My "real" son.......

Isn’t reality a funny thing? I spent the last couple of weeks semi-paralyzed with fear and worry until the sudden realization that that had not changed a thing (except leading me to my new career as the panhandling mom :). Not sure how that would look in court as we try to convince the powers that be that we are capable of raising our children and their interests are best served by being with us). Being so powerless to do anything about “our news”, I irrationally felt that I was busy doing something about “the news” when I was consumed with fear and worry. Now that I am not spending my time in tears or bent over a toilet bowl - maybe I should continue with this one - it was doing wonders to my weight loss aspirations :) - I can get back to the business of enjoying the present!

Like excitedly preparing my “real” son for his first day of kindergarten. Seriously, when asking about my children, someone asked me how my real son was doing!!!!!!! That was before she asked me if I intend to have more children of my own?????? Okay, please tell me every mother with four children ages five and under gets this question? I was able to jokingly say I could not answer her question about my “real” son since I did not have any fake ones so I was not sure who she was referring to. That did not deter her from asking the second question, but again I was able to jokingly ask her if she would have asked me the same question about my procreation plans if I had four bio children. At least I got a nervous laugh from her with my response! I did not even get excited enough to start doing my mad dance after the ridiculous questions. Because in the grand scheme of things when you are willing to give up everything and then some to protect your “fake” children, and afraid that you might lose them, what are a few stupid ignorant questions about the worth and value of adopted children.

My baby is not a baby anymore! He will not take his perfectly good “Thomas The Train” backpack to kindergarten. Instead he wants his daddy’s way too big backpack! I being the practical mom that I am, was going to remind him how much he loves his “Thomas The Train” backpack because daddy's backpack just would not work. But I thank God for a husband with forward thinking and who wants to save us the expense of future therapy - dh remembers being five and not wanting to stand out by being the baby of the five year old gang! So today we go shopping for an appropriate backpack for an oh so grown up five year old who also starts soccer today! All that before I pack up my troopers to enjoy our second camping trip this Summer. I want to preserve the memories from this stage – last month when we all went camping, everyone kept raving how joyful and well behaved my children were. They really enjoyed camping and just went with the flow with millions of laughs and giggles and not one whimper about having to be sleep in a tent. Who, you ask goes camp tenting with a five year old, two one year olds and a five month old. Me! Because I will need these sweet, sweet memories next year to tide me over when we hit the terrible twos (x2) with a younger child just a year later to keep me on my toes!