Help for Haiti

The earthquake in Haiti has had a devastating impact. That devastation extends to many families in British Columbia. For those families who are in process - who have had a proposal for a child and are waiting to bring them home, the news is especially heart-wrenching.

AFABC has created a special page devoted to Haiti. It includes ways you can support the rescue and relief efforts, and includes links to the Canadian Embassy and other crucial information sources for those that have family members or friends on the island.AFABC Help for Haiti Links.

AFABC will be releasing a special *enews* bulletin to our membership regarding the earthquake. If you have children in Haiti, (if you haven't already), please contact your Licensed Agency who may have information for you and will offer specialized supports for your family. AFABC has five Adoption Support Coordinators throughout the province (including myself!) and we are here to offer our support to you as well. 

Our thoughts, prayers, and love are with everyone affected by this tragedy. 

Little Meeting, Big Impact

Sometimes it's the little things that make a big impact in this world. 

A few weeks back I got a client call requesting we run a support group meeting for waiting parents. I pulled out my calendar, we chose a date, and I sent an invite out to our relevant membership.  

Today was support group day, and when I woke up I was feeling a little reluctant to leave my son at home. He was an extra snuggly monster this morning, and the days when he wants to set up "snuggle camp" are becoming fewer and further between.

But the meeting was this afternoon, and by the time I left at 1pm, I'd already rescued six breakables from certain death at the hands of my toddler. I'd endured three tantrums, four time-outs, and successfully scrubbed maple syrup out of said-toddler's curls. By 1pm, I was ready for a little break!

The support group meeting ended up having a small turn out, but a big impact. We had just six people in attendance. As prior experiences have taught me, sometimes the more intimate groups have the best conversations and become the most effective means of touching people. Today was no exception to that rule.

I went to the meeting expecting to facilitate a group that is dear to my heart but to which I don't personally belong. My plan was to facilitate but not participate except when relevant or when requested. 

As it turned out, I got to witness and chat with a remarkable group of really caring parents and prospective parents. I got to revisit the time in my life not so very long ago when my husband and I were taking those uncertain steps towards the big leap into adoptive parenting. Hearing their stories and sharing those hopes reminded me that even the littlest meetings can have a very big impact.

After handing in the keys to the workshop room and walking back into the rainy city streets, I felt absolute gratitude to have had the opportunity to be a part of a group with such a wonderful, caring dynamic.  

Thank you to the five friends who came to share their time today. We may not have filled the room, but those two hours went further than you may have realized - at least for this Adoption Support Coordinator.

Dare I Say it... Success??!!

At the risk of condemning myself to another vicious cycle of terrible bedtimes, I'm going to go ahead and say it: Houston, we have a sleeper.

Last night was no miracle. I think Noah finally drifted off to sleep at around 10:30pm.

But he didn't crash the gate.
He didn't rip his backwards pajamas off.
He didn't bounce himself off his bed or ricochet off the corner of any piece of furniture.

He didn't bleed, pee, vomit, or cry on anything.

Of course, he tried the usual tactics:
"I want anudder story!"
"I want a bath!"'

And our usual (arguably cruel response) of "And I want a unicorn!" was met with a rebuttal of "ACK! Ack! ACK! No UNICORN!" but he quickly realized his Napoleonic demands would go unheeded.  

It was actually NOAH that called out "Close your eyes, no noise. Good Night!" to us instead of the other way around.

Huh.

So my hubby and I headed to bed while he was still chirping to himself at 10:15. We left both the doors wide open in case he executed an escape plan.

Instead, he sang himself to sleep:

"Happy birthday to you! Happy birthday to you! Happy birthday dear POTATO, Happy birthday to you!" Whatever makes you happy, my son. And whatever gets you to sleep. :)

Conquering Bedtime, One T.I. at a Time

We're doing it, folks. We're conquering bedtime.

The 7am drag-Noah-out-of-bed by his footed jammies technique is successful!!!

Of course, I'm not going to lie and say he's going down without a fight. But he IS (for the most part) remaining in his bed while tossing out verbal commands/complaints at his parents in the other room. We're responding only to those that require immediate attention. Such as a T.I. And we had a doozy of a T.I. last night.


"T.I.?" you ask. "What's T.I.?"

T.I., my dear reader, stands for "terrifying incident".

Anything that involves uncontained bodily functions, projectiles of any sort, damage to furniture, or threats to life or limb can be defined as a T.I.

Last night my husband stayed out to watch the Junior's gold medal hockey game. I took our son home between the third period and overtime as he was getting dangerously cranky and overtired. Besides, it was almost 9pm, his new bedtime!

We did milk, brushed teeth and had story time. Noah went down without too much of a fight.

I thought maybe, just maybe, he'd go to sleep without a fight. Until I saw his diaper flying out of his door and heard it land with a thud on the hardwood. I knew then that I was in trouble. The scary part was, Noah didn't make a sound.

I went into his room and found him sitting in his bed, on top of the new quilt his grandmother had bought for his second birthday, pretending it was a commode. He just looked at me, smiled, and said "I pee da bed, momma."


Thankfully, it was ONLY number one, which is everyone's first choice when you think of the cleaning up the alternative. I know my son is barely two, and there's a possibility he didn't do it on purpose, but I really do think he planned his assault that evening. I suspect my darling angel had the foresight to plot this particular T.I. 

Realizing I would never know if he had really done it on purpose, (but if he HAD, a major reaction would only reinforce the behaviour,) I worked in silence. And I must admit it took everything in my power NOT to react expressively to his display of suspected defiance.

In about 2 minutes, I:

~Stripped off his top.
~Rediapered him.
~Stripped off his sheets.

~Folded the offended quilt into said sheets.
~Disinfected the plastic-covered crib mattress.
~Replaced sheets with Noah's second favourite set (For future reference, Noah, that's what happens when you pee on your car sheets!)


And then came the challenge. How to keep the diaper on my naughty Noah in the first place? 

I never had to answer, because my husband walked in the door. He saw Noah standing in only a diaper, a pile of bedding sitting on the hardwood next to a half-torn used diaper, and me with the weariest of looks on my face holding a set of pajamas up while wondering if they can be donned backwards.

"Hi honey," Kevin tiptoed in the door. "Need a hand?"

Why yes, I did. I needed two. I handed my husband the sleepers, and climbed out the baby gate and into the hall. "Our son needs to get dressed. Backwards. Have fun."

And, being the amazing hubby that he is, it was the last peep I heard out of my little monkey until I saw him bright-eyed (and backwards-sleepered) this morning, bright and early at 7am. I got a giant toddler hug and a big slobbery kiss. "Good morning Mommy!" he grinned.

I smiled, and kissed my little monkey on both cheeks and hugged him back with all my might.

"Good morning, Noah! Did you have a good sleep?"
"Um... yes!" Noah replied. 

Well, good. One T.I. down, one well-rested little boy. Come on, 9pm bedtime. We're ready for you. Bring it on, Noah.