I had to say something funny. I don't remember what I said, and it probably wasn't that funny, but that's my natural reaction to tears - make a joke, get 'em laughing, and move on.

Later in the discussion something really funny did happen though, and I'm still laughing about it. The question had to do with Jesus as Redeemer. What does that mean? Nancy answered that Jesus redeems us through his sacrifice of death on the cross for our sins. Redeemed. Easy. Remembering some Old Testament stories from well, the Old Testament, I mentioned also that Jesus was the final sacrifice, whereas in Old Testament times people made regular animal sacrifices instead. Imagine our lives today if we had to make an animal sacrifice every time we sinned.

I shouldn't have done that. "Anyone got a lamb handy? A pigeon? Anything?" Can you imagine? Well we had a good laugh about that, one of those laughs that makes the other groups in the hall say, "What on earth is so funny in there?" I think I laughed the hardest. I love making people laugh. It was one of those laughs that if not kept in check would have turned into a big ol' cry ten seconds later. I didn't let it go. Maybe I should have.

What's the problem with showing emotion in front of others? These women aren't strangers, we've been having deep spiritual discussions for months. Are they going to think I'm a weirdo for having a little cry because my dad is sick and I still have to deal with the small stuff like how my 3-year-old won't wear shoes and the heater is out? Am I ashamed that I have moments when I can't hold it all together like I'm supposed to be superhuman? Are you superhuman? A 'V'?

I think of myself as a pretty transparent person. I'll tell embarrassing stories about myself, point out my own flaws, and answer pretty much anything you want to know if you ask. But what is it about crying that is so embarrassing? Everyone does it, right? Do I view it as a sign of weakness? Maybe, but being weak is OK.

A conclusion would be good here. But I'm too tired today. Anyone want to conclude this for me?

I love my boys differently.

Silly, I didn't say less or more. Is it because one is adopted and one is from my womb? No way, Jose. It's because they are two different kiddos with two completely different personalities.

BB is a quality-time kind of dude. He doesn't care about snuggling or lots of affirming words. He loves to share experiences. When he tells me he loves me it sounds like this, "Mommy, will you play with me?" He does tell me "I love you, Mommy," but not as often as another little boy who lives here. I would love to snuggle in with BB more, but he's just not into that. That's OK. I tell you when he does let me cuddle with him and hold him it's like nothing else. It warms my mommy heart.



LB is a snuggler. He would like nothing more, most of the time, than to be snuggling and cuddling with Mommy. He repeatedly tells me he loves me, especially in the morning when he also says daily, "Mommy, you're so pretty." For a while he would say, "You're my precious Mommy." No, you're precious! LB is a lot like me in personality and appearance. It can be freaky even.


In terms of discipline, their needs are also very different. A time-out means nothing to BB! He won't do it or he won't have a problem with it. He gets a time-in. He needs to sit in my lap and we have a little talk. I don't let him go until I can tell that he is remorseful and understands why he is in time-in. For LB there is not much worse than a time-out. Just the threat of a time-out will put him practically in hysterics and he'll convincingly apologize right away. When he does get a time-out it is misery. He is a model time-out child.

I know people wonder if they will love their child by adoption as much as their child by birth. The answer is, "YES!" But don't be ashamed to treat them differently. They're different just like two children from the same DNA or even twins will be. Parenting is about being creative with the child God gave you whether you were physically pregnant or paper pregnant with him.

Different - not identical or the same.
Less - to a smaller extent, amount or degree.

(Photos by Laura Pearson. For my IF readers, this website is baby and belly heavy.)