I want to start this off by saying that we know we’re not the first people on planet earth to do this. Plenty of other people have adopted three (or even more) kids. Heck, some parents hit that number or more the old-fashioned way all at once. So, just know I write this with the humility it deserves, at the same time…who’s idea was this again? READ MORE »
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Starting a Season
As I write this, I’m sitting in a van headed back to Debrecen with the kids. In the back seat, Our soon to be middle child has fallen asleep on Amy’s shoulder and our oldest is playing Duo Lingo learning English. Here in front with me I just had to gently nudge the youngest into a better position so his sleepy little head didn’t fall into his lap. How are kids that age so…so…bendy? I wanted to start this post now because of what all is bouncing around in my mind. No doubt every parent who adopts goes through this, the day has come. Amy and me, I think at this point, are suitably excited and terrified at the same time. I can’t help but think about what is going to happen over the next 24 hours. These three kids will sleep in the beds and home they’ve known for four years for the last time and will say goodbye to a truly great foster mom. It’s going to be a whole new world for all five of us. It’s likely the youngest and even the middle don’t fully understand what it means, but even knowing doesn’t keep this kind of big change from being painful. Just yesterday we had our first meltdown with the youngest, and while the girls went grocery shopping I stood alone in a house in a foreign country with a little child yelling “I want to go home,” over and over again in a language I had to translate. After an hour all was fine and we were gigging and watching a cartoon, and “home” eventually came. Starting tomorrow though, home won’t even be on this continent anymore and it’s going to be a while before that’s even processed.
Tomorrow afternoon, if all goes well, we will be taking temporary custody of these kids and starting the thirty day bonding period. This, most likely, will be the most difficult few days we have here as the reality sinks in for the kids. They won’t be going back to the foster home and this sweet woman and the bearded guy who don’t speak their language are taking care of them now. I’ll be stressed, Amy will be stressed, they’ll be stressed, there will be crying (I’ll try and hide it from the children). We’ve been told that while this first month in country is about bonding, it’s also about “survival”. Having lived in another country before I can definitely say that it can be complicated and exhausting just on its own, and we’re now adding a whole new layer to it, three actually. Right now there are a lot of mixed emotions. In order to get to the ultimate goal of these kids having a forever family we have to go through a process, and that process is going to cause pain. Ultimately, these are great kids and while we expect there to be a rough few days and weeks ahead of us as we all adjust we know it’s just a season (not to mention the funny story potential here is a gold mine). That all being said, we’re not sure when the next time we’ll be posting exactly so stay tuned, the next post could very well be titled: #Bashampartyof5: Hungarian Mutiny
(Sorry if there are more misspellings and grammar problems than usual. I didn’t have a lot of time for editing)
Hi Hungary, I’m Dad
Now that I’m officially allowed to make Dad jokes I figured I’d get in a two-fer right off the bat. I’m pretty proud of the one in the title (ok, I’m still technically not a dad, but I own the blog so I make the rules). We have now, though, spent the last three days visiting with the kids and it’s amazing how awesome and awkward it can be all at the same time. READ MORE »
Live: From Hungary
A great philosopher once said, “…home is where your rump rests.” – Pumbaa.
So here we are, our rumps resting in Nyíregyháza, Hungary. Technically, this whole thing started three days ago but we’re just now getting far enough through the jet lagged haze that we’re able to do things that require more concentration than making coffee. So, here we go. READ MORE »
Long Story Short
(If you’re not coming here from the link on Facebook and want the really short version of the news here’s the link: https://www.facebook.com/abasham Mine is funnier though )
There’s a story about me on a car ride to church one evening that I only vaguely remember but I believe my mom has written down in the Bible she used at the time. On this ride I asked my dad, who was a pastor and would be preaching that evening, if his sermon was going to be long or short that evening (something special was going on the next day). He told me that it was going to be, “about average I guess, why?” and I apparently replied, “Oh, well, I was wondering if you knew how to make a long story short.” Those of you who know me may know I can sometimes struggle doing that myself…hey, stop laughing! It’s true, I love a good story, and it’s hard to squeeze all the funny out of one if you make it too short. I’m going to do my best here, but ¯\_(ツ)_/¯. READ MORE »
Mountains and Men
On this day three years ago, I stood in a room with my brother and sister and watched my dad take his last breath. Even now I can’t really describe to you what that feels like to watch the man I’d grown to respect and love not just as a “father” but as a friend and mentor slip away when I’d expected him to be there for many years to come. The last thing I’d written about my dad that other people have read up until this point was his resignation letter to the church he was the pastor of when he died and a quick post on this blog. I can’t remember exactly when, but not long after he passed I told myself that I wouldn’t write anything substantial about him for other people to read for a year. After a year, each time I tried I found that I just couldn’t do it. The words wouldn’t come, until today. Why that was the case turns out to be a testament to the man Mickey Leon Basham Sr was to his last day. READ MORE »
Adventures in Paper Pregnancy
I think it goes without saying that adoption is a wee bit different than your average pregnancy. The obvious things are missing. The baby bump, the ultrasounds, the cravings…well I’ve been wanting ice cream but I’ve being told by my wife that apparently that doesn’t count…*sigh*…fine. In any case we’ve long come to terms with the fact that we’re not going to get the average expecting parents experience (sounds like a Disney thing doesn’t it? “The Expecting Parents Experience” *cue music*). However, we get our own experience that involves no stretch marks, back pain, or morning sickness as far as Amy is concerned (I on the other hand…ok I’m just kidding I don’t have any of those…maybe). So what’s the catch? Well, what we do get is a process that takes over twice as long and involves more paperwork than your standard mortgage. Sound fun? Lets dive in…
Big News
Ah ha! I surprised you didn’t I? I’ll bet you’d completely forgotten that you’d subscribed to this blog way back when we were off gallivanting around Europe. Well, one of us was gallivanting anyway, the other one was working…sorry Amy. In any case, since returning to the United States after our time across the pond life’s been pretty un-blogworthy for the most part. Rental houses, jobs, laundry (ugh, laundry….but I can run both washer and dryer at once, thank you America). BORING. Much of “regular” life is, which makes it hard to be funny about it.
Well, I’ve come to tell you that “boring” is slowly coming to a close. We have devised a plan so cunningly brilliant that it should make the rest of our entire lives blogworthy! It is here I choose to announce my plans to run for President of the United States! Wait, wait, wait, no, wrong blog. Sorry. We all know someone like me could never be elected to public office, the cat stories alone would disqualify me. So what’s the big story you should ask? Well I’ll tell you… READ MORE »
Almost Home (Longest. Layover. Ever)
I know what you’re thinking, “you guys got back to the U.S. Last October,” (or possibly, “uh… I thought you were dead.”) This is technically true (the first part, not the dead part) however, due to some bad timing, we’ve had a bit of a layover.
Eastern France
One of the main reasons that this trip is taking place is because an Uncle of Amy’s Dad fought in World War II and actually passed through some of the areas that we were visiting. It was also a really good excuse to get to see a lot of WWII history sites that many of us have read about but never really seen. In this part of the trip we were staying in France but fairly close to the German border where the Maginot and Siegfried lines are as well as some other sites. So it is here where we got to nerd out a little bit on WWII history.
We started out at what was once an artillery bunker that a German fellow has purchased and turned into a museum that would have been part of the Siegfried line at one time. The German line took a different approach than the French. Where the French made essentially a single line of bunkers that were all connected by tunnels, the Germans made several lines of individual bunkers. A thick line close to the front and two others thinning out the further away from the front you got. The inside of this bunker was pretty interesting. It was built after WWI but before WWII so it was designed for chemical warfare and could be completely sealed off from the outside air. All of the filtrations was done by hand crank (makes me feel for the lowest ranking guy). Only a few men actually would stay there at one time. He had a lot of the original equipment there.
The next stop was one of the entrances to the Maginot line. We didn’t have time to tour the place as it was actually pretty huge on the inside. However, we did learn some tidbits about it that I didn’t know. In particular, when Germany invaded France men locked themselves in the larger bunker and stayed there for months as they had food and water. They were eventually ordered to surrender by their commanders. Our guide said that after they came out their hair had gone white from the darkness and never changed back.
Along the way to our next stop we stopped at the German wine gate, a beautiful area where a gate and restaurant was built. At the time it was built they were trying to elevate the status of their wine to rival the wine made in France. At one spot a German soldier had carved a pretty good drawing of Texas on the wall for the sole purpose of being sent home. Apparently it worked.
Something else that I hadn’t really heard of until this trip was what was called the “dragon’s teeth”. Late in WWI, in response to trench warfare, the first tanks were developed in order to traverse them. As time went on they found other uses for them and after the war defenses had to be devised to guard against their use. It was here “dragon’s teeth” were devised to stop advancing tanks. Five rows of concrete “teeth” interconnected by rebar in two directions spanning several kilometers was made. Each successive row was slightly taller than the first making it so the tanks would get caught on them and the less armored “belly” could be aimed at. As I understand it to get over them they would be covered with dirt so that advancing tanks could cross.
Our tour finished in the hills, where yet more bunkers were built on steep inclining hills where the trees had been removed for sighting (the trees were all back now). All of these bunkers were destroyed after the war and only rubble remains now. Sadly, we were told that these bunkers would have been manned by the very old (who were conscripted into service toward the end of WWII) and the very young. These young men would have been of an age that had only known a Nazi Germany and as such were more likely to fight to the death against the Allies. The history is sad but it was an honor to have a German history buff (who did a great deal of research for us) to show us through all the different places. Here’s to you sir, thanks for your help and knowledge.
Throughout all this we stayed in a small quaint little town surrounded by vineyards and friendly people. It was practically romantic, which means it was a shame Amy wasn’t there. It was just us dudes so it was kind of wasted. Oh, well.
