Dread.

 The definition of dread, according to Mr. Know-it-all Google:

      Verb - Anticipate with great apprehension or fear.

 

 

Oh, it's not something that I've thought about every waking moment, or even all that frequently - but when it would pop into my head, dread would be the perfect word choice. 

 

The question I've dreaded for 8 years has finally been asked.

 

We were driving home from somewhere last weekend, and for whatever reason, we were in two cars - little man rode with his Dad, while I drove alone.   As we gathered our things from the cars to go in the house, Greg pulled me to the side and told me that Ben had asked who his Birthparents were.  My first thoughts were:  Ooh, thank goodness he asked his Daddy and not me!  And, oh dear Lord, what brought this on??  Why now?  What do we say??

We huddled in the garage for a minute, deciding finally that:  if he asked, he's ready to know.

(nobody asked me if I was ready!)

 

We've had the adoption conversation before - he knows he's adopted, we use the word adoption freely - but he's never asked about Birthparents.  My baby is somewhat naive about the whole birds and the bees thing; he hasn't been around many pregnant women, so the whole idea of where babies come from is waaaaay off his radar.  Thank goodness.  So, for him to ask - out of the blue - about Birthparents?  (we found out that he'd watched an episode of Wizards of Waverly Place featuring an adopted character, who referred to their Birthparents....go figure.) 

 

So, we put all our things away and called a Family Meeting.  Ben hopped into my lap, happy-go-lucky, while I felt my stomach start to digest itself.  My sweet husband took the reins and brought the subject up again. {Because of privacy, I'm not going to go into specifics  - the folks that read this blog (most of you, anyway) know us and our family story personally, so specifics aren't necessary.}  

 

After a few minutes, with all his questions answered, the subject was closed and he was satisfied.  That, which I'd dreaded for so long, was much easier than I could have dreamed. 

I know this won't be the end of the questioning, but I think the groundwork has been laid nicely. 

Now, I'll have to find something else to dread.....
 

 

 

the one where we shop, smell, stumble in the dark and Mommy wants to kick some butt.

Had the oh-so enjoyable treat last Sunday night to go out amongst the other procrastinators to try to get our Christmas shopping done; took the little man, adding exponentially to the treat factor. (Cause you never quite know what you're gonna get....)

We'd done pretty well (good?) we'd made the most of our time and checked off a good bit of the purchases for the folks on our list. One last stop before leaving Macy's: we headed over to the cologne counter for the sweetest hubby. Our clerk was a young woman that immediately took a 'shine' to my little guy. She'd offer the little cards spritzed with cologne to him first, then, he'd take a sniff and tell us how he liked it. She seemed to get a kick out of it and so did he.
So, we picked out what we wanted, paid for our selection and then started to leave. As we did, the clerk asked Ben if he wanted some samples to take home. Well, of course, he did! So, she gave him 3 little envelopes with cologne samples. You'd think she had given him the best present in the world! He was so thrilled! His own cologne!!! He tried to shove the envelopes in his pockets, but they wouldn't all fit, so I stuffed two of them in my purse and let him hold one. He was so proud.

We then had to make a trip down to the Hollister store for my nephew's present - oy.
I can tell I'm getting old. We walked into the store, noting first thing that the music is so stinking loud, you can't hear yourself think! And could somebody please tell the powers that be to turn on the lights!! How on earth can you shop in the dark??? FYI.....I have no idea what color shirt I bought my nephew. I just don't understand it. Anywho.
So, there we were, stumbling in the dark - ears ringing and head throbbing - shopping for a shirt. My sweet smelling little boy walked past me and on further into the black hole that is Hollister. Just ahead of him, stands 3 (probably) teenage boys. I don't know if they're shoppers, or if they work there....it's too dark to tell. But, nevertheless, they're standing right where Ben is heading. I pause a minute to see what he's up to - what I see next surprises me. Just as he gets closer to the big boys, my little boy pulls his new cologne out and holds it out in his hand. He looks at his hand, adjusts it just so. I know what he's doing. He wants so bad for them to notice. I can see it. I see how he holds it out, nonchalantly (as nonchalant as a 5 year old can be). I got a little stab in my heart at that moment. My eyes started to sting a little, surprising me.
I don't know if it was sadness, or sweetness or what, but I felt so touched by the little scene that played before me. Oh, and no, the boys didn't notice. They were too wrapped up in their teenage selves to even note his presence on their radar. He wasn't even a blip.
My baby was undeterred, though. He just kept his prize in his hand.
Mommy wanted to go shake some boys though. They'd done absolutely nothing wrong, but to the Mom of the sweetest boy in the whole wide world, they'd committed a crime most heinous: they'd not noticed my baby when he wanted nothing more than to be noticed.
Acceptance and the need to 'fit in' comes unbelievably early and can last a lifetime.