Adoption is a Life-Changing Experience

So I took Alex and Quinn to school today because I had visions of them on the bus carrying their science display boards and everyone pulling and poking at their boards and all the pictures and information falling off onto the floor of the bus. I can't tell you how elated I was this morning to have those two projects leave the house today. I hope both boys are proud of their projects and can hold their chins up. Quinn mentioned to me yesterday that a few kids had said, "Oh, no. Science fair is due tomorrow, and I haven't started!" Oh, brother.

I wanted to share my thoughts on another incident that is bugging me. We got the boys to bed pretty late last night because of (you guessed it) last-minute touches on the science projects. After family prayer, I told them, "You have five minutes to be in bed. I'm going to come down in five minutes, and you better both be in bed." Note: Alex moves in slow motion. There is no hurrying this boy. The bus can be on the corner, and he is like the rock of inertia, especially when you're trying to get him to read, do homework, or something else he finds unpleasant. And going to bed is unpleasant for him, although it's one of my favorite activities.

Anyway I waited for five minutes and went down to their room. Surprisingly both boys were in bed. However, Quinn's bed and floor were covered with clean socks, underwear, and undershirts that looked like they had been thrown there. I said, "What's going on?"

Quinn said Alex had taken them out of Alex's drawer and thrown them at Quinn, claiming they were Quinn's. Alex's story was the same. He was very bothered by the fact that Quinn's stuff was in his drawer and said he threw them over on Quinn's side of the room. I asked him why he couldn't simply have said, "Quinn, I think these are your things. Here, I'll put them in your drawer for you." Alex responded by putting his blanket over his head and ignoring me. He then gestured with his hand that he wants a wall put down the middle of the room. I knew exactly what he meant because he's already talked to me about it before.

I said, "Oh, you want a bedroom of your own? Did you have your own bedroom in Ukraine?"

"No."

"How many boys did you share your room with in Ukraine?"

Silence.

"Wasn't it seventeen? Seventeen boys in one room in Ukraine?"

"Yes, but my friends."

"Quinn is your friend. Quinn is nice to you. Not only is he your friend, but he's your brother. "

With that, I left the room.

I wanted to say, "This was Quinn's room before it was yours, yet Quinn has never asked to put a wall down the center. All the toys you play with are Quinn's. Quinn lets you use everything he has and has complained very little. Do you think this has been easy for Quinn or anybody else in our family? Do you know he has agreed to share his life so that you can have one? Do you realize how much less time and attention he has from me and dad so that we can help you with your homework, help you learn English, help you read?"

Well, that's what I wanted to say, but I didn't. I'm still smoldering about it. Maybe I should have said it. Maybe it would make me feel better to pull out the ledger of expenditures made to give him a home and show him what it took. He would be blown away. Maybe I should have removed ALL of the socks, undershirts, and underpants from Alex's drawer and put them in Quinn's drawer so Alex could remember what life was like in Ukraine and realize what a blessing it is to have a surplus of those clean items.

Or maybe I should just let it die and try to realize that this all has been traumatic for him too, that he lost his friends, his country, his name, his language, and his routine life in one day. As poor as it seemed to me, it was his life as he knew it, and it disappeared in one day. I hope he and I both will learn the lessons to be gained from this life-changing experience.