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I am not sure if this is an appropriate post or not…if not then I give you permission to judge. I see a lot of blogs and a lot of people really have their ducks in a row.  My ducks are not even in the same room or country for that manner. I hope I don’t sound like Debbie Downer here. I don’t mean to.

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I don’t know how to be a mom. I love my kid like crazy but I still struggle with the day to day of being a mom. He is about to be done with a bottle and baby food and on to finger foods. I eat like crap. The books say to feed him what I eat…I drink the Coke with fake sugar and cookies with frosting if I actually eat during the day.

I don’t know how to be an adoptive mom – I don’t know that many adoptive moms so I am kind of reading blogs and books and figuring it out and I still love my kid like crazy and know that I LOVE that he is adopted – he is my miracle. I grieve for his birthmom and I love her like crazy. And that is OK.  Nightly I look at him and I can’t believe I get to be his mom. I know in a few years he could be grieving her as well or maybe not and could see adoption as wonderful as I do. I pray nightly that Jesus will fill the gaps that I can’t fill – but maybe all moms pray that as well.

I don’t know how to be a mom to a boy. I grew up with two sisters and pink and giggling – many weeks there could have been six girls if each of us Harrison girls had a friend over which means 12 conversations going on. That was our house. But I love my wild, crazy boy and just go with it and follow the mess and scream and move fast when he does and when I have nothing else I lie on the floor and allow him to crawl over me and stick his finger my mouth (which for some reason makes him giggle really loud these days).

And here’s a weird one…I don’t know how to be a mom to a multi-racial kid. I am not sure what to do with his wonderful curly hair or his little dry knees…although that may be a characteristic of any kid. You Tube is my best friend these days. I get looks in the grocery store where people wonder about my past or my mate. Someone has looked at my husband and asked if he was the dad…seriously – It’s nonya business peeps. Well it is everyone’s business that he is E’s dad but that you are curious if maybe I had another mate and had Emerson may have been the case…Like Salt ‘n Pepper said – It’s none of yo business (I am obviously speaking to onlooker. You guys know he was adopted and I had no past mate but if you were wondering…It’s none of your business…sorry now I have that song in my head and I keep thinking of the movie with Will Ferrell where he continues to quote TLC songs). Anyway, that comment a few sentences ago was at a Big Lots so you can’t expect much but I don’t know how to cheerfully move a comment along or respond gracefully or witty…I am just not that girl.  I do know how to turn bright red and make everyone uncomfortable. Ya know…I am still figuring out this road. Those darn ducks are just all out of wack.

All that to say, I am just trying to figure out how to be a mom. How to be an adoptive mom to a wild, crazy and wonderful boy whose skin is different than mine. I am giddy to be able to do it but I can’t be the only one who googles “bi-racial baby boy hair.” Or googles “finger foods for baby who hates eggs and broccoli and only likes ham and cheese.” Honestly, I am just trying to figure out how to do what I do. Does that make sense? I sometimes feel like I have no clue how to be a wife or do my job or a woman or a follower of Jesus or a owner of a dog or get the damn ants out of our bathroom. Geez. If you stuck with to the end of this than props – this is a long post with no pictures. I really like pictures in my blog.

 

The last three years Mother’s Day has been very sad. For those of you who are yearning to be a mother please know that you aren’t alone. While this year has answered prayers for our family there is still a loss that while on earth will not be filled – there should be more munchkins running around…one of which should be turning 3 in a few weeks. Yes, I still count the years.  But instead of counting months I am counting years – which I am thankful for. Time really does heal. Over the past few years as I watched mothers celebrate their day and I was very sad because I knew I was a mother just maybe not to kiddos here on earth or to kids who shared my name.

While I wouldn’t change a thing – this road brought me to the wildest craziest little man that I could have never created myself. It brought me to a woman I view as a sister who loves my boy as much as I do. It united families outside of bloodlines.

But as a reminder of those who yearn to be a mother know that bloodlines or documents or adoption does not make you a mother. I was a mother long before Emerson. I was a mother and sister and friend to high school kids who spent the night at our house for years. Who would stop by our house randomly for dinner. I was a mother to kiddos who cried on my shoulder. So know that you are meant to be a mother – whether it be through bloodlines, adoption, or just loving on someone who needs to be loved on. So Happy Mother’s Day to you – you deserve to cry at the damn Publix commercials. You deserve to know that families don’t have to exist within bloodlines or last names. You are appreciated. Let’s celebrate all the women in our life who make us cookies, dinner or listen to us when we need to cry or take us to coffee. Let’s celebrate the women in our life.

So here are a few blogs that I hope will help you realize you aren’t alone.

My Definition of Motherhood – One year later

The Grinch Who Stole Mother’s Day

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Holy 10 months batman. How did this happen to me? It happens to be Mother’s Day this month and Publix is trying to prove to the world that my heart is actually there and I weep like a baby every time I see every stupid commercial. Don’t you people realize I am dead inside and crying is not a pretty thing for me. There is also a phone commercial with a little boy that grows up and eventually gets his own place. Emerson, stop growing up. JUST.STOP.IT. I am not ashamed to be that mother who makes you live with me forever.

So here are 10 things I am thankful for in this crazy month.

1. You are a crazy yet cautious little thing. When in the house there is no stopping your ambition and climbing and crawling and hammering and screaming but when you are in a new location you are very cautious – you analyze everything around you. We are exhausted by the time you go to bed.

2. You just love mom. Apparently I fix everything to you. I’ll take it because one day you’ll realize I can’t fix a darn thing.

3. You are adopted. I know this isn’t new in month ten but your adoption changed me. Bringing you home helped your father and I write this adventurous story for our family. Every month I realize that being an adoptive mom has made me a different person.

4. Sometimes you just can’t snuggle enough. You get in my arms and just snuggle to get closer.

5. The first thing you have said in context besides mom and dad is looking at the dog and saying “no.” Poor Poopeye.

6. You sleep like a champ.

7. You put your mouth on the glass window and blow really hard. We just sit and watch you and laugh really hard.

8. You scream out of happiness. Your daycare teachers have asked us to “control this.” I am not sure how to make this stop…maybe I could stop screaming with you at home but who’s pointing fingers.

9. At daycare there is a walker you and your buddy Charlie push the mailtruck walker together. As soon as I walk in the door you almost jump out of my arms, make eye contact with your partner in crime and make your way to the mail truck. I mean the cuteness is out of control when y’all push this together.

10. You were in a play last month and sat and just smiled at everyone (by in a play you sat in a stroller for 5 minutes while a 10 year old read a book aloud to all the daycare parents).

OK now I fear I have become an annoying mom. So while I remember the good I also can’t forget the hard times of today when your little top teeth came in and you just cried. All day. When you cry and are hurt you shake your whole body as if you just can’t control the pain. You just couldn’t be put down. My unusually mobile boy just sat and cried all day. Or having to drop you off at daycare tomorrow – which I just hate sometimes.

I just finished reading a book called “A Million Miles in a Thousand Years” by Donald Miller which is all about our story. I am trying to recall our crazy adoption story and write the entire crazy story. I know I could never communicate the story as well as God wrote it but might be good to remember.