Wow, have you been reading the early rumours? They are seriously pointing to muffin man and I getting a new babe this month. Ava Jing might actually become jie jie. Say it might be true before she changes her mind about carrying a dirty diaper to the pail and thinking that is "cool".
Fine, change my life forever. I'll wait another 3 years before I can watch Katie and Matt again. (Why is she retiring to nightly news?) Good novels can wait for me, I don't need anything but cleaning baby bottles, dirty dishes and endlessly chasing a toddler up and down the driveway in attempts to keep up with neighborly goings on.
More on this to come. I am trying not to freak out about that thing I have been waiting over a year for...spent Ava's higher education money on...and tossed my career into the nearest recycle bin for. I am now ending sentences in prepositions, but who the hell cares...May might be our month.
Monday, May 08, 2006
Thursday, May 04, 2006
LETTERS - they are everywhere
Do you remember when you realized you could read letters? Everywhere you looked there were letters...spelling out words. They were everywhere in the car, in books, at the mall, on toys, even on the refridgerator. I remember that moment when it occurred to me that I could read letters and I couldn't stop...even if I wanted to. I even tried to stop maybe in a misguided attempt to stay young and naive. I was in a car traveling with my parents. The back seat of the station wagon was folded down and I was propped up in the back reading road signs. I was conscious of not wanting to read road signs, but I could nonetheless. Hey, why can't I stop when I want to? I asked myself. Perhaps I was about 6 or 7? I'm not very sure to tell you the truth.
It is happening to Ava now. She reads letters everywhere we go. On walks she reads street signs, she reads the letters off the front page of the newspaper, she likes to follow along with each book spelling out each title, she even watches my coffee mug in the morning. I wouldn't really call this reading because she doesn't seem to be able to phonetically sound out many words yet...she's just compulsively seeing and calling out those letters.
Perhaps this is what kids do before they learn to read? Do most little kids get obsessed with letters? And, why if she is so taken with letters can't she seem to get the hang of sounding out a word since she knows the letters and sounds? I've asked her if she wants to learn or practice the phonics and she always says no. So I drop it, real reading at 4 seems slightly precocious right? I'm sure she will learn when she's ready.
Maybe I'm the one who should do a little reading about the signs of early reading. Completely interesting... watching a child's world open up.
It is happening to Ava now. She reads letters everywhere we go. On walks she reads street signs, she reads the letters off the front page of the newspaper, she likes to follow along with each book spelling out each title, she even watches my coffee mug in the morning. I wouldn't really call this reading because she doesn't seem to be able to phonetically sound out many words yet...she's just compulsively seeing and calling out those letters.
Perhaps this is what kids do before they learn to read? Do most little kids get obsessed with letters? And, why if she is so taken with letters can't she seem to get the hang of sounding out a word since she knows the letters and sounds? I've asked her if she wants to learn or practice the phonics and she always says no. So I drop it, real reading at 4 seems slightly precocious right? I'm sure she will learn when she's ready.
Maybe I'm the one who should do a little reading about the signs of early reading. Completely interesting... watching a child's world open up.
Wednesday, May 03, 2006
The Cosmic Draw Day
Apparently something in the stars aligned yesterday and all of the weird and unstable humans living in my planetary circle were drawn to my doorstep and felt compelled to call my phone number.
At one point I had a lady who arrived unannounced at my doorstep shouting at me telling me my behavior was despicable and unforgivable. (We had a little volunteer gig together, but gees despicable? I've only known her a few months.) I do love that word despicable. Except when it is used in the same sentence with MY name. Wow, I don't think someone has been that mad at me since I was 12 and used a tennis racquet in my foyer to show off my tennis prowess to my brother and took out a Mexican hanging lamp in the process. Or well, come to think of it perhaps Muffin Man has been sort of peeved at me to that extent over the course of our 15 year betrothal...but only once or twice to THAT extent. He's of Irish decent and quick to anger...but quick to forgive and want to discuss dinner plans about 30 seconds after. Back to crazy lady...it was so Seinfeld bizarro that at one point I started to giggle...which in case you might not have guessed did not help the situation. Now I know why the folks who invented Prozac are living in palatial mansions with swimming pools. They deserve it. What happened in the end? She decided that perhaps her involvement with said volunteer gig might not be a good fit? Huh, ya think?
Then a few hours later a lady found my home number and called about sending her precious little ones to Chinese Culture Camp. I have been corresponding with this gal via e-mail giving her specific instructions on how to get the kiddies enrolled, it's not rocket science but apparently somewhat distressing should your IQ be below 25. So, everything she was asking had already been spelled out in English via personal email last week. Now for the average parent enrolling your kid in summer camp is a minor annoyance in life. The piece de resistance of the annoyance being that little part where you have to cut the check. Not for this chick. She was completely and utterly baffled by the fill in the blank process. You know the one where you fill in your name and your child's name and contact information? That was a well spent 20 minutes guiding her through which week to choose to attend camp. Then calculating how much was due...utter confusion and chaos. Dropping off the registration form at her child's school on Sunday? Seemingly impossible and most thought provoking on how to get registration form into the hands of volunteer Chinese Community Center volunteer. At one point I had to ask her if she could find the room directly next to the room where she drops her child each week for school. I attend class in that room and offered to personally help her walk the registration form to the appropriate person, since they might not be identifiable sitting behind the table marked REGISTRATION.
Want to know the ironic part? There is always irony in my life. I looked at the caller id upon taking this cryptic phone call. She was calling me from work ...a very large pharmaceutical company.
I tell you it took every thing I had not to ask her to call psycho angry lady from earlier in my day. Now that is one conversation where I'd pay to be a fly on the wall.
At one point I had a lady who arrived unannounced at my doorstep shouting at me telling me my behavior was despicable and unforgivable. (We had a little volunteer gig together, but gees despicable? I've only known her a few months.) I do love that word despicable. Except when it is used in the same sentence with MY name. Wow, I don't think someone has been that mad at me since I was 12 and used a tennis racquet in my foyer to show off my tennis prowess to my brother and took out a Mexican hanging lamp in the process. Or well, come to think of it perhaps Muffin Man has been sort of peeved at me to that extent over the course of our 15 year betrothal...but only once or twice to THAT extent. He's of Irish decent and quick to anger...but quick to forgive and want to discuss dinner plans about 30 seconds after. Back to crazy lady...it was so Seinfeld bizarro that at one point I started to giggle...which in case you might not have guessed did not help the situation. Now I know why the folks who invented Prozac are living in palatial mansions with swimming pools. They deserve it. What happened in the end? She decided that perhaps her involvement with said volunteer gig might not be a good fit? Huh, ya think?
Then a few hours later a lady found my home number and called about sending her precious little ones to Chinese Culture Camp. I have been corresponding with this gal via e-mail giving her specific instructions on how to get the kiddies enrolled, it's not rocket science but apparently somewhat distressing should your IQ be below 25. So, everything she was asking had already been spelled out in English via personal email last week. Now for the average parent enrolling your kid in summer camp is a minor annoyance in life. The piece de resistance of the annoyance being that little part where you have to cut the check. Not for this chick. She was completely and utterly baffled by the fill in the blank process. You know the one where you fill in your name and your child's name and contact information? That was a well spent 20 minutes guiding her through which week to choose to attend camp. Then calculating how much was due...utter confusion and chaos. Dropping off the registration form at her child's school on Sunday? Seemingly impossible and most thought provoking on how to get registration form into the hands of volunteer Chinese Community Center volunteer. At one point I had to ask her if she could find the room directly next to the room where she drops her child each week for school. I attend class in that room and offered to personally help her walk the registration form to the appropriate person, since they might not be identifiable sitting behind the table marked REGISTRATION.
Want to know the ironic part? There is always irony in my life. I looked at the caller id upon taking this cryptic phone call. She was calling me from work ...a very large pharmaceutical company.
I tell you it took every thing I had not to ask her to call psycho angry lady from earlier in my day. Now that is one conversation where I'd pay to be a fly on the wall.
Friday, April 28, 2006
We have windows...raccoon beware
Sure does change the look around her with windows in place. Next week a coat of paint to make it match the rest of the house and the outside will be fetching...for sure.
Now moving west about ten feet to the deck we have a slight problem. A raccoon has been living under the deck for about 8 years, give or take. He happily hibernates under there only to make an appearance when he smells hamburger from the grill. He waits until the grill is closed up and then makes his way over the top of the grill and helps himself to the drippings. (How do we know? Raccoon tracks of course. And we've occasionally seen him belly up in the bird bath sunning himself in the water believe it or not.) Because the Muffin Man is an avid griller our little raccoon is now somewhat ahem, portly. This is not a big deal to us. Quite frankly he can eat until he explodes for all we care. However, with the new construction there will be a step that will close off the entry/exit at the foot of the decking.
Here was my question to our contractor today. Ugh, what if you build the new step and close off the raccoon while he is under the deck? He could get stuck and die. This is no 2 oz. mouse, folks. If this guy goes...it isn't going to be pretty and it might smell for a while too. What should we do? Not worry about little chubs and let him try to claw his way out on the other side by digging ravenously through my azeleas or call an animal trapper to entice him out and then let him free after the decking is closed off. Contractor man says oh no, they don't let them back out. They say they take them to some sanctuary up north but that's probably code for what they really do to them. Ha Ha Ha. Great, I'm thinking. My choices are trapping and risking that he gets the ax from some animal control anti-PETA people or possibly letting him die the slow death..or let's be honest ruin my next back yard bar-b-que.
What would you do? One one hand he has sort of felt like the backyard mascot since we caught him sunning himself in the bird bath a few years ago. On the other hand..he is a raccoon after all and aren't they the most resourceful of resourceful woodland animals? Should I be looking for area rugs for the addition instead?
Thursday, April 27, 2006
Term Limits
I'm all for term limits. You see I am 2 1/2 years into a three year stint on my local FCC (Families With Children From China) board. I have even found myself in the lead position this year. I know that the great adoption specialists and internets have some differing opinions on local chapters of FCC. Overall I am a supporter of FCC, well, heck I'm on the board and donate a silly amount of hours to the organization. I don't believe FCC will give my kids exposure to heritage or anything but it does keep families who do have this adoption connection, connected for lack of a better word. And, I can say that through my connections at FCC I have met and befriended several Chinese community families. This is truly what I am grateful for...and we will probably take our membership with the Chinese Community Center more seriously than FCC as time goes by. I have also made dear friends through FCC who have been enormously supportive through our travels with Ava and now the new baby coming.
But back to term limits. As I round out my time on the board I find myself getting more and more frustrated with families and even another board member. Some of these people just don't get the adoption and multiracial family important issues. (Of course, this means my opinion of what is important.) I would say six months ago I was still gung ho with trying to bring families to the Chinese Community Center, nudging them to stretch a little and attend an event where THEY might be in the minority. I would nudge them to sign their kids up for culture camp when not much English would be spoken. I've been an advocate for trying to get the Jean McLeods and Jane Browns of the adoption community here to speak to our FCC community. I always vote that our programming should be education and heritage based rather than just meet at a hotel and have the kids wear their chinese outfits. Now, I know why term limits are a good thing for public service and volunteer board positions...you get tired and then you get pissy. Or, well I have anyway.
I have less and less patience with our members. I am becoming judgemental of some of the families decisions. I am becoming judgmental of a board member's ideas of where we should focus time and energy. This is perhaps why it will be good to get some new faces and ideas and attitudes.
I have learned a lot leaving my well paid business job and trading it in for Mommy in Chief and Volunteer Queen. But perhaps I'm ready to trade in my crown for plain old mommy hair clip.
But back to term limits. As I round out my time on the board I find myself getting more and more frustrated with families and even another board member. Some of these people just don't get the adoption and multiracial family important issues. (Of course, this means my opinion of what is important.) I would say six months ago I was still gung ho with trying to bring families to the Chinese Community Center, nudging them to stretch a little and attend an event where THEY might be in the minority. I would nudge them to sign their kids up for culture camp when not much English would be spoken. I've been an advocate for trying to get the Jean McLeods and Jane Browns of the adoption community here to speak to our FCC community. I always vote that our programming should be education and heritage based rather than just meet at a hotel and have the kids wear their chinese outfits. Now, I know why term limits are a good thing for public service and volunteer board positions...you get tired and then you get pissy. Or, well I have anyway.
I have less and less patience with our members. I am becoming judgemental of some of the families decisions. I am becoming judgmental of a board member's ideas of where we should focus time and energy. This is perhaps why it will be good to get some new faces and ideas and attitudes.
I have learned a lot leaving my well paid business job and trading it in for Mommy in Chief and Volunteer Queen. But perhaps I'm ready to trade in my crown for plain old mommy hair clip.
Monday, April 24, 2006
Tub Time Talk
Ava and I have some pretty intense conversations while she is bathing in our garden tub. She likes to spread out with lots of warm sudsy water, barbasol shaving cream in no less than three colorful stacking cups, a little tub paint in yellow red and green, and paint brushes. She calmly decorates the white walls while I lay back with a pillow and a magazine.
She is most often surprisingly low maintenance in the tub. The warm water seems to pleasantly lull her normal boisterous busy way. Of course, I do everything I can to encourage this quiet time. She has always been a water baby. She was happy from day one to soak in tubs and pools, never afraid of any water. I for one completely understand the effects of hydrotherapy, as I too have always been drawn to the magical ways of warm water.
She had been quiet for a while the other night when she started calmly telling me this story.
"Mom, did you know about this guy named Jesus?" Well, I suppose I have heard some stories, I told her. (Her recent preschool biblical stories have been challenging me lately. I would rather focus on spirituality as a whole and what it can mean for daily life and how we can approach life's challenges and journeys rather than organized religion. But I'm finding universal thoughts, simple laws of quantum physics involving space and time with regards to what appears to our eyes to be real vs. universal truth, and God as love to be diffucult concepts to share with a 4 year old, as she questions me about where EXACTLY God is. It seems admittedly easier to have a children's book laying it all out there in full color.)
She goes on to tell me her story nonetheless.
See there was this guy Jesus and there were some people who did not like him. One guy Spartacus really was mad at him. And Spartacus took Jesus to a bridge and killed him. That wasn't very nice was it? And Jesus ended up where Benny's dog, Joe ended up, in heaven. (Benny is our neighbor and his dog Joe passed away a year ago. Ben's mom told Ava and Ben one day that Joe went to heaven.)
I stopped the conversation to ask her if she might have Spartacus mixed up with a guy named Pontious and might the bridge have really been a cross? "Oh yeah, maybe you are right Mom. she said, but I still don't really know EXACTLY where heaven is." "This is important, because if Bailey (our aging dog) goes to heaven then I might need to be able to talk to her and God."
At this point trying to go back to my magazine seemed pointless. Determined to give her something more than what is in the preschool primer I tell her that she can talk to God any time she wants by becoming still and quiet. All she has to do is lay back in the tub, close her eyes and talk away. Then remain still and quiet and God will talk back.
Sort of to my surprise, she did it. She quietly laid back and arose a few minutes later. "Hey, you are right Mom it works. I did talk and I did see God. Maybe I should tell Ben so he can check up on Joe." "Uh huh baby," is all I could muster.
Next week perhaps she'll ask about the vocabulary word proselitize, until then I'm sure Ben's parents might want to tackle this one themselves.
She is most often surprisingly low maintenance in the tub. The warm water seems to pleasantly lull her normal boisterous busy way. Of course, I do everything I can to encourage this quiet time. She has always been a water baby. She was happy from day one to soak in tubs and pools, never afraid of any water. I for one completely understand the effects of hydrotherapy, as I too have always been drawn to the magical ways of warm water.
She had been quiet for a while the other night when she started calmly telling me this story.
"Mom, did you know about this guy named Jesus?" Well, I suppose I have heard some stories, I told her. (Her recent preschool biblical stories have been challenging me lately. I would rather focus on spirituality as a whole and what it can mean for daily life and how we can approach life's challenges and journeys rather than organized religion. But I'm finding universal thoughts, simple laws of quantum physics involving space and time with regards to what appears to our eyes to be real vs. universal truth, and God as love to be diffucult concepts to share with a 4 year old, as she questions me about where EXACTLY God is. It seems admittedly easier to have a children's book laying it all out there in full color.)
She goes on to tell me her story nonetheless.
See there was this guy Jesus and there were some people who did not like him. One guy Spartacus really was mad at him. And Spartacus took Jesus to a bridge and killed him. That wasn't very nice was it? And Jesus ended up where Benny's dog, Joe ended up, in heaven. (Benny is our neighbor and his dog Joe passed away a year ago. Ben's mom told Ava and Ben one day that Joe went to heaven.)
I stopped the conversation to ask her if she might have Spartacus mixed up with a guy named Pontious and might the bridge have really been a cross? "Oh yeah, maybe you are right Mom. she said, but I still don't really know EXACTLY where heaven is." "This is important, because if Bailey (our aging dog) goes to heaven then I might need to be able to talk to her and God."
At this point trying to go back to my magazine seemed pointless. Determined to give her something more than what is in the preschool primer I tell her that she can talk to God any time she wants by becoming still and quiet. All she has to do is lay back in the tub, close her eyes and talk away. Then remain still and quiet and God will talk back.
Sort of to my surprise, she did it. She quietly laid back and arose a few minutes later. "Hey, you are right Mom it works. I did talk and I did see God. Maybe I should tell Ben so he can check up on Joe." "Uh huh baby," is all I could muster.
Next week perhaps she'll ask about the vocabulary word proselitize, until then I'm sure Ben's parents might want to tackle this one themselves.
Saturday, April 22, 2006
This Brought To You By General Contracting Today
Our normally scheduled programming of whining till the cows come home about the whereabouts of our second daughter currently living somewhere in China has been interrupted by general contacting fun. I apologize since I'm pretty sure no one truly cares about roofing shingles and the exact placement of cable wires and light switches.
However, it is big news here over on the cul-de-sac. Just ask the neighbor children. Apparently I've been paying decent money to entertain several children with bulldozers, wet mud, loud nail guns, and mushy cement for the last 4 weeks. I'd go door to door and charge the nominal fee as payback but I've heard that there are a few mothers of napping babies that might hunt me down in in gang land fashion to whip me for employing noise makers during the 1pm nap time hour. I'm keeping a low profile to avoid civil unrest...and to protect me from the most vicious of all human creatures, the tired mothers of un-napped children.
So, as I breathe quietly here behind the picket fence I'm watching this....
And this....
Riveting, I'm sure if you will not be the ones cozying up to that future built-in window bench to watch the cardinals chase the robins through the window.
Oh yes, I almost forgot one more thing. How could I forget it as it aged me about 10 years? I took Ava to a large public park this afternoon by myself since the Muffin Man is off once again trying to earn buckets of cash to pay for my little "let's add a playroom" idea. I admittedly let my guard down for 1 minute and started chatting it up with another China adoptive mom. She had an 11 month old and I was simply smitten. I looked up from my baby haze and Ava was gone. I circled the play area three times. Running faster each time. No Ava. My heart started beating fast, really fast. I was scanning the crowd for weird looking men. (Stereotype I know but I was panicking.) I was now running in circles trying to remember what she was wearing, I could not. I was screaming Ava Ava Ava after the third circle. The other mothers and fathers stood still not knowing what the hell this crazy lady was screeching about. I saw another play area off in the distance but never once thought she would stray that far, she is only 4 and this play area was clearly a few minutes run from where we were. Scurrying from swings to large slide I made my way screaming for her. I'll be damned if that little kid wasn't happy as pie making a new friend at the top of a 2 story clubhouse slide. I swear I did not know whether to kiss her uncontrollably or yell at her for wandering off. I gained composure, and did a little of both. I felt like a complete idiot. Slacker mom for sure.
We had a long talk about being able to see Mommy at all times in public, running off is bad. It will put her mother in the crazy house. We took a big chill and made our way home. Now I am letting her walk the new roofing shingles on the addition....just to keep things interesting. Later we are going to play with matches.
However, it is big news here over on the cul-de-sac. Just ask the neighbor children. Apparently I've been paying decent money to entertain several children with bulldozers, wet mud, loud nail guns, and mushy cement for the last 4 weeks. I'd go door to door and charge the nominal fee as payback but I've heard that there are a few mothers of napping babies that might hunt me down in in gang land fashion to whip me for employing noise makers during the 1pm nap time hour. I'm keeping a low profile to avoid civil unrest...and to protect me from the most vicious of all human creatures, the tired mothers of un-napped children.
So, as I breathe quietly here behind the picket fence I'm watching this....
And this....
Riveting, I'm sure if you will not be the ones cozying up to that future built-in window bench to watch the cardinals chase the robins through the window.
Oh yes, I almost forgot one more thing. How could I forget it as it aged me about 10 years? I took Ava to a large public park this afternoon by myself since the Muffin Man is off once again trying to earn buckets of cash to pay for my little "let's add a playroom" idea. I admittedly let my guard down for 1 minute and started chatting it up with another China adoptive mom. She had an 11 month old and I was simply smitten. I looked up from my baby haze and Ava was gone. I circled the play area three times. Running faster each time. No Ava. My heart started beating fast, really fast. I was scanning the crowd for weird looking men. (Stereotype I know but I was panicking.) I was now running in circles trying to remember what she was wearing, I could not. I was screaming Ava Ava Ava after the third circle. The other mothers and fathers stood still not knowing what the hell this crazy lady was screeching about. I saw another play area off in the distance but never once thought she would stray that far, she is only 4 and this play area was clearly a few minutes run from where we were. Scurrying from swings to large slide I made my way screaming for her. I'll be damned if that little kid wasn't happy as pie making a new friend at the top of a 2 story clubhouse slide. I swear I did not know whether to kiss her uncontrollably or yell at her for wandering off. I gained composure, and did a little of both. I felt like a complete idiot. Slacker mom for sure.
We had a long talk about being able to see Mommy at all times in public, running off is bad. It will put her mother in the crazy house. We took a big chill and made our way home. Now I am letting her walk the new roofing shingles on the addition....just to keep things interesting. Later we are going to play with matches.
Tuesday, April 18, 2006
The Walls, What Amazon Thinks I Should Read, and Flamingos
Today's update in the ever inspiring saga that is our lives contains a lively melange of goodies.
First, The Wall. No Pink Floyd did not miraculously visit the cul-de-sac. No eyebrows were inadvertently shaved. Thank goodness, especially after the scissors meet the pigtail debacle of January 2006. One pigtail is all this momma could honestly sacrifice this quarter.
Look, walls. Real walls. Or the beginnings of walls anyway. I pulled out a tape measure and started planning where furniture will go. But since the budget is a little tight...and we will be robbing Peter to pay Paul in the furnish the new play room department I had to put away the tape measure. Nonetheless, I am not discouraged. Quite the contrary really. Real walls people!
Second, What Amazon Thinks I Should Read. I got this in my email box today from the wise old sages at Amazon.com.
Store-Bought BabySandra Belton
Price:
$10.39
You Save:
$5.60(35%)
Release Date: (May 9, 2006)
Yes, apparently they think that based on my previous buying experience I would appreciate having a book called Store Bought Baby in my personal library. Again with the irony. I think that I will simply make a conscious choice to let this one go and not send hate mail to Amazon flunkies. Although, then again if I were in the right mood this could be highly entertaining for me for at least 30 minutes.
Third. Flamingos. I am obsessed with them. I saw them at the zoo last week and found some material in hot pink and black and haven't been able to stop myself for sewing them up. Here are the first two of 5 handbags. I swear I am not usually terribly preppy or girlie girl ( I own an embarassing number of Birkenstocks) but when you find a flamingo that agrees with you...you gotta go with the flow.
Aren't they the bees knees?
And finally...Ava Jing is completely and utterly bored with all the excitement that surrounds our little corner of the world. She is not embarassed to show it either.
Now, how's that for a "cutest kid in the world shot" for a peace out?
I know that I am not exactly fairly and equitably unbaised...but that's a cute kid. Come on.
First, The Wall. No Pink Floyd did not miraculously visit the cul-de-sac. No eyebrows were inadvertently shaved. Thank goodness, especially after the scissors meet the pigtail debacle of January 2006. One pigtail is all this momma could honestly sacrifice this quarter.
Look, walls. Real walls. Or the beginnings of walls anyway. I pulled out a tape measure and started planning where furniture will go. But since the budget is a little tight...and we will be robbing Peter to pay Paul in the furnish the new play room department I had to put away the tape measure. Nonetheless, I am not discouraged. Quite the contrary really. Real walls people!
Second, What Amazon Thinks I Should Read. I got this in my email box today from the wise old sages at Amazon.com.
Store-Bought BabySandra Belton
Price:
$10.39
You Save:
$5.60(35%)
Release Date: (May 9, 2006)
Yes, apparently they think that based on my previous buying experience I would appreciate having a book called Store Bought Baby in my personal library. Again with the irony. I think that I will simply make a conscious choice to let this one go and not send hate mail to Amazon flunkies. Although, then again if I were in the right mood this could be highly entertaining for me for at least 30 minutes.
Third. Flamingos. I am obsessed with them. I saw them at the zoo last week and found some material in hot pink and black and haven't been able to stop myself for sewing them up. Here are the first two of 5 handbags. I swear I am not usually terribly preppy or girlie girl ( I own an embarassing number of Birkenstocks) but when you find a flamingo that agrees with you...you gotta go with the flow.
Aren't they the bees knees?
And finally...Ava Jing is completely and utterly bored with all the excitement that surrounds our little corner of the world. She is not embarassed to show it either.
Now, how's that for a "cutest kid in the world shot" for a peace out?
I know that I am not exactly fairly and equitably unbaised...but that's a cute kid. Come on.
Friday, April 14, 2006
Friday Goods
There is not one thing happening on the adoption front. Unless you count this impulse purchase at Target. Actually, it wasn't exactly that. Mine are better. They are green with a red lady bug on each foot. Just couldn't find the picture on the target online site...but you get the drift.
So, what's a girl to do?
1. Shamelessly watch a bunch of workmen in my backyard from a cushy chair sipping lemonade. I had that oh wow, this is truly obnoxious watching them work their little buns off laying my new stamped concrete patio while I sit on my ass too lazy to even push my daughter in the swing.* So, I remedied that situation by offering them some lemonade and chips. (Previously snacked upon bag of chips but it was the thought that counts right?)
2. Dye Easter eggs with my babe. 2a. Read preschool handout about families who do not explain the true meaning of Easter to their children choosing instead to focus on the secular Easter Bunny and accompanying Easter mania that involves fun basket of goodies. ( I suppose that you might be able to guess their opinion of these heathen folks.) 2b. Throw away handout and head out towards Target for super fun albeit secular Easter basket stuff!
3. Let creative juices flow and sit down at sewing machine to create these fun handbags. I don't even know exactly what I am going to do with them yet. But a 50% off sale at the fabric store is nothing to sneeze off. I have fabulous pink flamingo fabric complete with obnoxiously cute pink trim for next week. More pictures to come.
Peace in the season folks....
Signing off...I have about 600 jelly beans to eat.
*Not a picture of my backyard but the concrete patio is very similar to our new area. Actual photos to follow next week.
So, what's a girl to do?
1. Shamelessly watch a bunch of workmen in my backyard from a cushy chair sipping lemonade. I had that oh wow, this is truly obnoxious watching them work their little buns off laying my new stamped concrete patio while I sit on my ass too lazy to even push my daughter in the swing.* So, I remedied that situation by offering them some lemonade and chips. (Previously snacked upon bag of chips but it was the thought that counts right?)
2. Dye Easter eggs with my babe. 2a. Read preschool handout about families who do not explain the true meaning of Easter to their children choosing instead to focus on the secular Easter Bunny and accompanying Easter mania that involves fun basket of goodies. ( I suppose that you might be able to guess their opinion of these heathen folks.) 2b. Throw away handout and head out towards Target for super fun albeit secular Easter basket stuff!
3. Let creative juices flow and sit down at sewing machine to create these fun handbags. I don't even know exactly what I am going to do with them yet. But a 50% off sale at the fabric store is nothing to sneeze off. I have fabulous pink flamingo fabric complete with obnoxiously cute pink trim for next week. More pictures to come.
Peace in the season folks....
Signing off...I have about 600 jelly beans to eat.
*Not a picture of my backyard but the concrete patio is very similar to our new area. Actual photos to follow next week.
Friday, April 07, 2006
Unplugged
It's Spring Break time over here at Twoladybugs. Wouldn't I just love to tell you that we are basking in the glorious sun of Cabo San Lucas, or the sandy beaches of Emerald Isle, NC, or St. Thomas USVI? Instead we are bidding everyone a big hello from the rather chilly sometimes gray skied Motown. Yes, Southeastern Michigan...Detroit folks.For all that Detroit lacks in the sun, sand and beach department it gains in the Grandpa Grandma department. And when you are 4 it is all about who is willing to succumb to preschool charming pleas of "play with me Grandpa, I spy with my little eye something gold." My poor father has certainly earned his racing stripes with most hours played with wickedly cunning and cute pleas for 24 x 7 attention.
So that is what my Ava has been up to. Me? I thought I'd be keeping up in blogland and yahoo group rumorville for impending adoption of Ava's sweet tempered mei mei. (See, I am sort of counting on a laid back sweet huggy bear baby...stay tuned for a reality check.) Alas, best laid plans have been foiled...as Grandma had to use HER computer for the better part of the week for HER business venture. Oh, the nerve leaving me unnplugged. So I admit the first two days feeling a little twitchy at 3pm in the afternoons not being able to get my internet fix. I contemplated starting a consulting firm for adoptive parents addicted to blogging and those ridiculous but candy to the diabetic yahoo groups in my spare time.
Then, a strange thing happened. I went with my brother, dad, and daughter to the park. And to the fancy schmancy mall. I watched ladies in crocodile 4 inch heels wabble around that hoity toity mall, now that's entertainment. I witnessed my always in control but newly retired father spontaneously purchase a pair of Keen walking shoes just for fun! He told my brother and I a few times that he had not planned on buying shoes that day, ahhh a stretch of the human spirit. I ate at a new Italian bistro for lunch. We visited a children's museum in Ann Arbor. I focused on all the children my child was making friends with at the park. I studied the children playing before me. I saw my child completely outsmart a child 2 years her senior at a game of tag by using her mind rather than her much shorter legs to outrun the competition.
Why am I mentioning all the mundane things we experienced on spring break? Because they were unplugged...and simple, and filled with how life is at this moment. Pure unadulterated life in the NOW. In my unplugged status, I've been happy. And can I tell you I haven't even had a Matt and Katie Couric fix with coffee and hazelnut creamer in almost 1 week? It's serious justification for time with the internets this coming week.
So that is what my Ava has been up to. Me? I thought I'd be keeping up in blogland and yahoo group rumorville for impending adoption of Ava's sweet tempered mei mei. (See, I am sort of counting on a laid back sweet huggy bear baby...stay tuned for a reality check.) Alas, best laid plans have been foiled...as Grandma had to use HER computer for the better part of the week for HER business venture. Oh, the nerve leaving me unnplugged. So I admit the first two days feeling a little twitchy at 3pm in the afternoons not being able to get my internet fix. I contemplated starting a consulting firm for adoptive parents addicted to blogging and those ridiculous but candy to the diabetic yahoo groups in my spare time.
Then, a strange thing happened. I went with my brother, dad, and daughter to the park. And to the fancy schmancy mall. I watched ladies in crocodile 4 inch heels wabble around that hoity toity mall, now that's entertainment. I witnessed my always in control but newly retired father spontaneously purchase a pair of Keen walking shoes just for fun! He told my brother and I a few times that he had not planned on buying shoes that day, ahhh a stretch of the human spirit. I ate at a new Italian bistro for lunch. We visited a children's museum in Ann Arbor. I focused on all the children my child was making friends with at the park. I studied the children playing before me. I saw my child completely outsmart a child 2 years her senior at a game of tag by using her mind rather than her much shorter legs to outrun the competition.
Why am I mentioning all the mundane things we experienced on spring break? Because they were unplugged...and simple, and filled with how life is at this moment. Pure unadulterated life in the NOW. In my unplugged status, I've been happy. And can I tell you I haven't even had a Matt and Katie Couric fix with coffee and hazelnut creamer in almost 1 week? It's serious justification for time with the internets this coming week.
Wednesday, March 29, 2006
Stunning News From The 'Burbs
We arose to a clatter this morning. You'd have thought it might be Christmas the way my little kid bounded down the stairs after hearing the tree removal service truck roll up into the cul-de-sac. I suspect that the poor guys who were here to remove the trees in preparation for delayed adoption distraction 2006, I mean playroom addition, were not expecting to perform their duties under the watchful eye of my four year old.
Breakfast with the tree climbing dudes. She voted it was better than the Doodlebops...that's a compliment.
Yes, stunningly interesting right? What did you expect when you opened a blog with the title Stunning News From The Burbs?
Tie a yellow ribbon around an old Ash tree and pull that puppy down. Let in the light, the light in my kitchen to be exact. I am feeling a little tree killing guilt, ok not enough stop the carnage but perhaps in a few weeks our family can plant a few new saplings in strategically placed beds away from the house. I'm sure my very republican Main Muffin Man will be hopping on my Earth Day excursion wagon (complete with tie dye and peace signs) with Ava in tow to the local nursery while I say a silent healing prayer for what is now sawdust hoping to be mulch if it's lucky. Jury is out on that one.
In other suburban news tomorrow is the Bunny Buffet at preschool. What is a Bunny Buffet? I honestly have no idea, and I was fine with that. My kid on the other hand was all about the Bunny Buffet trying to explain that she gets to bring some food, put in on a table and all the other little preschool bunnies must try it. Great, I'm thinking perhaps I will send these when I get the notice in the backpack. Apparently the Lutherns once again had other plans.
As I was dropping Ava off at school yesterday her teacher starts apologizing about the short notice but here is my sheet explaining what I am being asked to bring to the Bunny Buffet. I look down. Ava's Mom: Eggs, Deviled. 2 dozen. I look at Ava's sweeter than pie teacher and grin sheepishly, you want ME to make deviled eggs? By Thursday?
She says, "Well, yes you can make them right? I mean you have made them in the past right? You do know what they are?"
I snap back, "Ugh, of course I know what they are. It's just that...so what do you put in the middles after you boil them?" Embarassed, I catch myself. "Ugh, I'll go look it up at home."
I can be extremely inadequate in the domestic realm at times. Secretly, sometimes I sort of like the idea of rebelling just a tad when I feel myself sliding down the slippery slope to being just a little too June Cleaverish. See, if I suck at cooking and don't really give a rats ass about serving my child oranges and tricuits for lunch in my bed then surely that makes me a modern woman! (With a bed perpetually filled with crumbs...but that's another story.) Making deviled eggs for preschool bunny buffets was just not part of my master plan, when I decided to be the smartest woman, hottest wife and best mom evahh.
So, I know you're on the edge of that seat. Did she make the stupid eggs or what?
Breakfast with the tree climbing dudes. She voted it was better than the Doodlebops...that's a compliment.
Yes, stunningly interesting right? What did you expect when you opened a blog with the title Stunning News From The Burbs?
Tie a yellow ribbon around an old Ash tree and pull that puppy down. Let in the light, the light in my kitchen to be exact. I am feeling a little tree killing guilt, ok not enough stop the carnage but perhaps in a few weeks our family can plant a few new saplings in strategically placed beds away from the house. I'm sure my very republican Main Muffin Man will be hopping on my Earth Day excursion wagon (complete with tie dye and peace signs) with Ava in tow to the local nursery while I say a silent healing prayer for what is now sawdust hoping to be mulch if it's lucky. Jury is out on that one.
In other suburban news tomorrow is the Bunny Buffet at preschool. What is a Bunny Buffet? I honestly have no idea, and I was fine with that. My kid on the other hand was all about the Bunny Buffet trying to explain that she gets to bring some food, put in on a table and all the other little preschool bunnies must try it. Great, I'm thinking perhaps I will send these when I get the notice in the backpack. Apparently the Lutherns once again had other plans.
As I was dropping Ava off at school yesterday her teacher starts apologizing about the short notice but here is my sheet explaining what I am being asked to bring to the Bunny Buffet. I look down. Ava's Mom: Eggs, Deviled. 2 dozen. I look at Ava's sweeter than pie teacher and grin sheepishly, you want ME to make deviled eggs? By Thursday?
She says, "Well, yes you can make them right? I mean you have made them in the past right? You do know what they are?"
I snap back, "Ugh, of course I know what they are. It's just that...so what do you put in the middles after you boil them?" Embarassed, I catch myself. "Ugh, I'll go look it up at home."
I can be extremely inadequate in the domestic realm at times. Secretly, sometimes I sort of like the idea of rebelling just a tad when I feel myself sliding down the slippery slope to being just a little too June Cleaverish. See, if I suck at cooking and don't really give a rats ass about serving my child oranges and tricuits for lunch in my bed then surely that makes me a modern woman! (With a bed perpetually filled with crumbs...but that's another story.) Making deviled eggs for preschool bunny buffets was just not part of my master plan, when I decided to be the smartest woman, hottest wife and best mom evahh.
So, I know you're on the edge of that seat. Did she make the stupid eggs or what?
And it only took me 2 hours. I knew deviled eggs would be hard. Next year I call bringing the peeps.
Sunday, March 26, 2006
No Soup For You
Ahhh, it's been a wee bit of a let down here at Adoptive Baby Watch 2006 central today. Perhaps I'm a little bummed that my darling brother has left for the weekend, he was a nice baby distraction, wonderful company this weekend and all around good guy to have around the house.
Ava decided to color her name on a kitchen chair this morning with pink marker. That should have been enough to cure the "all I want is another one" blues. And it did for 20 minutes...I'm gonna kill her...oh, doesn't every kid do this at one point?...I'm gonna kill her since she is unrepentant...oh, perhaps she's just testing her limits, she's four, I'm gonna kill her...no I'm not, I want to give her a sister. Sniff sniff.
Am I experiencing a wee bit of pre-adoption blues? I fluctuate between wanting a baby so badly I can taste it to don't I have my hands quite full with my rambunctious sometimes cat-like 4 year-old? She can wander through whole days doing her own thing, purposely defying my every wish. She will sometimes defy me in public to the tune of running aimlessly through store aisles and I skreech at her under my breath, stay with me...make sure you can see me, you scare me with that behavior when you run away. But then, she will close the day by looking up at me gently stroking my lips saying, "Pretty Mommy, you are simply the best. I love you." And my heart melts, it aches as I hold her. I have never smelled anything so sweet as her silky head. The rough patch of skin on her cheek makes me want to gather take my tired glum body from the couch to get lotion to try to smooth it out. I've never experienced such a rollercoaster of love and frustration. For her, my first. And also for the baby that waits us to come pick her up. I wonder if I will live to breathe in the way her head smells. Will I get to twirl her hair around my finger while watching tv? Will she be even more independent than my first? Could I take it if she were? Will she be the cuddly child who fits perfectly into my lap and chest? Will I choose to let the wait torment my soul, longing for a due date another month? Maybe two?
Only time will tell...right?
Ava decided to color her name on a kitchen chair this morning with pink marker. That should have been enough to cure the "all I want is another one" blues. And it did for 20 minutes...I'm gonna kill her...oh, doesn't every kid do this at one point?...I'm gonna kill her since she is unrepentant...oh, perhaps she's just testing her limits, she's four, I'm gonna kill her...no I'm not, I want to give her a sister. Sniff sniff.
Am I experiencing a wee bit of pre-adoption blues? I fluctuate between wanting a baby so badly I can taste it to don't I have my hands quite full with my rambunctious sometimes cat-like 4 year-old? She can wander through whole days doing her own thing, purposely defying my every wish. She will sometimes defy me in public to the tune of running aimlessly through store aisles and I skreech at her under my breath, stay with me...make sure you can see me, you scare me with that behavior when you run away. But then, she will close the day by looking up at me gently stroking my lips saying, "Pretty Mommy, you are simply the best. I love you." And my heart melts, it aches as I hold her. I have never smelled anything so sweet as her silky head. The rough patch of skin on her cheek makes me want to gather take my tired glum body from the couch to get lotion to try to smooth it out. I've never experienced such a rollercoaster of love and frustration. For her, my first. And also for the baby that waits us to come pick her up. I wonder if I will live to breathe in the way her head smells. Will I get to twirl her hair around my finger while watching tv? Will she be even more independent than my first? Could I take it if she were? Will she be the cuddly child who fits perfectly into my lap and chest? Will I choose to let the wait torment my soul, longing for a due date another month? Maybe two?
Only time will tell...right?
Thursday, March 23, 2006
Cause and Effect
I think it is because I posted this on my refridgerator...that I am now hearing all about how the CCAA in Beijing has worked a whole month to process 5 or perhaps a whopping 6 days of paperwork referrals. Since our paperwork is 22 days out from the last day processed it might mean I will have to once again return these...which will of course break my heart in two distinct places since they have little hats that match...
and trade them for something a little more wooly, as in if the
powers that be continue to process in 5 day increments that would push my girls out to being about 6 years apart in age rather than the planned upon 3 to 3 1/2 years apart. And certainly Muffin Man and I will be climbing the Great Wall in the deepest darkest days of winter rather than sunny spring. Which is all really weird because when we started this process in February 2005 we were planning on traveling with mittens and parkas.
Excuse me while I go eat this.
That took about 2 seconds and I am no closer to seeing one little adorable child that is destined to steal my car keys and go joy riding with some long haired disrespectful boyfriend in the distant future. Oh for the love of God, bring on my darling little heathen.
And, if no one is going to send me a referral in the next 3 months I need to know because I plan on spending some serious money that I don't have on a margharita swilling sunburn inducing week away from my home town!
I simply cannot take this "bun in the oven" is getting overdone feeling any longer.
Muffin Man just called from some up north state where he is busy selling studly tools to men who wear flannel and nylon baseball caps without breaking in the rims. I broke the 98% chance of no referral for us next week. You know what he said? "I wasn't expecting a baby next week." This is proof that men are indeed from venus, because even the barrista at Starbucks is expecting our referral next week. Now I have to go break the news to her too, fabulous!
By the way I'd also like to share that my next door neighbor has been able to produce no less than 6 kids in the time that I have been successful with 1 and the thought of 1. Those are wicked odds. Maybe I'll go buy a powerball ticket. After I take that stupid referral call guide off my refridgerator of course.
and trade them for something a little more wooly, as in if the
powers that be continue to process in 5 day increments that would push my girls out to being about 6 years apart in age rather than the planned upon 3 to 3 1/2 years apart. And certainly Muffin Man and I will be climbing the Great Wall in the deepest darkest days of winter rather than sunny spring. Which is all really weird because when we started this process in February 2005 we were planning on traveling with mittens and parkas.
Excuse me while I go eat this.
That took about 2 seconds and I am no closer to seeing one little adorable child that is destined to steal my car keys and go joy riding with some long haired disrespectful boyfriend in the distant future. Oh for the love of God, bring on my darling little heathen.
And, if no one is going to send me a referral in the next 3 months I need to know because I plan on spending some serious money that I don't have on a margharita swilling sunburn inducing week away from my home town!
I simply cannot take this "bun in the oven" is getting overdone feeling any longer.
Muffin Man just called from some up north state where he is busy selling studly tools to men who wear flannel and nylon baseball caps without breaking in the rims. I broke the 98% chance of no referral for us next week. You know what he said? "I wasn't expecting a baby next week." This is proof that men are indeed from venus, because even the barrista at Starbucks is expecting our referral next week. Now I have to go break the news to her too, fabulous!
By the way I'd also like to share that my next door neighbor has been able to produce no less than 6 kids in the time that I have been successful with 1 and the thought of 1. Those are wicked odds. Maybe I'll go buy a powerball ticket. After I take that stupid referral call guide off my refridgerator of course.
Tuesday, March 21, 2006
Happy First Day of Spring!
Look what we woke up to this morning. Had to post the pics using Hello Picasa, since blogger was feeling a little frosty and uncooperative. Scroll down to see the Winter Wonderland on this first day of Spring.
Monday, March 20, 2006
Adopt One, Get More...A Lot More
When we started down the adoption path for the first time over 5 years ago I simply had no idea the amazing love and generosity we would encounter from others walking the same path. I suspected that our first adoption would work out just fine, even though all told it took 19 months the first time. I never really doubted our ability to love a child who did not share our DNA. I suppose this stems from my firm belief that children simply come through us, they are not really our children when we as human beings give birth to them. I've always felt that females have this gift to act as a vehicle for other human beings to enter our realm of the universe. I'm still not exactly sure why I personally wasn't granted this gift. But today it is what it is. My children are destined to come through another woman. I wonder sometimes if this is what helps to fuel a desire of many families in the adoptive community to connect? Something beyond blood, some other mysterious pull.
What I did not know over 5 years ago was that when you adopt through the International China program you have a whole loving and supportive network who seems ready and willing to bring you into the fold. Families that have nothing in common before Chinese adoption can quickly become fast and furious friends. I suppose it might be the same with other domestic and international programs as well, but I only have experience with China adoption. When this happened with a few of the families we adopted with the first time I came back to the States feeling like we had hit the friend jackpot. Families who are kind and open and live 5 minutes away. This new network of friends was invaluable to me as I "changed careers" from a business consultant to offering my consulting skills to only 1 little 8 month old kid full time.
It now appears that it is happening again. More incredible relationships blooming with families just because we are adopting again and have similar "due" dates. "Come to dinner, share a meal...don't stay in a hotel, share our home". This is what we heard this weekend. I for one am humbled by the generosity and willingness to share that our little unknown Chinese goodwill ambassadors seem to be creating from afar.
A special thank you to family S. We are glad to be in your presence and hope to be life long friends...oh yeah, and the big country breakfast rocked!
What I did not know over 5 years ago was that when you adopt through the International China program you have a whole loving and supportive network who seems ready and willing to bring you into the fold. Families that have nothing in common before Chinese adoption can quickly become fast and furious friends. I suppose it might be the same with other domestic and international programs as well, but I only have experience with China adoption. When this happened with a few of the families we adopted with the first time I came back to the States feeling like we had hit the friend jackpot. Families who are kind and open and live 5 minutes away. This new network of friends was invaluable to me as I "changed careers" from a business consultant to offering my consulting skills to only 1 little 8 month old kid full time.
It now appears that it is happening again. More incredible relationships blooming with families just because we are adopting again and have similar "due" dates. "Come to dinner, share a meal...don't stay in a hotel, share our home". This is what we heard this weekend. I for one am humbled by the generosity and willingness to share that our little unknown Chinese goodwill ambassadors seem to be creating from afar.
A special thank you to family S. We are glad to be in your presence and hope to be life long friends...oh yeah, and the big country breakfast rocked!
Thursday, March 16, 2006
Is It Ground Hog Day?
Woke up this morning and realized it was large motor day. Ava's preschool calls a glorified 2 hours in the basement with mats and a balance beam large motor. As in you get to exercise your large motor muscles? Yes, you volunteer to "man" a station, which by the way should be called "mom" a station, since I have yet to see anyone else get suckered into "man"ning the large motor areas other than your basic garden variety pre-school mom.
I digress. After 15 minutes with Katie and Matt I realized I needed to beat foot it through the morning routine. I had to get Ava off to preschool 10 minutes early so I would have time to grab a LARGE cup of coffee and be the first mom in line to choose which large motor station I would supervise. This being my second time, I am no preschool volunteer virgin. Get there early or you'll get stuck bunny hopping for 2 1/2 solid hours. My bunny feet weren't feeling so lucky 1 day post the bunny hopping debacle of Feb. 2006. To make sure I got the good station I arrived bright and early complete with Type A smirk written all over my face. I decided not to take pity on the mom who arrived 10 minutes late complaining of neck pain, hey no pain no gain lady. Get here early if you want the obstacle course. (On a side note, I did offer my chiropractors number for those of you who think me truly evil.)
So we started chatting as preschool moms will do. Someone asks me about the adoption. I launch into my standard schpeel. We still don't know. We are hopeful that we will make this month's cutoff. Our paperwork has been in China since June 05. No that doesn't mean we will travel in a few weeks it just means we get to see a tiny picture of her and read a 1 page report. Yadda Yadda Yadda.
Then another lady comes and sits down beside us. She was there last month when I was bunny hopping and apparently telling the exact same story. She says, "So, have you made any progress since last month?" Well, technically no. I have to admit. "So, nothing is new." Well, no I say with a strained laugh. Suddenly the conversation is changed to a discussion involving where to buy carpet.
And that is why today seems like Ground Hog Day. More of the same. I am even beginning to bore myself with the same story. Me, bore myself with my own stories. It is practically unheard of. Until Ground Hog Day, that is.
I digress. After 15 minutes with Katie and Matt I realized I needed to beat foot it through the morning routine. I had to get Ava off to preschool 10 minutes early so I would have time to grab a LARGE cup of coffee and be the first mom in line to choose which large motor station I would supervise. This being my second time, I am no preschool volunteer virgin. Get there early or you'll get stuck bunny hopping for 2 1/2 solid hours. My bunny feet weren't feeling so lucky 1 day post the bunny hopping debacle of Feb. 2006. To make sure I got the good station I arrived bright and early complete with Type A smirk written all over my face. I decided not to take pity on the mom who arrived 10 minutes late complaining of neck pain, hey no pain no gain lady. Get here early if you want the obstacle course. (On a side note, I did offer my chiropractors number for those of you who think me truly evil.)
So we started chatting as preschool moms will do. Someone asks me about the adoption. I launch into my standard schpeel. We still don't know. We are hopeful that we will make this month's cutoff. Our paperwork has been in China since June 05. No that doesn't mean we will travel in a few weeks it just means we get to see a tiny picture of her and read a 1 page report. Yadda Yadda Yadda.
Then another lady comes and sits down beside us. She was there last month when I was bunny hopping and apparently telling the exact same story. She says, "So, have you made any progress since last month?" Well, technically no. I have to admit. "So, nothing is new." Well, no I say with a strained laugh. Suddenly the conversation is changed to a discussion involving where to buy carpet.
And that is why today seems like Ground Hog Day. More of the same. I am even beginning to bore myself with the same story. Me, bore myself with my own stories. It is practically unheard of. Until Ground Hog Day, that is.
Wednesday, March 15, 2006
Which color, which finish, which bevel edge?
I have been shopping for hardwoods for about 2 years now, starting the process and then weaseling out. Jump starting the process by interviewing contractors only to then stop the process when I couldn't make up my mind or the reality of paying for the whole deal come to fruition.
Speaking of which, I think we've decided to go the home equity line route. Here's the funny thing, $29.99 for a new door mat was freaking me out the other day. Taking a home equity line of credit for a 18' x20' room addition and new hardwood floors in my house is well, play money. Hell, its so much money that it just doesn't even seem real. Laaaa laaaa, laaa I can't hear you. Name those 0000s on the back of that number and what the heck we are playing monopoly right?
I have been to 3 showrooms in 3 days. My palms are sweating and my contractor is umm..a little dismayed that I want to buck the system by perhaps purchasing from the close out warehouse people. I reminded him that if his people can cough up $2.45 a sq. ft. for maple in my beloved cinnamon stain by all means we'd be happy to strike up a back yard bar-b-que with his folks.
Maybe I will turn it over to this little gal. Heck it looks like I'm going to let her name my next kid after all. What is a hardwood decision next to that whopper.
Yeah, she looks confident about Maple in the cinnamon stain. I'd trust that face.
Saturday, March 11, 2006
True Confessions
Bless me Father for I have sinned. Sign the cross.
It has been approximately 25 years since my last confession.
(If I remember correctly it had something to do with Kathy Eppers and telling Tom Delaney that she liked him. Of course he was smooching Connie Cramer at the roller skating rink while roller dancing to Anita Ward's version of Ring My Bell at the time so who knows?)
I'm sorry your Grace, I digress.
I have cheated and looked at this....http://groups.yahoo.com/group/JuneDTC05/?yguid=120457033
It's not internet porn or anything like that but it is sort of the adopter's crack, so therefore I must absolve myself. Since I have been quite self righteous on my agency yahoo June group and have given lots of nunnerly advice to ride the straight and narrow, ditch the rumor mill and have faith in these cats. They will tell us everything we need to know. Bah ha.
My penance please, Oh skirt wearing, ring bearing, insense sniffing, wine sipping holy one?
Dear Wayward Catholic Stray:
Step away from the computer. Say 3 Hail Mary's. Go look for your grandmother's rosary. Head straight to the laundry room and fold something, think holy positive thoughts. Not what was under Sister Mary Carla's whipple in the sixth grade...holy pure thoughts.
It has been approximately 25 years since my last confession.
(If I remember correctly it had something to do with Kathy Eppers and telling Tom Delaney that she liked him. Of course he was smooching Connie Cramer at the roller skating rink while roller dancing to Anita Ward's version of Ring My Bell at the time so who knows?)
I'm sorry your Grace, I digress.
I have cheated and looked at this....http://groups.yahoo.com/group/JuneDTC05/?yguid=120457033
It's not internet porn or anything like that but it is sort of the adopter's crack, so therefore I must absolve myself. Since I have been quite self righteous on my agency yahoo June group and have given lots of nunnerly advice to ride the straight and narrow, ditch the rumor mill and have faith in these cats. They will tell us everything we need to know. Bah ha.
My penance please, Oh skirt wearing, ring bearing, insense sniffing, wine sipping holy one?
Dear Wayward Catholic Stray:
Step away from the computer. Say 3 Hail Mary's. Go look for your grandmother's rosary. Head straight to the laundry room and fold something, think holy positive thoughts. Not what was under Sister Mary Carla's whipple in the sixth grade...holy pure thoughts.
Thursday, March 09, 2006
Where's My Tool Man?
It's just us girls around here most of this week. Muffin Man is off gallivanting around Dallas selling some tools to people who obviously care about lots of tools. Me? I have too much estrogen or x chromosome"ness' and just can't bring myself to complete the study of hatchets and wratchets, hammers and saws galore. And in that lies irony. Here's why.
While the Muffin Man has been on his tool sales 2006 extravaganza which has been taking him to a city near you for the last 6 weeks I have been slowly and systematically tearing down the house. It is not intentional, mind you. It just seems that everything I touch around here seems to explode in my face. Last week I lost keys and ended up truly needing some magnetic tool thingy to help find them under the refridgerator. They weren't there but I ripped off the kick plate in the process. I have also melted sippy cup #4 in the dishwasher. We now have a lovely technicolor display if you feel inclined to stick you head in there. I'm considering having a few pops and enjoying the "pretty colors" for entertainment later. Yesterday, I ignored the water running rapidly through the downstairs toilet for a good two hours hoping denial would become my friend and it would miraculously stop. Eventually I couldn't take it anymore. I opened the comode lid and barely touched the arm thingy with the ball on the end. SNAP. It fell off into the tank. Water started filling higher and higher.
I know better but I panicked and called my man in a Dallas hotel room. (God, am I good under pressure or what?) After confusing me with words like pressure valve and gasket cover I gave up and tried to turn the water off completely. No luck...it started to spray all over the porcelain goddess. Turn it the other way, he patiently coaxed me on the phone. We are preferred customers at ARS Service Express, and that ended that conversation.
After I turned the water off in the bathroom and cleaned up the yummy toilet water I fed the kid. She asked if I was "in trouble". Hmmm, sort of. If you consider trading in a little shopping spree at Vic's Secret to try out the new IPEX Goes Wireless for $216.17 in plumbing repairs, yes I'd say that's trouble. Cranky trouble, girl.
While the Muffin Man has been on his tool sales 2006 extravaganza which has been taking him to a city near you for the last 6 weeks I have been slowly and systematically tearing down the house. It is not intentional, mind you. It just seems that everything I touch around here seems to explode in my face. Last week I lost keys and ended up truly needing some magnetic tool thingy to help find them under the refridgerator. They weren't there but I ripped off the kick plate in the process. I have also melted sippy cup #4 in the dishwasher. We now have a lovely technicolor display if you feel inclined to stick you head in there. I'm considering having a few pops and enjoying the "pretty colors" for entertainment later. Yesterday, I ignored the water running rapidly through the downstairs toilet for a good two hours hoping denial would become my friend and it would miraculously stop. Eventually I couldn't take it anymore. I opened the comode lid and barely touched the arm thingy with the ball on the end. SNAP. It fell off into the tank. Water started filling higher and higher.
I know better but I panicked and called my man in a Dallas hotel room. (God, am I good under pressure or what?) After confusing me with words like pressure valve and gasket cover I gave up and tried to turn the water off completely. No luck...it started to spray all over the porcelain goddess. Turn it the other way, he patiently coaxed me on the phone. We are preferred customers at ARS Service Express, and that ended that conversation.
After I turned the water off in the bathroom and cleaned up the yummy toilet water I fed the kid. She asked if I was "in trouble". Hmmm, sort of. If you consider trading in a little shopping spree at Vic's Secret to try out the new IPEX Goes Wireless for $216.17 in plumbing repairs, yes I'd say that's trouble. Cranky trouble, girl.
Tuesday, March 07, 2006
A pint sized swaggering sailor...with mended tooth
Yeterday at 9am sharp Ava had her teeth cleaned. While all was going well for me in the waiting room finding out why Heather Locklear is ditching Ritchie Sambora, Ava was enduring the dreaded pointy metal thing-a-ma-bob scraping and poking her teeth. To everyone's chagrin...it stuck to a molar indicating..dum..dum..dum...cavity.
Honestly I think the dentist, a strange wiley little woman was the most surprised and disappointed. Since I have experienced no less than 3 verbal lashings from this impish dentist in the past about the proper care and feeding of my daughter's pearly whites I pretty much took it in stride. She first rattled me up with gloom and doom back in early 2004.
Look, I don't know thing one about her prenatal care. I couldn't even venture to guess if there is a Chinese biological family out there somewhere with crummy teeth genes. And, of course there is that little matter of candy fest 2003-2006 fully supported by the Muffin Man, aka....her supplier. I have gently suggested that dessert and candy is not necessary every day. I have been met with the proverbial talk to the hand in the face about the matter and one little grinning kid with red gum drop juice falling down the side of her mouth. Thus, my lack of astonishment at our predicament.
So, at 8:20am this morning I arrived back at the impish dentist's office with a sorry little soul who had absolutely no idea what the next hour would entail. We were met at the door by impish dentist exclaiming "Well hello tall girl and tiny patient." I sneered and ran for another copy of People magazine crack. Paris is turning 25 without her Greek bizillionaire boy toy you know.
For the next hour I tried unsuccessfully to determine if the screaming coming through the walls was from my child. But because there was a steady stream of children flowing through the pediatric dental office...who really knew. I contemplated busting through the door to make sure some sort of mandibular torture was not being inflicted on my baby. But then opted for popping a suggestion of better insulation in the walls into the suggestion box.
Just as I was about to find out why Jodie Sweetin from Full House was addicted to crystal meth the nurse popped out and called my name.
There she was, a pint sized swaggering little drunken sailor swaying back and forth. Eyes slightly tipped, mouth a little red and swollen and a piece of cotton that looked remarkable like a cigarette hanging from her clenched jaw. I let out a nervous laugh. "Is she alright?" "Oh yes, model patient." the nurse proclaimed "It will just take a few minutes for the nitrous to wear off." Yeah, ya think?
She's a trooper. She decided to march herself right off to preschool after I told her she could take her new secret decoder ring to show the kids. She said she will expect me to help administer her new tatoo immediately after preschool.
Yup, further proof she's my little clean toothed, swaggering, tattoo bearing sailor.
Honestly I think the dentist, a strange wiley little woman was the most surprised and disappointed. Since I have experienced no less than 3 verbal lashings from this impish dentist in the past about the proper care and feeding of my daughter's pearly whites I pretty much took it in stride. She first rattled me up with gloom and doom back in early 2004.
Look, I don't know thing one about her prenatal care. I couldn't even venture to guess if there is a Chinese biological family out there somewhere with crummy teeth genes. And, of course there is that little matter of candy fest 2003-2006 fully supported by the Muffin Man, aka....her supplier. I have gently suggested that dessert and candy is not necessary every day. I have been met with the proverbial talk to the hand in the face about the matter and one little grinning kid with red gum drop juice falling down the side of her mouth. Thus, my lack of astonishment at our predicament.
So, at 8:20am this morning I arrived back at the impish dentist's office with a sorry little soul who had absolutely no idea what the next hour would entail. We were met at the door by impish dentist exclaiming "Well hello tall girl and tiny patient." I sneered and ran for another copy of People magazine crack. Paris is turning 25 without her Greek bizillionaire boy toy you know.
For the next hour I tried unsuccessfully to determine if the screaming coming through the walls was from my child. But because there was a steady stream of children flowing through the pediatric dental office...who really knew. I contemplated busting through the door to make sure some sort of mandibular torture was not being inflicted on my baby. But then opted for popping a suggestion of better insulation in the walls into the suggestion box.
Just as I was about to find out why Jodie Sweetin from Full House was addicted to crystal meth the nurse popped out and called my name.
There she was, a pint sized swaggering little drunken sailor swaying back and forth. Eyes slightly tipped, mouth a little red and swollen and a piece of cotton that looked remarkable like a cigarette hanging from her clenched jaw. I let out a nervous laugh. "Is she alright?" "Oh yes, model patient." the nurse proclaimed "It will just take a few minutes for the nitrous to wear off." Yeah, ya think?
She's a trooper. She decided to march herself right off to preschool after I told her she could take her new secret decoder ring to show the kids. She said she will expect me to help administer her new tatoo immediately after preschool.
Yup, further proof she's my little clean toothed, swaggering, tattoo bearing sailor.
Friday, March 03, 2006
Happy Ending or Tragic Visit To Hardware Store?
On the third hour of searching for my little metal tickets to freedom, my keys, I got a little flutter in my heart as I thought surely they would be here.Do you see them? No me neither. I will admit to checking my watch to see if it was legal happy hour time. A St. Pauley Girl to calm my housebound nerves? Nah...where are those girl scout cookies? I have $18 worth of those butt expanders.
You see in my little corner of the world the child protective service folks frown on sharing St. Pauley Girls with your 4 year old. Or so I have heard. There is no law against downing a box of Samoas though now is there? I was practically inhaling these babies as I ran through the abode...searching, searching.
After my call to the Muffin Man in Atlanta, as if he could help me, I took his advice and checked the kitchen refridgerator. He has a little experience losing the peanut butter and windex here. Listen to the experts, I always say.No keys, but I did think that I should probably relax since we have about 16 weeks and $100,000 worth of grocerys to tide us over for the remaining 26 hours until we got ahold of a car key if worse came to worse.
Doughnut, zero, nada, nilch, zippo. After seeing all that food I decided to take a dinner break. You know since the 28 Samoas did not seem to be doing the trick. During my dinner my dear brilliant daughter came up to me and said, "My heart breaks for you Mommy." (This is what I tell her when she is sick.) "Perhaps you should cast a spell and make me the magic fairy godmother so I can find your keys." Hey, I'm game for ANYTHING at this point. I cast a spell complete with hand motions and a rhyme. She took off flitting through the house trying to find my keys. I really thought, wouldn't it be a total gas if she found them after casting a magic spell? Unfortunately, after a few minutes she return to down her hot dog, sans keys. As a consolation prize she in turn cast a magic spell on me.
I got up
from the table to put away a few barrettes she had on the counter. I walked up to her closet to put them away. I looked up and saw her tap dancing bag.It hit me like a ton of bricks. Tap dancing, yesterday. And there they were, accidently dropped into the shoe while I put away her tap dancing bag.
Happy Ending! I almost drove around the block just because I could. But hey, Mary Poppins and my spell casting fairy awaited downstairs.
Thursday, March 02, 2006
Where are those damned keys?
In the last two hours I have searched 3000 square feet for my set of these.
I swear this is my fault for killing too many brain cells in my youth. I have displayed a range of emotions, all for my 4 year old's viewing pleasure. At first I was in a minor panic. Surely they couldn't be too far. Keep looking. They I started to get agitated. I loaded her into her car seat and put all of my errand running junk into the car. She sat there for about 20 minutes before getting a little snippy. I unloaded her from the car. I continued to search while she decided to help me. Aka...look for 2 minutes until getting distracted by pulling toys out in the living room. Then I started to get pissed off. No keys. After another stretch of time I thought I might just push to make sure she did not find my keys yesterday and proceed to make them toy box fodder. She insists on holding firm to her story, "Nope, did not steal your stupid keys Mom."
Now all this strikes me as completely idiotic. Who really looses keys for more than two hours? How can this be when I am the type of person who sort of militantly puts the damn keys in the same spot every time when coming into the house.
To make the situation even more fun, Muffin Man is away on business. No keys, no driving anywhere until he rolls back into town about 27 hours from now.
I must say this little stunt is only second best to when I locked Ava in the car when she was a baby. She swiped the keys from my hand while I was closing the door she then deftly hit the lock button. Of course Muffin Man was about 1000 miles away for that one too. After a moderate freak out session I got a grip and called the police. Who came out in 15 minutes to mock me and unlock the door. Fun time was had by all.
So, where are those damn keys? I am obviously taking a Columbo break so as I don't pop an artery or have a kitten. Here is the weird thing...at 3am last night I was wide awake sort of stressed out by my list of things to do today and tommorow. I was sort of pining away for a day where we would just hang out in the house with nothing but a bunch of toys, the internet and a Mary Poppins movie late in the day. Funny how the Universe gives you what you ask for. Albeit in a half assed $100 to replace the key while inducing an acne breakout sort of way.
I'm off to take the refrigerator kick panel off to make sure they did not fall behind the counter and fridge.
Monday, February 27, 2006
The Happiest Place On Earth
We are back from Disney 2006. Practically kicking and screaming but we are back. (That was me kicking by the way.) Boy oh boy, did I ever really want to stay and hang out with my dude just a little longer. And let me add that I am a self professed sit at the shore with a good book, a margherita, and some shrimp at the hut type of gal. Let's be honest, Disney is the death of spontaneity, welcoming all type A's at turnstile 8C. And yet, it is amazingly easy to get swept up when every time you buy a coffee someone says "Have A Magical Day!".
My gal was pretty darn happy once she realized she was visiting Jasmine, Belle, Ariel, Lilo and Stitch, and Pooh and Friends. Of course the unlimited lemonade, chicken strips, and mac and cheese were euphoria inducing. Gramma and Grampa were on hand to heap on loads and loads of undivided attention. There you have it...pint sized nirvana. Endorphin rush 14 out of every 15 hours.
Bring on the characters. Ava was somewhat obsessed with character greetings. We waited in no less than 72 lines for a fur hug.
Mickey's Philharmagic? Yeah, give me my glasses.
Goofy talks a little if you get too close.
What could possibly so interesting?
Dancing princesses of course.
Notice the rain gear in the crowd? 55 degrees and breezy in Orlando on Sunday. Aha, but it kept the masses away. We practically had Fantasyland to ourselves for the first hour and a half. Ava's Grandma was slugging her 3rd hot decaf to stay warm while Grampa, Daddy and I were frolicking through the Teacups, Pooh's ride, Dumbo, Small World, Peter Pan, and Space Mountain in a record 45 minutes! Take that Disney crowds!
I thought I might leap into the pig's arms myself. But then thought better of it when I realized it would cut into my dessert time bellied up to the buffet. At last count it was 6 desserts that I sampled. Ok, a little more than sampled. I guess I'd have to call Disney 2006 a rousing success for our family.
Have a magical day!
(Someone will have to say that to me tomorrow or I will die from withdrawal.)
Tuesday, February 21, 2006
Going To Play With Mickey
This guy called. He asked very nicely if Ava could come play.
And, the rule is if you ask nicely...and your daddy has a business trip that we can sponge off of....ok.
We promise to take tons of pictures. Like this one that we took last year.
Last year she was all about that carosel. This year the Princess Lunch in Norway seems to be catching more attention. That and a promised trip to the pool or two. Geesh, all the way to Mickey and the kid wants to swim in a pool.
Monday, February 20, 2006
The Kidlet Wing
Recently, while talking to Muffin Man I tossed a out a crazy idea. In the 11th hour of waiting for the baby's referral, let's consider adding a little more stress and complication to our lives by adding a room onto the back of the house. That way Ava and her little mei mei could have a playroom with a painting easel and train table. Secretly, I have really been looking for a place to dump the train table since Ava received it last Christmas. The kid showed an interest in trains ONE time ONE day and well meaning but completely naive Muffin Man dodged 4 traffic violations screeching off to the toy store to get a train table complete with airport, train tracks and little green trees. Now, it houses the all consuming Little People metropolis which she ignores as well as the trains that are hogging space in the drawers below the table. So, the answer in my mind to have space for the "all important" train table....Let's add on to the house while we are bringing an unknown child home from China...makes sense right?
Here's the funny part. Muffin man is buying into it. "Sure dear, add a wing." Can you say home equity line? It makes me a little queasy here in this old relationship when I am the one who is acting with reckless abandon. It is not a comfortable place. You see we have had a good thing going for many years now where he likes to spend spend spend and I play the miserly bitch..."you'll put us in the poor house dear."
But, as with all things in life experience gives us wings to fly and confidence to soar beyond. As I contemplate the need vs. want dilemma of my little housing addition idea I am reminded of my black beauty.
What does a black car have to do with the kidlet wing?
Here is the thing. On an impulse, when I bought my beloved black beauty, a 1999 black Dodge Durango, with gray soft leather interior, 4WD, electric everything, a nice cd player, and three rows of seats I was bad ass tired and feeling mean. I had been beaten down with the whole infertility thing for a while and just needed to feel in control of something. Anything. So, we bought a car that was a little beyond our means (or so I thought at the time) with a whole boat load of attitude. Believe me, the color was no ironic twist. The sales man offered us a light blue model at a cheaper rate saying color surely wouldn't be an intelligent consumer's deal breaker. Oh really? Black Beauty made me feel powerful, in control of my life. I loved her in 1999 and I love her now, all 6,000 lbs of her.
So, with that said I bet you are waiting for the grownup epiphany where I realize that buying an expensive what-not is the not answer to finding peace and balance in my life and won't give me the sense of control I naturally desire. After all Black Beauty did not exactly get me a big job promotion and pregnant all at the same time. In fact, I got neither. Spending cash'ola will not make my life more in balance, it will not bring me a happy healthy bouncing baby girl any faster.
Here's the catch. The Durango situation really has worked out for us. I paid her off. I have only 60,000 miles logged. I obviously have not grown tired of her bad ass girlish figure. She totes me and my baby around town with style. It was in hindsight a winner of a decision.
So, if I rely on the Black Beauty as life experience, I guess she might tell me that it is ok to stretch a little. Have faith in what you cannot see today. Money is only a means of exchange. Power is as power does.
Let's hope this power is not banging nails loudly as a newly arrived baby tries to sleep this summer.
Here's the funny part. Muffin man is buying into it. "Sure dear, add a wing." Can you say home equity line? It makes me a little queasy here in this old relationship when I am the one who is acting with reckless abandon. It is not a comfortable place. You see we have had a good thing going for many years now where he likes to spend spend spend and I play the miserly bitch..."you'll put us in the poor house dear."
But, as with all things in life experience gives us wings to fly and confidence to soar beyond. As I contemplate the need vs. want dilemma of my little housing addition idea I am reminded of my black beauty.
What does a black car have to do with the kidlet wing?
Here is the thing. On an impulse, when I bought my beloved black beauty, a 1999 black Dodge Durango, with gray soft leather interior, 4WD, electric everything, a nice cd player, and three rows of seats I was bad ass tired and feeling mean. I had been beaten down with the whole infertility thing for a while and just needed to feel in control of something. Anything. So, we bought a car that was a little beyond our means (or so I thought at the time) with a whole boat load of attitude. Believe me, the color was no ironic twist. The sales man offered us a light blue model at a cheaper rate saying color surely wouldn't be an intelligent consumer's deal breaker. Oh really? Black Beauty made me feel powerful, in control of my life. I loved her in 1999 and I love her now, all 6,000 lbs of her.
So, with that said I bet you are waiting for the grownup epiphany where I realize that buying an expensive what-not is the not answer to finding peace and balance in my life and won't give me the sense of control I naturally desire. After all Black Beauty did not exactly get me a big job promotion and pregnant all at the same time. In fact, I got neither. Spending cash'ola will not make my life more in balance, it will not bring me a happy healthy bouncing baby girl any faster.
Here's the catch. The Durango situation really has worked out for us. I paid her off. I have only 60,000 miles logged. I obviously have not grown tired of her bad ass girlish figure. She totes me and my baby around town with style. It was in hindsight a winner of a decision.
So, if I rely on the Black Beauty as life experience, I guess she might tell me that it is ok to stretch a little. Have faith in what you cannot see today. Money is only a means of exchange. Power is as power does.
Let's hope this power is not banging nails loudly as a newly arrived baby tries to sleep this summer.
Saturday, February 18, 2006
The Wanderer
I'm Perrin and I have a wanderer. She is currently 4 years old and thinks that I exist mostly to chauffeur her to the event du jour. Once we get to where we are going...well, the wanderer can take over from there. She has no fear of adults, as long as they do their own thing and don't get in her way. She never fears other children or animals she meets along the way. She'd stare down any uppity pack of popular teenage girls at the mall and hold her ground in the path of bikes or strollers on our walking trail every time. Don't get me wrong, she is quite appreciative of my willingness to improve her life through outside activities and my overall driving skills. She tells me all the time to be careful when we are driving so that we don't bump into anything because a policeman might give me a time out. Or worse, delay our timely arrival at said event.
All of this is fine, really it is. I would call my wanderer highly developed and self assured, what parent wouldn't be delighted to have the privledge? She is unapologetic when she has an "idea" that could possibly take her to the next adventure not matter how big or small. To be competely honest, I am in amazement at how she remains unfazed by adults' shhh'ing or yelling at her to protect her safety in stressful moments. She brushes off other's disdainful sighs and unapproving looks like they are merely pleeb's in her ultra posh fraternity of life. She honestly "gets" that she can be super precocious, yet she does not concern herself with other's preconceived notions of how a four year old should act.
But to be a part of the confident wanderer's life, to trail behind her brings a certain amount of low grade stress. She is after all a child, albeit a 45 year old in a 40" body. The people around us only see the 40" inch body. Sometimes it is her nemesis to be physically adorable, female, and Asian. Sometimes it is her saving grace.
The issue with the wanderer is that she is always over fourty paces beyond me when in public. Tall worn out looking white woman in public place, no second glance needed. 40" little Asian person who is seemingly on her own. Ok, where is Asian mommy? Really, where is she? Then it hits people...Oh my, does this child not have a parent supervising? Should I help? Is this going to be an Amber Alert situation? Is channel 6 Action News here? Really, should I notify someone that this little kid has no parent with her?
Unlike my wanderer I am completely aware of other adults in public. I see their looks of disdain when she seemingly has no parent supervising. I also see the fright in their eyes, that fleeting moment when an adult has to make a decision to care whether this child has no apparent matching guardian at her side. I feel as if I should be cataloguing each adult reaction to this episode as it is repeated over and over as the wanderer wields her slippery independent ways. I sense that I am unofficially collecting scientific data on a) the unrepentant child b) adult reactions to a strange child's first 30 seconds of "lost" status and c) the life and times of the multi-racial family.
Some parents I know silently condemn me for being too soft on her. If only I were more strict and firm she would understand that our situation is unique and she must understand that now. She must be aware of predators and harmful vehicles popping out in front of stores. Stay with your parent at all times, no running off!
Yes, I am pretty strict on the running in front of cars issue. No walking without me when we are near the street. But, I just can't squelch that sense of wonder that makes her jump up at the end of a play and exit the theater row long before I gather the coats. She is off to try to meet the actress in the lobby. She is off to gather fairy dust at the kiddie cosmetique at the mall. She is dashing to find hair barrettes while pillow shopping. It is always something for the wanderer.
And there I am. Fourty paces behind, gathering data...hoping she remembers to look back.
All of this is fine, really it is. I would call my wanderer highly developed and self assured, what parent wouldn't be delighted to have the privledge? She is unapologetic when she has an "idea" that could possibly take her to the next adventure not matter how big or small. To be competely honest, I am in amazement at how she remains unfazed by adults' shhh'ing or yelling at her to protect her safety in stressful moments. She brushes off other's disdainful sighs and unapproving looks like they are merely pleeb's in her ultra posh fraternity of life. She honestly "gets" that she can be super precocious, yet she does not concern herself with other's preconceived notions of how a four year old should act.
But to be a part of the confident wanderer's life, to trail behind her brings a certain amount of low grade stress. She is after all a child, albeit a 45 year old in a 40" body. The people around us only see the 40" inch body. Sometimes it is her nemesis to be physically adorable, female, and Asian. Sometimes it is her saving grace.
The issue with the wanderer is that she is always over fourty paces beyond me when in public. Tall worn out looking white woman in public place, no second glance needed. 40" little Asian person who is seemingly on her own. Ok, where is Asian mommy? Really, where is she? Then it hits people...Oh my, does this child not have a parent supervising? Should I help? Is this going to be an Amber Alert situation? Is channel 6 Action News here? Really, should I notify someone that this little kid has no parent with her?
Unlike my wanderer I am completely aware of other adults in public. I see their looks of disdain when she seemingly has no parent supervising. I also see the fright in their eyes, that fleeting moment when an adult has to make a decision to care whether this child has no apparent matching guardian at her side. I feel as if I should be cataloguing each adult reaction to this episode as it is repeated over and over as the wanderer wields her slippery independent ways. I sense that I am unofficially collecting scientific data on a) the unrepentant child b) adult reactions to a strange child's first 30 seconds of "lost" status and c) the life and times of the multi-racial family.
Some parents I know silently condemn me for being too soft on her. If only I were more strict and firm she would understand that our situation is unique and she must understand that now. She must be aware of predators and harmful vehicles popping out in front of stores. Stay with your parent at all times, no running off!
Yes, I am pretty strict on the running in front of cars issue. No walking without me when we are near the street. But, I just can't squelch that sense of wonder that makes her jump up at the end of a play and exit the theater row long before I gather the coats. She is off to try to meet the actress in the lobby. She is off to gather fairy dust at the kiddie cosmetique at the mall. She is dashing to find hair barrettes while pillow shopping. It is always something for the wanderer.
And there I am. Fourty paces behind, gathering data...hoping she remembers to look back.
Thursday, February 16, 2006
Word From The Ranch
February 15, 2006
Super Wonderful Adoption Agency
Who thought they'd check in and send a silly little letter since it will be
9 months tomorrow and there is no end to this adoption in sight.
Dear Main Muffin Man & The Lovely, Young, Super Hot, Amazingly Skinny Mother of the Year Perrin:
The trip to China will be a once in a lifetime experience. Second, in our case but who is counting? You are going to pick up your child! That is what we've been hearing for 6 months now, no 8 months, no 9 months and STILL counting. What a wonderful experience! Let's hope so.
But, please also be aware that it will be a very exhausting trip, both physically and emotionally.
Really, who would have guessed? It will make your trip so much more enjoyable if you are well prepared. Check, I got my ladybug Gymboree outfits in size 12-18 months in the mail today infact. I'm all ready to go. If you have any health concerns go talk to your doctor now. If you are not exercising, you may consider starting now. Does multitasking to eat brownie cupcakes while sitting on my ass for umpteen hours reading adoption blogs and yahoo board rumors count as exercise? Really, there can be quite a bit of heavy lifting in brownie consumption since my daughter tossed in that extra egg in the current batch. Remember, there will be a lot of walking and during much of the time you will also be carrying your child and your luggage. Wait, you mean to tell me we can't take Jeeves our house butler to schlep all our stuff?
If you haven’t been reading books about the culture and travel in China, and talking to adoptive families who have traveled, it is a good idea to start doing this, too. Right on sista...find someone out there who we might have a connection with to stay sane. I'll get on that ASAP....Yup.
If you are first time parent(s), taking a parenting class would be highly recommended if you haven’t already done so. Parenting class? Hmmm. Let's be honest we missed that boat in 2002. Please check with your doctor or local hospital to find information on such classes.
It will be a big moment for you to meet with your child the first time. Ok like, big big or more like HUGE big..or perhaps like stoked man, big? It will also be a big moment for your child. Think about the big adjustment both you and child will go through. Gosh, again with the big talk. You are killing me here. Please also take time to educate yourselves on the issues associated with this transition. I am sorry but Deb Gray's Attaching In Adoption gives me nightmares every time I try to read it. Then I break out in hives. Maybe I should start a book club. Talk to your social worker, listen/read other families’ stories and read articles/books regarding bonding, attachment, and separation losses. Hold on there sparky, in the paragraph above I was supposed to be exercising, not sitting on my tushy reading endless drivel.
Remember, the better you as the parents are prepared, the easier the transition will be for your child. Oh, good parent makes good kid...that is explaining a lot for us now three years later. I can not stress enough on the importance of getting prepared for this big trip. It will make the transition easier for you and your child, and make the trip more enjoyable! Yup, got the stress part down, no problemo!
Please also remember to monitor the expiration date for your I-171H Approval and your CIS fingerprint clearances. If your I-171H Approval or CIS fingerprint clearances are anywhere near close to expiring I would recommend you consider re-doing them. Uh huh, so file yet another form for $140 to re-do what I spent $5000 and 4 months doing less than 1 year ago. Seems reasonable to Muffin Man and me. You can always touch base with me if you are uncertain. Let me know if you need anything. Big wet kiss for you too, schnoodle.
Sincerely,
Your well intentioned adoption agency.
Super Wonderful Adoption Agency
Who thought they'd check in and send a silly little letter since it will be
9 months tomorrow and there is no end to this adoption in sight.
Dear Main Muffin Man & The Lovely, Young, Super Hot, Amazingly Skinny Mother of the Year Perrin:
The trip to China will be a once in a lifetime experience. Second, in our case but who is counting? You are going to pick up your child! That is what we've been hearing for 6 months now, no 8 months, no 9 months and STILL counting. What a wonderful experience! Let's hope so.
But, please also be aware that it will be a very exhausting trip, both physically and emotionally.
Really, who would have guessed? It will make your trip so much more enjoyable if you are well prepared. Check, I got my ladybug Gymboree outfits in size 12-18 months in the mail today infact. I'm all ready to go. If you have any health concerns go talk to your doctor now. If you are not exercising, you may consider starting now. Does multitasking to eat brownie cupcakes while sitting on my ass for umpteen hours reading adoption blogs and yahoo board rumors count as exercise? Really, there can be quite a bit of heavy lifting in brownie consumption since my daughter tossed in that extra egg in the current batch. Remember, there will be a lot of walking and during much of the time you will also be carrying your child and your luggage. Wait, you mean to tell me we can't take Jeeves our house butler to schlep all our stuff?
If you haven’t been reading books about the culture and travel in China, and talking to adoptive families who have traveled, it is a good idea to start doing this, too. Right on sista...find someone out there who we might have a connection with to stay sane. I'll get on that ASAP....Yup.
If you are first time parent(s), taking a parenting class would be highly recommended if you haven’t already done so. Parenting class? Hmmm. Let's be honest we missed that boat in 2002. Please check with your doctor or local hospital to find information on such classes.
It will be a big moment for you to meet with your child the first time. Ok like, big big or more like HUGE big..or perhaps like stoked man, big? It will also be a big moment for your child. Think about the big adjustment both you and child will go through. Gosh, again with the big talk. You are killing me here. Please also take time to educate yourselves on the issues associated with this transition. I am sorry but Deb Gray's Attaching In Adoption gives me nightmares every time I try to read it. Then I break out in hives. Maybe I should start a book club. Talk to your social worker, listen/read other families’ stories and read articles/books regarding bonding, attachment, and separation losses. Hold on there sparky, in the paragraph above I was supposed to be exercising, not sitting on my tushy reading endless drivel.
Remember, the better you as the parents are prepared, the easier the transition will be for your child. Oh, good parent makes good kid...that is explaining a lot for us now three years later. I can not stress enough on the importance of getting prepared for this big trip. It will make the transition easier for you and your child, and make the trip more enjoyable! Yup, got the stress part down, no problemo!
Please also remember to monitor the expiration date for your I-171H Approval and your CIS fingerprint clearances. If your I-171H Approval or CIS fingerprint clearances are anywhere near close to expiring I would recommend you consider re-doing them. Uh huh, so file yet another form for $140 to re-do what I spent $5000 and 4 months doing less than 1 year ago. Seems reasonable to Muffin Man and me. You can always touch base with me if you are uncertain. Let me know if you need anything. Big wet kiss for you too, schnoodle.
Sincerely,
Your well intentioned adoption agency.
Tuesday, February 14, 2006
Love Kicks
These are LOVE kicks. St. Valentine would have hopped right on over to pick up a pair, had Target been around in those days I am sure of it.
What are the LOVE kicks attached to?
Funny you ask.The most adorable little Valentine!
Now who wouldn't want to give this kid a cupcake at preschool? With a cutie pie grin like that she'll probably score extra sprinkes.
Monday, February 13, 2006
Curious about George
We were curious about George. So much so that we went to see him at the theater this afternoon. After scarfing down a large popcorn, slurping excessive amounts of diet coke and rescuing Ava about 20 times from the dreaded folding chair that kept trying to swallow her little legs...we both left competely satisfied.
I had to laugh, yes out loud, at the part where Ted follows George to the Zoo entrance. He can't see George but thinks to himself, oh no we are in for trouble this time. Then he stops himself and rationalizes, hey, George is a monkey and this is the zoo, there must be lots of monkeys here. How much trouble could there possibly be?
Then a lady screams in the background. Ted immediately moves into action and thinks Oh, that's where George is.
I know how you feel Ted. Your prodigy is out of sight for one second and headed for antics filled with trouble. Just when you think you are overeacting...dum dum dum...someone screams and your little one is at the top of the heap!
Kudos to George for reminding us that it is the adventure that matters when you are working with little monkeys.
Friday, February 10, 2006
A Visit To Preschool for CNY
Today was Chinese New Year Day at preschool. Everyone was right when they told me to chill a bit on worrying too much about not be authentic enough since well, what the heck do I really know about Chinese culture?
As it turns out I know a heck of a lot more than the average 4 year old at preschool. Here is how it all went down.
Lots of shhhhh pleeease. Lots of lights being turned on and off to gather the attention of people in the four year old age range. Lots of me remembering to nominate preschool teachers for canonization, does anyone have the Pope's cell number?
I shared my perfect pronounciation of Ni Hao, since if you remember I did sit through a 2 hour session on just the perfect way to say it in order to sound like I am from Beijing in a recent Chinese class. Mostly, I got the "Whatever" look from 14 four year olds. Ok, moving on.
The book. Mostly everyone wiggled and giggled. My darling one set a perfect example by ignoring her teacher and insisted on wanting to sit on my lap. Which couldn't be accomodated since I was reading the book. Alyssa did entertain me by popping pink fuzz balls into Andrew's hair without him even noticing for 5 whole minutes, and the kid sports a crew cut!
The chop sticks relay game...not a race, due to liability issues. Can't have any little darling poking an eye out while racing to get the cotton ball in the bowl first. Overall, a high point.
Eating the lotus puff snack. Mostly nibbled not truly eaten. Ava scarfed down two, that's my girl. Those lotus puffs ROCK! Samantha got a little snippy and tossed hers into the trash before taking one bite. Then asked me for another one. Sorry, Samantha...poor starving children in China and all...just c-a-n-'t d-o i-t. Better luck with the craft activity, Sam.
Cut out a lantern craft. Let's just say no one got a new hair cut and I am pretty satisfied with that.
Chinese music activity. Lots of swaying and mouth synching. Little Milli Vanilli's. Call New York for the record deal.
And finally, the Fu upside down good luck coloring page. Color red, inside the lines. Lots of red...not so much inside the lines. At this point, I'm opting for the Montessori philosophy perhaps they just did not need to see red crayon lines INSIDE the lines. Who really cares?
And finally, the Chinese zodiac take home coloring book. A rousing discussion of year you were born and corresponding animal. We figured out that Noah's dog, Louis, is not a year of the dog but rather a monkey. This was apparently a little confusing, but once the hong bao was distributed the indepth discussion about how a dog could be a monkey was promptly dropped.
How do you say naptime in Mandarin?
As it turns out I know a heck of a lot more than the average 4 year old at preschool. Here is how it all went down.
Lots of shhhhh pleeease. Lots of lights being turned on and off to gather the attention of people in the four year old age range. Lots of me remembering to nominate preschool teachers for canonization, does anyone have the Pope's cell number?
I shared my perfect pronounciation of Ni Hao, since if you remember I did sit through a 2 hour session on just the perfect way to say it in order to sound like I am from Beijing in a recent Chinese class. Mostly, I got the "Whatever" look from 14 four year olds. Ok, moving on.
The book. Mostly everyone wiggled and giggled. My darling one set a perfect example by ignoring her teacher and insisted on wanting to sit on my lap. Which couldn't be accomodated since I was reading the book. Alyssa did entertain me by popping pink fuzz balls into Andrew's hair without him even noticing for 5 whole minutes, and the kid sports a crew cut!
The chop sticks relay game...not a race, due to liability issues. Can't have any little darling poking an eye out while racing to get the cotton ball in the bowl first. Overall, a high point.
Eating the lotus puff snack. Mostly nibbled not truly eaten. Ava scarfed down two, that's my girl. Those lotus puffs ROCK! Samantha got a little snippy and tossed hers into the trash before taking one bite. Then asked me for another one. Sorry, Samantha...poor starving children in China and all...just c-a-n-'t d-o i-t. Better luck with the craft activity, Sam.
Cut out a lantern craft. Let's just say no one got a new hair cut and I am pretty satisfied with that.
Chinese music activity. Lots of swaying and mouth synching. Little Milli Vanilli's. Call New York for the record deal.
And finally, the Fu upside down good luck coloring page. Color red, inside the lines. Lots of red...not so much inside the lines. At this point, I'm opting for the Montessori philosophy perhaps they just did not need to see red crayon lines INSIDE the lines. Who really cares?
And finally, the Chinese zodiac take home coloring book. A rousing discussion of year you were born and corresponding animal. We figured out that Noah's dog, Louis, is not a year of the dog but rather a monkey. This was apparently a little confusing, but once the hong bao was distributed the indepth discussion about how a dog could be a monkey was promptly dropped.
How do you say naptime in Mandarin?
Wednesday, February 08, 2006
Lazy Mommy and Toys for Lunch
Today as quite possibly the laziest mommy in the world I opted for the drive through at lunch. It is a nasty secret habit that I cannot believe I am publically admitting. Yes, we did it even after I read the 5 part story on childhood obesity and diseases in the paper last week. It was a drive thru we don't frequent. So, I sort of messed up the order and we ended up with a covered platter of chicken and mashed potatoes and cole slaw. I did not even know you could still get stuff like that in a drive thru situation.
How is a four year old supposed to eat cole slaw in a car seat? Did I mention that we got no utensils either? Of course we were already on the busy road and couldn't go through the line again.
Ava raised one eyebrow at me and said, "You know, at Old MacDonald's they give kids like me toys in their lunch."
Sorry kid, you are not in Kansas anymore. Eat the mashed potato flakes with a finger.
I will of course be accepting nominations for Mother Of The Year in March.
How is a four year old supposed to eat cole slaw in a car seat? Did I mention that we got no utensils either? Of course we were already on the busy road and couldn't go through the line again.
Ava raised one eyebrow at me and said, "You know, at Old MacDonald's they give kids like me toys in their lunch."
Sorry kid, you are not in Kansas anymore. Eat the mashed potato flakes with a finger.
I will of course be accepting nominations for Mother Of The Year in March.
Tuesday, February 07, 2006
An Orphanage Visit
I'm waking up at 4a.m. or thereabouts now several nights a week. I won't blame it on my notorious night waker, no she's been sleeping like a champ after the "tv is conditional upon staying in your bed all night" new house rule.
Perhaps my nightwaking is all part of my new "let's get this adoption show on the road" attitude. It is different than my "we are going to have another child someday but it is so far out there I'll postpone the official wig out", and it is different than the "it's coming up soon and thus I must purchase cute baby clothes", and it is certainly nothing like the "yeah I'm cool, it will all happen when it is supposed to, so why bother rushing to paint the bathroom".
Yup, it's a new one. Let's just get this show on the road is the only way I can describe my mental state these days. Momma is tired...of waiting....of anticipating...of explaining to well meaning friends and neighbors...of not being able to pick a name for sure.
Perhaps this is why I keep seeing her standing in a crib at the orphanage looking at me in my dreams at 4 a.m. Sometimes she even waves and motions to me not to worry, she's fine. The weird thing is that the orphanage doesn't look like the one we saw on our last trip. It is a shorter building without as many floors. It is open and clean without color on the walls.
On our trip in 2002 we were able to tour an orphanage that we were told was a primo showcase orphanage in Hunan. All of the familes loaded the babies up into the rock star bus and we headed down skinny streets of Changsha until we came to a building that looked similar to the others in the neighborhood. It was 9 stories tall with laundry hanging from thin balconies. Windows were propped open for ventilation. The rock star bus pulled up in the back alley looking very out of place. American adopters filed off one by one holding little Chinese babies in expensive slings on their chests.
Our guide explained that this orphanage was very nice and great pride is taken its care and maintenance. Any emotion that might be felt during the tour should be kept silent. We should understand that we are priviledged to take this tour and should act accordingly. Stiff upper lip, got it.
We filed into a sparse courtyard and rounded a corner to a large stainless steel elevator that reminded me of the elevator at the hospital Brian and were lucky enough to have visited a few days prior. We take the elevator in groups of 5-7. I can tell our guide thinks this is ridiculous since she is always telling us to squeeze together in tight spots, as most Chinese do. But, we are now tired travelers who have been awakened by scared babies with new surroundings at all hours of the night. We are as a group losing tolerance for the small inconveniences like cattlehearding in elevators. But chipper and smiley on the outside.
The doors creak open and the elevator jumps a bit. My daughter is strapped to my husband's chest resting comfortably. She has a Western nuk-nuk popped in her mouth. She reminds me of the baby on the Simpson's as she sucks hard and it moves in and out. The one floor we are permitted to see is dark as we unload off the elevator. We shift around a corner and see a medium sized room that has a television. A few toddlers play at our feet. An official looking woman in a business suit takes over the tour. Her English is thickly peppered with Hunan dialect making it hard for me to understand what she is saying. The air is stagnant despite the open windows and I start to feel lightheaded. Parents stand and nod as the official lady talks on and on. At this point I must sway and move my feet a little bit to breathe air. I take a few steps back from the group. Suddenly the group starts to shift away from television room and down a sunnier looking hallway. I hang back a bit to get my bearings. I know I am not allowed to show any emotion but it starts to settle in that 4 days ago my daughter was one of these children I see before me. The enormity of how our lives have changed in the last precious hours fills my eyes despite my concious effort to quell any visable signs of emotion. I do not want to offend my guides or the ladies in white coats who obviously take their jobs seriously.
To take a minute to compose myself I step backwards. My shoulder accidently pushes a swinging door open. I step inside the room alone. The room is filled with tiny babies in large hospital beds. Not one of these infants can be over 4 months old. Some have IVs inserted into their foreheads. Some have rags stuck into their little mouths. I am stunned. I know immediately that this room is not on the official tour. I know that I should immediately walk out and find my group, but I can't. My legs are lead as I fixate on the rags in the babies mouths. My first reaction is to pull the rags out fearing one might choke. But I am too scared to reach out to a child I have no right to touch.
I am scolded by a fast talking nanny who enters the room. She tells me in broken English that these babies are new to the ward and I am not permitted in here. She tells me I might contaminate them. She motions for me to leave immediately. I quickly get the lead out of my legs and walk in a daze to the sunny playroom where the group is congregating. The lady in the business suit is commenting on the new wood laminate floor we are standing on. She seems very proud, and Brian jokes that it is nicer than our kitchen floor at home. This room is nicer than all the rest. It has lots of brightly colored toys lining the walls. The tightness in my chest eases a bit as we see one final room with babies in cribs and nannies playing with children 4 at a time. Babies and nannies are smiling. I still have the feeling that I must hold my breath to keep myself from spinning out of emotional control. I take my fingernail and press it into the side of my leg to keep present.
We exit to the elevator and this time I maneuver to be one of the first. The mood in that elevator is remarkably changed, quiet. No one makes eye contact and everyone heads directly to the rock star bus.
As I step on the bus I know that I will never be the same. I look up and see those rags hanging to dry from the slim balconies from the window on the bus. I fight back a tear and focus on my baby instead. She will need a bottle soon and I'm in charge of that. That's something I can fix.
Perhaps my nightwaking is all part of my new "let's get this adoption show on the road" attitude. It is different than my "we are going to have another child someday but it is so far out there I'll postpone the official wig out", and it is different than the "it's coming up soon and thus I must purchase cute baby clothes", and it is certainly nothing like the "yeah I'm cool, it will all happen when it is supposed to, so why bother rushing to paint the bathroom".
Yup, it's a new one. Let's just get this show on the road is the only way I can describe my mental state these days. Momma is tired...of waiting....of anticipating...of explaining to well meaning friends and neighbors...of not being able to pick a name for sure.
Perhaps this is why I keep seeing her standing in a crib at the orphanage looking at me in my dreams at 4 a.m. Sometimes she even waves and motions to me not to worry, she's fine. The weird thing is that the orphanage doesn't look like the one we saw on our last trip. It is a shorter building without as many floors. It is open and clean without color on the walls.
On our trip in 2002 we were able to tour an orphanage that we were told was a primo showcase orphanage in Hunan. All of the familes loaded the babies up into the rock star bus and we headed down skinny streets of Changsha until we came to a building that looked similar to the others in the neighborhood. It was 9 stories tall with laundry hanging from thin balconies. Windows were propped open for ventilation. The rock star bus pulled up in the back alley looking very out of place. American adopters filed off one by one holding little Chinese babies in expensive slings on their chests.
Our guide explained that this orphanage was very nice and great pride is taken its care and maintenance. Any emotion that might be felt during the tour should be kept silent. We should understand that we are priviledged to take this tour and should act accordingly. Stiff upper lip, got it.
We filed into a sparse courtyard and rounded a corner to a large stainless steel elevator that reminded me of the elevator at the hospital Brian and were lucky enough to have visited a few days prior. We take the elevator in groups of 5-7. I can tell our guide thinks this is ridiculous since she is always telling us to squeeze together in tight spots, as most Chinese do. But, we are now tired travelers who have been awakened by scared babies with new surroundings at all hours of the night. We are as a group losing tolerance for the small inconveniences like cattlehearding in elevators. But chipper and smiley on the outside.
The doors creak open and the elevator jumps a bit. My daughter is strapped to my husband's chest resting comfortably. She has a Western nuk-nuk popped in her mouth. She reminds me of the baby on the Simpson's as she sucks hard and it moves in and out. The one floor we are permitted to see is dark as we unload off the elevator. We shift around a corner and see a medium sized room that has a television. A few toddlers play at our feet. An official looking woman in a business suit takes over the tour. Her English is thickly peppered with Hunan dialect making it hard for me to understand what she is saying. The air is stagnant despite the open windows and I start to feel lightheaded. Parents stand and nod as the official lady talks on and on. At this point I must sway and move my feet a little bit to breathe air. I take a few steps back from the group. Suddenly the group starts to shift away from television room and down a sunnier looking hallway. I hang back a bit to get my bearings. I know I am not allowed to show any emotion but it starts to settle in that 4 days ago my daughter was one of these children I see before me. The enormity of how our lives have changed in the last precious hours fills my eyes despite my concious effort to quell any visable signs of emotion. I do not want to offend my guides or the ladies in white coats who obviously take their jobs seriously.
To take a minute to compose myself I step backwards. My shoulder accidently pushes a swinging door open. I step inside the room alone. The room is filled with tiny babies in large hospital beds. Not one of these infants can be over 4 months old. Some have IVs inserted into their foreheads. Some have rags stuck into their little mouths. I am stunned. I know immediately that this room is not on the official tour. I know that I should immediately walk out and find my group, but I can't. My legs are lead as I fixate on the rags in the babies mouths. My first reaction is to pull the rags out fearing one might choke. But I am too scared to reach out to a child I have no right to touch.
I am scolded by a fast talking nanny who enters the room. She tells me in broken English that these babies are new to the ward and I am not permitted in here. She tells me I might contaminate them. She motions for me to leave immediately. I quickly get the lead out of my legs and walk in a daze to the sunny playroom where the group is congregating. The lady in the business suit is commenting on the new wood laminate floor we are standing on. She seems very proud, and Brian jokes that it is nicer than our kitchen floor at home. This room is nicer than all the rest. It has lots of brightly colored toys lining the walls. The tightness in my chest eases a bit as we see one final room with babies in cribs and nannies playing with children 4 at a time. Babies and nannies are smiling. I still have the feeling that I must hold my breath to keep myself from spinning out of emotional control. I take my fingernail and press it into the side of my leg to keep present.
We exit to the elevator and this time I maneuver to be one of the first. The mood in that elevator is remarkably changed, quiet. No one makes eye contact and everyone heads directly to the rock star bus.
As I step on the bus I know that I will never be the same. I look up and see those rags hanging to dry from the slim balconies from the window on the bus. I fight back a tear and focus on my baby instead. She will need a bottle soon and I'm in charge of that. That's something I can fix.
Monday, February 06, 2006
Weekend Was A Blur And I Have The Photos To Prove It
We have successfully milked Chinese New Year for all it is worth. This weekend marked our second weekend of festivities. The big FCC event took place at the Children's Museum without a hitch. Nothing like throwing a party for your 400 'closest friends' for an extra little bit of fun and frolic. This picture sort of sums up the evening for me. A blur.
Now I would love to be able to tell you that I have used my photo editing software to blur the faces of the children attending the event's large photoshoot. In the interest of protecting their little souls from all the weirdos out there in the world of course. But, no. Most of my photos from the event are blurry because I have yet to take the time to learn how to use my fancy new camera!
Here we are looking at....
Roll down a bit.
In my defense with the camera situation, Muffin Man hasn't figured the fancy gadget out either. See Ava, she is pretty blurry too. The ironic thing is we upgraded cameras to help out with this situation. Now the damn thing is so fancy and apparently temperamental that I am going to have to obtain a master's degree in something to operate it without blurring every picture.
Oooh, Gong Fu Fan dancing. We were looking at Gong Fu Fan. Very graceful. Amazing. I hope my girls will someday dance like this. I hope grace and timing is genetic, it is a last hold out wish that they will inherit the talent for such aesthetic arts.
Here is the big lion. Great crowd pleaser. At one point he tried to swallow Ava's head. She thought that was hilarious. The little girl beside her was mortified. Screaming ensued. A good time was had by all.
It is now my year of the dog resolution to figure out how to master the camera so that our pictures of China in a few months are well umm..less blurry.
Thursday, February 02, 2006
The Kid Who Looks Like Me
I volunteered at preschool this week. Got competely suckered into teaching 100 kids how to bunny hop on all fours. In groups of 4 or 5 no less, so repeated bunny hopping demonstrations were needed. I may have a sore bunny butt tomorrow.
As always, the highlights or lowdown in the trenches moments comes when speaking with the other parents in this little subculture of stay at home mom'ville. There were three of us mommys there to volunteer our prowess at bunny hopping and bowling in the basement recreation room. One of the mothers has three children under the age of 3 1/2. And she is volunteering to teach ladder climbing to other people's 3 year olds? Whew, super saint or super martyr. Vote is still out. The other mom, well just nice. Didn't have too much time to size her up since they had me bunny hopping so quickly.
Super saint's child came bounding down the staircase leaping into her arms. She gives him a big hug and then starts laughing. "He is the shrunken dryer version of my husband, looks nothing like me.", she says. I am not sure why she thought to comment on that...but whatever my thighs were starting to burn and I needed a coffee refresher. Plain nice mom says, "Yeah, people always comment on how my little Quinn looks like me." (And he did too.) Of course, I am still keeping mum at this point. Then, what the hell...I say, "Oh, it just doesn't matter what the kids look like right?" Hoping to tactfully direct the topic of conversation back to bunny hopping and bowling. ( I wanted to casually hint that we alternate stations, being the newbie I quickly got the short straw...bunny hopping. If I played my cards right perhaps I could maneuver my way into the bowling station.)
Then plain nice mom looks me in the eye and says, "Oh yes, but your child really does look like you. I see you walking her to school all the time and I have often thought how much you look alike."
Ok, that's a new one for me. Do we look alike in the same way that couples who have been married for eons look alike? Do we look alike the way some dogs look like their owners? Or perhaps the way teenage friends who walk the malls look alike?
She said it with a straight face and seemed quite sincere...so I guess I will have to take it at face value. pun intended.
As always, the highlights or lowdown in the trenches moments comes when speaking with the other parents in this little subculture of stay at home mom'ville. There were three of us mommys there to volunteer our prowess at bunny hopping and bowling in the basement recreation room. One of the mothers has three children under the age of 3 1/2. And she is volunteering to teach ladder climbing to other people's 3 year olds? Whew, super saint or super martyr. Vote is still out. The other mom, well just nice. Didn't have too much time to size her up since they had me bunny hopping so quickly.
Super saint's child came bounding down the staircase leaping into her arms. She gives him a big hug and then starts laughing. "He is the shrunken dryer version of my husband, looks nothing like me.", she says. I am not sure why she thought to comment on that...but whatever my thighs were starting to burn and I needed a coffee refresher. Plain nice mom says, "Yeah, people always comment on how my little Quinn looks like me." (And he did too.) Of course, I am still keeping mum at this point. Then, what the hell...I say, "Oh, it just doesn't matter what the kids look like right?" Hoping to tactfully direct the topic of conversation back to bunny hopping and bowling. ( I wanted to casually hint that we alternate stations, being the newbie I quickly got the short straw...bunny hopping. If I played my cards right perhaps I could maneuver my way into the bowling station.)
Then plain nice mom looks me in the eye and says, "Oh yes, but your child really does look like you. I see you walking her to school all the time and I have often thought how much you look alike."
Ok, that's a new one for me. Do we look alike in the same way that couples who have been married for eons look alike? Do we look alike the way some dogs look like their owners? Or perhaps the way teenage friends who walk the malls look alike?
She said it with a straight face and seemed quite sincere...so I guess I will have to take it at face value. pun intended.
Wednesday, February 01, 2006
CNY At The Preschool In The 'Burbs
It's Chinese New Year Time. And, admittedly this year beyond other years it is a bigger deal in our house. This is probably in part due to the influence from the Chinese Language School we attend on Sundays. Ava has been presented with Hong Bao by a respected Chinese friend. We are learning Gong Xi Gong Xi and Xin Nin Hao songs. We attended the big Chinese Community Center event this weekend. We have plans to go to the FCC event this weekend. We have had a decent amount of CNY traffic here in our little corner of the 'burbs so far. Oh, but in the interest of full disclosure, I have cleaned nothing. Although, I made a valiant attempt to catch up on laundry yesterday. May the kitchen gods and laundry angels be with this adoptive mom.
So, naturally when the other adoptive mom in Ava's preschool classroom asked me if I wanted to join in a CNY presentation for the kids I hopped on the wagon. Perfect, we could share some of Ava's and LBF's heritage with her classmates, eat a lotus puff and still be off to Starbucks before preschool let out for the day. Super. I can taste my vanilla latte already.
Or is this a good idea? I've been downloading CNY preschool ideas from www.Nickjr.com like a mad woman. Honestly, downloading craft projects from nick jr. for the most esteemed Chinese holiday seems, well...weird at best. I have picked out the perfect book. I have music from Chinese School. I have Hong Bao for the children. LBF's mom is getting the chocolate money.
So all this is fine and dandy. But this year I am having second thoughts. Is this the best way to handle educating white suburban preschoolers about Chinese New Year? Am I the right person to be presenting the information? I never celebrated CNY as a kid. What do I know?
I suppose all of this sort of came to the surface for me when I was speaking with LBF's mom. She will be co-facilitating. She had some wonderful fun ideas for the kids. But I am not convinced that they are really part of CNY. For example, hong bao. Traditionally, the red envelopes are presented by adult family members to children in the family. LBF's mom thought it would be fun to hide the envelopes around the room and then have the kids find the lucky money. Well, that sounds like an American Easter Egg hunt. Not Chinese New Year. I said "no can do" and explained my reasoning. Then the idea of a parade came up. Hum...well yes I think I remember something about a parade at CNY time but I don't know the details. Yes, friends of our just went to see the CNY parade in Chicago this past weekend.
STOP. This is where I am just not sure I should be the one presenting someone else's culture and heritage. Perhaps I am completely overthinking the situation. The kids are 4 after all. And, isn't some acknowledgment of Chinese New Year and it's rich history better than the normal dinosaur coloring book page that they would have been working on? Isn't there some possibility that the kids families will see the cool zodiac book I am sending home? Wouldn't it be great if it fostered conversation about China? Am I completely naive? Don't answer that.
So, I guess in the end I am not ready to call the whole thing off. I am just sort of having weird feelings assuming that two shockingly white moms could present the facts, ambiance, feelings and whole picture centered around Chinese New Year. I think that I will do my best this year. Then perhaps I will invite someone from the Chinese Community Center next year.
I gotta say, this is one of those toss ups. When we wanted a baby, we just wanted a baby. We couldn't have cared less if she had come to us with purple spots and green hair. I did not fully come to grips with the how to handle some of the other issues like trying to respect her grandfather's purple spots and green hair. Again, naive I know.
So, naturally when the other adoptive mom in Ava's preschool classroom asked me if I wanted to join in a CNY presentation for the kids I hopped on the wagon. Perfect, we could share some of Ava's and LBF's heritage with her classmates, eat a lotus puff and still be off to Starbucks before preschool let out for the day. Super. I can taste my vanilla latte already.
Or is this a good idea? I've been downloading CNY preschool ideas from www.Nickjr.com like a mad woman. Honestly, downloading craft projects from nick jr. for the most esteemed Chinese holiday seems, well...weird at best. I have picked out the perfect book. I have music from Chinese School. I have Hong Bao for the children. LBF's mom is getting the chocolate money.
So all this is fine and dandy. But this year I am having second thoughts. Is this the best way to handle educating white suburban preschoolers about Chinese New Year? Am I the right person to be presenting the information? I never celebrated CNY as a kid. What do I know?
I suppose all of this sort of came to the surface for me when I was speaking with LBF's mom. She will be co-facilitating. She had some wonderful fun ideas for the kids. But I am not convinced that they are really part of CNY. For example, hong bao. Traditionally, the red envelopes are presented by adult family members to children in the family. LBF's mom thought it would be fun to hide the envelopes around the room and then have the kids find the lucky money. Well, that sounds like an American Easter Egg hunt. Not Chinese New Year. I said "no can do" and explained my reasoning. Then the idea of a parade came up. Hum...well yes I think I remember something about a parade at CNY time but I don't know the details. Yes, friends of our just went to see the CNY parade in Chicago this past weekend.
STOP. This is where I am just not sure I should be the one presenting someone else's culture and heritage. Perhaps I am completely overthinking the situation. The kids are 4 after all. And, isn't some acknowledgment of Chinese New Year and it's rich history better than the normal dinosaur coloring book page that they would have been working on? Isn't there some possibility that the kids families will see the cool zodiac book I am sending home? Wouldn't it be great if it fostered conversation about China? Am I completely naive? Don't answer that.
So, I guess in the end I am not ready to call the whole thing off. I am just sort of having weird feelings assuming that two shockingly white moms could present the facts, ambiance, feelings and whole picture centered around Chinese New Year. I think that I will do my best this year. Then perhaps I will invite someone from the Chinese Community Center next year.
I gotta say, this is one of those toss ups. When we wanted a baby, we just wanted a baby. We couldn't have cared less if she had come to us with purple spots and green hair. I did not fully come to grips with the how to handle some of the other issues like trying to respect her grandfather's purple spots and green hair. Again, naive I know.
Puzzle
Admitedly, this post will be of no interest to anyone but me. Since I am the author, owner, proprietor and key-(wo)man of this blog...what the heck?
My just turned 4 year old sat down in her room during quiet time. (Yes, I would really love to be calling it nap time. But since she has put her foot down and her lungs up regarding the nap situation it is now to be forever known as quiet time each afternoon.) It was dangerously quiet. By dangerously I mean that usually when I don't hear from her in a while it turns out that the kitchen chairs have been glued together, all of our lotion bottles have been skillfully mixed so the smells are "prettier", a pig tail has been carefully eliminated from her head or every single stitch of clothing in her closet has been re-arranged and re-hung according to her crafty plan, just to name a few of my favorites.
But today I barged in to her room and presto. A 100 piece puzzle was put together. Perfectly I might add. It was a strange and true and altogether new phenomenon for us. Kid has a toy. Kid actually chooses to quietly play with toy. Kid does not whine about being in a room alone with about 1000 toys, poor deprived lost soul.
I'm pretty damned proud of the little gal. 100 piece puzzle, hmmm I'm not altogether sure I could have pulled that one off.
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