Last Sunday we celebrated five years since our oldest child was placed in my arms in a hot room in southern China. That means that I’m precisely five years and six days into this glorious adventure called motherhood.
The learning curve was vicious at first, but I’ve come a long way. I feel that I can say I’ve come a long way with conviction. You see, while I had these grandiose visions of instantly knowing all the answers before I was a mom, along the way, it has become clear to me that I still have so, so much to learn.
And that sometimes, my kids teach me the most important lessons.
Take my youngest for example. Or should I say my baby. He has taught me volumes.
He ran into my arms ~ and therefore into my life ~ at nearly 35 months old. He had been the apple of his foster mother’s eye. Because we were confident that he had been well loved in his younger days, my first instinct was to treat him as a older toddler instead of an infant.
And he let me know about it.