Day 59: When to Cancel an Exotic Resort

Is there ever a bad time to vacation at an exotic resort? Yes. There are two actually. One is when it's the rainy season. The other is when you've just met your boy for the first time. When we went to the Philippines to get Rex, we were planning to spend the majority of the trip at a resort. We would meet Rex, receive custody, and then drive to the resort. We would stay there for four days, swimming and frolicking in the hot Philippines sun, and at the end of our stay, I would fill out the guest evaluation card by saying, "Excellent service, boy now part of family, thank you."

But oops, it was the rainy season and oops we did just meet our boy for the first time. We discussed the resort idea with our dear friend Pat. She's an American missionary who has lived in the Philippines for 20 years. She operates a boarding school, children's home, social ministry, sustainable farm and international training center, along with starting over 200 schools. She kindly informed us that the resort might not be the best idea, due to the afore mentioned reasons. She offered to let us stay at her property for our first days with Rex.

We're so glad we did. At the children's home, Rex got to play with kids his age while he got used to us. He communicated with people who knew what he was saying. He hung out with folks who looked like him. This was a more delicate transition than if we shot over to the resort. He'd be with us non-stop with no relief from his countrymen. He'd want to catch his breath with some Filipinos but only have the huffing of us Americans. He'd want someone to understand him. So for these reasons, it's good we canceled the resort, even if it was exotic. Pat--excellent service, boy now part of family, thank you.

Day 58: Thanks, Heidi

If pictures are worth a thousand words, we said a lot today. A local photographer and friend named Heidi Lewis came on our Philippines trip to capture our first days with Rex. Her pictures are priceless and they tell a story like none other. Bringing Heidi along was one of the best decisions we've ever made. Not only was she easy to travel with, but her work is stunning. She's not only an artist, but an artist we appreciate. Just because you're an artist doesn't mean the world is better off with your work. It is, however, better off with Heidi's.

It was important to make record of our "birth," or the closest thing to it. We weren't around Rex when he was born three years ago, but we were around him now to bring him into our family. We have lots of pictures from when Asia was born, filling a nice scrapbook that Colette made. Why shouldn't we do the same for Rex? Why should one of our children not see the moment he joined our family? Why should he not get a scrapbook? He will, thanks to Heidi. One of the best decisions we made.

Today we had a photo session at Heidi's studio. It was a kind of "look at us now" session. It was a marker for us. So much has happened since the last time Heidi focused her camera on us. Before we didn't know what Rex' glances meant. Now we do. Before Rex didn't know who we were. Now he does. Before Rex hadn't become part of our family. Now he has. In between are also the private moments, the ones that eluded the watchful lens of Ms. Lewis, the ones still imprinted on our hearts. The stuff of families. You should see us then. You should see us now. Thanks, Heidi.

Day 57: Oh for the Love of Ketchup

Because today is Day 57, and because our last name is Heinz, I will write about ketchup. Rex loves it. He eats it with most things, most especially his favorite food, french fries. I think he'll be really surprised when he finds out that french fries are not one of the major food groups. According to his food pyramid, he will have been eating very well and thinking he's doing all the right things, and then suddenly find out that french fries are actually bad for you. That'll be a sad day. But I don't think it'll change anything.

Our family goes through ketchup fast. That's because Asia and I love it, too. Colette says we love the red stuff because it's so high in sugar, but I think she's really jealous of my relationship with ketchup. Sometimes when she makes a meal, I don't even try it before I get out the ketchup. I just dump it on. I suppose that's kind of insulting. It's like I'm trying to improve the food without even tasting it. But I'm not. I'm just enhancing it. There's a big difference.

When I was in sixth grade, we had a fake city council election. I ran for office and my campaign slogan was, "There may be 57 varieties, but there's only one Chris Heinz." Ketchup helped me win the race. Ketchup also helps Rex finish his meal. He doesn't have a very diverse food palate, but if we put ketchup on things, he's more likely to try them. That doesn't mean he'll eat them, but it does mean he'll try them. And if he tries them this time, he might eat them next time. Oh for the love of ketchup. (I told you Colette was jealous).

Day 56: Less Sleep in Buying a Car

Today I went shopping for a car to replace our ten year-old Jetta. I think I found one, and am planning to buy it tomorrow. I'm confident of the process--I researched online, read reviews, got competing offers, test drove a comparable. I even got a dealership to match the lowest offer and throw in more features. This was a good process. And yet, I have this sinking feeling like I'm making a mistake. But when I put it all on paper, you know, analyze needs and work out the numbers, I come to the same conclusion: this is a good decision borne from a good process.

I imagine it'll keep me up tonight. Deciding to adopt never kept me up. I feel more anxiety about buying this car than bringing a kid into our family. Why is that? Isn't the kid a bigger risk? Isn't the kid likely to change our family more than a car is? I mean there were no online reviews for Rex. He didn't get any stars, didn't get a safety rating. The car did, a great one. So why is the kid easier than the car?

I think it's about value. I never doubted the value of adopting, of changing a life, of changing ours. The moment we decided to do it, I never looked back. Colette didn't either. It seems like we ripped off the system. Yeah, it cost money and time and effort, but we got this amazing little boy out of it. It doesn't seem fair. On the other hand, the car will lose value the moment I drive it off the lot, and I'll probably never know if it's really worth what we put into it. Rex isn't worth what we put in...he's worth so much more.

Day 55: A New Life

I'm fascinated by an old woman named Anna. Married at around sixteen, she lived with her husband until he died eight years later. That made Anna a widow at age 24, and she stayed a widow for the rest of her life. Her son was legally responsible to take care of her, but she chose something else. She decided to live in the Jewish Temple, where she prayed, worshipped and fasted all day long. Not just one day. Every day.

When Jesus was a baby--eight days old--he was brought to the Temple to be dedicated. Anna was there, 107 years old at the time. When she saw Jesus, she recognized him as the Messiah, and she told people about it. Only a newborn, Jesus was more than a newborn to Anna. She knew what he came to do.

Anna intrigues me because of what happens after her great tragedy. She loses her husband, someone very important to her. But her life doesn't end there. She gets a whole new life, a new start. Not every orphan loses their mom or dad like Anna lost her husband. Yes, some parents die, way too young. Some parents walk away because they're way too young. Some just can't raise another kid. But, like Anna, some orphans get an opportunity for a whole new life. Their tragedy doesn't have to define them. Their new life can.

Day 54: Possibilities

It might seem like adoption is always on my mind, but it's not. I mean, when I decided to write every single day of our Adoption Year, and to focus it on the adoption experience, I knew my output would center on adoption--that was the point. But even though this family adventure is due to adoption, I think a lot of the things that happen and a lot of the things I write about are just normal family stuff. These same types of things can happen to a clan of biological children and their birth parents.

The fact that Rex got sprayed in the face by the Iron Chef, the fact that I got singled out by a herd of Mommies, the fact that Asia loves to dance in her Philippines shirt, the fact that Colette is stupendous at brushing teeth has nothing to do with adoption. It's just that adoption brought us all together for these kinds of moments. They're moments I wouldn't trade for anything. Not even another pregnancy.

This isn't to say that none of the experiences I write about are adoption-centric. Some of them are. We definitely go through stuff that is unique to adoption. But I don't want anyone to get the idea that the adoptive family life is so different from the biological family life. I mean, we birthed Asia and we're adopting Rex, so we've experienced both. There are some differences, but generally it's all family stuff. It's about loving the kids God gave you. So if you can do that with a biological child, you can do that with an adopted one. It's possible.

Day 53: Positive Adoption Language

In preparing to adopt, we learned about what is referred to as "Positive Adoption Language" (PAL). PAL is a way of talking about adoption that affirms the value of the process as well as the adopted child. Before we learned about it, we really didn't think about the words we were using. But now we do. At first PAL took extra effort and we sort of bumbled over our words, but it comes much more easily now.

For example, to ask, "Is he your natural child?" is not PAL because, what does it mean for the adopted child? That he is unnatural? A variation is, "Is he your own child?" Again, what then for the adopted child? Not your own child? Another is, "Is he your real child?" Now what exactly is the alternative? That he's your unreal child? Come on now. Of course he's not. He's as real as any child born to you. PAL also includes appropriate references to the adoption. For example, you often hear the phrase, "She is adopted." She might be 27 years old and adopted when she was one, but for some reason, she's in a perpetual state of being adopted. Adoption is a legal transaction and ought to be treated as such. PAL is, "She was adopted."

These differences seem subtle, but to an adopted child who might be prone to shame or rejection, they're monumental. Words matter. They can either affirm the child's fears or dispel them. They can encourage his sense of belonging or damage it. So think about the language you use. Be a PAL to an adopted child today!

Day 52: Mismatched Like Us

We have a set of plastic colored kids cups, each with three parts to them. There's the cup, the straw, and the lid. The set came with red, orange, yellow, blue and green cups, with matching straws and lids. We keep them in the front of a very accessible kitchen cabinet because we use them so often. Asia had grown out of cups like these, and so when Rex got here, we began using them again.

At first I only used the red cup with the red straw with the red lid, blue with the blue, and so forth. It didn't occur to me to switch the colors up, and so for the first month, my cup policy was segregation, without even meaning it to be. It just was. I don't know if I assumed only the same colors would fit together, and suddenly a mismatched set would mean milk pouring down Rex' chest. We wouldn't want that.

But then one day as I was putting a matching set together, I thought, "Why am I matching these cups together? What does it say to Rex if all our cups are the same color?" Then and there I decided to put different colors together, to integrate. You see, it doesn't take a genius to realize he doesn't look like us. He doesn't exactly match our appearance. But you know what? I found that the green lid works with the orange cup, which works with the yellow straw. Different in color but matching nonetheless. Like us.

Day 51: Run on

Before the church service starts every week, there's a fifteen-minute kids worship time. The children gather around the worship leader in a circle and he plays kids songs on his guitar. Usually the songs involve hand motions or jumping or spinning, and it's a fun time. Colette and I wanted to encourage Rex to participate, so in past weeks we would hold him, at the edge of the circle, to observe. Then we'd gradually step into the circle and move a little, you know tap our feet or sway gently.

Rex would watch Asia as she sang and bopped her way through the songs. Eventually he didn't want to be held anymore, so he'd stand on his own, next to Asia. Then he started moving to the music, imitating the song leader best he could. There's one song that goes, "What can keep His love away? Nothin', nothin' absolutely nothin'," and on the nothin's you waive your finger back and forth. That was Rex' breakthrough move and he's great at it. All this time, Colette or I would be standing next to Rex, reassuring him by our presence that he was okay.

But all that changed last week when Asia led him by the hand to the circle. Rex went right with her and we stayed out to see how it would go. He looked at us a couple times to make sure we were near, but he mostly tried to keep up with the motions. And then today when Rex got into the room where the service is held, he ran straight from the back to the front and into the circle, all by himself. Then he called out to Asia to join him, and when she did, he grabbed her hand and held it until the song needed the use of their hands. We don't know exactly what's going on in our kid's hearts during these worship times, but it's wonderful to see them running toward it. Run on, young ones, and meet with God.

Day 50: Wee!

One of our cats, Little Ricky, is in heat and so he walks all over the house moaning out of excess testosterone. He also marks his territory by peeing on everything. It's quite charming, let me tell you, and also quite a surprise he can't find a female. He's an indoor cat and so his only option is our female cat, Ginger. Unfortunately for him, she's been spayed and so she's not interested. Soon his urges will subside, though, because on Monday he's getting neutered and will become even littler Ricky.

We've been washing bed sheets and blankets and rugs because Ricky's been peeing on them, and so tonight when Rex peed on the rug, we didn't even blink. We were like, "Of course our son peed on the rug. Of course he did." If one of us humans didn't end up peeing on the rug this week, I probably would have asked someone to, that's how unsurprised I was when Rex did it.

I was in the bathroom getting Rex ready for his bath. After I took off his diaper he yelled, "Wee! Wee!" I thought he was excited--he loves splishing and splashing in the bath--and hence his call out. But no, that's not what he meant. Evidently English and Tagalog isn't the only language barrier we're facing. Apparently we have a Wee problem. He looked down for a second, and then he started peeing on the rug and the floor. It took me off guard and for a bit I was speechless, but after I gathered my thoughts, after a small puddle had formed, I said, "No, no, potty," and lifted him up onto the potty. Of course he was all done and had nothing left to give, and so I plopped him in the bath. At least now we know what Rex means by Wee!

Day 49: Something to Dance About

Last night Asia wanted me to watch her dance. She borrowed a CD from the library of kids singing showtunes and folk songs. We cleared away the toys in the playroom to make lots of room for the choreography to unfold. Asia took centerstage while I sat against the wall, watching her intently. As the songs played, I marvelled at what she came up with--new moves and twirls and arm positions that I had never seen from her before. Asia is a very expressive girl and it shows from the top of her head down to her toes.

During a very lively performance to "New York, New York," I realized Asia had her Philippines shirt on. This is a pale yellow shirt with "Philippines" emblazoned on the side. It's one of her favorite shirts. The significance of this moment hit me: here was Asia, dancing, doing something that she loves, which is very much her, and while she's doing it, she's wearing her Philippines shirt, another thing she loves. You see, not only is Asia changed forever because now she has a brother, but she's changed forever by the country he comes from. Had we not brought Rex from there, the Philippines would be just another country on the map. But because of him, it's in her heart.

Colette and I feel so blessed that Asia has more than her own country in her heart. And not just because she can find information about the world on the Internet or by watching the news or a foreign movie. I mean, you can learn information but it doesn't change your heart. You can discover facts but they don't move you. But our sweet dancing Asia has moved beyond words and beyond images to embrace a brother from a different country, and because he's in her heart, so is his country. I know she'll make a mark on the Philippines, just like it's made a mark on her. That's something to dance about.

Day 48: The Packet

There are things you don't automatically think about when adopting internationally. My family's going out of the country for Christmas, and all of a sudden I realized that Rex might have difficulty returning to the United States. He doesn't have a US passport. When we entered the US for the first time with him, we had all sorts of paperwork, enough to start our own country. We felt kind of protected behind that thick pile of approvals and certifications. It was so important that it had to stay sealed and not opened except by the Department of Homeland Security in our port city, which happened to be Detroit.

So you can imagine our relief when finally we handed it over, unblemished. It had been staring at us on two long plane rides, and when you're sitting on a plane in the middle of the night and can't sleep, your mind starts to play games with you. I started to plan how I might open up the secret packet, maybe sneak into the little kitchen area and steam it open with the tea kettle, or press those hot wipes onto the seal. There were other plans too, but they involved disassembling the plane and I could get into trouble for talking about that. But alas, either self control won out or they started a movie, and so the packet stayed sealed.

That was good. But what's not so good is that we don't have it anymore. We surrendered it in Detroit. Whatever was in that packet convinced the immigration police that Rex indeed belongs to us and we were authorized to bring him into our country. But we don't have that teasing, persuasive little packet for our Christmas trip. I contacted the Department of Homeland Security today and guess what I found out? Rex' passport has a built-in visa, which means he can come and go as he wants. What a nice feature! So all we need is his passport, which is good, because I don't think I could handle another sealed envelope on a plane. Too much time, too little to do, can you pass the hot tea?

Day 47: The KayKay Plan

The KayKay Plan, otherwise known as Operation Grandma and Mommy-Needs-A-Break, is now underway. You probably won't find details of this mission on Wikipedia or other places on the Internet, except for here. That's what you get for following Adoption Year. It comes with special privileges. The KayKay Plan is named for my mom, whose grandma name is KayKay, and the plan is simple--phase KayKay into Rex' life so three things can happen: 1) Rex gets comfortable with her; 2) and she gets comfortable with him; 3) so that Mommy can get some free time once in awhile. Let's review: KayKay comes, Mommy leaves, the world is well. Like I said, simple.

Today KayKay came over to stay with Rex while Mommy and Asia went to Asia's African dance class. On Martin Luther King, Jr. Day, a group of 200 students--and I hesitate to call it a group, sounds more like a herd--is performing a dance to honor the late Reverend. There are kindergarteners on up to high schoolers, and they will all be moving in unison. I think it'll be really cool, but leaving Rex behind with the capable KayKay was a good call. Knowing how he reacts to music, he would have wanted to be part of the action and while it might have been cute, the leaders didn't need an extra kid to manage. 200 is enough, even if he is a 25-pound toddler.

Back at home, KayKay and Rex' first "unsupervised" visit went great. As he watched Mommy leave with Asia, he had a surprised look on his face, like, "Are you really leaving me alone with her?" but KayKay's offer to play hide-and-seek broke his chagrin. When Mommy returned home, she could see they had a lot of fun together. Apparently, the KayKay Plan was successful: she was integrating into Rex' life, and he was okay with it. This means she'll be back, and next time it'll be for longer. KayKay will come, Mommy will leave, and all will be well.

Day 46: It Takes a Village

An adoption isn't just about the family and the new child; there are a whole lot of people involved, and when the new child is united with the family, there are many people to thank. I was reminded of this on Sunday, when Rex met our pastor for the first time. He had written a referral for us, which was submitted with the home study. In the Philippines, a referral from a pastor or priest is preferred, and so his referral sort of counted more than it would have in other countries.

On Sunday, I was holding Rex and our pastor came over and introduced himself to him. At first I was surprised that this was their first meeting. I mean, we've been at church several times with Rex and I didn't feel like I had been missing our pastor. Then I realized that's because he's been on video. Our church has seven services at three different locations, and since our pastor isn't God--he can't be in all places at once--he splits the services between live preaching and a video of his live preaching. I guess the videos have been that effective--I didn't remember that he hadn't been there.

And so Sunday was very special. I felt a surge of thanksgiving for two reasons: specifically for our pastor, who took the time to write a referral for us, which helped bring Rex home; and more generally for everyone else who did their part. My coworker and friend wrote a referral; my brother wrote one too; our accountant helped with financial records; our doctor completed medical exams; and get this, one of Colette's hair clients traded a hair cut for a psychological evaluation. Both tied up loose ends. They say it takes a village to raise a child. Well sometimes it takes a village to bring him home.

Day 45: Toothbrush Queen

Colette is so good at brushing Rex' teeth, she's toothbrush royalty. I hadn't seen her in action until yesterday morning and when I did, I fell in love with her all over again. Seriously. I felt like I was 23 again. She was so smooth, I heard jazz, so stupendous, I saw stars, so pretty, she broke the mirror. It's hard to believe this was the first time I saw her do it, but we're on different toothbrush schedules--she does the morning, when I'm at work, and I do nighttime, when she's downstairs with Asia.

I knew I was doing something wrong when Rex would repeatedly ask for Mommy when I attempted to brush his teeth. I don't blame him. I wasn't good at it--he'd always cry--but I did my best. Rex needed assistance because left to himself, he sucks on the toothbrush and swallows the toothpaste, leaving the brush completely clean, like it's a lollipop. An X-ray of his stomach would show a big blue blob in his belly, twinkling with white sparkles, smelling like mint. It's an understatement to say Rex prefers Mommy's toothbrush help over mine.

So when I finally observed her in action, and Rex saw that I was watching, he made this face like, "This is how it's done, stupid." And guess what? I tried it tonight and it worked! He actually smiled and laughed during it, a completely opposite reaction than I've been getting. The transaction wasn't blemish-free. I did sweat, and I did end up with toothpaste on my shirt. But, toothpaste on my shirt is better than toothpaste in Rex' stomach, thanks to my lovely wife, the Toothbrush Queen.

Day 44: Show Not Tell

Even though Asia is now sharing our attention and affection with not only a new family member, but a two year-old (I'd argue it's harder to share with a toddler than a newborn), we think she's doing great. Part of this is due to preparation--we talked and prayed with her about this ahead of time--and some due to her resiliency--she is a well-adjusted, emotionally healthy and secure girl--but some is due to our effort now. We're making special opportunities to show her how we feel about her.

One of the things I remember from eighth grade English class, apart from the fact that I really wanted to get into "Heart of Darkness" but had no idea why this book was required reading, is the saying, "Show not tell." Show not tell was our teacher's way of instructing us to describe what we were saying, rather than just telling the reader. For instance, rather than telling the reader, "The tomato tasted good," show the reader by saying, "As soon as I bit into the tomato, the sweet tanginess traveled down to my toes and made me feel like I was floating; it was the best tomato I had ever tasted." So, illustrate, present examples, make the point come alive. That's how you show not tell.

Colette and I are trying the same thing with Asia. Rather than just telling her that we love her and that she's special, we're showing her. There are a variety of ways to do this. One is finding times when it's just us and her, like when Rex goes to bed, and then verbally acknowledging that this time is special because it's just us. Another is giving Asia "big girl" responsibilities like setting the table or clearing it when we're done. She knows we don't give these tasks to Rex and they prove that we trust her and that she's set apart. Another is playing games that she really likes. Showing our love, not just telling it, is easing this transition, and once the change is over, we'll keep doing it. It's a great way to love.

Day 43: Rex' Life Book

When Rex has had a rough night, like last night, he looks through his Life Book. His Life Book is a collection of photographs from his time with his foster family. Ate Kim ("ate" is pronounced ehh-tay and means sister in Tagalog), is Rex' 14 year-old foster sister, and she made the book for him. There are pictures of the immediate foster family and their extended family and friends and fun things Rex did with them. Kim put special three dimensional stickers inside and decorated the pages with colorful markers. Rex loves looking at it, and we keep it in an easy place for him to get to. Rex' Life Book has eased the transition from Kim's family to ours.

One might think that using a book such as this is the wrong way to comfort a child who is having a rough time. I mean, why remind him of the great life he used to have when his life now is so different? Isn't that just rubbing it in his face? I mean, he's not about to buy a plane ticket and fly back to the Philippines on his own (he doesn't have a credit card), so why waive the Philippines in front of his face? I can see how one might think it cruel, but that hasn't been the case for Rex. When he thumbs through the book, a bright smile flashes across his face, he points to the pictures, and names the people in them. The book makes him happy, not sad.

It must feel great to see the faces of the people who loved him so dearly. I think that's why his smile is brighter than the sun and wider than the Pacific Ocean when he sees his Life Book. He knows he has been loved before. And even though he's in a different place and among different people, if he's been loved before, then he can be loved again. Rex needs to know this most of all, and because of his Life Book, he can. It's written all over it.

Day 42: Finding the Heart

Today I took a sabbatical from one of my jobs. I'm the Director of Marketing for a software company, but that's not what I'm taking a break from. For almost three years I've also served as the company chaplain, but today I walked away from that role. I don't know when I'll be back but I know I need a break from it. I think taking the sabbatical is a courageous thing to do. When people in spiritual leadership step down or step away, sometimes it's because of some scandal, either known or unknown to the public. If unknown, there are all sorts of speculations as to why. Was it another woman? A secret addiction? A falling away from the faith? I assure you it's none of the above.

Tonight as I laid down next to Rex, I began patting his chest, around his heart. After a bit, I took my hand off his chest and began stroking his hair. Pretty quickly he grabbed my hand and moved it back to his heart. He liked my hand there, liked me patting his heart as he fell asleep.

That's why I'm taking this sabbatical. I think I've forgotten that I'm really just a kid who needs his Father. You see, when we do a lot of grown-up things, it's easy to forget this. I run the Marketing Department; I'm learning to be a dad to an adopted child; I'm supporting my wife; I'm finding extra ways to bond with my daughter. And until today, I was leading others to spiritual growth, officially. These are all adultish things that leave one feeling important, but not necessarily better off. Sure, I can write a good piece, but how close am I to the Father's heart? Enough to want Him near? Enough to move Him? Enough to hold his hand on my heart? I could learn a thing from Rex.

Day 41: Boyhood

Some of my favorite times with Rex have been his journeys of exploration. Just a few days ago he discovered the joy of floating a helium balloon up to the ceiling fan and letting the blades of the fan hit the balloon. He cracked up wildly whenever the blades would push the balloon out of the way, just to have the balloon drift back toward the fan. At first I debated (and Colette debated too) whether we should let him do this. What if the string gets caught in the fan? What if the string gets caught and begins to pull him up toward the fan? What if he doesn't let go and suddenly he's on the ceiling? These are the thoughts of responsible parents, but sometimes being responsible isn't all there is. We let him keep at it.

John Eldredge writes, "Boyhood is a time of exploration and wonder, and to be a boy is to be an explorer...." (Fathered By God). Rex is an explorer and we let him explore. Granted, these are explorations for two year-olds, experiments with balloons and balls and things like that. We're not doing things too risky, not mixing chemicals, not handling loaded weapons, not jumping off cliffs. But, I have to say, there is risk involved. The balloon could pop, could get stuck, could break free from its string and be stuck on the ceiling forever. But this isn't bad. I want Rex to risk, to engage the moment, even if there's something to lose.

You see, I want Rex to be safe, but more than that, I don't want him to be afraid. That's why risks--calculated ones--are so valuable, even for a boy. I don't think you learn to be strong except through situations that require strength. You don't learn to protect except through the possibility of loss. You don't learn to be brave except through facing danger. That's why boyhood needs to be about exploration and wonder, because through boyhood, you're making a man, and exploration is necessary to make a man. More often a man is not made by the smooth and the sanitary, but by the rough and the risky.

Day 40: Flexibility

Some days it's easier to write than other days. When there's no change to my routine, no problem. But on days like today, it's not so easy. Our company went to an energy tradeshow in Washington DC. We left early and will get back late and I'd rather not write when I get back. That leaves a couple options: find an Internet cafe during the day; find a quiet place and type on my phone; or write on the bus ride back.

When we visited the National Portrait Gallery, I found a power outlet, plugged my low battery phone in and started to compose. Soon a security guard, who was very serious about her job, ordered me to unplug the phone because recharging can only be done on the third floor. Then she said something about losing the data but I have no idea what she was talking about. This was the second time a guard yelled at me in this museum--backpacks can't be worn on your back but can be carried--and so I lost interest in this place. We walked around more but didn't see any Internet cafes, which is why I'm on the bus now, typing on my phone.

Today is the first day that Rex woke up in the morning and went to bed at night without seeing me. You know what? It's okay. That's life. If we could plan a perfect adoption, it might be different. Or it might not be. There is no perfect adoption because it's happening in real life, is real life. Real life doesn't follow an absolute schedule. And if you've followed this Adoption Year, you know this adoption hasn't been the same day-to-day. It's required flexibility from all of us, flexibility to live and flexibility to write about it. Go bus go. Get me home soon.

Day 39: Dangerous

Adoption is a dangerous thing. I suppose there are some adoptive parents who are made of iron and bronze and can weather anything. They stand resolute, protected by their iron-clad hearts that don't allow them to be disappointed or frustrated or dare I say overcome by hope. I'm not like that, never have been. I get involved, all of me, and I hope, and for that reason, adoption is a dangerous thing. Iron and bronze don't bruise, but flesh does, and tonight my flesh is exposed. I'm angry and I'm hurt.

I'm hurt because Rex called another man "Daddy" today. When he was calling other women "Mommy," it didn't bother me because, well it wasn't personal. But this is personal. How the heck can Rex call another man daddy? I thought we were making such great progress. I thought we had established our routines and our rituals, that they were unique moments in the life of a father and son. I guess not. I guess they don't mean as much to him. I guess Rex can do them with anyone, any man at least.

And this is why I'm angry. I'm angry that I let myself get hurt over this. I'm angry that I expect that 38 days of these routines and rituals should be enough to show him who I am. I'm angry that I allow a two year-old to have such control over me. I'm angry that when things are going wonderfully, they can so quickly turn. But most of all, I'm angry at myself. I realize how selfish I'm being. I think I want him to call me daddy for my own reasons, not his. I think that being his irreplaceable daddy will meet a need to be irreplaceable in me. I think I'm looking to Rex to heal me in some way. And that's not fair to him. It's dangerous.

Day 38: Don't Miss the Destiny

The first time we met Rex, it wasn't what we expected. It was our placement appointment, the official hand-off between the childcare agency, the foster family, and us. For two years, we had dreamed of this moment. And now it was upon us. The moment was magical, so thick with destiny I could fling it off my forehead like sweat. Oh yeah, that was sweat. At any moment we would gaze upon our son, and he would gaze upon us, and something cosmological or meteorlogical would happen. He'd come in floating on a cloud, kind of like Frenchie's Guardian Angel in "Grease."

Only it didn't happen that way. We were on the second floor of the orphanage, and all of a sudden, Rex' foster mom walked up the stairs carrying him. There really was no warning; one instant our son was not in the room and then suddenly he was. It was that simple. I thought at least there'd be an emcee or a wedding singer to announce his arrival. I didn't even get a chance to wipe my face. The first look he got of his new dad was of this salty, soaky mess; he probably thought I was a fisherman. That's okay, at least he met me in my natural state.

I think destiny is this way sometimes. We expect it to be utterly remarkable, beyond comprehension, otherworldly. Sometimes it is. But sometimes it's not. Sometimes destiny happens in the tamest of ways, in the unlikliest of places, on a stairwell. Sometimes instead of global events, we get a glance, which turns into a touch, which becomes a meeting, which turns into a relationship. Between a family and a son. Don't miss the destiny because it doesn't come the way you thought it would.

Day 37: Shrinking Our World

Colette calls it "shrinking our world," and it's starting to pay off. For example, today at church, I dropped Rex off at the toddler room. As soon as Rex saw Sam, the son of our good friends, he yelled, "Sam!" I put Rex down next to Sam, stayed for a couple minutes, said goodbye and left. This was the first time Colette or I did something like that. Every Sunday, one of us has played with Rex the entire time while the other attended the service. This was my week for the toddler room, but I decided to see how Rex would do without a parent in the room.

I checked in three times during the service--lingering just outside the door to catch a view of Rex without him seeing me. He wasn't crying, wasn't upset, was actually playing with the other children. One of the times he actually saw me, and I held my breath for what he would do. He quickly waived hello and turned back toward the toys. I didn't know whether to be offended or to be happy--my boy didn't want me--but in the end I chose to be happy. Independence. This is what we were aiming for!

I couldn't celebrate completely until I found out if he called any of the toddler teachers "Mommy." It was cheating if he thought his mommy was in the room. There were several women, all of whom were strangers, which made them perfect candidates to be his mommy, given Rex' past habits. But guess what? He didn't call any of them Mommy! This was victory, indeed, and shrinking our world has been the key to it. You see, if he feels secure in his little world, we can expand it and he can explore, until he feels secure in this bigger world. Then, we can expand it again, and so forth. Sam, he's Rex' one friend who comes over every week to play. Eventually there'll be more friends, but one is enough for now. "Sam!"