Skip to main content

Dear Carly,

You are sleeping.  You drifted off while you sat in the recliner with your Dad.  Your face turned to the side, your eyes slipped shut and then you were dreaming.  Just like that.

It's magical to watch you change.  You're getting taller, and more person-like.  You talk with your hands.  You've got a personal sense of style (I'm not saying it's good, but you've got it.)  You have opinions and you're not afraid, at all, to share them.  You excel at making messes, not so much at cleaning them up (unless you're really motivated).

You're reading.  And writing.  The reading comes a little slower, spurts and starts, but it's coming.  You like to make fancy looping letters and numbers.  You can color inside the lines when you care to try.  And you draw these incredible pictures of people with long, long, long hair and googly eyes.  They are wonderfully strange.  And quite sweet.

Some days I look at you and can't think of any word except wow.

Other days .... well we won't talk about those.

But even as you change, you stay the same.  Daddy is still your favorite.  I try to shake it off when you almost physically push me away to get to him.  I'm glad, so glad, that you love him so fiercely.  Everyone needs their own personal fan club.  You still want to be close, right on top of me if possible.  But only for a moment.  Because flipping, bouncing, jumping and spinning is much more important than snuggling.  You just want to know you can.  You sing all the time.  (The "nice" singing is particularly impressive.)  You make up words and tunes that aren't tunes.  You turn little moments into performances.

You're this flying little whirlwind.

And then, you collapse into a pile of sugar and sleep.

Sweet dreams.




Godmommy Shell said…
I love your miniature sized football shaped eyes! You are sooooooooooo bootyfull to your God mommmmmmy! I love you booty butt!

Popular posts from this blog

Dear Carly,

I assume that one day you will come to me wanting to know who you are, where you came from, where your other family is and why they gave you to us.  I offer you little bits of information already, but certainly not crumbs enough to satisfy the appetite.  Perhaps it won't matter to you.  I am assuming a lot, already, about how adoption will impact your life.

People often wonder why adoptive parents are hurt when their children seek out biological roots.  I have the answer, and it's very simple.  Adoption - at its core - makes us question the legality, authority, voracity, and validity of parenthood.  For most adoptive parents, first you must come to terms with an issue that strikes at the foundations of mortality: fertility.  From birth, most of us are driven to form families.  First we are nestlings, nurtured and weened and eventually taught to fly.  Then we are nest-builders, filling our lives with the stuff necessary to drive life forward.  Knowledge, safety, money, a sturdy …

Fragmented re-introduction

I dreamed a dream once of what this would be like.  Of life.  Of patterns and songs and ticking off boxes to find my way. 

Trouble was, I keep looking at the wrong list.

This year's list:

- Turn 40 (check)
- Move again (check)
- Send the boy on a mission (check)
- Finish admin license
- Get lost (check)
- Get found (check)
- Lost again (check)

Wait, that went off track. 

Adulthood is a lot of getting off track.  And back on.  It's weird.

I thought at 40, I would have it all together.

But, I'm barely keeping it from falling apart. 


So, this is me where I am now.

40, working, waiting.  My boy's on a mission in Boise.  My girl's 12 going on 20.  My husband hates his job most days, and loves it alternatively.  Same for me.  We live in a small town I don't like very much and dream of going somewhere else, but we don't know where that is. 

I want to be a writer, but I don't spend time writing.

I read something the other day that gave me hope: Guy Fieri…

On being away from home and turning sixteen: a letter to my son

Dear Josh,

I missed your sixteenth birthday.  I'm sure you recall - or maybe it wasn't so bad because you spent the whole day with your friend watching movies.  Godzilla and Guardians of the Galaxy, you've said.  It's no surprise to me that Godzilla was your favorite of the two.  That atomic green monster holds a special place in your heart.

It was very difficult for me to be away from you when you crossed this threshold in your life.  I remember turning sixteen, being sixteen, and wondering when I would feel like I was actually sixteen.  When I was sixteen, I went and found my first job, I started driving myself around, and I pretty much felt like I was in the wrong skin.  I'm only now, at 37, beginning to feel in the right skin.  Or at least comfortable with the skin I'm in.  But you - well, you don't seem to have a problem being you.  I can't explain how very happy that makes me feel, how very reassured.  Because it can be really hard not to like you…