Tomorrow is Sammy's first adoption day. He has no idea what it means, but he is really excited about getting to pick out what kind of cake and icing he will get to eat. And ice cream. Don't forget the ice cream, beloved.
It is amazing how he has changed during this past year. For some reason I have noticed the change in him more than I did the others because he had such a difficult transition into our family. He fought like a wildcat when we first brought him home, hitting and biting whenever he was frustrated
, which was all the time. He threw constant temper tantrums of the classic variety, which involved throwing himself onto the ground and pounding anything available with hands and feet while screaming so hard and so long he would turn purple and do that "silent scream" thing for up to a minute until I was sure he was going to pass out. Nothing would calm him down, and he is very strong for his age so he could really hurt people and he did. My other children often sported several bite marks, some that would bruise up nastily and last for weeks. Sam was so frustrated at losing his language, unable to communicate with us and with his world and as a consequence he would become angry beyond reason. He refused to share, he took everything he saw might be important to others, and he put everything he touched into his mouth, even if it was dangerous. He often choked on things. He drooled constantly, he was afraid to be lowered onto a changing table or placed on his back under any circumstances, and he is the only child that has peed directly on me...several times. He would wake up screaming throughout the night, about every hour, and be nearly inconsolable despite all we could do to comfort him. After his afternoon nap he was so completely grumpy as to put a whole new level to the phrase "woke up on the wrong side of the bed." Nothing but nothing would snap him out of his dark mood. When we went out in public I would get stares from strangers and occasional haughty comments from those who thought my parenting style was in question to have produced such an ill-behaved child. I would apologize and then make a point of kissing him, and he would kiss me back sweetly if he was in the mood, and this would mollify their instinct to lecture because who can berate a mother who is being kissed by her wayward child? That is one thing that Sammy did well...cute gentle baby kisses. I held on to that for a long time as the only way we could connect, and it gave me hope.
Fast forward one year. Sam is a sweetheart, charming everyone he meets with his ready smile and his sunny disposition. He can still become frustrated easily, but pulls himself back from his personal thundercloud when reminded and wipes his own tears away. No more biting, no more hitting (well, almost), and he actively loves his brothers and sisters and is very concerned if anyone is hurt or upset. He sleeps through the night most of the time, he no longer panics when I lay him on his back to change his diaper, and he hasn't turned purple with raging suffocation in months. He talks a mile a minute, he tells stories, he is de
eply passionate about superheros of any
variety (most recently he is obsessed with Yoda), and he dresses up in any pajamas that have a logo on it that he can find. During the day. Right before we need to leave to go somewhere. Especially if we are late already. He is a wonderful helper, cleaning up the kitchen with Mommy and making muffins or pudding or whatever he can stir. He follows directions in gymnastics and is now mature enough to be in a class without his Mom to help. He is full of laughter, quick to smile, and a very handsome little boy who delights everyone he meets. I get compliments on how
well-behaved and smart he is, and people go out of their way to come play with him or talk to him. He still kisses me, but now he says "I love you, Mommy," and it is clear that he knows what that means and that he means it with all his heart. He is loved, he loves, and he will be loved forever, and I look forward to celebrating that tomorrow with him whether he understands it or not (although of course he will understand the ice cream!). What a difference a year makes!
Tomorrow is Sammy's first adoption day. He has no idea what it means, but he is really excited about getting to pick out what kind of cake and icing he will get to eat. And ice cream. Don't forget the ice cream, beloved.
It is amazing how he has changed during this past year. For some reason I have noticed the change in him more than I did the others because he had such a difficult transition into our family. He fought like a wildcat when we first brought him home, hitting and biting whenever he was frustrated
, which was all the time. He threw constant temper tantrums of the classic variety, which involved throwing himself onto the ground and pounding anything available with hands and feet while screaming so hard and so long he would turn purple and do that "silent scream" thing for up to a minute until I was sure he was going to pass out. Nothing would calm him down, and he is very strong for his age so he could really hurt people and he did. My other children often sported several bite marks, some that would bruise up nastily and last for weeks. Sam was so frustrated at losing his language, unable to communicate with us and with his world and as a consequence he would become angry beyond reason. He refused to share, he took everything he saw might be important to others, and he put everything he touched into his mouth, even if it was dangerous. He often choked on things. He drooled constantly, he was afraid to be lowered onto a changing table or placed on his back under any circumstances, and he is the only child that has peed directly on me...several times. He would wake up screaming throughout the night, about every hour, and be nearly inconsolable despite all we could do to comfort him. After his afternoon nap he was so completely grumpy as to put a whole new level to the phrase "woke up on the wrong side of the bed." Nothing but nothing would snap him out of his dark mood. When we went out in public I would get stares from strangers and occasional haughty comments from those who thought my parenting style was in question to have produced such an ill-behaved child. I would apologize and then make a point of kissing him, and he would kiss me back sweetly if he was in the mood, and this would mollify their instinct to lecture because who can berate a mother who is being kissed by her wayward child? That is one thing that Sammy did well...cute gentle baby kisses. I held on to that for a long time as the only way we could connect, and it gave me hope.
Fast forward one year. Sam is a sweetheart, charming everyone he meets with his ready smile and his sunny disposition. He can still become frustrated easily, but pulls himself back from his personal thundercloud when reminded and wipes his own tears away. No more biting, no more hitting (well, almost), and he actively loves his brothers and sisters and is very concerned if anyone is hurt or upset. He sleeps through the night most of the time, he no longer panics when I lay him on his back to change his diaper, and he hasn't turned purple with raging suffocation in months. He talks a mile a minute, he tells stories, he is de
eply passionate about superheros of any 
variety (most recently he is obsessed with Yoda), and he dresses up in any pajamas that have a logo on it that he can find. During the day. Right before we need to leave to go somewhere. Especially if we are late already. He is a wonderful helper, cleaning up the kitchen with Mommy and making muffins or pudding or whatever he can stir. He follows directions in gymnastics and is now mature enough to be in a class without his Mom to help. He is full of laughter, quick to smile, and a very handsome little boy who delights everyone he meets. I get compliments on how 
well-behaved and smart he is, and people go out of their way to come play with him or talk to him. He still kisses me, but now he says "I love you, Mommy," and it is clear that he knows what that means and that he means it with all his heart. He is loved, he loves, and he will be loved forever, and I look forward to celebrating that tomorrow with him whether he understands it or not (although of course he will understand the ice cream!). What a difference a year makes!
