a child of my own

Yesterday was World Adoption Day...yet another 'day' that I didn't know existed until social media clued me in.

Like...did all of these theme days always exist? But before hashtags and social media, only like two guys working in the Hallmark card designing basement ever knew about them? I guess that must be it. Because I feel like it's a new 'holiday' every day now. Sisters' Day. Siblings' Day. And all of these days are a nightmare of apostrophe inconsistency, but that's a whole 'nother issue. 

So November 9 is World Adoption Day. That's cool. At least there are no apostrophes. You know what else November 9 is? The anniversary of our failed adoption. Two years. Yup. So apparently we "celebrated" World Adoption Day in 2013 by...that. Now come on. If that doesn't just help paint a more balanced picture, then nothing does. For every smiley-face-hand picture I saw yesterday, I couldn't help but be reminded of the incredibly dark days when adoption was not a remotely smiley experience for us. 

It's a weird day to process. It was weird last year, it was weird this year. To be honest, it's still not something I can really think about too deeply without feeling really confused. I prefer to focus on the good, you know: if we hadn't gone through that, we wouldn't have Millie. And so in a sense, it was totally worth it. But in another sense...that loss and grief don't just go away because we have a child now.

Ugh. Like I said. It's weird, and I don't really know how to process or talk about it. So I'll just move on.

Anyway, what with it being #WorldAdoptionDay and all yesterday, there was a lot more 'adoption talk' than normal floating around my newsfeed. This article, All My Children Are My Own, resonated the most with me. To me, nothing is more (unintentionally, I'm sure, but still...) hurtful than when someone says (or insinuates) that I could/should/might someday "have a child of my own." Because SERIOUSLY? Just think about it. What they mean is "a biological child." That's fine. But the phrase "of your own" has got to go. Because Millie is my own. There is nothing lesser or inferior about her or my relationship with her because she grew in another woman's body. So I guess that's my adoption PSA of the day year. Erase the phrase "of your/her/their own" from your vocabulary when you're referring to adoptive families. Unless it's to say something like "now that you have kids of your own, you know what it's like to live without sleep," because that's a totally legit sentiment. Not that I experienced that personally, mwahahaha, because obviously Millie was the greatest baby in the whole world. And that's why I'm glad she's my own.

In case you need photographic proof that our apple didn't fall far from the tree...

WHO IS THIS HENRY VIII YOU SPEAK OF? WHY DID HE HAVE SIX WIVES? I CAN'T COUNT TO SIX YET!!!

Although Millie has approximately 2,382 books of her own (hahaha now I'm hyper-aware of how often I use that phrase...), apparently they aren't really to her liking. Fluff reading, she says. She's ready for the good stuff.

I like a book that doesn't resolve in eight pages of rhyming phrases. And no pictures, please. I prefer to use my imagination.

Yes, yes, I think this'll do just fine for my bedtime story tonight. Parents don't actually need sleep anyway, do they? Apparently I missed that memo when I was an infant, but it's not too late to make up for it!

I just laughed and laughed when I came upon this scene. Millie surrounded by a pile of our fattest books. It's too perfect. That girl. 

Speaking of things worth reading...(and for the record, I haven't actually read any of the books Millie is contemplating in these pictures. They're all from the Things I Should/Might Read but Haven't Yet pile.)...this hilarious post called All of my Issues With the "Goodnight Moon" Bedroom. Like, way too funny. And then when Millie actually did pull out Goodnight Moon tonight to read...I just couldn't handle it. So do yourself a favor and go read that. The blog, not the actual story. I'm sure you can already recite the story.

My surgery is tomorrow, so I spent today letting Millie crawl all over me like a jungle gym. Wrestling is her love language, and I'm going to miss it while my stomach is recovering. 

We planted a camellia last winter, and it has a ton of gorgeous blooms on it right now! It finally stopped raining, so we had to go outside so that Camilla could visit her camellia...her pseudo-namesake. She was pretty impressed. I could tell because she tried to rip all of the flowers off...yikes. "Gentle hands" are something we're working on...haha.

Ummm...gentle hands? More like boring hands. I'll pass.

She can give me all the stink eyes in the world, won't change a thing. This girl is my heart.