I got an impulsive email from Guoji Familia this morning–she, Cupcake, Spark and her #2 son were heading our way! We met up at the Montshire, and hung for the morning. It was great to meet up “IRL”, but I’m finding the whole thing inspires me to talk in what I think of as “blogher” talk…lots of exclamation points and references to the ‘net.
We had a good time, and bonded over plenty–adoption, of course, kids the same ages, yadda. Meanwhile I could see Cupcake, home just since September, first hand. I have nothing profound to say about that, other than that she was adorable, I wanted to squeeze her, and it gave me a little insight into both how great–and how difficult–this is going to be. Making no bones about it, I am not sure Wyatt is going to like this. I think the whole first few months, if not longer, is going to be one big choice-making adventure–am I paying attention to Rebecca, or am I paying attention to Wyatt?
It’s funny, because when the process started, one of our friends suggested that she wasn’t sure this was going to be a good choice for Lily. Who was just about the same age as Wyatt at that point, and having a difficult time with everything. Just like he is now. Anything I suggest, he says “no.” I don’t wanna go to the bookstore and eat a cupcake. I don’t wanna go to the Montshire. I don’t wanna read a book. Unless it’s Mariocart, he’s not interested. And yet, and yet, he’s passionately attached to me at the hip. He just doesn’t want to wear anything I want him to wear or do anything I want him to do.
Put that way, it all sounds more like classic ambivalence over getting more independent than anything else…which makes it feel a little more manageable, and more like Rebecca will just be another twist in it, not a horrible complicating factor. You just manage, I guess–I don’t just guess, I know. My friend will soon be coping with a 3-year-old home new this summer and the still adjusting Cupcake, and while I’m sure she’s got her worries, I look at it and think well, you manage. You do what you do. It works out. It will be fine.
And I think the same of us, but knowing–and I do know–that we have our doubters, makes me 1) want it all to be perfect and 2) not want to admit, even a little bit, that, for a little while, this may not contribute to the utter perfection of life that generally belongs to our children. But maybe it won’t. It is not all going to be a bowl of cherries the whole time. It’s just not.