days like this

I'd love to write a blog post about how smoothly John Paul transitioned into our family.  And, honestly, I could.  Considering all the battles we could potentially be fighting, all the struggles we could potentially be facing, well... I'd say we are not just surviving, we're well past that.  We're doing fine.  Great during some moments.  Worse during others. 

But I also don't want to gloss over the hard parts.  As much as I deeply desire that our family would spur others towards adoption, I don't want anyone to leave our blog thinking "well, that's just about as sweet as it can be, isn't it?" 

[Speaking of spurring towards adoption -  Did you know that there are about 200 orphans affiliated with the orphanage John Paul came from, about half in foster care (like him) and half in an institution?  And, best I can tell, the week we adopted John Paul he was the ONLY one who left that week?  The ONLY one of 200 who entered a forever family and left the orphan-title behind for good?] 

There are hard parts.  Toddler adoption is hard. 

One day last week John Paul was a grump.  I mean a GRUMP.  All. Day. Long.  Just grumpy.  Now, all of us have grumpy days, and it's not the first time a grumpy kid nearly took every last scrap of joy and patience I was able to scour from the depths of my heart. 

But a grumpy John Paul brings all sorts of questions to the surface.  Does he just not like us? Is he tired of being here? Does he miss his foster mom? Is he crabby because life has dealt him some pretty hard knocks in 20 short months? 

Or is he just having a plain old bad day?  Just like the rest of us have bad days. 

Last night Matt and I went on a date (woohoo!) for the first time since bringing him home.  John Paul came along :)  and a dear friend of ours watched the other four.  I'm not sure when we'll be ready to leave him - but I know we're not there yet.  And I am almost positive John Paul would panic if he realized neither Matt not I was with him. 

Anyways, we're in the car, headed to dinner, just the three of us.  And John Paul got so quiet, his eyes a vacant stare.  It took me about five seconds to realize what it was - it was fear.  He was scared.  I'm not sure what he thought we were doing, but I know he was scared.  Where were the other kids?  Why just him? Where were we going? 

He's had a few pretty terrible car rides recently.  The day his foster mom returned him to the orphanage, the day the orphanage worker drove him to meet us.  For all we know, he was scared we were taking him somewhere to leave him.

CAN YOU IMAGINE??? 

Oh little buddy, how I wish I could drive the fear out of your eyes.  How I wish your history had been written differently.  How I wish that the idea that we would ever leave you never crossed your mind. 

We pulled into the parking garage and Matt scooped him up, holding him tight.  "You're coming with us John Paul, you are staying right with us.  We're not going anywhere.  It's a date.  You are on a date with Mom and Dad."

He started to relax.  And by the time we got upstairs to the restaurant he was confident again.  Roaming around to the kids' play area, back to our table, back to the play area, all the while snacking on whatever yummy munchies he gathered at our table.  On the way home he fell asleep in the car.  Fear gone.  At least for the night. 

John Paul is delightful.  He runs me ragged with his climbing and exploring.  Our inability to communicate well drives both of us crazy.  (But he is starting to use some signs to communicate with me!  Oh joy!)  He laughs long and hard.  I have moments when I just cannot believe that God chose me to be his forever Mommy.  What a gift this little guy is! 

But it's a very up and down road we walk together.  The same little guy who grinned and reached for me waking up from his nap also doubts in the depths of his heart that I will be with him always.

And we're going to have a lot more days.  Some grumpy, some delightful, before that fear gets pushed far far far away.