It's your lucky day!

Internet friends, it is your lucky day!

Today I got to do my emo-sadsack-rambling to a LIVE (freakishly strong) HUMAN  BEING. Which means you, dear reader, shall be spared some of the intensity of entries past.

You are welcome.

Sean will also be glad once he hears this news, as I made the last two days nearly unbearable for him.

 We've been fighting all week and it is 98% my fault.

                                                   Handsome man in beard hat and parka


In times of stress I have the charming habit of lashing out at the person closest to me, the person who I know can see me at my worst and still want to hang out with me. Horrible, right? Instead of seeking solace and understanding from Sean I redirect my frustration onto him.

I am also one of those annoying spouses who picks and picks at a subject until I get a reaction. In an argument I think and process AS I talk and I view silence as the worst kind of enemy. I am prone to hyperbole and I want immediate responses from my partner.

My husband prefers to listen, think about what was said, think about what his reaction will be, take some time to find the best words...and at this stage in the "discussion" I have already freaked out over his lack of reaction and begun to fire barbs at him until he HAS to respond.

I'm awesome, I know.


So last night's "discussion" was about the different approaches we have each taken in preparing for YH to join our family. My approach has been to function as an information gatherer. I have bookshelves full of tomes about his potential special needs, about adoption, about toddler adoption, about adoption and attachment...on and on. I read dozens of blogs, participate in online discussions, and compile lists of developmental pediatricians/occupational therapists/geneticists/diagnostic clinics. I buy toys and t-shirts and I hand-sew bedding for him.


I sit and silently seethe when it looks like I am the only one who is preparing for this child to be a part of our daily lives. I wait for the merit fairy to descend from the heavens and bestow upon me a very special martyr badge. I make an ass of myself because I cannot recognize that just as in our divergent "discussion" styles, my husband prefers to take a more subdued approach to these preparations.


In fact he is thinking about all the same things that I am thinking about. He is planning for our changing family dynamics and putting intentional thought into how best to support one another through the "knitting together" phase of our growth. He is imagining how we will survive sleepless nights, how we will insure our older children get the attention they deserve, how we will work out the logistics of our first trip to the supermarket as a family of 5....


Sean is focused on the practicalities of our daily lives and I am focused on supporting the (as-yet) intangible needs of our future son. What I perceived as being efforts at cross-purposes from one another are in fact complementary pieces of our survival tool-kit.


The knitting together has already begun.


We're a good team.

(even though it took a giant fight to realize it)

Those are mighty big shoes to fill.

                                              Sean and Miss A when she was just a wee thing
                                                              Photo by Damon Leo

Today is my last day working outside of the home. Starting next week I will be the fulltime caregiver for our family. This is a huge change for me (I've worked outside of the home fulltime for the last 10 years) and I'm not sure how I'm going to manage the transition. I'd like to think it will be a seamless transfer of responsibilities with me readily replacing staff meetings with trips to the grocery store.
In all likelihood there will be tears and frustration. It is possible I will fall into a Pinterest hole and never emerge.

You see, I have mighty big shoes to fill. Men's size 12 in fact. My husband (tall-dark-handsome-quiet) was our family's fulltime caregiver for the last seven years. Our babies were born in quick succession and we found ourselves with two nubbins under the age of two years old. My job required a lot of travel (go ahead ask me about ANY Best Western Hotel between Vermont and Claremont, CA! I can tell you allll about it) and Sean had reached a point in his teaching career where he was ready to focus on raising his own kids.

And so he did. He put on a sling and toted those babies all around town. He did the housework, paid the bills, fed the kids, fed the dogs, buried the dogs when they passed away, took the kids to doctors appointments and served as facilities coordinator for our sweet little co-op nursery school. He spent many a day as the only dad on the playground/only dad at the playdate. He grew very skilled at cultivating friendships with other parents. He lost whole days to elaborate lego games with Sweet Bubs, or getting Miss A to cheerleading events. And he did it all so well.

If you know my husband you would be hard-pressed to think of a time when he lost his cool. Dude is unflappable, even in the face of life's great annoyances. His bottomless well of patience is part of what makes him such an excellent parent and teacher (and hockey goalie--but that's another post). He is kind. He will do anything at any time to help a friend, no questions asked. He is loyal and funny and imaginative and a good listener and he hugs those babies so hard they never want to leave his arms.

If you know me you probably wouldn't use the words "patient" or "unflappable" to describe my demeanor. You'd probably use terms from the other end of the temperment spectrum. Terms like "Leo", "sailormouth", "stompy"...

The point is: I am going to work really really hard in order to be 1/5th the fulltime caregiver that Sean was. He set the standard high and I want to make him proud.