Just keep swimming

We travelled last week to Isle of Palms outside of Charleston, SC for our annual Shaylor family beach trip. We were lucky enough to get to all stay together in a house right on the beach that also had it's own pool, which was really awesome. As a child we did this for a week every summer. Some of my fondest childhood memories are from going to this island, playing for hours in tidepools. Dripping wet sand all over my grandmother's feet, eating homemade peach ice cream, swimming in the ocean. Running free over the sand. But the beach there is no longer the beach of my childhood. The constant crash of the waves has worn it down, changed it. In fact, at high tide, there is practically no beach at all. The tidepools that I loved so much as a kid were no longer there. That is, of course, what the ocean does - it is an unstoppable force for change. Everything, all of us included, are changing all the time. Morphing into new versions of ourselves.

Gus is so fully himself. I am absolutely in awe of it. It makes me wonder if I was ever like that. I'm not sure I was. I try to always be my most authentic self, but I find it quite difficult. Sometimes I don't have any clue where to even start being Me. Time and the tide have left their mark. Gus on the other hand, has no idea how to be anything but. He doesn't know yet that there is any other option than for him to be completely himself, all the time. I love it. My most fervent hope is that I never do anything to screw that up. That I can always support him of course, but also get out of the way so he can go on being himself.

I think he may be part fish. (Also part dog. But that one I've known for a while.) I knew he loved the water, he always has. But this past week I was amazed. This kid isn't even two and he can pretty much swim. He is fearless. He jumps right in. What's more, he stays underwater with his eyes wide open and a giant smile on his face as he's swimming. It's really kind of unbelievable.

Every morning when I'd go in his room he'd sit up and say, "Beach!" Out in the ocean, he kept wanting to go further and further past the breakers, asking for bigger and bigger waves, all the while swimming out of our arms saying "Fish, Fish, Fish." I wish I had that kind of confidence. I wish I were that fearless. I know that we will have to teach him a healthy respect for water, especially the ocean, but there's time for that when he is a little bit older. Right now we are obviously going to be right with him anytime he's in the water. Right now, I don't want to do anything to stifle his audacious spirit.

On top of being so fearless, Gus also just really digs life. He is so happy all the time. He really LIVES every minute. He is my little extraverted party animal. He loves everybody. In fact, sometimes he loves a little too persistently - in the form of hugging. He loves to give hugs. To dogs, his cousins, friends, strangers, it doesn't matter. Sometimes he doesn't realize he's bigger than those he's hugging, or that perhaps not everyone wants a hug all the time. That's another challenge for me. Sometimes other parents aren't so keen on Gus' over-eager cuddling. But I really don't want to discourage him from being loving and effusive. He's a toddler. He's all emotion and impulse. All he knows is that he has a lot of love to give and by golly, he's going to give it! In this world, how can that be wrong?

I hope that Gus will always feel comfortable being his most true self. With us and also out in the world. His experiences in life will shape and change him of course, just as surely as the ocean shapes the beach. But I hope that he will be able to not be pulled completely under, beaten down, when a huge wave comes at him. Or at least that he'll be able to come up mostly unflustered, and take a breath, ready for the next wave and the next one and the next one. I hope he will always be able to keep swimming.

Treading water

We just got back from a visit with Shelley's parents (Nonna & Nonno to Gus) in Florida. Gus was in hog heaven because not only do they live on the beach and have a pool, but several of his cousins live very close so he got to play with them, and some even brought their DOGS! This kid could not have been more thrilled. The mommies were also really impressed with what an adaptable little guy we have - no problems with jetlag or being shuffled from place to place. (We on the other hand were wrecked from our red-eye flight. Thankfully Shelley's parents have plenty of coffee!)
Gus swam everyday, multiple times a day. He and Shelley go to swim lessons at the Y every Saturday, so the kid has some skills. Nonna and Nonno got him a little thin life jacket-y thing, and he was excited to have such independence in the pool. It was great to see him enjoying himself so much. He spent hours dog-paddling around and treading water.
Treading water never felt like very much fun to me. Sometimes, though, it's just what we have to do. Maintain. Currently, we're navigating how to do that in our relationship with G's birthmom. I say our relationship because at almost 20 months, Gus doesn't really have a relationship with her yet. Right now, all the relationshippin' falls fully on us. And sometimes, often, it feels like treading water. Like we are staying in the same damn place no matter how much effort we exert.
Don't get me wrong, we are committed to having an open adoption for many reasons, (some of them I've talked about here and here), and we want Gus to be able to have a relationship with his birthmom because she is just that, the person who gave him life and had to make a really hard choice. But none of this is black and white, and some of the reasons that she made that choice are also the same reasons that sometimes maintaining a relationship with her isn't the easiest thing in the world.
But I have to remind myself, relationships are often hard. Especially, let's be honest, with relatives. And that's what K is, she is related to us through Gus. It feels, currently, like there is a great chasm of grief between us. There are a lot of uncomfortable feelings from all of us churning around in there. Nobody wants to swim in it, with the exception of maybe Gus, he'd swim in anything. But the water is a little too deep and treacherous for him right now, I think. So our job is to teach him and support him and hone his skills so that he's prepared to confidently dive in at some point. Because even though the job of maintaining the relationship is ours right now, it is and always will be, about and for him.

Love

Love. Love. Love. I feel sometimes like I might be swallowed up by all the hate out there in the world, but I have to remember the only way to fight back, the only way that will ever make a difference, is love. But it's difficult. When there are people saying things about my family? When they don't even know us?

I don't think Gus has a hateful bone in his body. He loves animals, and kids on the playground who hit him, and homeless people, and just about anyone who seems scared. Even when he was a tiny tiny baby, (like only days old still in the nursery at the hospital tiny) he seemed to tune in to other kids who were upset. I would hold him and whisper that he was okay, that it wasn't happening to him, that the other kid who was crying would be okay too, and he would settle down. Maybe (big possibility) I was projecting stuff onto him, but I don't know. He does seem to be empathic. He goes up to kids who are crying and comforts them. He puts his arm around kids in his swim class who are scared. 

Gus, on the other hand, doesn't seem to fear much of anything. He got 4 shots at his 18 month appointment and didn't even flinch. He goes down the big slide by himself at the park. Sometimes he falls because it's so fast - but he hops right up and starts climbing the stairs, ready to go again. He's been okay being dunked under water (at swim class) since he was about 7 months old. He goes to sleep at night in a completely dark room all by himself (that's new and we are sooo proud!).  Maybe there is a connection between his fearlessness and his big-heartedness?

I do think there's some lesson in there. Because hate is driven by fear. So the best response would seemingly be to show the haters love. But, damn, that is hard. Especially when they are hatin' on me just for being myself. I think I may be too old and cynical to be able to respond with love. The best I can do is walk away. But Gus, I think, could be a little ambassador of love. I think kids often are. I know many stories about icy relationships melting once kids are involved. But it doesn't seem fair to him, to be put in that position. Then again, he has to live in this world. Hate and fear are taught. So is love I guess. I'm not sure. All I know is that I want to do my best to encourage him to continue to be confident, to be fearless where it counts: to love.

Focus

I've been reading a lot of Glennon Melton lately. Love her. In my head I'm often as funny and profound as she is. In my head. (A lot goes on in this head of mine. But i digress.) Anyway, she has this concept of "happy-ish" that I love. You see, I'm just learning Happy. That is not to say that I have not had my share of happiness in my life - of course I have! But Happy and I are sometimes tentative friends. We know one another - enough to recognize each other across a crowded room, say - but sometimes, we're out of context and have a difficult time placing each other, remembering each other's names. Familiar but...not. 

My son on the other hand? He is intimately acquainted with Happy. Those guys are tight. BFFs. Blood brothers. Very rarely do you see one without the other. I love that. I'm also jealous as hell sometimes of being left out of the club. Why isn't Happy my best friend, too? When did we lose touch? Oh, right, I think it was right around the time that Hard moved to town. As in, life is sometimes hard, being a grown-up is hard, being a parent is pretty much always hard, maintaining a loving and authentic relationship with your spouse is hard times ten when you have a tiny human in the house... You get the picture.

But here's what I'm learning - from being a parent, from doing work on myself and practicing self-compassion, from reading freakin' children's books (!), from being a Human living life: Happy and Hard, they know each other. They, it turns out, can co-exist. In fact, especially when you are older, Happy doesn't mean as much without Hard. Almost everything is hard but that doesn't preclude happiness. Sometimes, Happy is Hard, but Hard can also be Happy. And really, Happy-ish is the ticket. Because that means that you know Happy. Sometimes Happy is around and sometimes she's not. But it's Oh. Kay.

I think, a lot of the time, it comes down to where you put your focus. That is what Gus is giving me. And, sure, it can be argued that perhaps he hasn't had a lot of hard so far in his life. (Except that being born is hard, and figuring out how to breathe is hard, and going through the loss of your birthparent is hard, and teething is hard, and wanting to be able to do things independently even when you can't is hard.) We all have hard. It looks different to each of us but we all have it. But Gus, Gus doesn't dwell on the hard. He just focuses on being happy. I know, it's likely not a conscious focus for him. And that's probably what makes me jealous. But it can be a conscious focus for me. I want to have a closer friendship with Happy. But Happy-ish will do, too. And more importantly, I want Gus and Happy to be besties for a long, long time. I also want him to know that Hard is not necessarily his enemy. It's all just Life.

see, it's about FOCUS. ok, and LOVE. and SILLY, too. but for consistency's sake, let's go with FOCUS.

Applause!

So I mentioned before that when he was learning to walk, Gus would clap for himself if no one was around to give him the props he felt he deserved. It's pretty heartwarming to see how proud he is of himself. For everything. He has taken to regularly clapping for himself when he accomplishes something or gets something "right".

We have been working on boundaries and limits (yes, it is going to be a theme for a while I hear). One of the things we've been working on the hardest is the way Gus treats the cats. He loves them. He gets super excited to see them. (read: you-are-so-cool-i-want-to-pull-your-tail-and-swat-at-you-because-i-am-so-excited) They are confusing because they do not react predictably, and the black cat, Indie, is the most ambivalent animal on the planet. He wants to be in the room with Gus. He even wants to play with Gus. Until he doesn't. But instead of leaving (like Neville), he stays there in the room. Sometimes he scratches Gus. Sometimes he ignores him. I'm sure it is very confounding for Gus. Anyway, to make a long story short, we are working on not pulling on the cats (mostly tails, mostly Indie). When Gus gets it right, when he snuggles Indie and gently pats him without pulling, he turns around to check with me and then, he applauds. That kid gives himself a freakin' standing ovation!

And here's the real kicker. He's started doing it for us too. He is pretty adept at communicating his needs these days, but sometimes (mostly in the middle of the night, mostly when the mommies are really out of it) we don't get it right away. Of course, he keeps insisting that there is something to be done and we keep trying. And when we figure it out...? He claps! He applauds our effort and the fact that we figured out what he needed. I mean, damn! How awesome would it be if everyone in our lives clapped joyfully for us when we helped to meet their needs? Or respected a boundary? Or, when we sang a goofy song and did a silly dance? (Yeah, he claps then too) Well, I'll tell you this. When I'm exhausted and up against the wall and wondering what I was thinking with this whole parenting thing, it's pretty flippin' awesome to hear that applause. To know that sometimes, at least according to him, I get some stuff right.

can you handle the cute? 'cause i can't

525,600 minutes...

I've written a ton of blog posts this past year. In my head. But i think it's time to put more of it out there. We celebrated Gus's first birthday yesterday and I thought I really should update the blog. So here it goes:
Quick summary: We finalized Gus's adoption. We got LEGALLY married, under a tree outside City Hall with our kid playing in the grass beside us (how cool is that?!). We began the journey of learning how to parent this really cool kid. (also - diapers, formula, teething, tummy time, crawling, smiling, solid food, walking!)
It's been an amazing year. A hard year. A shorter than short year and the longest year ever. The thing they neglect to tell you in those cute diaper and baby food ads is that even though kids are adorable (and mine is the most adorbz of all, of course), parenting is hard freakin' work. Taking care of an infant, taking care of yourself, maintaining a relationship with your spouse, maintaining friendships, staying sane - it's some of the hardest shit you'll ever do. I want to say that all the giggles and big slobbery open-mouth kisses and first steps and that way he twirls his curly blond hair when he's tired and the way the light catches in his eyes when he's full-on beaming at me makes it all worth it. I want to. And many days, even most days, it does. But I won't pretend that there aren't days where I wonder "what was i thinking?" Where I think I am definitely on the wrong side of mental health and on the way to crazy-town.
Some things have gotten easier over the past year. Other things have gotten harder. Finding balance as a stay-at-home-parent (me) is a challenge. So is finding balance as a working parent (Shelley). But what's life without challenge, right? It's adventure we signed up for and that's definitely what we're getting.
The adoption component of Gus's first year is something i'll write about later. I don't think it has necessarily made any of this harder than normal. I just think that once people are through this adjustment period, they forget what this kind of exhaustion feels like. They just look back at the pictures and hold onto the happy stuff. (at least i really, really hope that's the case!)
There's more in my head. So much more. I'll stop for now, though. Hopefully I'll have the time and wherewithal to continue with this.

Adoption Finalization Day

He's here!

As hard as it is for us to fathom, our wait is over! He's here! It feels surreal, so utterly natural and right on the one hand, and unbelievable on the other. Birthmom K has signed relinquishments, and they've been acknowledged by the state. There are a few more hurdles to get through before he's officially, officially a member of our family, but we're pretty confident, and he's felt like our kid for a while now.

But the adventure isn't over. In many ways it's only just beginning. Maintaining an open relationship with K, watching him grow, making tough parenting decisions - it's all ahead of us. For now, however, we're going to revel in this awesome, quiet moment before the ride starts up again.

So without further ado...

Welcome to the world Shaylor Augusten Asher Saraniti (aka Gus)
Born 5:09 pm on 8/8/12 - 8 lbs 20 inches

Messages from the Universe?

Mostly, I don't like running. I do it to stay in shape, to stay sane. A lot of times, the things I encounter when I'm out running annoy me (careless drivers who almost hit me, unaware people who almost trip me with their ginormous strollers, etc). But sometimes, sometimes I kind of love it. Of course the endorphin high is awesome, and when the weather here in SF is gorgeous and sunny and just the right temperature it's very pleasant to be outside, and the feeling of accomplishing a goal, no matter how small, is nice.  But that's not it. What I love somedays - and believe me, I know this sounds so totally hippy-dippy, wheatgrass-drinkin', drum-circlin', well, California - are the messages I get from the Universe (or whatever you want to call it) while I'm out there running. Like this:

Really think about that one for a minute. What does it mean - for you - to Occupy Your Heart? What does it mean for me? What would it mean for all of us? And not just in relation to the Occupy movement, but to life itself - adoption, parenting, work, creating art, relating to others - everything. All. the. time. If nothing else, I think it's a really good place to start. So thanks, Universe (or people on San Jose Ave that posted this in your window). 

Open heartedness

It seems like I've been getting a lot of messages about open-heartedness recently. My dad is facing open-heart surgery, a literal opening of the heart to repair it. So this has me thinking a lot about the figurative implications of opening the heart. It's really only in western traditions that we believe these two are separate. Many traditions believe that the "figurative" healing leads to actual, physical healing. Beyond that, though, it feels really important to open my heart during this adoption process. Obviously I want to open my heart to a child, but also to potential birthparents who are struggling with an extremely difficult decision. I need my heart to be open to whatever possibilities lie ahead, be they painful or jubilant. We are too often taught, I think, to keep our hearts closed, for fear they will get bruised or broken. But it seems that just as in a procedure for physical repair, our hearts have to be opened to heal; to let the good stuff in and the bad stuff out.  I'm not saying it's easy - it's not. But if we allow ourselves to be open, to let our hearts break and get put back together again, over and over, then each time we can make more and more space in between the cracks for openness. For love. And isn't that what it's all about?