6 Months Home

It’s hard to believe how quickly the last 6 months that Brandon has been home have flown by.  We are all doing really well.  It is amazing to me how a year ago we had no idea what God was going to do in our lives and Brandon had no idea either.  A year ago, every day I looked at the empty seat at our table, and the empty bedroom upstairs and continuously prayed about our adoption from Ukraine.  Little did we know during that time God was already preparing our hearts and Brandon’s heart to merge together as one family.  Honestly, I believe only God could merge us so beautifully and it is evidence of answered prayer.

We have really seen Brandon’s dramatic personality come out over the last month.  I have read and heard that Russians and Ukrainians are very passionate people and are very expressive with their language and waving their arms to get their point across. Brandon definitely meets this stereotype.  We call Brandon our little drama queen.  Here are a few examples of conversations so you can see what I mean.

While at Olive Garden he popped a jalapeño pepper in his mouth.  His face turned red.  He started sweating as he drank several cups of ice tea.  He said, “Oh my goodness. I am on fire. Ouch. This is hurting me.” Huffing and puffing and red faced and hand gestures and pacing right in the middle of the restaurant. We were all, of course, laughing because we warned him the pepper was hot and he said puffing his manly chest out, “This is not hot.  I eat this in Ukraine all of the time.”  Apparently he did not remember how hot they were or they are not as hot in Ukraine. He still talks about how he was on fire.

A few weeks ago, when I was driving the kids to AWANA.  Our girls brought 2 girlfriends with them that night.  Of course the 5 girls did what girls do best—sang, giggled, squealed and talked.  Finally, Brandon says, "Oh my goodness…All this womens. They so loud. This womens so annoying. I need my Papa." He was rocking front to back and covering his ears and sighing and moaning and groaning pretty much the whole car ride about “all the womens.”  Poor boy was feeling out numbered.

The other day 3 of the 4 kids had this conversation/argument over the number of French Bread Sticks they were eating:

Brandon to Katie: Why you eat so many of these?

Katie: I only had 7.

Brandon: 1 plus 7 equals 8, not 7. You are not smart.

Haley: Yes, Katie is smarter than you are. I think. Wait. I did not mean that in a mean way.

Brandon to Haley, talking passionately with both of his hands in her face: Why are you even talking? You make my head hurt and you cannot read.

Haley: (Gasping in shock). That was mean for sure.

Katie (refusing to show emotion): I had 1, then 6 so it is 7.

Brandon (frustrated by his inability to stand up alone against the “womens”): You womens are crazy. You give me a headache.

Another thing that is hilarious is he has a major disdain for hair. If the girls sit too close and their hair touches him, he freaks out and gets grossed out and is like “Agh, oh watch-a de hair!! Get this hair off of me!!”  If (heaven forbid) he finds a hair at the dinner table or anywhere else he has to close his eyes while he removes the hair from a distance, never touching his skin.  He cannot stand to see hair on his shirt or clothes or on a pillow or in a hair brush.  He will not let me comb or cut his hair if I have just done Tim’s and there is hair left behind.  I have to wash it off and let him inspect it before it can touch his hair.

Another quirk he has is with people talking with their mouth full.  He is legitimately grossed out by people talking with their mouth full. He stops eating and looks like he might vomit.  We laugh at him (of course with our mouths wide open and full of food) and he still opens his eyes to see if our mouth is opened or closed and then gets grossed out all over again.

If Tim and he are wrestling or fooling around he always is like, “Ow, my eyeball.  You break it.  My arm.  You break it.  Ouch. Arrrrrrrrr!!!!  My feets.  You are killing me.  I don’t like this hurt.  It is so boring.” Of course, if Tim stops, Brandon comes back for more.  

Often Tim will flex his bicep and point at it.  When he does, Brandon looks at him and mocks, “This is no muscle.  This is a tomato.”  So last week they were playing and Brandon punched Tim’s shoulder and “broke his hand” and Tim’s like, “Do you still think this is a tomato? Huh? Huh?”  (Brandon’s rolling on the floor in fetal position holding his "broken" hand.)

One last story.  Today we went out to eat and he had his favorite food: shrimp, a salad, garlic/butter pasta, bread and 6 cups of iced tea.  We got in the car and he says, “Oh my goodness. I am so full.  I am going to die.  My head and my stomach hurt and I eat too much shrimps.  Maybe, yes, I will throw up or maybe, no, I will tootie (the word his uses for passing gas).”  (I start laughing).  “Mama??  Why you laughing at me?  I really will die.  I am so full and all of this food is making me hurt bad.  I really need a bathroom.  Ohhh, this food is going to kill me. I eat too much.  You laugh, but I am die. You see?  I am die.”  

Anyway, as you can see, Brandon is so much fun.  He causes me to laugh constantly.  It is a lot of fun to watch Tim and Brandon constantly picking at each other until the point where they are eventually rolling around on the floor together.  Our girls never (used to) behave this way.  It is so new to me, but I enjoy it so much.  I am so thankful for the last 6 months and the calling in our lives to raise Brandon!