Happy Birthday To You, You Live in a Zoo

Today was my birthday. 32.

I have to say that throughout the day the Jim Gaffigan schtick about "It's my birthday, why do I have to wear pants?" kept running through my head. I think that most of us have this expectation that on our birthday the world acknowledges our greatness and we shouldn't have to lift a finger. And although I wouldn't come out and put it that way, it sure would have been nice. Haha.

My husband is gone, so no singing, no presents from the kids, little/no consideration from the kids. And certainly NONE from the Blue-Eyed One. He really has no idea what a birthday is and he sure didn't learn today.

In the spirit of making me feel special, Claire followed me around all day singing (in various voices, ranging from her own to the Chipmunks) Happy Birthday. But not the traditional one. Oh no. The one befitting my circumstance; "Happy Birthday to you, you live in a zoo, you look like a monkey and you smell like one, too." How apropos.

I took Daniel to school to get started with the registration. I had been kind of conflicted about what to do, but this morning I woke up with a very clear answer, so off I went. He is very excited and I am hoping that it works out well. He will be in an ELL (English Language Learner) program at a different school from the Brown-Eyed Ones.

It is funny, because really, I can say, that Daniel did very well today. Day three without a nap and fairly good behavior, but again, it was my birthday and so his behavior wasn't quite up to my Birthday Queen standards. I am sure that tomorrow will be better. (My perspective, that is.)

Tomorrow also marks the day that we will cut back another dose of his tranquilizer. Just to clarify: he is not on them because of any intrinsic issue, it was crowd control back at the orphanage. In my opinion he is much better off of them. Happier. He gets grumpy when he is tired and being on tranquilizers three times a day is not energy inducing.

I think that God's grace for this moment is writing this blog. When I am in the thick of things, I am always thinking about how I might describe it in the most positive terms and that helps me have a more positive perspective.

Because sometimes things really stink.

It stinks that I have a beautiful little boy that struggles as a result of a lifetime of selfishness on the part of the adults who were supposed to care for him.

It stinks that my house has not been peaceful since he stepped foot in it.

It stinks that I have spent a sum total of two days with my husband during the last 30.

It stinks!

But in the midst of all the stink, God is faithful and little moments of the beauty to come manifest. 

Especially at bedtime.

When I first got Daniel, bedtime was a traumatic nightmare. Screaming. Pushing his bed against the wall so I could have him between my body and the wall so he would feel secure. Hours of him fighting. Hours of him rocking until he would pass out from exhaustion.

Now bedtime is an oasis. I give him a bath and towel him off. He smells like coconut instead of orphanage funk. He styles his hair in the mirror. He air boxes like a pro when I wrap the towel around his waist. We go to his room. We look at his picture book from the orphanage and he tells me again that we need to find a home for Sasha Pastov. We pray. Then we snuggle. Peace. His little hand, cool from the shower, touches my face, my hair, my arm. He is learning that I am the mama that won't clock out after six hours. That I will be there. At night. In the morning.

And he rocks.

And then he stops and snuggles into me.

And looks at me.

Until he closes his eyes and falls asleep.

(Sasha Pastov is the little boy on the left)