You're in.

“I’m so glad you are part of our family.” David and I say the Spanish equivalent of that phrase to the kids so often that it’s become a joke for them. We’ll start, and by the third or fourth word, they’ll chime in and finish it in unison with us. But we aren’t joking, and I hope on some level the kids know that.

One of the main reasons we were compelled to adopt in the first place was that we both feel so fortunate to have grown up in stable, loving families. It seemed only right to turn around and share that with these kids who drew the short straw when it comes to family life.

From everyone who has been given much, much will be demanded; and from the one who has been entrusted with much, much more will be asked. (Luke 12:48)

At my grandfather's house in Ocean City, NJ, where I've gone every year of my life (35 of 'em!) except one.

During the first few months the kids were here, I started to realize that when I told them, “I’m glad you’re part of my family,” I meant more than just David and me. I meant my parents, who jumped on a plane to meet their new grandkids within just a few weeks of them arriving. I meant David’s parents, who live next door and show our kids love and acceptance in hundreds of ways, big and small. I meant my younger brothers—four tall, funny, all-American boys who are now great “tios” to our Peruvian kids. I meant my sister and David’s two sisters, who are the kind of aunts everyone deserves to have.

A little over a year ago, my parents had one grandchild. Now they have six.

Our kids are now part of a family network of uncles and aunts and cousins and grandparents and great grandparents. The relationships will take time to develop. And they really have no idea yet what that means for them. But for the rest of their life, they’re in.

Last week my PopPop passed away at the age of 89. He was a great man and the patriarch of a large family. He had one daughter (my mom) and five boys. All of his kids have large families, and I have 24 cousins on that side of the family. When my Nana passed away 20 years ago, PopPop remarried a woman who also has a big family, and that brought their grandkid total into the 40s. By now, the great-grandkids are into double digits. 

When I heard he was passing away, I started making plans to go to NJ for the funeral. I was going to go solo, but then David offered to come. And then I started thinking about bringing the kids. The more I thought about it, the more obvious it seemed. Of course they should come.

On Thursday after we got home from a trip to the thrift store for Halloween costume accessories, I pulled everyone together in the kitchen. I didn’t think ahead about what I was going to say, but what came out was what must have been in my heart all along.

Everyone in my family is traveling to be there for PopPop’s funeral. I was going to go alone, but that doesn’t seem right. You’re part of this family now, and I want you to be there.

I started crying at some point. Two of them were staring at me wide-eyed, and two were fidgeting with something in the kitchen so they wouldn’t have to make eye contact. But no one protested the eight-hour drive or the abrupt change of trick-or-treating weekend plans. One of them nodded. They were great.

It was an exhausting, emotional weekend. But I’m so glad my kids were there for it. My PopPop left an impressive family legacy. And now they’re part of it.

A chaotic attempt at taking a photo of PopPop's grandkids, their spouses and great-grandkids. I'm glad my kids are in the picture.

After the funeral, we took the kids out for their first-ever trick-or-treating experience. 

Our family's one year anniversary

A Loss For Words

I have a problem.

I’m a professional copywriter. People pay me to find just the right words to get their message across. Yet here I am at a loss for words to describe my own life. Of the million-plus words in the English language, there’s got to be one that describes how I feel about our adoption. But every word I try doesn’t fit quite right.

Glad.
I can’t exactly say I’m glad we adopted four teenagers. It’s way too hard to be glad about it.

Regretful.
I definitely don’t regret it. It’s hard to regret something you believe God is happy about.

Depressed.
Sometimes. After the tornado of the first few months passed, David and I began grieving our former carefree life.

Hopeful.
I see the kids learning and growing, and that gives me hope. Stephanie memorizing her lines (in English!) for a play with the theater camp she is doing this summer. Ivone offering an unsolicited, sincere apology. Joseph overcoming his fears and calling a classmate to invite him over to the house. Alfredo surrounded by his new extended family for his 15th birthday. It’s been almost a year since the kids became “ours,” and we have all come a long way. There is a lot to be hopeful about. If I can look past the brawl over the last avocado and the hormonal teenage outbursts.

Tired. 
That works, but it’s such an obvious thing to say. Every parent on the planet is tired.

Fulfilled. 
Oddly, I don’t feel that way. If I look at our life from the outside, it’s easy to see the fulfilling, meaningful, higher purpose of it all. But I don’t get to look at our life from the outside because I’m living it on the inside. Ironically, it felt more fulfilling to go once a week to the orphanage when were living in Peru. We always went, even when we didn’t feel like it. We took 25 kids to the park. We played soccer and painted nails. We got 25 hugs. We were blissfully ignorant and not responsible. And then we went home. High five. Good deed done for the week. Minimal effort, maximum reward. But now… this 24/7 thing. That effort:reward ratio is completely flipped, and it really does not feel fulfilling. Good thing I know better than to judge things based on feelings. (Right...?)  

Accepting.  
Accepting might be the best word I can come up with. Before the kids came, we got some advice from another family who had adopted four sisters from Columbia. One of the things the father told us went something like this:

“God has ordained you be parents to these kids. Never forget that.”

This isn’t about whether or not we believe God ordained us to adopt these kids in the first place (that’s another conversation, too deep for this blog). It’s about now that they are here. Now, in God's eyes, it’s our job to be their parents. I can accept that. For better or worse, sweet and sour, happy or sad, hate me or tolerate me ... I'm your parent now.

Challenge accepted.

---

Geeze, my first blog post in six months, and it’s kind of a downer. Sorry. Let’s move on to the fun, happy photos we all really want to see.

The boys are ALL about soccer. They tell us about their goals on the actual field and on Xbox with the same level of enthusiasm.

Almost all about soccer. A gym teacher recruited Alfredo to play tennis this year, and he caught on quick. He won more matches than anyone else on the team, and they awarded him most improved player.

We moved SOUTH in January and arrived in Durham, NC, just in time for their snowiest winter in 50 years.

This one's for you, Mom. See that bowl on the chair? Stephanie wanted to make snow ice cream like you taught her. But even the snowiest winter in 50 years down here doesn't produce enough for snow ice cream. (Notice what's in the bowl.)

Amazing what an extra half hour of screen time will get kids to do... 

Neighbors selling a chicken coop? We'll take it! We just have to take their fence apart...

...and roll the thing a quarter mile through our new neighborhood. Rumor has it a photo like this ended up on the community Facebook page. What a way to make our entrance known.

It made it to our backyard. And there it's sat, chickenless, for 5 months while we wait for our permit from the city. The kids are glad for the delay since they aren't excited about helping clean the coop poop.

FABULOUS Spring Break trip to Florida to visit Tia (Aunt) Michelle and hang out on the beach.

 

We wanted to live near family so the kids know it's not just David and I they got for life, but a whole big extended family. Happy birthday Grandpa!

 

Ivone made a traditional dish from Arequipa. So good!

We also wanted to live near family so we'd have someone to watch the kids so we can escape once in a while. Thanks to Mom and Dad and an overnight church summer camp, we had three glorious days in the Smokey Mountains last week.

When we say "near family," I really mean NEAR family. This is our casa. It's next door to David's parents. And a few blocks from David's sister. And aunt. And grandma. We're taking over the hood!

Fun to see the kids start to make friends.

Stephanie did a three-week theater camp that culminated in a delightful play. I'm not just saying delightful. It really was! We're so proud of Stephanie for being brave and trying something new, and for learning all her lines -- in English!

The actress and her proud little brother.

Sometimes they act like they hate him. But they really adore him.

Ivone doesn't like to smile for pictures. She hates this photo. I adore it.

Duke gardens: we'll bring you here if you come visit us.

Remember that time we almost went insane?

The last few months have been nuts.

We sold David's chiropractic business in Philadelphia and started the process of saying goodbye to a city we never intended to live in but ended growing to love. We already miss the city, our friends, and our church there.

Goodbye breakfast with some of our favorite people in Philly.

We made two whirlwind scouting trips to Durham, North Carolina. David's parents and sister live there (or, here, I guess I should say), and early in the adoption process we started thinking it would probably be a good idea to live near family once the kids came. Now that the kids are here, we know it for sure! We toured schools, looked at houses, checked out work opportunities, and did lots of driving around the area. Just in case you're wondering, four months post-adoption is most definitely NOT the best time to make a major move.

On our visits to NC our kids got to meet some of their new cousins.

We celebrated our first Christmas as a new family in our half-packed house in Philadelphia.

 

The day after Christmas, the moving truck was dropped off in front of our house. Over the new few days, we packed it to the seams. Imagine sitting on your suitcase to get it to zip... we did the moving truck equivalent to that.

My dad flew to Philadelphia, helped us with the last bit of truck loading, and helped* me drive the kids out to Chicago. (*By "helped," I mean that he did 95% of the driving). 

A goodbye visit with PopPop before leaving Philly.

David went to NC to start work, and the kids and I spent the next 10 days or so with my family in the Chicago area.

First snow! I'm so glad the kids got to experience snow before we moved south. We did it all... sledding, snow shoveling, building a snowman, and making snow ice cream.

Joseph wanted to go sledding every single day. Even the single-digit temperature days.

 

Bowling with Grandpop is a good way to get four teenagers of the house... after 3 weeks off school... without their dad around... in 8 degree weather. Yes kids, we CAN play another game, and another, and another.

I woke up one morning and came upstairs to see Joseph and his cousin Elias snuggled up together reading. Looks like maybe they should trade books.

Stephanie knitting with Nana.

Uncle Justin built a fort in the basement with Joseph and Alfredo.

After a fun and special 10 days with my family, the kids and I piled back in the minivan and headed south. We stopped at the Chicago airport along the way and picked up a very welcome passenger/co-pilot for the 13-hour drive to Durham. (That would be David.)

Did I mention David is a superhero and somehow, in between moving, figuring out how to be a parent, and re-modeling a house, he has managed to start a new business? Introducing Precision Chiropractic.

We moved into a furnished rental house in Durham, NC, for a month while we waited to close on our house and get a jump-start on some of the major work that needed to be done to make it liveable. I found the place on Craigslist, and the person we subleased it from just so happens to be from Peru! It also just so happened that her parents were visiting from Peru the week before we showed up, so this woman we never met was kind enough to cook us a traditional Peruvian dish and leave it in the freezer at the rental house!

You can't spend all your time moving, working, cleaning, painting, and starting at a new school. Sometimes you need to take advantage of a 60-degree day in January and go for a family bike ride.

We closed on our house and started cleaning it withing five minutes of receiving the key. The brief back story: while we were in Durham house-hunting a couple months ago, someone mentioned that the owner of the house next door to David's parents never seemed to be home. We happened to see her in her driveway one day and accosted her: "Hi. We heard you're never home and we know your house isn't listed for sale, and please don't mind the two Peruvian boys who just rode their bikes through your lawn, but are you by any chance interested in selling your house?" Blink. Blink. "Um. Actually... yes." It turned out to be a very frustrating and emotionally-charged negotiating process. (Note: use a realtor next time.) But in the end, the house is ours, and once it's fixed up it will make a great home for us.

Our house is in no where near in photo condition, so I thought I'd post this one we can all drool over.

Looking for a good time? Let your teenagers paint their own rooms.

I can now confidently tell you that while seeing someone step off a ladder directly into a brand new can of paint might make a hilarious scene in a movie, it is not at all funny in real life.

We still have a lot of work to do on the house, but at least it's liveable now. It feels so good to finally be in a permanent place.

Hooray for living next door to family! David's parents have been immensely helpful, feeding us, housing us, hauling our junk around, cleaning and repairing our new house, spending time with our kids, and generally helping us maintain some sanity.

So here we are, starting a new chapter of life. Frankly, we've started too many new chapters recently, and both David and I are ready to slow the pace and try to figure out what normal looks like. Nearly every day I think about this line I read in an article written by another adoptive parent: "Adopting an orphan isn’t loving them, it’s just making the decision to start loving them."

So here we are, living this crazy and oh-so-different life. Learning to love our new kids, figuring out how to be a family, and painting walls.

We hope to not do this again for a very long time.