Bodegas

I don't know a good literal translation for this word, but it is tiny little shops run by one person (typically a very old person) which carries a little bit of everything food-wise, but not really everything as the shop may only be 10 feet by 5 feet. May be just one of lots of very specific food stuff.

We have a bodega in our life that I love. I think the old guy that runs it is Cuban. He speaks Spanish and loves my boys and I. They carry all the little food items I know from my childhood - the pastry to make pastillos (the fired version of an empanadas which we stuff with cheese, meat or guava jelly), Turron (hard nougat candy with nuts), all the canned Goya products, and plantains (green bananas to make tostones). I go in and find something new on the shelves every visit; this week I found a "tomato paste with seasoning (cilantro, etc) for cooking".

I'm pretty sure this little bodega that I love is one of two things; either a front for something, or a relic from when my neighborhood was the old West Side Story. But I go in and find new stuff on the shelves all the time. I hardly ever see another woman in the shop. It is always a bunch of old Cuban guys watching sports on a tiny TV on the top shelf and talking. So it is hard to tell, is it really a bodega or a front?

In the summer they play dominos on the side walk outside the shop. They all acknowledge me now when I walk by or stop in (the shop is on the way to the post office, so I'm by about everyday). But they only speak in Spanish, and I use my terrible Spanish grammar to chat with them, but they don't care.

They've introduced the boys to homemade coconut macaroons, pressed coconut candies, guava jelly, and pastillos. They are the only place I know where I can get the pastries for pastillos. And yeah, I buy a frozen stack of 10 about every week. Recently, with family visits and friends over, I've gone to buying two packs at a time (Special note a pack of 10 sells for $1! Where else can you buy a real food ingredient for only a $1?!).

I know this doesn't sound sexy or exciting. But the fact that this tiny shop exists. That this amazing group of old guys has accepted me and the kids and smile at us, even though I'm still not convinced they are not running numbers, makes me happy every time I visit. They are the old soul of this city. They seem in tune with my soul. And they have never questioned why me, the whitest looking Puerto Rican on the planet visits with a blond child and Asian child. Instead, one guy heads to the freezer for my pastries and the other shows the boys the latest candy in.

I love these old men. They have no idea.

Little Man = Big Boy

I know I've been using "Big Boy" as the moniker for my older son but that might have to change after today.

Today we went to a birthday part for a friend of the Big Boy (5yo) and they were all bigger boys than my Little Man (3&1/2yo). They were playing together and the group of big boys told the Little Man that he was a "baby" and couldn't join in.

What they didn't know is in the last 10 days the Little Man had moved into underpants from pull ups.

The Little Man stunned us all by pulling down his pants, pointing to his underwear and saying "I'm not baby. I'm big boy in underpants!"

Gotta love that!

Toy Fair

Sorry for not writing. I'm EXHAUSTED. I've been at Toy Fair 2010 this week/weekend, selling Normans.

It has been an awesome experience, but wow, am I wiped. There were months of planning going into this. A lot of labor, running errands, getting everything assembled in the weeks before the show. The stress of, "I invested in this, and hope and pray it will work" stress. Then my parents came in to watch the boys because, I really don't have the spare cash for a sitter, the hubby needs to help me at the show, and then he's also directing a play so he has rehearsals at night.

My parents came and helped. A complete stranger from the gym who is lovely worked the booth with me for two days, just because she could and she was awesome. The booth came together well and all the materials arrived. And yes, I can stand on my feet from 8 am set up through the 9 am to 6 pm show and then walk the 20 minutes to the subway, etc. And yes, I come home tired, not wanting to talk to a soul. But the boys want hugs and kisses and they ground me. Tonight they said they would clean up while I watched.

And, yes, the buyers showed up and it was awesome! Best sales of any show to date. Some of my friends at more established companies racked up sales in the tens, and hundreds of thousands. I think of it and hope. But for those buyers willing to buy $100 of my products, I salute you and am so grateful. My tiny little company may be tiny, our sales may be small, but I see glimmers of a greater future! And what really makes me smile at the end of the day, is I know my company can fund another cleft surgery: hopefully the first of many to come this year!

Chinatown

So a week ago I told the boys they could play hoockie today and we'd go down to Chinatown before the Chinese New Year (CNY) to pick up decorations.

So what if it snowed inches last night and the city is closed down, damn it, we can take the subway. We needed to get out, its snowing but not terribly cold, they didn't want to sled and I was close to killing the hubby. So yes, to Chinatown we went.

There was NO ONE on the street. most of the tacky tourist shops were closed. It was WEIRD.
But the boys love dumplings, so we went to the Dumpling House. Not usually our stop as it is straight up from city hall and usual has a line. Well, now I know why, the dumplings were unbelievably good! We ate three orders, and order of pancakes and the requisite order of noodles. The staff was plentiful, the diners few, so my boys enjoyed the attention. When they brought the food I told the boys to say 'thank you' in Chinese say 'Shi shi'. To which the little man responded; I only say 'ne how' (which is hello).

We went to a couple different shops to get our gear; wall hangings, Chinese lanterns, stuff for our hall, their room, my desk, around the house. The shop loved having the boys and kept explaining everything was for CNY. I was really trying to make sure we bought the right signs, you know, 'love, happiness, health, money', but they told me 'all good'. Which in turn told me their teenage son who speaks English decided to sleep in or go sledding.

We made our annual pilgrimage to the Buddhist Temple. I like to go before the new year. We got there just as a 'service' was starting. chanting, bell ringing, gongs, etc. pretty engrossing even if we didn't understand what they were saying. we lit incense, donated a few bucks, and said a nice thought to Buddha which the Big Boy said "he looks like a girl".

The snow is now thick! I'm not sure we'll have school tomorrow, but at least we end the day right with Buddha.

Skinned knees, bruises, band aids and Corage

Skinned knees, bruises, band aids, you'd think I'm talking about my boys. Alas no. It's me.

I have boys, which means from the moment they came in my life I knew I'd get to know the emergency room staff, that our couch would eventually catch fire and a few broken windows were fated. I knew there would bicycles, skateboards, and scooters. I just didn't realize how much courage would be involved, or that I would be I who needed to have courage. You see, the bruises, the band aids, the bumps are on me. As well as the boys.

Our choice of wheeled power has evolved over time. The first mode of summer transportation was the boys ride in a wagon behind my bicycle. I viewed the extra wagon weight as a much needed improvement to my work out. But, they got bigger (and heavier) and the eldest started to feel the call of the road, the desire to ride on his own wheels, steer his own ride.

Suddenly after enjoying long rides to anywhere, we became chained to the neighborhood. Lessons in balance ensued. After months on training wheels we had a chat. I explained he already knew how to ride the bike. The only thing he really needed to learn was how to stop and put his feet down. From the first training-wheel-less push, he road without stopping almost forever! Interestingly, I had never seen a child ride a bike so slow. He really didn't want to risk a fall, so stopping was avoided. It took months, but eventually stopping was mastered after he achieved the ability of balancing at a stand still. The dare devil in him did not emerge. This was an easy time for me, limited risk.

Next due to an older "big boy" neighbor, a skateboard entered our lives. Cycling is traveling lite, just a helmet. However make space when the skateboard moves in, as it brings with it wrist guards, knee pads as well as the helmet and board. And skate boarding is more adventurous, not everyone does it. Shockingly, he assumed I would teach him to skate, given my knowledge of all things wheeled. I can testify, the ground is hard, and bruises can last weeks and it is really difficult not to cry when you fall! I learned a lot about courage. And this is even as we were just doing simple stuff, learning to go forward and push. Thankfully, the cautious side of my child held him back and while he liked the gear, skating was not really going anywhere.

Next step, the scooter. With the scooter, knee and wrist are free, only helmet required. There is an intimacy with the road, but a freedom in being unencumbered by lots of gear. Speed suddenly came roaring into the picture because it is so easy to jump off the scooter and run (if you are into running). Where my son could lose a race to ants on the bike, he mowed down anyone who dares step in his way with the scooter. Suddenly the dare devil in him emerged and doing “tricks” became the target.

With his rising abilities, came the need for me to have more courage. I had to let him go, let him fall. He would squat low on the scooter for stealth attacks. He could jump and while holding the handle bar take both wheels off the ground with him. Amazing myself, I was the one to encourage him to jump off/on the curb. Walking down the side walk with him on the scooter is like being with a kid whose scooter has the hiccups. Special note here, when a kid does bite their tongue, the tongue is one of the fastest healing parts of the body. Unless you’ve separated the tip, the emergency room staff really don’t want you to visit for a bleeding tongue. Instead eat ice and ice cream.

Rather than cringe with each new attempt, or fight the force of boyhood which now had him in its grasps, I fought my inner mommy and went with the flow. I figured if he can jump, then we can then jump and twist 180 degrees (half turn). Which got him thinking, if he can jump and twist, then he can jump twist and land in a squat. Which got us both working on jumping a 360 (full circle) twist. So far not on the scooter, but in the living room.

My eldest has taught me courage as he found his own. I look forward to the return to the skateboard this summer. And my youngest son; the little dare devil is ready, it’s the courage to go slow which I’ll be looking to inspire.

Hoping to gain Grace.

I've lacked grace, for a long time. It gets me every once in awhile; and again tonight.

I'll use tonight as an example. I have started to celebrate my favorite holiday, Chinese New Year. I know it doesn't officially start until Sunday, but part of my celebration is that we clean up each room in the house, get rid of the old, broken and unappreciated, to make room for what the New Year may bring. Yesterday we started in the boys' room. They were into it. We started in one corner of the room and went through each self and drawer. Dumping all on the floor, putting neatly back the keepers and sorting the rest. We collectively decided there are younger children who would like some of the "baby" books and "baby" toys. Not really baby stuff, but just things the boys have outgrown.

I called the Early Intervention therapist we used to work with the most. She has a lot of poor families she meets with and I knew she could find good homes for everything. She was thrilled and came over tonight to pick up the stuff and hang with the boys for a bit.

First thing she zeroed in on was my desk in the living room. I explained that we closed my husband's office so I gave up the bedroom office for him and now I'm in the living room. "why?" she asked. "Frankly, struggling with the economy and making some better choices," I responded. But I was pissed. I wanted this to be a nice visit and not about the constant state of chaos my life seems to enjoy. I wanted this to be a fun visit and the sharing of stuff.

I'm lacking the grace to let go of my anger of simple things like working in the living room. It is not a bad set up. I just wish I had more privacy. Then I start beating myself up mentally for still being angry about the economic adjustments I'm forcing my family to make because I don't want to sell my soul to the devil and continue to work on Wall Street. It made me feel bad that I even invited the therapist in.

I read recently that people need to look at their good acts as good. Look at your bad acts as bad. Don't beat yourself up for not doing as good as you hoped as long as you are still doing a good act. I think this might be part of grace. I'm hoping I find it. I'm may be still licking my wounds (not a victim, just adjusting), but I still managed to get the goods into some one's hands that can reach families that otherwise wouldn't have these books and toys. That is what I need to celebrate. Not that I lacked grace in the moment. But eventually, I might get to actually having grace in the moment.

Haiti & the Baptist

I grew up in Idaho. I grew up Baptist. I knew of Haiti only by "missionaries" at our church.

I no longer live in Idaho. I am no longer Baptist (not sure I ever really was). I have adopted.

These people in Haiti, that claim to be missionaries, that tried to take the 'orphans' while ignoring international laws make me want to puke.

I have no mercy here. They should be in prison until they are trained to use the internet and have fully read:
(1) international adoption laws
(2) the debate on whether international adoption is even ethical
(3) the debate on whether adoption is even ethical
(4) the turmoil that brings many people to adoption after infertility.
(5) the educated choice people make about not having a child, but adopting one.
(6) the blogs of those waiting to adopt.
(7) the blogs of those who have adopted.
(8) the blogs of those who have been adopted.
Then they should consider if they want to adopt, or if they were stealing children for someone else to adopt, or if they are stealing these children from their parents, or if they are stealing these children from their heritage, and then they should be tried by the courts or live in jail.

Ignorance on this level is unacceptable. If you can read, type and have the ability to request information from beyond just your "leader" then you may participate in society. If you don't have these skills, then stay with your parents, in school and keep learning until you do (these are white Idahoans we are talking about, they have the choice to stay home with parents).

One night, my son cried in my arms because I couldn't give him the moon. It was irrational. It was a hard one to explain to him. He was a child: I understood his irrationality and cried with him. These people are adults. They are irrational. They are affecting other people's lives. It is not understandable to me. May their God give me the ability to forgive their irrational level of ignorance or arrogance of the laws established to protect children who need protection.

Things that Changed since I've had children

I now get Sponge Bob.
I help people with strollers up and down subway stairs - Everytime.
I can discuss poop and pee.
I eat with my fingers more often.
I see the joy of an empty box, not matter its size.
I see joy in pants zipping, even if they don't "fit".
I can run in spurts.
I have used scissors within the last 10 days.
I have wiped someones butt, other than my own.
I'm not proud of whipping someone else's butt.
I am willing to whipped someone else's butt.
I seldom get to push the elevator buttons.
I get to flush the toliet even when I didn't fill it.
I drink more.
I shout more.
I work out less.
I need to work out more.
I know about Franklin, Angelina Balerina, Fireman Sam and Pingu.
I know what it is like to wake up to someone else's tears.
I can rock someone to sleep.
I can kiss away pain and tears.
I can cut someone else's finger, and yes, toe nails.
I've befriended someone because of their child.
I've help my opinion to myself because of little ears present.
I've told 'big kids' that throwing sand in unacceptable.
I've pushed off a wobbling two wheeler to a new start.
I've come to love bus drivers who say 'yes' when asked, "is this a supper hero's bus?"
I've come to love any mom who will trade drop off play dates, no matter her religious or political affiliation.
I've learned that people won't automatically assume my blonde child, or Chinese child is mine.
I've watched my children pick their nose without offering a tissue.
I've asked my children not to lick the pole in the subway, bus, etc.
I've asked my children to keep their tongue, fingers, etc, to themselves.
I've let me son, not helped my son, pee between parked cars.
I've told other adults to "use their words" out of habit.
I've decided spending money on children's clothing is a rip off.
I've decided a pony tail is acceptable at ANY and EVERY moment.
I've banned fast food to have grandpa take the kids to McDonalds.
I've learned to rhyme. Kind of.
I've cried for no reason.
I've cried for good reason.
I've stayed late at pre-school because someone else's kid did not want to be last.
I've wiped noses beyond my own children.
I've said, "get you hand out of your pants" too many times.
I've had my heart break for children I don't know.
I've had my heart break for children I do know.
I've started affecting the lives of even those I don't know.
Parenting is the hardest thing I've ever done.
Parenting is making me grow.
Parenting is making me re-think the world.
Parenting is re-think me.
Yeah, there is more of me to change as my children grow.

Pipes

Hubby has said on occasion - Nice pipes. Usually meaning I can yell.
My favorite gym trader told me - Nice Pipes. She meant my biceps. This is why she is my favorite.

Last night the Big Boy told me he likes my "blue pipes". I asked what blue pipes. Apparently, I have blue pipes in my arms and chest, and when I'm moving Norman Boxes he can see my blue pipes more than normal. - yeah, I've earned these bulging veins over the years. Yeah, I like my blue pipes.

Little proud of myself, really greatful to the powers that be

I've been busy. At another trade show at the moment. But it is in NYC, so I'm just home and exhausted. However it closes tomorrow. Big day though, the show is hosting a cocktail reception with passed snacks from 6-8 pm. Unfortunately means breakdown of booths isn't until 8:30Pm!

It only takes me an hour to break down my booth, but it is one too many bags for me to carry by myself. And I have to get it to the street to a car to get home. Which means, yes I need help. Not a good thing for the independent girl. Then then kicker, is I can get the hubby for free, but whose with the kids. Hubby was like, "have the sitter stay" which would add about $75 to my day. Not a great option.

So I chose and option I've not chosen in the last five years. Not since we've had kids. I started thinking about all the people we know who live in our building that are childless, that could come to our apartment at 9 pm at night and not need to be paid. Yeah, there were more than one person on the list. I went knocking on doors, and at the second door, I got a YES! More than that, they said, "I would love to. I'm honored that you asked!"

So, hubby is coming down to help me get the stuff home at 9 pm, the kids will be in bed and a loving neighbor who is honored to be on call will be watching TV in our apartment while the kids sleep, I will be coming home from another trade show where I just keep putting Norman out there, and I'm learning how to ask for help.

I know it sounds like the simple stuff, a small thing. But I'm grateful there are people who answer my call.

Ode to flight attendents

I've been on the road, at the Atlanta Mart, selling Normans. He was well received. I spent all day billing and shipping orders, but it wasn't my best show yet. However, you never know. It seems to me that the orders continue to flow for several weeks post a show.

I missed the kids and the hubby. But wow I needed the time. I needed to vent with people who don't know me, aren't vested in the situation and were supportive. I also met amazing people who are just a few years ahead of me on starting their own businesses. Tons of experience to absorb.

I also need to focus on consulting, so it is good to be home. The show was basically a 9 am opening with an 8 pm closing, then networking. yeah, exhausting.

Sometimes you wonder what you would do in a situation. On the plane there was a guy right behind me really, like REALLY drunk! He was generally talking nicely with the kids behind me (kids like 25 years old). But then he turned ugly. I turned to look and the gal looked uncomfortable, so I was about to hit the bell for the flight attendant not knowing what she could do. but she turned the corner before I hit the bell, smelled the guy and engaged him. She then called and had the pilot turn the plane around (we were on the run way, 3rd in line) and we took an extra 45 minutes to unload the guy. Wow.

But also, totally the right choice. This guy was on the edge of turning mean. He was REALLY drunk. And I wouldn't have wanted to sit beside him, let alone within ear shot for two hours. What a choice, what a great choice, yet other passengers were upset about being late. This is a guy that could have been totally disruptive. Maybe violent with the folks sitting beside him.

We need to do what we think is appropriate. We need to change situations when necessary. And we don't have to wait until a situation is horrible, we should be proactive.

Kudos to my flight attendants on this flight.

more later.

revisit on Foster parents

Tonight at dinner we started taking down all the holiday cards that are on the wall by the kitchen table. Most have photographs of the families, and some are of photographs of the children that shared the orphanage with the Little Man.

It was interesting to see who he would pick out of the family photos, but there is still a "chinese" connection. I asked him if he remember the orphanage or his foster family, and he looked at me like I was from another planet. Honesttly, the kids give me that look often and I presume it is about me, not them. I reminded him that he lived with another mommy until he could come join me. When I pulled out the photo, he studied it. I asked who is that, which he pointed out himself and then said "I don't know" and "a man" to the people whom he first called 'mama' and 'baba'.

Amazingly, this shocked me as much as the first time when he saw the photo and immediately pointed out mama and baba. Is he forgetting? Is it that he's been socialized into accepting us and not them? We'll never know. And it comes at an interesting time.

This week for the first time he asked me "what's that" about the scare on his lip. I explained he was born with a hole in his mouth, but the doctors fixed it and that's the scar. (check out the book special smile at http://www.aspecialsmile.com/ if you need fodder for conversation with your children, feel free to tell her I sent you). Tonight I showed him a photo pre surgery with his foster mom. He pointed to his lip and siad "no more hole". Amazing. But while I've brought cleft lip/palette up on occasion with the boys, this was the first time The Little Man brought it up, and he brought it up when it was just me and him. Tonight we all talked about it.

This was also a week when his biological mom flashed through my mind on occasion. Not staying heavily, I always dismiss the thoughts of her saying to myself, "I'll send her all the energy I can muster on her big holiday" which is Chinese New Year. Interestingly this year, Chinese New Year falls on Valentine's Day. I don't think the Chinese observe Valentine's day (any one who knows better than I is most welcome to educate me on this subject). But this week I thought more about his foster family. They were in it to help kids, and likely the income as well. But they knew they were a transit stop, not home. I'm not sure I'm a big enough person to do that. If I had to, if a child fell into my lap, and needed the transit stop, I would be there. But would I willingly raise my hand for that role? Wow, not right now. I'm just not the person ready for that role at the moment. So the foster family had been on my thoughts although I said nothing to anyone about it.

The shock of his not recognizing them is weird. Has he moved on? He left them before he was two, so how much should he remember? But leaving them couldn't have been easy. I guess I won't know until he is much, much older if even then. again no great conclusion. Just sharing the moment, the thoughts.

Privacy - Theirs this time

The boys get very dry skin in the winter. I've tried everything, but the bottom line is they hate moisturizers. In search of a solution, I've convinced them that the Greek God used olive oil so they should too. Yes, after a bath, they get slopped all over with olive oil. They are cool with the routine, and overall, it does really help the dry skin issue.

So tonight we had a new twist. The Big Boy told me I couldn't put it on his "penis". First of all, I'm not sure I ever have. Second, he seems a little penis consumed at the moment. For example, tonight he laid back in the bath and informed me that his penis was the 'light house' on his island. I thought it was creative, but hey, there are some things I'm just not sure how I should respond.

Anyway, the discussion went like this,

"I won't put oil on your penis."

"I bet you do!"

"No. really I won't. You know, your penis is a private part and no one but you and the doctor really have a need to touch it."

"Really?"

"Yep, really."

Somehow I just know this conversation is going to make it to preschool. Oh, well. I try.

New Year's resolutions

I've not been a fan of Resolutions, and haven't made them in the past. But the last couple years have been a roller coaster and leaving this year (2009) where I started taking a greater control of my time and destiny, I choose to take it even farther in 2010.

So the resolutions:

• Get the finances in order - complete the tax filings for all business, refinance a loan or two, have the quick books running on all accounts (including the hubby's business and hour household spend). Sort out the school priorities and costs.
• Get the photos in order - I still haven't printed our 2008 photo album or our trip to China album. Let alone getting on with the now due one for 2009.
• Get the businesses in order - which means finding a balance in working both jobs, delegating and staying organized. It is not that I'm inefficient, it is that I'm trying to accomplish huge task, and it simply takes time.
• Teach the eldest to wipe his own butt. Do I really need to continue to wipe every time he poops? Like who does it when he's at school.
• Lose/maintain weight. I eat healthy for the most part and cook well. But I'm not looking for a lot here, really just 8-10 lbs.
• Increase my income. I want to triple consulting income in 2010, I want to join 2 more public boards and meet the consulting income with board income. I want Fierce Fun Toys, to launch 2 new toys, 11 more books, and see profitability.

No resolutions regarding the kids. They need to grow and do things at their own pace. I just stick along for the ride. The Big Boy is changing schools this Fall, so I hope to be supportive and there for that. The Little Man has to qualify for therapy each year. While it is great he is getting therapy, I look forward to the time when he doesn't qualify. It doesn't seem fair to put pressure on them to perform, when I already have enough pressure on me.

To 2010!

Ownership and responsibilities.

I'd been thinking about writing about this particular topic for a while and to be frank, I've hesitated as I really didn't want to offend anyone.  But it crept up again this week, and today, so I'm going to come out with it.

The only thing I have found different about having a biological child and an adoptive child, is that when "issues" creep up with the adoptive child, I tackle them straight on without hesitation or embarrassment, but with full ownership of suppling a correction.  

I first noticed this when I started seeking Early Intervention help for the Little Man.  I went into the process seeking help with speech and anything else they saw that I might have missed or not known about.  When we started therapy, I met with all the therapist and wanted to understand what they were going to do and how it all worked.  When they gave progress reports, I also gave them progress reports from my end of what had changed in his abilities/behaviours, and what I thought was not where it should be.  They were always a bit paused when they I told them what I still didn't think was moving along as much as I hoped.

Recently, with the state funded therapy, one of our therapist, the physical therapist, left the agency we are working with and the new therapist wanted to give me her assessment.  She did hesitantly, and when I agreed that the Little Man is still lacking significantly in stomach and upper body muscle tone, she commented that often parents became offended when she raised this particular issue.  I told her everything I see and what I want to concur with him.  She is on board.

I also saw this when my sitter had to take the Little Man to therapy for the first time.  She didn't tell the other sitters, although I'm totally open about the amount of therapy he's undergoing.  None of the therapy is life-long stuff in my opinion.  It all is about catching him up to the 'Norm' and giving him any tools he need that he may have missed at the appropriate age/development stage.  She came back from that first session telling me that there were three other sitters there with kids she knew but didn't know any of them were receiving therapy.

So, I go for what he needs.  I talk about it and I don't hide it at all.  In fact I've suggested therapy to others that hadn't even wanted to consider the need.  But since I blame it on lack of stimulation/opportunity to explore the appropriate development milestones at the age most kids hit, I take little ownership to the cause of his delays.  I take full ownership of finding the tools to correct the delays.

The outcome of this, is the surprise for me.  The Big Boy, although 5, and now wanting to write his name, which he mostly does really well, does not memorize as quickly/well.  He knows the difference between numbers and letters, but he doesn't recognize all the letters 1-9, and cannot recite the alphabet.  I wish he could.  I work with him to try and make numbers and letters fun.  But I have felt bad on occasion that I'm not doing enough.  But with the issues with the Little Man, I have no personal concerns about whether I'm doing enough, I just do what I can.

So far, this is the one difference I find.  Ownership of the shortfalls.  And you know what, the reality of the adoption, is teaching me that I shouldn't take ownership of the cause of any disappointments I have with the Big Boy, but that I should just continue to find the tools to help them grow, not focus on the delay itself.