And it’s our God-forsaken right to be loved, love, love, love, love…
This is intense parenting.
Five children who all want me at once, all the time.
Five children talking non-stop at me in two different languages, all the time.
One child who needs A LOT of redirecting and teaching of proper behavior vs. orphanage crazies. (Biting others, hitting, slapping hard, messing up other people’s things on purpose, throwing, breaking, dumping out food on purpose, etc.) Thank God I did all of that reading and training in preparation. I’ve totally got this. I hope.
Plenty of reminding myself that none of their behaviors (from all five kids) should be taken personally and they are only displays of each child’s feelings or issues.
This is like Parenting Level 9,000.
I need All The Asspats and a trophy.
And alcohol. Lots of alcohol.
Preferably on a beach.
On the other hand, I AM HAVING SO MUCH FUN. My face hurts from smiling too much. Today we went to the pool, and I went down the huge water slide multiple times while my own personal cheerleading team of five stood at the bottom yelling. They were all too afraid to try the slide themselves. For tomorrow’s entertainment I plan to impress them by jumping off of the high dive!
We spent hours jumping on the trampoline in our yard. The word for trampoline in Ukrainian/Russian is batoot. Best word ever. They beg me and beg me to jump on the batoot with them, constantly.
Misha and Marianna love to cuddle with me and kiss my cheeks while whispering in Ukrainian, “My mama, my mama.” I absolutely adore them. I mean, there are no words.
How will I send them away? Clearly we will have to illegally go across the border into Mexico, cause an international incident, and then live our lives on the run. It’s the only logical choice.