"Mom" - five years

Today is my...momiversary?   Five years ago today Bryan and I - full of anticipation and completely terrified - walked into a church in Georgia.  A kind lady named Alice plopped a baby in my arms, handed me a bottle, and for the next 20 minutes I nervously pretended to know what I was doing. All the while, a case worker was going over a stack of important papers..."legal risk"..."sign here"...I'm glad we didn't have a pop quiz. 

When you are pregnant - at some point - the growing belly, the kicks, the sonograms, convince you that you are going to have a child, that you are going to be a mom.  Expecting a child through adoption was always nervous anticipation - there was nothing tangible to convince me that I was on my way to motherhood.  And then Alice put this little boy in my arms and asked Bryan, "What's his name?" Bryan answered, "Brett", proudly wearing the number "4" jersey. 

 

I was a mom.

 





 

Only another adoptive parent could ever understand how you can look into the eyes of a stranger and know he's your son.  Only another adoptive parent could grasp the image of a Heavenly Father aligning the stars so that this Daughter He loves could mother this Son He loves.  He knew how much His Daughter needed her son, how much she would learn, what joy he would bring.  Humbly, this Daughter recognizes her Father saw she was just the Mom this child needed, despite her many flaws. 

 

 

 

In Jack Prelutsky children's book called, Me I Am, the whimsical poem reads... "I am the only Me I Am who qualifies as me; no Me I Am has been before, and none will ever be..."  I see Brett in the pages of the book, who's favorite things include rocket ships and vacuums, and would be happy if every day were exactly the same as the last.

 

He knows every word to the songs he will perform in tomorrow's Christmas program - we got a personal concert tonight. Yet we have a backup plan should things go array- as they often do with our "Me I Am".  He's perfectly Brett.

 

Brett has the distinct honor of being the child who made me a mom, my favorite title.

Tonight in our bedtime prayers, we thanked God for his birthmom, and for the wonderful gift she gave us - each other.

 

dear santa

Dear Santa,

Please send snow.

Thanks.

before and after: curb appeal

Before: dated two-tone soffits, fascia, and gutters 

 And undesirable front entrance

After: neutral soffits, fascia, and gutters

 

And lovely covered entry!

 

Just needs some paint, and since that's up to us instead of the contractor it won't happen 'til spring.





birthday weekend

We did something a little different to celebrate Brett's birthday this year. With all the traveling Bryan has done this fall, he'd racked up enough reward points for a free stay at a hotel with a waterpark. It was so much fun!

 

(the microphone is already "missing")

happy 4th birthday Lydia

A birthday wish for my little girl...

May you always make your voice heard...

...but know when to hold your tongue...

...may you enjoy simple pleasures...

...may you take on life's mountains by faith...

...don't ever pass up a chance to dance...

...or to get a little dirty...

 

...may you have the confidence to strike a pose and make your mark...

...oh, and, may all your dreams come true.

 

With Love, Happy 4th Birthday, my Lydia June.

dinner theater

After dinner on any given night, in the Wedan household, we retire to the living room (where the TV has been banned) for a show.  Since the weather has turned too cold for after 6pm outdoor activities, we've had a Talent Show...and I use that term very loosely.  We've had the occasional magic trick and song singing, but typically it ends up being kids jumping on couch cushions to annoying music.  So, this week we had to change it up for our own sanity, and now it's a Puppet Show!  There's Jennings, Ernie, and Lydia's "Honey" performing this weeks' run of "Thanksgiving Dinner".  Not pictured is Mom and Dad's performance of "Who Likes Mustard" to get the party started.

birthday tea

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 



rotting apples

In the bottom of my produce drawer, there are some rotting apples.  At the end of August, the kids and I went to pick apples at Grandma's.  We came home with 3 huge boxes of ripe apples and a paper bag with green apples in it.  We used all the ripe apples for eating, making apple sauce and apple butter.  A lot of it.  I am always glad to peel that last apple and put it in the crock pot.

I forgot about the green apples in the paper bag until a few weeks ago when I was in the basement and noticed a distinct aroma.  A few were rotten, but the rest would still be good for baking.  I made apple crisp and baked apples a few times, but a dozen or so still remain in the drawer, rotting.

I didn't know our apple picking day would be that last time the kids and I would get to enjoy a day with Grandma.  She came down with pneumonia this fall and her body just didn't have the will to recover.  My mother-in-law says in her last days Grandma was praying to go to her eternal home, to be united with her Savior, and reunited with her husband.  I'm glad in God's grace and eternal wisdom, her request was fulfilled.  But my heart aches with sadness for us who are still here wanting to enjoy our mom, grandma, great-grandma for a little longer.

A couple years after Bryan and I were married, we took Grandma to Vegas with us- something she had used to do regularly before Grandpa passed on.  We went to the top of the Stratosphere where we rode the roller coaster and ate at the overpriced restaurant with an amazing view.  We put our quarters in the slots, walked the strip with our 99 cent margaritas, and giggled about the whole thing.  Not long after we returned home, the babies started rolling in and, while others needed time to bond with our babies, she was immediately thrilled with each new addition.  It turned out we had hit the jackpot in our own way, and I think she thought it was hilarious.  She'd watch in amusement as we'd pile into the house on holidays - babies and toddlers melting down, running wild, making demands, noise, and messes left and right. When the dust would settle and between crisis', we'd sit with coffee and she'd say, "I just don't know how you do it."  But Grandma was the one always serving and giving to others, going out of her way to make some one's day special, and working behind the scenes with no desire to be recognized.

In the bottom of my fridge, there are some rotting apples.   Life has run it's course.  Eventually, I will move the rotting apples to the compost and in the spring it will give important nutrients to new life.  Not in the same way, we receive from our generations past life lessons in faith, values, and traditions, treasure them, and pass them on to generations new.

Let salvation spring up, let righteousness flourish with it; I, the LORD, have created it.  Isaiah 45:8

 



Bryan's college years

Eating at the Top of the Stratosphere

Vegas Vacation

Holding Baby Dominick 

Grandma with Isaiah; Brett and I in wagon (Lydia in utero!)

 

Grandma, Brett, Lydia - Christmas 2008

 

Brett and Grandma picking apples August 2012



 

 

happy halloween

 

 

Aw, aren't they cute?

 

 

"Mom, can you make the nose a semi-circle?"

 

"When I say '3', look at the camera and smile!"

 

 

Blast off! 

(Although he was mistaken for The Tin Man, I think I did pretty good considering this was my pattern.)

What can I say?  It's pink and purple with lots of glitter.

Out of 10 combined Halloweens, Reggie is the first to get a new store-bought costume.  He wore the helmet for 3 days straight after he got it "from the Packers" in the mail.  Seriously, we had to make him take it off so he could sleep. 



"Sure, I'll paint a ladybug on your cheek since you're a butterfly!  That makes perfect sense!"

"When I say '3', look at the camera and smile!"

"When I say '3'...okay, just eat your candy."

"Lights out!  Anyone trick-or-treating after 8pm is too old for trick-or-treating."

(look at those adorable toes)