When we were awaiting bringing Esther home, I had a mom tell me,
"I think what you are doing is SO awesome. I'm just not a good enough mom, I would be so afraid I would ruin my adopted kid."
To which I quickly replied,
"Me too! I often fear the same thing!"
Now I really don't think that was the answer she was expecting. For some reason a lot of people out there seem to be of the impression that you have to earn a certain GPA in mothering to adopt.
Let me prove to you, just how wrong you are.
Now that we are home the most popular first question people have for us is "How is it going? How is everyone adjusting?"
TeJays answers are always fluid, rational and truthful. He usually says things like "Amazing! I can't believe how well Esther is adjusting, she is just incredible."
While this is entirely true (we hit the "jackpot" in adoption I suppose) my answers usually sound something like this...
"The kids? Did I lose them? Because I forgot the laundry money in the lunchbox and the dog ate my brain."
Now this isn't because I don't think things are going well, because they are, its just because, well...most days I feel like I live in a zoo.
A zoo with two unusually loud creatures that I cannot get enough of, who also coincidentally may or may not scare me into eating chocolate alone in the bathroom.
I feel like I wake up 8 things behind on my to-do list, and for the life of me I can't figure out who wears all these clothes that need washing, or where exactly I put the cheese (which turned out to be the cupboard, true story).
Some days, I feel like this...
But I am an optimist by nature (and by Grace)and I usually start the morning ready and eager to tackle the day.
Okay, who am I kidding, optimist or not, no one likes getting out of bed. I wake up like this every day.
But then I get out of bed,
And to give me a glimmer of hope that I will survive this parenting thing, I utter things like...
"Oh, no, not I! I will survive!"
So I get out of bed and I say
CHALLENGE ACCEPTED.
But, sometime in-between the fifth argument over a toilet paper roll or "telescopes" as my kids call them, and right before the epic who-gets-to-potty-first battle, I can usually be found saying...
"Wait until your father comes home!"
Because sometimes its all I've got left.
Usually, I am okay with that. He is bigger, stronger, and more influential than I am.
God, however doesn't want to let up on the whole "growing me in Christ" thing, because on a totally random and cozy Sunday night (notice how things are never "random" with God??) I sit with my husband to listen to a Mark Driscoll sermon where he says, and I quote...
"A Mom at her wits end says 'wait until your dad comes home.' If that needs to be said the children are not obeying and honoring both their father and their mother."
Mom-0
(SIDE NOTE- Its a fantastic sermon and one I TOTALLY needed to hear, listen HERE!)
But that is my life. I love my life. It's crazy, lovely, wonderful, chaotic, colorful and tiring. But my God has blessed me, He loves me, He is growing me, and I love Him for loving me.
My life, and mothering, is a little bit of coffee and A LOT of grace.
Okay, that's a fib. There is a lot, not a little, of coffee involved too.
Speaking of lies, apparently all kids tell them!
In an effort to be the lie squasher and this mom..." Her children arise up, and call her blessed" (Proerbs 31:28)I have decided to employ more "teachable moments" in my day-to-day routine.
There have been a few successes, and there have also been a few failures. Like the ice cream one I posted on Facebook earlier.
I saw THIS blog on Pinterest about teaching your kids about lying in a tangible (and tasty) way. I thought "YES! Teachable moment!"
How can this go wrong?
Oh, with kids like mine? Very easily.
I do as instructed. I take regular ice cream, and I sprinkle salt on top to represent the "lie" and explain that the ice cream still looks the same, but that we know its there.
Then, with a smug smile and half posed to begin my "nailed-it" dance, my kids eat the salt covered ice cream.
AND THEY LIKE IT.
Seriously? WHO IS YOUR MOTHER AND WHAT DOES SHE FEED YOU IF YOU THINK SALT ON ICE-CREAM TASTES GOOD!
I, naturally not wanting to accept a parenting fail, assume that I simply hadn't sprinkled enough salt on the first go around. So a take a SPOON FULL and dump it on each of the girls bites.
Sure of myself this time, I kick my heels back and slyly explain that THIS bite is like a full blown lie, not a fib. Then I say, how does it taste now?
Both girls take a bite, unsure at first. But a mixture of excitement, curiosity, disgust and wildness floods their eyes.
I shudder in terror immediately.
While Esther seemed to not like the taste, she eats it all anyways and asks for more.
Okay, not quite what I was hoping for...but I will take it...
Eva (where did I go wrong Lord?) eats the bite and then LICKS her spoon and bowl clean, asking for more.
WHY! WHY!!!
Esther chimes in with agreement telling me to sprinkle just a "little fib" on their next round of ice-cream.
And mom of the year goes to....
So seriously, when people say things like
"I would be so afraid of adoption, I would totally screw my kids up."
Rest assured that I, very honestly say,
"Me too. I am very terrified of that exact thing."
Because on my own, on our own, this job is too big. It's too long, and to hard, and too draining, and too much.
Luckily we don't have to do it alone. We can ask God to help us.
We have a big God, big enough for these jobs.
And, comedy aside, I guarantee that YOU, YOURSELF with all of your own salty-ice-cream moments are a better mother than any orphanage will ever be.
These kids don't need perfect parents.
They just need parents.
I am NEVER going to be a perfect mother. Sometimes I will fail them, sometimes I will fail myself. But that will not define me, grace and my Lord will define me, and with His help I will see this job through.
Point is, if adoption is on your heart (or any journey is on your heart) don't let the "I'm not a good enough mom" lie stop you. I promise you our God is big enough.
And seriously, a little salt never killed anyone, right?
Until Next Time,
The Crazies Harveys
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