God Bless This Mess

We all have our way of doing things. One person may vacuum their carpet in orderly rows while another is haphazard about it by going in every direction. Some may organize their canned goods in the pantry by size and label while another just tosses the food in and hopes they remember they have it before buying it again. Of course, we are all probably pretty aware of the old toothpaste debate... squeeze from the bottom or wherever your hand happens to land? The examples are truly endless.

When Chris and I got married we had to adapt our individual ways of living into a cohesive shared way. Changes had to be made to both of our routines. I learned that shirts were to be folded a certain way because that was his preference. He learned how to put towels away so that I would not go in behind him and redo it in a huff. On other things, we made up new rules thus forgetting "my" or "his" way and created "our way." That is just part of marriage. The longer you are married, the more these new ways become solidified. Add in children and the rules have to change again.

Chris and I were married seven years before Cameron came along. In that time, we grew quite accustomed to "our" way of living. The house always looked just so. Items were quickly put back into place if -GASP- they were somehow moved. We slept in every Saturday and could pick-up and go on a moments notice if the occasion presented itself. We found our niche and it worked for us. Suddenly, the phone rang and our case worker announced the great news that we had a son. In a matter of a few minutes our lives, and routine, were changed forever.

In the year that we have been a family of three, our home has definitely taken on a new look. Now if you were to stop by first thing in the morning or just before Chris and I called it a night in the evening, you would find a house in order. In the hours in between, though, totally different story. Chris and I have definitely learned to relax, somewhat, and are put to the test every day. We have learned that a one year old is but a tiny tornado. Wherever he goes, whichever room he is in, a path of destruction is left behind. It is our responsibility to train our son in the fine art of cleaning but I have a feeling that our house won't be the same for many, many years to come. I wonder if our childhood homes were clean and organized before we came into the world? To our parents we say, "Sorry. We understand now."

I wouldn't change a thing though. I actually delight in putting little toys and stuffed animals away once Cameron has gone to bed. That may just be because we are still new at this and it hasn't had a chance to get old yet. But even then, I am thankful for the work. We once wondered if children would ever be a part of our lives. Now that they are, it is Heaven on Earth.

So.... bring on the crayon marked walls, the spilled milk on the rug, the toys underfoot, the mud on the shoes, the bugs in the pockets (actually, lets avoid that one if at all possible), etc... because we are ready! Chris and I had a life before Cameron came along but now we are truly living. For us, this is a great path to be on and a fun new routine to learn.

Oops... Not Daddy!

Have you ever had that moment where you swore the person next to you was your parent, sibling, spouse, or friend and at the very moment you leaned in to hug them, lean on them, or strike up a conversation with them you realized it wasn't them? Oops, hello total stranger looking at me like I am a lunatic. And, of course, there is always someone who does know you right near by who got to witness the whole embarrassing moment and will, much to your chagrin, never, ever, what-so-ever let you live it down. I've been the one embarrassed and, much to my friend Julia's dismay, been the joyful observer who was only to happy to enjoy the topic over and over again, year after blessed year (imagine a delightful sigh right here).

Well, Cameron had one of those moments a couple of weeks ago which meant, by motherly proximity, I had it too. Chris was playing in a volleyball match while Cam and I wandered around. Actually, Cam wandered, I followed. This went on for near an hour when the clock started to near dinner time and that much closer to bed time. By definition that meant that the little one was getting cranky and was tired of Mom following him around instead of feeding him and putting him to bed. In the hopes that Dad would do what Mom was obviously failing at, Cameron headed in the direction of Chris' match. Standing next to the bleachers there was a man. Cameron, being one and only (and very literally) knee high, saw a pair of tall legs. Daddy had tall legs and Daddy was in the room somewhere so, naturally, this was Daddy. In the moment I realized what was about to happen, Cameron grabbed the man around the shins and buried his head just below the man's knee caps. A delighted hum of "oohs" and "awes" filled the air as women in the bleachers watched.

Here is where the story gets interesting. The man whose legs Cameron took to be Daddy's legs belonged to a dark skinned African American man who was minding his own business while checking a text on his cell phone. The women in the stand saw the following: a black "Dad," a white "Mom," and a mixed race child. At least that is what everyone who sees Cameron thinks, that he is mixed race while in fact he is full African American. Nobody believes this, of course, because he is fair skinned with blond hair and blue eyes. But, according to all the legal paperwork we were given before, during, and after the adoption, his birth parents were and are both African Americans. That is not what people see though. They see Cameron with me and naturally assume that his Dad is a black skinned man. Or, they see Cameron with Chris and assume that Mom is a black skinned woman. Only natural, I assume, given his mixed race characteristics. It truly makes for some great conversations with people. This particular night being one of the best. For you see, the women in the stands thought they were seeing a family having an adorable bonding moment. Then I went and said something that shocked them. I simply said, "Cameron, that isn't Daddy."

The squeals of laughter and embarrassment by the women and the man was infectious. Once my brain caught up to what was going on I had to laugh too. I mean, it looked like a right assumption. The blushing man backed away and disappeared. I never saw where he went to as one of the women engaged me in conversation about Cameron. She, like many before her, asked if Cameron was "mixed." When I tell people he is full African American they all think the same thing... I must mean that Dad is full African American because Cameron is so fair. This time was no different. It was then asked of me which of the volleyball players was my Husband. I pointed Chris out and saw, to my misinterpretation, looks of confusion. I thought the women couldn't tell who I had pointed at. So, I pointed again this time drawing attention to the number on the back of his team shirt. The look on the women's faces was pure shock and confusion. That is when I realized what they were thinking. They, as already explained, assumed Chris was going to be a black skinned man. What they saw was a white skinned man. How could this be Cameron's Dad?

The rest of the evening, after a brief explanation, was about adoption. The women and a few other curious bystanders wanted to know all about the adoption process, how we came to the decision to move forward, what it was like to be instant-parents, and such. The best way I knew how to sum everything up was to say that we trusted in God's plan. In the end, we were blessed to become the parents of a wonderful little boy who fills our lives with joy every day. Even after a year together it is still like a dream. I am amazed often at the very realness of it all. We have a son and that feels like a daily miracle.

I'm sure as the years go by there will be more conversations like this one. As Cameron gets older I wonder if the assumptions will change. We are a family and whether white, black, red, yellow or purple with green polka dots, that is all that matters. Life is about learning and I am so thankful that I get to experience the everyday lessons of life with my Husband and Son.