Growing Family

Shrinking Clothes!

I am in the habit of buying my children's clothes a size or two too big, so I get lots of wear out of them. I am, what you could call...thrifty.

I am just now retiring clothes that my children were wearing when we moved here two years ago. At least, I am just now retiring the AMERICAN clothes my children were in two years ago (not all of them, but a few still fit).

Here I still buy things a size or two too big, but I feel like I am lucky if I get even one season's wear out of them. They seem to be shrinking, and my children are growing (as children do).

Today, with a group of moms I discovered that Australian clothes are not made from pre-shrunk cotton (they had never heard of such a thing) and that you are not meant to put anything in the dryer or it will, indeed, shrink away to nothing.

It wasn't in my imagination, the clothes HAVE been getting smaller, and smaller, and smaller! All the more reason to load up my suitcases with (literally) as much as I can carry when I go home.

Pre-shrunk cotton - Australia, get with the program!

Prepping to Fly

In less than two weeks I'm taking my first trip back home since we moved to Sydney, over two years ago. I did go back to the States for ten days in October, when my Grandfather passed away, but since that was a trip to my Grandparent's house in Pennsylvania, it wasn't actually going home for me.

After traveling with our family of five to Holland last September for a wedding we decided that divide and conquer would be out travel approach this year. May I take this moment to say that we are truly bad-ass travelers? We are. Anyone who can take three kids four years old and under on 25+ hour travels without ending up with entire airports hating them, gets big props in my book. We are charmers when we travel and I am always amazed at how well we pull it off. Yes, I am officially patting my own back now.

But, just because we CAN do it, doesn't mean that we SHOULD do it. Traveling with all the littles is perhaps the MOST exhausting parenthood experience, ever (and yes, I do hold giving birth in mind while I say that). So exhausting it even gets me fired up enough to use all these capital letters and !!! exclamation points.

So, this year I'll be taking Small Sun back home with me for two weeks. Then, later in the year, The Captain will be taking Sprout with him to Holland. (If you ask me, he got the short straw for sure. Small Sun is a dream to travel with and The Sprout is a nightmare! I keep telling The Captain that "one on one, she'll be so much easier to handle!" Yea, we'll see if that's really true!)

With the trip rapidly approaching, I am all kinds of emotional about going home. There is SO MUCH packed into this two week trip. Let's start off by having a little cry moment for the fact that I weaned my baby to take this trip, and that I will be leaving a one year old (super mama's boy) behind for two weeks! The Sprout will be fine, but I am truly concerned that I am scarring Finch for life. There, I've said it. When I planned this trip six months ago, it seemed so far away, and I imagine him being so much bigger. 

The impetus for this trip is that one of my best friends is getting married and I am standing up with her. We talked about taking the whole family for four weeks and touring the country and la di da...but after tickets alone priced the trip at about 10 grand, we had to rethink that plan.

This two week trip is packed with one emotionally charged experience after another. I hardly know how to get my head around it. I'm taking Small Sun to spend time with his biological family for the first time since he was born. Our "semi-open" pictures and letters adoption is getting blown wide open to being friends on FB and going for a visit. That needs a whole post on its own, doesn't it?

Then I spend several days with my family. My brother and his family and my sister are all flying home to be together. And have I mentioned that after that little family time, my sister-in-law is jetting off to Bangladesh to set up home/office/school/life for her family, and my brother and the kids will be joining them at the end of the "summer"? Big changes for them that will bring them closer to "our" part of the world!

Then there's the wedding where my friend needs me to be incredibly focused, present, and supportive. I'll be leaving Small Sun with the grandparents for a few days to really be there for her. 

After we send her off for a happy honeymoon, I'll host an open house to see my friends, and hopefully a dear friend up north will be coming down to spend a day or three with me (hey C, have you booked your ticket?). I am hoping to fill up any and all cracks with eating Mexican food and shopping at Old Navy, Target, and TJMaxx. Keeping children in clothes, in Sydney costs a mint, and I plan to clean those places out!

None of this even touches on how I'm feeling about going home. I am apprehensive about how "home" it will feel, and how comfortably I will fit there. I've definitely crossed over into some murky middle earth where I am not Aussie, but I identify with the way of life here, and I am American, but I imagine I might feel out of touch with American life. I've done this before a few times, and I knew how disorienting and uncomfortable it can feel. This time, I'll have to add language whiplash in as I try to remember to say "stroller", not "pram" and "sweatshirt", not "jumper". Actually, I'll just skip that whole thing by leaving the stroller behind and since it will be summer, there will be no jumpers, er, hoodies to discuss.

Small Sun has already lost his concept of America. When he sees things in American movies, like mail trucks, he gets all tickled about the "funny" way things are in America. Just wait until he finds out you can just leave your outgoing mail in the mailbox and the postman will just take it away for you. It will BLOW HIS MIND! 

My little guy lives an Aussie life, goes to Aussie preschool, and has a serious Steve Irwin obsession. How will Nashvegas respond to him jumping on imaginary crocs yelling "she's a beaut!" and "g'day mate!"? He plays "football", and "chucks rubbish in the bin" and yells "crikey" when he's excited. Even his remaining memories of America are translated through Aussie language. "Mom, do you remember when we were at [grandparent's house] and there was a digger in the paddock?" 

How do I prepare him for all of the intensity and complexity of this trip? How to I prepare myself? Typically I "manage" things by making to-do lists and approaching everything with organization and planning. This time I feel immobilized (partially from post-birthday week exhaustion), and all I can manage is shopping on eBay for great finds to bring home with me. That, and I lie in bed at night and try to imagine what it will all be like.

Life is Packed

The last couple weeks have been mad. Did I mention that my boys' birthdays are two days apart? The last couple of weeks have been preparation for The Birthday Week. First came Small Sun's birthday which included taking 50 donuts to both preschool classes and staff. Then, we celebrated wee Finch's first year two days later. The day after that came the big party that they shared. 

Why can't I do small parties? My new mantra is "the McDonald's birthday is your friend!". I just get all taken over with creative ideas and inspirations and I want to sculpt a personal statue of each child and deliver it with an original poem on paper that contains sunflower seeds so each child can plan a garden of happiness like my little son is to me. Ha, I just get more and more inspired...and stressed...and the parties grow, and grow and grow.

26 children attended, each with attached parent(s) and adults who are important parts of our children's lives. It might be easier to have smaller functions if Small Sun wasn't so extremely social...and if I wasn't so social that would help too. 

Small Sun had very specific ideas for this birthday. The cake should be a crocodile with Steve Irwin jumping on its back, and it should be attached to a turtle cake for Finch. I talked him down to turtle cupcakes.

 

The real stress in all of this is that it was supposed to be an outdoor bash at this lovely park with tons of open space and multiple play areas for different ages. Our kids LOVE this park. As the week went on, it got colder and rained off and on. The forecast kept changing. Finally, on Thursday, I booked the local Scout Hall just in case and Saturday morning, when it was pouring, we decided to hold the party there. So now I was responsible for 60+ people in an unattractive hall, and so we needed entertainment. Entertainment is not my thing, but I manage to come up with some crafts and some games to get us through.

  

 

The party was a big success. Small Sun loved the cake and the talking Steve Irwin doll. We played pass the parcel (An Australian/New Zealand must-have party game for children), and had a sack race upon Small Son's insistence. The rain cleared to reveal a beautiful blue sky and wonderful sunshine.

 

 

Finch devoured his entire green iced cupcake as if he was saying "where has this sugar thing been all my life?" Saturday morning we shared our last nurse together, and that afternoon he was consuming boxed cake mix. On the way home from the party, a massive rainbow filled the sky, coming right down over our neighborhood. 

Sunday we moved Finch into the "big kids'" room and today I gave him a haircut. Life is packed.

The night after the party, I had all sorts of crazy dreams about Nashville and being back in the U.S. I go in just a couple weeks and I have lots of thoughts and feelings anticipating my first trip "home". Now, with Birthday Week successfully behind us, I turn my attention to prepping for my cousin, who is flying here to nanny for the two little kids while Small Sun and I fly east. It's all a little bit crazy right now. There's so many things for me to write about, and I just don't seem to have the time to get anything down here!

Melting Sugar

In our kitchen hangs a calendar. It is full of vivid pictures taken the world over by Lonely Planet photographers. May shows Croatia, bordered in purple. Red terracotta tiled roofs, fishing boats and old men are caught in tiny frames, and within the tiny frames enclosing each date are some jewels of our own. First comes the day Small Sun was born, and then, chasing on his heals, only two days later, is the anniversary of Finch's entrance into the world. 

With the advance of Finch's first birthday, and my upcoming trip to the U.S., when I will leave Finch and Sprout in Sydney, it is time to wean that sweet little wisp of golden hay and sunshine. That boy is part imp and pure angel and I don't know if I've ever fallen so hard for a baby. 

I think this time I let myself go into the loving from the very beginning. I was quick to give myself away, and quick to take myself back. I gave it all to this baby, and I took what I needed for myself. I gave him everything, but I did not sacrifice. I didn't count the cost of loving him, but when I found myself depleted, I turned away to fill myself up. I loved him without losing myself, and that allows me to love him more.

I can number the nurses we have left in two digits. Each one left is a tiny treasure. 

This baby loves to nur*se. He's a capable eater with six grinning teeth, but he loves to nur*se. In the morning when The Captain carries him into our room, he starts to wiggle and shiver, throwing his weight towards where I lie, up to my ears in fluffy down quilts. It's as if he hasn't seen me for a hundred years and if The Captain takes too long to deposit him into my arms, he'll start to yell. His day starts in the crook of my arm, under the snowdrift of down, nur*sing happily.

It's hard to know which is sweeter: his day, our day, starts full of cheer and hope, and the day ends with a contented sigh. At the dinner table he eats until he is finished and then he begins to shriek the loudest, most unpleasant shriek that means "I'm done with this! Remove me immediately or I will crush your eardrums with my shrieking!" The Captain carries him off to ready him for bed before depositing him on my lap in a comfy living room chair. As we nur*se he plays his hands over my face, pokes them in my mouth, and grasps and releases my fingers. He stares at me, silently at first, with eyes the size of coat buttons, and then starts making his sleepy noises, which are the same noises I would make if I made sleepy noises as I fell into peace. I know those noises in my soul-places. They are a reflection - a ripple from a stone dropping into his being and continuing out into mine.

This is what I have to part with. His contented sigh as he lets go and sits up. His cheeks flushed pink and blue eyes dewy and bright. His mouth cherry pink and pouty, and his golden hair tousled and askew. These sweet sessions are what I must eliminate one by one until the days on the calendar are all ticked off; until the numbering of them goes down from two digits to one, and then they are gone, the last one savored like the tiniest bit of hard candy melting until it disappears.

How can I let go of heaven?