Meds For Olivia And A Free $20

I admit it, I cut out coupons with every intention of using them. In my mind, I think that this helps my contribution in the family dynamic where I earn not one penny for doing lots of work (in between reading Real Simple at the pool and stopping at Starbucks) and the Muffin Man, a decent man's wage for a decent man's day of work.

But then alas the little coupons sit on the kitchen counter till they earn an objectionable amount of dust and then I pitch them. All the while thinking, "What a good housekeeper am I?".

This week was different. A $20 coupon arrived in the mailbox. All I would have to do is "transfer" 1 prescription from pharmacy near me to Walgreens. I even took the time to read the fine print. Oh yeah, we were getting $20 bucks worth of free stuff for baby.

Off Ava and I start on our adventure. Off to pharmacy near me. We casually and without guilty face drop off two prescriptions for Ava and Olivia's amoxicillan in case some one gets wheezy in China. I announce quietly that I would like to drop this off and have it entered in the computer immediately...but...we don't want it filled ummmm...right away. The sixteen year old pharmacy tech nods. I have to buy Ava a fruit water as bribery to behave at the next pharmacy stop on our journey.

Down the road a piece we pull into Walgreens. With $20 bonus coupon for transferred prescription in hand. Ava spills copious amounts of fruit water on their floor. Not a good start.
I hand over the coupon to the 17 year old pharmacy tech at Walgreens and tell her that there are prescriptions hanging out waiting to be transferred from good service pharmacy down the road. To show my organizational skills I also present her with the phone number. She calls and it has not been entered into the computer. "Oh, right that's because I dropped it off 20 minutes ago before the fruit water incident. But I left strict instructions to enter it pronto." I tell her. She giggles at me. Well, I will enter the info you have but it will be tomorrow before this can be filled.

Not acceptable. Need Amoxicillian today, since I am leaving for China in about a month. Can't you see my reasoning? She advises me to go back to pharmacy near me and ask for paper scripts back. Then come back to Walgreens and they will "try" to honor it as a transfer. Ugh huh, I think. So, how is this better service than pharmacy near me? Oh, right its not, its only $20 free.

Ava and I hop in car to quickly visit pharmacy near me. Ava campaigns for gummy bears for her inconvenience. Right on sister, since you ate NOTHING FOR LUNCH, I THINK NOT!
We meander in and promptly ask for our scripts back. All the while pharmacy techs are conspiring to stick rat poison in our next prescription.

Thirty two gummy bears and 1 fruit water later we arrive back at Walgreens. They ask who Olivia is and why she had no insurance. I calmly explain that she does exist, really she does, but it is not her fault she is living in a Chinese orphanage at this moment with the name Yangxi, GeGe and has not been stripped of her Chinese name yet for insurance purposes. And, no there is no damned social security number yet, she lives in China! They see my heightened emotional state and choose wisely not to tangle with me, offering to process it all under my social security number. Many thanks. When do I get my $20 worth of free size 3 diapers?

I breathe. In and out. What would Buddha do at Walgreens? Would he even attempt to buck the system for a measley $20? Would Jesus stop off at Walgreens for antibiotic cream? Would Allah seek wisdom in flip flops on sale in aisle 6? Its a mystery to me.

Then it happens. They give me the prescriptions for my girls. My girls...did you hear that...my girls, as in plural? I have 2 girls. I have the prescription to prove it. It even has her name Olivia (Muffin Man's last name) . So, then I start to tear up right there in Walgreens, at the sight of Olivia's name on a prescription bottle. Ava immediately sees fit to help herself to the bevy of free diabetes and restless leg syndrome literature folding each piece carefully into Chinese fans. She folds, I cry. People stare.

Then I pay the co-pay. Since it was clearly stated in the fine print that the $20 may not be applied to Medicare or co-pays. Ava and I boldly march to the baby aisle and pick up one package of size three diapers for $15.29. Since after this drama we must spend every penny of the $20 so I let her pick out 2 coloring books for China. She's happy, coloring books, 17 gummy bears left (she counted) and about 3 ounces of fruit water. Well earned, in my opinion.

I think in the end we will have to go back to pharmacy near me. It holds less emotional baggage after all is said and done.

Calling All Guangdong Families

Apparently there is some whoohaa circulating around that any family adopting from Guangdong Province (that is us) and who will be traveling to Guangdong Province after August 1, 2006 (that is us) will be required to stay an extra 5 days in Province since processing the passport and visa is no longer possible simultaneously. Come on. Really?

Yes, really. In an unprecidented move the Chinese Government has shouted RALLY and seems to be interested in studying the art of science of efficient organizational work flow habits, a 5 day seminar taught by the United States Government. Prior Six Sigma or Project Management Institute (PMI), designations optional for this week long retreat.

This could make the trip closer to three weeks rather than 2 weeks? Come on. Really?

Yes really.

I know that roughing it at the White Swan is not really roughing it...unless you count the part where 4 weeks later you open the Master Card statement, but I am going to go on record that I am not pleased. Muffin Man is not pleased, although seems to be rolling with the punches. This is scarily a-typical for those of you who know and love the Muffin Man. He can be notoriously Type-A.

When I casually dropped this bomb on my dad (who has signed on to be the designated official playmate for all 4 year olds also tagging along), he said "More time at the pool, with Ava Jing. No worries, I am retired."

Uh huh.

Are they looking for a family to break the official record for most money spent on Shaiman Island purchasing silk jammy sets and granite stone carvings? (If you know us personally, now would be areally good time to place your China import order. Be specific, I'm frazzled.)

Apparently we will be first in line trying to break the dubious shopping record with a possible 12-13 days in Guangdong Province + 2-3 in Beijing.

Perhaps there will be a Six Sigma master manager who thinks this as ridiculous as I do and pulls the plug before Aug. 1 2006.

If not what the heck, I'd probably fly to the North Pole to visit Mr. and Mrs. Claus if I thought I could meet my baby and bring her home safely.

Listen To What You Are Saying

Monday was doctor visit day. Dum Dum Dum....

Since deciding to take Ava with us to China last week we have been in a flurry of activity changing up the plans to make sure that all is fine with what it will take to bring along a 4 year old on a two week adventure across the world t0 adopt her little sister.

Just updating the plan for 4 Chinese visas rather than 2 has believe it or not taken quite a bit of time and energy. My scatter-brained mommy adoption hormones kicking in is probably not helping the overall situation either to be honest.

It occurred to me late one evening or early one morning to be exact, that perhaps I should run Ava's big trip by our pediatrician. Taking the 4 year old to China, better make sure she doesn't need a booster or something. Since I'd been meaning to stop by her Dr's. office anyway to beg for some samples forthe trip why not make a morning of it and bring Ava?

I've been a little stressed about taking her, I'll admit. I will also admit to being even more stressed about leaving her. I have even sort worked my proverbial panties in a twist over the whole thing. Do we, don't we? Now we are going..crap, what now? What if she won't sleep and melts down in a completely hysterical fit during the adoption ceremony? What will people think? Will Muffin Man and I be able to keep it all together? Will my dad hate me forever after two weeks with all that us US? I mean two weeks with US is quite frankly...a lot of US.

I'm exhausted just from worrying.

Now, Monday morning comes along presenting parenting dilemma #172...do you tell your 4 year old that a Hep A shot is most probably in the cards or not?

I waited until she flat out asked me, "Mom, what are they going to do to me at the Dr.?"

Crap, I chose not to advertise but I sort of make it a point not to lie to her. I casually explained that I wasn't sure but she might need a shot to protect herself while traveling.

Let's just say the waterworks started and it was made very clear that a shot was not her idea of a good time. In the vertitable words of the Black Eyed Peas..."You don't want no drama...no drama mama."

I immediately launched into the "it does no good to worry about the things in life we have no control over speech". It is wasted energy, I explain to my doe eyed weeping 4 year old. Let's live in the moment I tell her, right now at this very minute cartoons are on and all is good, let's enjoy the moment. "We get nothing from worrying about theA future", I tell her as the Doodlebops sway in the background.

At that moment I stopped, she stopped and the unmade bed stopped spinning. Ahhh hah, wait who needs this speech? Who is the one who has been doing the real worrying in this house? Me. Obviously, I needed to hear someone say it.

Live in the moment. You only have now. Worry is fear. You have nothing to fear.

My baby endured 4 shots 1 hour later to make sure she is safe from disease on her long journey. She was brave, shedding a tear only at the end. She's a good example for me. We both marched out of that Dr.'s office wiping away tears. We are one step closer to peacefully meeting our baby.

Bottom of the 7th, Change The Line Up

We have news. We've changed the China lineup. I've had 18 months to think about how exactly this trip would play out and here I am searching the bottom of the Disney backpack for passports at 3pm today swearing like a sailor when I couldn't find exactly what I was looking for.
And I wonder why my child doesn't have perfect elocution manners.

These pictures, which were not staged by the way, sort of sum it up.



Here we have baby Olivia's nursery. Also known now as packfest docking station #1. One giant obnoxious ladybugesque suitcase, check. One Nissan bullet thermos, check. Massive amounts of junk in no particular order, check.







You didn't look closely enough, there is one more thing going to China.



While googling frantically this afternoon on how to get my hot little hands on a 10lb. or less stroller that would accomodate a 4 year old I hear, "Hey...help I'm stuck in Livi's suitcase."

I casually stroll into the nursery to find this. One stowaway. Ran for the camera and it's official, she's going.

I know you must be thinking I am completely and absolutely nuts, or on drugs, or gluttonous for punishment, or the largest spineless sap known to exist in the 21st Century...taking a high strung back talking 4 year old around the world to experience sibling rivalry in a 23 sq. foot room for 2 weeks in a communist country where we don't speak the language. Throw in must show up for gov't appts. on time with a smile on our faces for good measure. Well, yes it appears I am all of those things. Except for the drugs, I can't seem to find a Dr. to prescribe the good stuff I would like. So that leaves me with gluttonous and nuts. I think there is something riding casually on my 2nd X chromosome that suggests, "Ideal candidate for anxiety producing descions which may or may not cause loud head banging and skreeching at spouse."

All kidding aside sort of, it only took one short session of my emotionally challenged 4 year old to tell me that she was having dreams of being left behind for good at Grandma and Grandpa's for me to turn the tables and stick her in the China Line Up. (Although, being left at Grandma and Grandpa's house for good never hurt her uncle and I. And for the record they give out ice cream these days. This was part of the 1990's improvement plan at Casa de Grands, they also got cable.)

Of course, this little knee jerk 11th hour idea has been brought to you in most part by Grandpa. His name is Frank and he will probably be mentioned at the Vatican by Pope Benedict for agreeing to sign up for operation Take Care Of Ava's Needs While In China. Hopefully this will mostly include water saturation at the White Swan Pool in Guangzhou. We can only hope for the best.

In the end, I'm somewhat ver'clempt and still all the while anxious. Yet, she will be with us, her forever family when we meet the newest member of the forever family. I guess that is what forever means here.

Does anyone know how to score some serious anti-anxiety meds?

A Word From The Couch

I'm firmly planted on the couch. To be technical I have moved from my desk chair to the couch and back again a few times. It is 5:15pm and I'm in my jammies.. still, late not early sadly enough. I'm wearing a lovely teal blue head band that officially belongs to my daughter. Pretty. Ava has informed me that I have coffee breath and my feet are dirty. How can they get so dirty being in the house all day? I've comtemplated the mound of laundry that is now taking over the little room at the end of the hall. Not motivated enough to fold anything mind, just contemplated it. God, I wish you got points for thinking about house work.

Ava was a bear yesterday. Overstimulated and overtired, somehow her evil twin Sabrina bionically morphed into that cute litte body and decided to argue with everything sentence I decided to speak. Perhaps overtired describes both of us. Are we are coming down off of baby Olivia cloud nine? There is only so much adreneline that can carry you through a week. My gosh, that little kid is still the most beautiful little nugget I could have ever imagined but I think I wore myself out contemplating the newness of her arrival.

I suppose it did not help the situation that the very day we received Olivia's picture the planets aligned and 7 workmen showed up to install the new hardwoods in the addition and in Muffin Man's office. Since only one gentleman spoke any English at all communication was a little rough. Somehow my high school Spanish has been completely forgotten since attending Mandarin classes. Hola, amigos...Wo jiao Perrin. Completely ridiculous. Ava and I tried to stay out of their way...but as luck would have it I wanted to see my new babe's picture and nothing was tearing me away from the computer.

So, perhaps all the excitement of the week has done us in. I'm sure a little fireworks will be enough to perk us up!

Next week, apply for visas and narrow the packing lists down to the best 20 or so.

It's Official Now

This guy has been here amidst my girlie shrieks of "My baby is in that envelope, be careful with her." Ava of course obnoxiously followed with "Yeah, that's my sissy."

This was all slightly anti-climatic since my agency emailed us the photos and medicals the night before. But I just couldn't resist any opportunity to stalk and slightly harrass the hard working delivery man. Perhaps we came on a little strong but he tolerated us while giving us a few eye rolls and shifty eyed side glances. I know he was thinking weirdo suburbanites.

Here is the very first ever photographic representation of my girls together.

Aren't they lovely? Olivia is looking a little flat, I know. But it's a decent shot of Ava. Ah, I'm enjoying sisterly love before sibling rivalry sets in. Everyone deserves a honeymoon right?

It's all official now. I've joined the Yangxi yahoo group, read about applying for visas, shopped for the perfect little 6-9 month size sleepers and signed a small stack of paper saying, Yes Yes we love her and want to bring her home!

Introducing Miss Olivia Xi GeGe

Oh my, if ever a family of three could be so in love with our beloved 4th....

I am quite simply as in love with her from the minute I saw her as I was with my darling Ava Jing.

Olivia Xi GeGe

date of birth 11/12/2005

Yangxi County SWI, Guangdong Province PRC

at 5 months she weighed 13.8 lbs and was 24" tall

She sleeps deeply, thank GOD. She loves music and likes to be entertained! She will fit right in.

Current Crib

Here is a picture of Olivia Xi GeGe's current digs.












Current crib. Really, it is literally a current crib at Yangxi County SWI.











Want to see the wash room?









Can you tell that I am a little desperate for photos?





Now, bring on the real photo. Please.

The Day After

It sort of feels like "The Day After". What a wild ride yesterday. I was up, I was down, I was at the gynecologist office, I stayed up to 1am reading everything I possibly could about Yangxi County SWI in Guangdong Province. Then I obnoxiously emailed my travel group about every three minutes with new info and pictures of the SWI, the area, lovely babies living there now etc...

In the end though Muffin Man and I were together when the phone rang at home. On the second ring he shouted, "That's our call", as he watched the caller ID pop up. I leaped for the phone. It was nice to be in the privacy of our own home not at a Dr.'s office or with him on a plane to Texas. (He left at an ungodly 4am this morning so I will have to email him the picture on the road.) I was surprisingly stoic and "together" on the phone with our coordinator. When we received Ava's call I was shaking and crying. I don't think it hit me until I popped over to see Emma-Bug's adorable face. That is when I started to cry. Then I read about our travel group's babies...more crying.

My stomach is better this morning. After reading all night I'm feeling like I might not toss my cookies. Yangxi County seems like a good place, it's an institution but it looks very clean. The nannies have kind eyes. What more could you ask for in an orphanage in the Southern most part of China?

We are still waiting for Olivia Xi Ge Ge's picture and medical report. Hopefully it will be coming to an email address near me this afternoon, early afternoon. Yes, I will be certain to post as soon as the Muffin Man and little Ava Jing see her first.

Thank you to everyone who posted kind words yesterday. I plan to make sure Olivia gets a copy when she is old enough to understand the miracle of how she came to join our family.

And Then There Were Two

We are thrilled to announce the referral of our daughter Yang, Xi Ge Ge. She was born November 12, 2005. She is currently living at the Yangxi County Social Welfare Institute in Guangdong Province, PRC. Olivia Xi Ge Ge has a nice ring.

We will receive her picture and medical and development reports tomorrow afternoon.

We are grateful to the People of China for giving us this gift. We are grateful to her birth family and hope they rest easy tonight.

Peace my daughters.

Where were you when Kennedy was shot?

I realized today that I might have one of those "Do you remember where you were when Kennedy was shot?" moments when the Agency calls to tell me about our new baby. Except, I wasn't alive when Kennedy was shot, so for me it's Elvis. For posterity's sake I was helping my mother in the laundry room in the house on Lisa Court in Elkton, MD when we heard that Elvis died over the transistor radio she kept on the dryer. My mom dropped my dad's blue boxer shorts in the bleach in case you wanted to know. It was that tragic.

Here is why my referral call might be an Elvis moment. My apologies ahead of time to the gentlemanly types who might read this. I have had an annual visit at the OB/GYN scheduled for several months. You know how it is ladies, you schedule that annual visit and come hell or high water you better be there or be prepared to wait another 5 months. They always want to give preference to the gals giving birth the old fashioned way and schedule the rest of us schleps in groups of 2 per month.

Back to the referral call. My "annual visit" is scheduled at 1pm on Monday June 26th, 2006. The DHL bag with my baby from the CCAA in Beijing is due at my agency before noon on Monday. I've heard that they will make phone calls to families revealing babies names, birth place, SWI, height and weight right away after translation. Then they will take the rest of the day to translate the entire contents of the paperwork and overnight the baby's photograph and history to us in an overnight bag to arrive the next morning. Ava and I plan to stalk Mr. Fed Ex for sure. (Muffin Man will be off selling tools, more on that later.)

Let's get one thing clear. I am taking any call from my agency at any time with regards to finding out anything about my baby! No stirrup, swab, Dr. or fat pregnant lady is getting in my way of taking that phone call. I don't care how many knocked up gals I have to trip over to fish my cell phone out of my purse. Sorry, no offense to the ladies out there able to procreate but does anyone else see how ridiculous this might really be? There I am...completely unable and nowadays unwilling to breed, getting a call at the OB's office telling me I've had a Chinese baby. I hope I never get too old or too lame to see the humor in this potential situation. I might actually have a baby at the OB/GYN! I ask you this, is this a Chinese adoption first?

I'm envisioning this conversation ten years down the road...

Lady at PTO meeting: "Oh dear, I just overheard some ladies speaking about their visits to the OB/GYN office. Dreadful. Ahh, I remember when my little Grayson was due and I was two weeks late. I went to the Dr. for my last visit. Then, out of nowhere some crazy tall lady lunged at me and knocked me over in the rudest display grabbing for her cell phone of all things. I fell to the floor causing me to go into labor right then and there on the new taupe berber carpet. It was all that nasty lady's fault...I didn't get an epidural or anything, she caused me to miss my window. Thank heavens precious Grayson is now a math-a-lete and the Dr. didn't charge me extra for having my baby on her floor.

Me: Wow, that was you sitting on my cell phone? Crazy times huh? Ahhh, no epidural and Grayson was 11 1/2 lbs.? Sad.

I know this is slightly twisted.

I am seriously hoping to get the call BEFORE arriving at OB/GYN's office. But I have no problem taking down a prego if necessary. Of course I also have no problem telling the Dr. to bill me for the "delivery" should I have my baby at her office. I challenge ANY insurance professional to find the ICD-9 for that one.

The Water Baby

Here we have a very serious moment. Goggles in place, arms positioned on kick board, legs fluttering. The 2020 Olympics are only 14 years away you know.

Then after the aqua kick fest the goggles are carefully positioned on head and verbal acknowledgment of a job well done is expected. Requisite Mommy cheering commences. "Good job baby, I'm so proud of you. You are such a great swimmer, pumpkin." Then Mommy has to endure the sneers and rolling of eyes from other been there done than that Mommies. No Mommy spirit shall be dashed today. This Mommy is seeing her kid on the side of a Wheaties box.

Now it is time for the diving board. Goggles in place once again. That's a big step for a little kid. Little body, big determination.

Walking the plank. More goggle adjustment. (As a side note, I gave the skeptical Mommies even more to snicker at as I actaully started to cry. In my defense I am 12 1/2 months pregnant and slightly hormonal. Public crying has become a wee bit of a problem this week.)

And next...the action money shot. The grand leap!

Uh huh, here we have an example of why people with children might want to skip the digital camera with the dreaded digital lag time.

No worries, success. The lap of champions, the swim to the ladder with a little help of her swim instructor.

Look out Diana Nyad, Ava Jing might be signing up to swim the English Channel. But only if they let her wear pink goggles and bring a noodle.

She's Spread Her Wings

She is flying right now. She left Beijing on 6/22/06 at 3:00pm Beijing time. She is apparently enjoying her time snuggling up in a stack of 11 other (that we know of) little friends, xiao peng hao as the might say in the orphanage playroom. All of them together weigh only 1lb. Twelve little pictures, twelve descriptive sheets, twelve sketchy medical reports. I, as her mother can only hope the darling dozen were lovingly placed in the envelope with a wish for a good life with families that would love them unconditionally forever.

It is daunting to think how that one 1lb. envelope will change so many lives so quickly. Couples who have longed for a child for years will suddenly be a family, single women and men will have wild dreams fulfilled, children will become brothers and sisters in for a lifelong journey, infertiles will become filled with abundance, some will see the a child through their child's eyes, grandparenthood. But most of all children who through no fault of their own experienced the greatest loss of all will now experience the gift of family.

We hope to hear more about what is in that 1lb. package on Monday or Tuesday. All twelve will be pulled out by capable hands. Words will be translated from their native tongue to English. Calls will be made to hysterically happy families.

This is the adoptive circle of life. We are grateful to be a part of it all again.

Take Me To The Pool

We are all about the pool. I know, I know I've been whining about the adoption and the baby for months on end now so you might think we are all about the adoption and that new baby.

But we are not. We are all about the pool. This is as of Memorial Day weekend, of course.

Ava wakes up and says take me to the pool please. Then she beats me to the car and straps herself in the driver's seat. They have laws about that here in this state, Missy, climb in back.




This morning she suggested I take the camera to catch the head dunking action.

Sure, just let me get my coffee.








This is what happened next. Nothing. Or no pictures to show for it at least. I can only focus on one thing at a time; coffee won and the camera was left on the kitchen table. Typical. There was lots of splashing, head dunking, goggle wearing, breast stroking, and dog paddling. I know it just isn't the same without pictoral representation.

Then we came home. It was suggested that I redeem myself. What good mother would not want to capture her 4 year old's after the swim lesson look? Here is the super poser.
















Tomorrow morning I will try to get the camera and the kid and the coffee in the car all in one full swoop.

And Now?

Travel approvals came in yesterday for the people who got referrals late in May. Typically the CCAA web site updates very soon after travel approvals are announced updating everyone on the next batch of referrals. Unhuh...so where is my update telling me my baby is on the way?

No update. I thought I might see the update this morning after Ava's swim lessons (more on that later, the kid's a natural champ swimmer). Ahhh...I thought as I rushed home to read the CCAA web site. Now this whole shabang is going to get easier. I believed the rumor, hook line and sinker. This is the type of person I am. I usually believe people, which of course has led me to be emotionally burned a few times in this jolly process. I know better..I just can't seem to help myself.

I refuse to watch the stupid CCAA website. It sort of feels too much like my high school days watching the phone to see if cute boy next door would call. The phone never rings when you watch it, everyone knows that.

I'm going to do some breathing exercises walk several miles and then chase my daughter around the pool until it rains later today.

And while I'm gone, that web site better update. Watching the web site and phone doesn't work. Maybe threatening it will.

No animal harmed in quest for suburban bliss....

Do you remember this suburban dilemma? I lobbied hard for the little guy and surprisingly enough Muffin Man easily agreed to keep critter control at bay. (Of course, the $75 varmit catch and release fee helped in the decision.)

Yesterday was the day. Our contractor showed up right on time after I bugged him incessantly about showing up to DO SOMETHING FOR THE LOVE OF GOD to finish this little project. He built this.





Excellent.












The little guy was panicking all day. His house was after all experiencing something equivalent to the little pig who had his house blown down by the big bad wolf.











Later that evening, the Muffin Man and I were starting lovingly into each other's eyes silently asking each other where the heck 15 years have gone over Copper Ridge salmon, asparagus, and a decent bottle of chardonnay. Fifteen years ago yesterday I was quite the blushing June bride you see. Mostly we had a financial discussion about ditching his vehicle in favor of a company car. Now that's romance folks. Nothing says sweet nothings like the chatter of 92,000 miles and insurance updates. I am getting all hot and bothered just thinking about it.

Then I hear this...Scratch, scratch, scratch.

"Oh my gosh, its the raccoon", I say. There I was helping myself to another big helping of salmon sitting right on top of the little panicky guy on the deck.

Muffin man gets up from his seat just then and pronounces, "No, problem he will dig himself out through the azela bush tonight. Smell that salmon...he won't let any drippings go unattended to."

Sure enough. $75 well saved. No animal harmed.


Check out his brand new little door.

I'm running right back to Lowes to get him matching door handles.





Oh, one more thing. Today our paperwork has officially been sitting at the Beijing CCAA office for ONE WHOLE YEAR. We have the dubious distinctive honor of being able to say we are one of the first folks to hit the 1 year mark with no referral in quite some time. Someone should be dusting it off very soon.

Waiting Causes Twitchyness

It is a fact. Waiting for your baby when you have no idea when the little mite might pop out or be sent in an envelope from your favorite communist country can be hazardous to your health.

Take for instance the Muffin Man. He has a serious case of the yuckies in his chest and stomach caused by some disgusting virus he picked up from feeling all twitchy from the adoption wait. He says it's from sitting next to some sick person on that last plane ride he took from Kansas City but I honestly do believe it is waiting induced labor. Why do I think this? The man has eaten nothing in the last 48 hours and is complaining of a swollen and achy belly. Poor guy, he's just overdue, virus or not. I tried to tell him it might be Braxton Hicks and he looked at my like I was the wicked witch from the east. Only did he soften when I clearly explained where the Dayquil and Gas X were located in the medicine closet.

It can also make one pretty darn twitchy when your closest adoption ally, the coordinator at the agency homestead is promising absolutely nothing, nada, zilch. Bu yao, for those of you into Mandarin. Even when your magical processing date is a whole 24 hours after the little number listed here. "To help pass the time you could always run down to the local bank withdraw and extra $140 to send to the federal government to perform the exact same service they performed for you 13 months ago." Coordinator suggests with a :) at the end of the email. Forgive me but sending MORE money to my federal government to process the same fingerprint as a year ago, minus the new little scar caused by an onion slicing incident, is simply not a :) worthy event in my life right now.

Perhaps having children, waiting for children, adopting children, dealing with the United States Federal Government, and adoption agency coordinators causes one to lose their sense of humor. Yes, you get all twitchy and then that sense of humor gets sent away in the same envelope as the $140 for re-fingerprinting.

Here is what I want to know. Why then are federal government employees not finding that sense of humor when they open these letters on a daily basis? Are they not really opening the envelopes with cashiers checks enclosed? Are they doing some little satanic dance around a fire and tossing envelopes in as food for the gods?

Life's mysteries confuse me. Now I am going to go eat a bag of potato chips while I wait for my referral that may or may not be in some envelope coming from China in the next week or two.

Potato chips replenish the sense of humor. They make your ass fat but they have 25% of the daily recommended sense of humor dosage. It's a fact. Google it.

Addition Edition

The walls are now a warm shade of Malted- courtesy of my friends Mr. Sherwin and Mr. Williams. The trim work and window seat are a slick shade of nurse white. So slick in fact I am afraid a few brain cells may have been sacrificed in the making. Certainly Phil the painter felt the lacquer burn since he decided not to wear the Star Wars respirator while spreading the white shine. Tsk Tsk. This was confirmed when he told Muffin Man that he's fine, he's been painting like this since the 1960's. (Phil cannot be any older than 40.) You do the math.

The odiferousness was indeed a little overbearing this week. Since I am paranoid about smells like that causing stars to fall out of the sky on my head while simultaneously causing my dog's toe nails to curl, I decided to open all windows and make us scarce.

I picked Ava up and we decided to check out what was happening in town. Amazingly, I watched Elaine reincarnate herself in my four year old at a free music concert. My high as a kite, huffing pooch trolled the room over and over in perfect concentric circles. Since she was enjoying her buzz so much we left her behind.








There she is my very own little fly girl, Seinfeld style.











Oh, I almost forgot the most important part. The hand rubbed venetian bronze door handles. Ok, so hand rubbed and venetian might be a little bit of an exaggeration but they are bronze(ish). And I do love them so.



Here is Vanna showing them off. We will have to keep ourselves busy admiring them for a few more days since the flooring is on back order. Apparently all of the 3/8" maple flooring with a cinnamon stain is on backorder, countrywide! Muffin man was a little skeptical when he heard that from our contractor. So if you are in the contiguous United States and getting maple flooring with a cinnamon stain Muffin Man wants to hear from you.



And for anyone worried about the pooch, don't. She's 14 and was somewhat mentally incapacitated even before the huffing incident earlier this week. She's fine, still walking circles but fine.

Tag Time

Mrs. Figby asked me to play along. I'm honored, but not promising anything earth shatteringly interesting.


One body part you'd like to change: I'd like to be able to tell you that I am so comfortable in this skin and just love cellulite because it makes me a real woman and and who wants to be a Barbiefied cartoon of her skinny ass self anyway? But that would be a lie. I care. Not obsessively like in my younger days but I care. I think I'd make my hips and butt just a wee bit smaller (as in 2 pant sizes smaller). Now that's original right?

Describe your ideal Saturday: Sleep late, really late. Muffin Man brings me coffee in bed and then I open the other eye and he is dressed and has Ava dressed. Then he says, " Honey, you deserve a break so Ava and I will see you later tonight we are going on a daddy daughter date all day and you are NOT invited." Then they quickly exit stage left and I am left all by myself. For too many hours to count. I hope he reads this, who am I kidding?

What have you got leftover in your fridge: Lots of stuff I just spent a record $236.00 this week at Meijer. How can one little family of 3 need $236.00 worth of food? It's obscene. In my defense I bought a lot of meat.

You get to travel back in time for one day: I'd sit down with Gandhi and we'd talk. Actually, he should probably do the talking and I should shut up and listen.

If you had one hour with the President, what would you say to him: It's ok to say you are wrong sometimes. I'd also tell him it is ok to let a few people go, even if they have been loyal to you. Loyalty isn't everything. Being right and being the biggest and baddest and pushiest also isn't always the best. People don't inherently respect you when you are pushing them around. And then I'd tell him his mom seems like a nice lady, I dig the pearls.

One body part you'd never change: I have nice hands, long fingers. They look like worker bee hands. I also like my reconstructed chest. But not because of the reason you might think. For me reconstruction represents my power to heal. It is a small symbol of being strong. I don't bring this up to unseemly boob chat or anything. I like women to know there are choices after cancer survivorship and women don't have to live disfigured (physically or emotionally).

Your most favorite thing about motherhood: Seeing a kid who is truly happy with herself. She sometimes sings and dances and doesn't care who watches or what they think. Those are the times when I think I'm doing ok.

Ultra-violet rays or tan-in-a-bottle: Can't someone invent ultraviolet rays that aren't horrible for you? I am a 70's child who worshipped the sun goddess. I look better brown.

You have an unlimited expense account. What three things do you purchase first:
1. Lots of plane tickets to travel to exotic places.
2. A little house on the east coast NC Shore. Nothing fancy, just a pink house on the water. Me and my girls would bask in the revelry that is the shore. Muffin Man could grill us hamburgers until his heart was content. It would be nice and quiet. Then we'd use those plane tickets to go to New York when it got too quiet.
3. A huge gift card to amazon.com so I can buy any book I want at any time.

Your least favorite thing about motherhood: Being ON all the time. It can be exhausting.
It's 10:00 pm, do you know where your children are? You bet your biffy I do. She's in bed. She might still be protesting but she is in her bed.

And there we have it, some little bitty pieces of me. Rally kids, play along.

She has 4 stomachs

Breaking news from the land of nod:

I got a call from the Agency. Good news Perrin, we have a baby for you! You have been matched! I am of course overcome with joy and immediately the 1 1/2 years of waiting for this little bundle of joy simply disintegrates and floats off happily in the air leaving only what looks like little bits of pretty silver sparkly dust that land gently on my kitchen floor.

Agency girl goes on to tell me that she is a wee bit older than we requested. I tell her that is fine because my daughter is 4 1/2 now and less space between the girls will be fine. She tells me that the baby is 21 months old. Ok fine I continue, just tell me how to update my homestudy so I can bring the 21 month old wonder child home.

But then Agency girl, not to be confused with Wonder Woman, says that really she needs to speak with me in person. So would it be too much trouble to drive 3 hours right now and meet with her in her office? Ugh, I guess not. Gas is only $3.00 a gallon right?

I hop in the car alone. (This part confuses me since I rarely go anywhere without my little Ava appendage.) I drive up to the agency and Agency girl is waiting for me at her desk. I say, "Show me those cute little cheeks." She stalls and says that she must tell me that although they are sure this will not ever be a problem they do need to tell me that the baby has 4 stomachs.

What?

I explain that I am no medical professional but that sounds serious. Agency girl says I am welcome to shop the medical condition around town but really I should not turn down a referral just because the baby has 4 stomachs. Really, what's the big deal is their attitude? She will always have room for jello.

As a bonus they tell me she is from Chongqing and traveling there will be nice in August. I get all wrapped up and tell her I knew the baby was from Chongqing. I knew it.

Then Agency girl hesitates to show me her picture because she wants me to make a decision to adopt her even though she has 4 stomachs. I sternly tell her to flip the page and show me her little face. She is of course most adorable even with 4 stomachs.

Then it's over. I woke up.


Want to hear something else unrelated but sort of funny?

My neighbor, who is 7 months pregnant was over chatting it up yesterday. She's due Aug 6th. She mentioned that she is very tired of this pregnancy. I can certainly see why, she looks to have gained all of about 6 pounds, works in a nice air conditioned office and has an adorable little hubby who looks lovingly at her cute belly while taking yard work orders. She then says that she can't wait to actually have the baby because she is truly looking forward to some more "me" time again. Did I mention that this is her first child?

Come on you can laugh a little bit. Its ok.

I talked, I cried

Friday morning, the day of my symposium speech it was 6:30 am and I was wide awake. I was panicked that I would over sleep, miss the gig and be knocked down to the "D" list with the Wellness Community gang. I suppose I could have given myself an extra hour of sleep by simply setting the alarm clock. It has been over 3 years since I used that thing and I thought it might confuse me. Sort of like how the VCR confused me for 15 years and then I lucked out, beat the system and was the first gal on the block to buy a DVD player.

So I decide to shower. While in the shower I start to think that birkenstocks and old cutoff shorts with my favorite Eddie Bauer tank top might not be appropriate for speaking in front of an audience. Even though my tank top looks nice due to the fact that I have been ummm....reconstructed which does follow the theme of the day...cancer and all. I start to panic as I realize I blogged about the speech outline and then never even re-read my train of thought. In the old days I used to memorize and formally prepare for these types of things. I used to be the type of gal that would justify a shopping trip for a new outfit before speaking infront of people. Oh, for God's sake I am now at a new low...stay at home mom who only owns birkenstocks and crocs and forgets about speech planning and fashion togetherness.

I get out of the shower and hope that cleanliness will count for something. I dig in the back of the closet and find an old pair of black dress pants. A special thanks to my winter of assly discontent sitting in front of the computer and eating mounds of comfort food proves in good form as I struggle to zip them up. Must lose 5 lbs. before China. Then I find an old shirt and dust it off. I am not exaggerating it had dust on it. But I am not discouraged (except for the 5 lbs. part) because I did just overpay to have my hair highlighted and I don't have time to have a meltdown over dusty blouses.

I drive up to the conference center and the parking lot is full. Hmmm full, there must be a big corporate event here too. My experience is that The Wellness Community usually draws a somewhat intimate crowd...room to spread out if you wish. I park quickly, re-read my outline notes and enter the building. I tell the volunteer at the door my name. She whisks me ahead of the long line and presents me to the executive director. I give a worried smile and feel my eyes widen. There must be over 200 people here, I laugh. He grins and explains that this is a whole day event and this is the largest turnout ever. My palms start to sweat. I talk myself into calm...what would Buddha say about getting all twitchy and nervous now? I beg for a Zen moment in my head.

As it happens, I was part of a panel of 3 speakers. We are all survivors. Each one of us tells a different story but in the end it is all about the same thing...life after cancer, our survivorship. I chose to speak about my quest for my grandmother's wisdom and how cancer was it's catalyst. Jim spoke about being a young survivor twice beating bladder cancer and how he battled and is beating depression. Becky talked about only having a "little bit of cancer" but it affected her in huge ways many months and years after remission. She belly dances now...with reckless abandonment hoping other cancer survivors will do the same. Dance and live.

I was unprepared for how emotional such an experience can be. I was in awe of the other two panelists. So wise, so beautiful in their honesty. And so I cried. I cried on stage after my talk was done and was sitting watching them speak. I cried even harder when I realized there was a professional photographer who's lens seemed fixated on my running mascara. I told myself to pull it together, you are still on the damn stage this will be distracting for the other panelists! I couldn't pull it together so I stopped trying. I breathed in huge gulps of air and remembered what it is like to be at that raw point where life meets death. Life gives the opportunity to say thank you for each and every last rising and falling of the lungs. It is that simple and it is that complicated. And apparently, it can make a grown woman cry.

I sniffled my way off the stage. Embarassed. We were met by a slew of audience members thanking us for our words. One lady told me her mom has been living with breast cancer for 5 years now and she too wanted to gain her wisdom though her caregiver experience. She hugged me, a complete stranger and without a second thought she opened her arms and hugged me. I am humbled.

I met a delightful lady who is adopting from China. She is a health care professional. It seems I can't go anywhere without being reminded of the true gifts adoption can bring, not even a cancer symposium. She hopes to travel early this fall to meet her daughter, I cried again.

I walked away shattered and renewed. I walked away with my coffee mug thank you gift.
I had a cup of coffee in my new mug this morning while laughing quietly. A coffee mug thank you gift. Isn't it me who should be thanking them?

Being a Survivor

Every now and then my favorite cancer support network, The Wellness Community calls and asks if I will speak on their behalf to a symposium group or a board of directors dinner. I simply cannot say no. They were wonderful to me when I was sick, and I will never forget it. They gave me group support and a safe haven when I needed it most. It was the one place I could walk into and everyone there knew exactly what it felt like to be faced with life altering change. Often when people are diagnosed with cancer they can feel immediately isolated even among their family members and best friends, because no one knows exactly what is needed or how it feels unless you've been there yourself.

The Wellness Community called a few weeks ago and asked me to speak on the topic of my "survivorship" choice at a local symposium. It is tomorrow. I have procrastinated with my 6 minutes of soap box time and now I need to show up at 9am with cue cards in hand. It's almost show time and I have some convoluted ideas swirling but nothing ready for a platform.

I tried writing some notes on post-it notes but they seem too lengthly and sticky. I will try my outline here. If it works out to anything of substance I could always print the blog page. Is this how the presidential speech writer's work? My guess would be no.

Wellness Community Symposium
6/2/2006 - Survivor Story 6 minutes
How to end up with your grandmother's grace and wisdom; while still living in your 36 year old body. It's a push in the right direction when you've been diagnosed with cancer.

I. Intro
Diagnosis at age 31 with Stage II invasive ductal carcinoma
Breast saving lumpectomy surgery, 4 rounds of Adriamycin/Taxotere chemotherapy, and
35 radiation treatments, followup reconstructive surgery 2 1/2 years into remission

II. Changes
All this change in one gal's life causes upheaval. Physical changes are obvious.
Sick for 6 months, hair loss, weight loss, port-a cathater management, GI troubles, hormonal
imbalances caused by chemo, dehydration management, large lesions in mouth etc....

Physical changes for me were mostly temporary and merely a catalyst for real change.

The important changes were in my head first in my soul forever after. This is what I want
my 6 minutes to be all about.

III. The physical changes in my experience brought me to question my life's existence, my
purpose.

IIIa. Why would I be given such a great and important hurdle? What was the meaning?
Sensed from beginning that it wasn't time to die, it was time to live.
But what did that mean, aside from showing up on chemo days at the clinic.

IV. Choosing how to live.
Conscious choice to slow down, although I was helped with that one feeling crummy.
Appreciate breath.
Look at the sky each day and say thank you for one more day. It became that simple.
And, not at all hokey or cliched when dealing with life altering change.
Then, say thank you for lots of small things, the ability to walk 1/2 length of the local mall
at Christmas time to see the decorations. A good wig. Walk to see the trees not to burn
calories. A day without nausea. A kiss from the dog. A kiss from husband. The promise to
walk a different path to build a family once in remission.

V. This is how I found meaning in my gift of cancer. Gaining old lady wisdom.
Saying thank you to the universe gave me perspective.
Several months into the experience I found myself less concerned with what others thought
of me. I was merely concerned with my behaviour, doing my best was ok.
I became less angry when little things did not go my way. Life's little problems
became unimportant in relation to my overall experience.

VI. It is now 5 years later. Sometimes I forget to say thank you for all that I am blessed with.
But more often I remember, this is what makes me think I am a little closer to having old
lady wisdom in a 36 year old body.


I'm a little more clear completing that outline exercize however cryptic and unreadable it might be for anyone else. We'll see how it goes tomorrow morning. I think I get a free bagel and coffee for my efforts. For that and a lot more in my life I say thank you.

Chatting It Up With The Agency Folks

My agency called last night. It was not a call about our adoption, I truly did not expect a call about the baby but I admit to being a little off guard when I saw the caller id. Apparently they wanted to link up information about Chinese Culture Camp this summer to their web site. Oh, fabulous...the extra linkage might bring in a few more able bodies to camp. Great. Then she asked if she could use my name as a contact name.

Nope sorry, not the main volunteer gal this summer. I'm happy to direct you to the right volunteer brigade but me, no no. I'm getting my baby in the next batch right? Way too busy with the newest bambina to be dishing about Chinese fan dancing for 7 year olds right? I'll be freaking out adapting to mid-western time in August right? I'll be ferberizing a child late this summer right? I'll be immensely busy dressing her in obnoxious lady bug outfits by September, right?

Want to know what she said? Probably not, I'm telling you anyway.

"Well, yes I do see here by your paperwork that you are LID June 16th. And, while we do hope to be calling you late in June or early July (early July? Hasn't she followed the last six months of trends where referrals are announced late month...) we just don't know for sure." But it all looks promising, but no guarantees. Yes, I do hope we can call you with a referral, ugh ugh ugh."

Stop.

What? Hello, breathe out loud sweet agency chickie. This is my second time around the high school track ok? The CCAA has processed up to and including June 15th, Muffin Man and I jumped through every hoop and landed in the garden of communist eden on June 16th. Unless they process 10 minutes into the 16th and we are 20 minutes into the 16th we are getting a referral next month. Capiche? I'm thinking that this is shall we say a "sure thing"? Since we've been sitting over there in Beijing for 1 year and are at the very top of the stack, how could we not be referred the one and only best child for us the second time around? Sweet, eager to sleep but yet to be officially named, cutest higher than average IQ makes her own clothes baby of the year is merely a formality at this point. Might I add she and I are communicating telepathically and will be united in bodily form in a matter of 8-9 short weeks. RIGHT?

Apparently my agency is handing out no guarantees.

I think that this gal was taking her "tell that client nothing" training to heart. Or perhaps she had to deal with the 67th family jumping on the stow-away to Vietnam or North Korea ship this week. Perhaps she was tired....of dealing with folks like me.

Ok, but my money's still on June. And, I don't want to hear from the folks that remember my money back in the March pool either. Once again. Pick up a stack and match it for heaven's sake.

And, for the record I want a newer pollyanna'esque China coordinator. I want a little sunshine blown up my butt. I've waited long enough for sunshine. Speaking of which more pool pictures soon.

Well, it was a hot one

It was a Memorial Day filled with fun in the sun here at the old homestead. Ava was busy alternating between a new (for us) neighborhood pool and the whale. She is pictured here in the whale. She is riding the tail, while the whale spits sprinkly water over the driveway.

Ah, fun in the sun. This is where we'll be all summer.

Still a Wall Flower

The CCAA has finished the review of the adoption application documents registered with our office before September 30, 2005.
The CCAA has finished the placement of children for the families whose adoption application documents were registered with our office before June 15, 2005.

As luck or the evil powers that be would have it our paperwork landed in Beijing June 16th, 2005. Yes, we missed the big dance yet again. We are destined to sit in the bleachers sneaking spiked punch and picking cocktail weenies out of our teeth one more month.

I decided this morning after hearing the news that instead of driving by this place and simply throwing wads of cash at the front door like usual, I would stop off and enjoy the smell of fresh mulch. Apparently our contractor thought we might want to re-use the corroded old door handle on one of the new doors in the addition. Aucontraire, mon fraire.


See the new addition? Nifty eh?

No no, old corroded door handles simply will not do for the playroom addition that cannot get too precious. (If I can't bring home a precious baby, well then bricks and mortar will have to do even though they won't fit nicely in the baby bjorn.)

Besides, in for a penny in for a pound with this project. Although, it's more like in for a penny in for a crispy new Andrew Jackson. But who is counting? Really, who is counting? I've lost track and can't count that high.

Serious retail damage will only do in times like these. We are now the proud new owners of Venetian Bronze levered door handles with matching dead bolts (sold seperately of course) for the two doors. No high shine brass for this family of cul-de-sac'ers no sir, hand rubbed venetian bronze. Don't be fooled, venetian means made in China these days. This is ironic because it is the only thing I will be getting from China this week.



Oh, the picture hardly does this little beauty justice. You will have to stop on by next week when they are installed. Maybe I will take my picture next to them, drooling. I love them that much.

In conclusion to today's post I must question will Ava ever get the chubby cheeked wrinkly armpitted little sister of her dreams? Will her mother ever find Pottery Barnesque Venetian Bronzed drapery rods to match the new levered doors but at a discount?

Stay tuned. More later.

Laundry...same girl, old tricks

In April 2003 there lived a little kid who liked to take a ride in the laundry basket now and again.

She thought she'd invent a game. It went like this. Mommy would fold. Ava would unfold. It was a race to see who could do their part more quickly.

When Ava would lose, she'd climb into the folded laundry basket and help by stomping it down, her version of permanent press.





Mommy, never one to back down from a challenge, decided to cover the little game player up with folded clothes and pull her around while putting it all away so that the house roof would not pop off stacked too high with laundry.


We won't show this seemingly laundry choked child picture to child protective services.






Now it is May 2006. Same kid, same laundry basket.


Hey, is this thing shrinking?











Nowadays, the laundry basket is an airplane cockpit. Who has time for the old un-fold game?


But she does reserve the right to teach the game to any little sister who might be coming her way.

It's payback for not being fast enough on the un-fold quick draw back in April 2003.

To Keep Me On My Bloggie Toes

I got tired of chartruese green for the bloggy look. What would Freud say about people who love colors like chartruese green? I decided to mess around with the look a bit, since a gal can only take so much bright. Into each life a little neutral must fall now and again.

I picked another boring background and wiped out all settings in the process. Lovely. Come on bloggie spot...give a girl a third warning pleeese.

Why are there no fun lilac, eggplant, or indigo backgrounds? Oh yeah, this is free. Those who do not pay should not complain as much. Really though, I wonder if they have a suggestion box? Maybe they could go to the same place that Microsoft error reports go.

Mother's Day At The Spa, er Chinese School

Yes, it would be nice to be at a spa sitting in warm lavender smelling mud...dreaming of my Queen for the Day pedicure coming up in 30 minutes but alas it was not meant to be. Don't get me wrong, my darling preschool painted petunia flower pot, homemade card with droopy paper flower springing out and delightful new cedar bird house for the backyard have me swimming in gratitude. Today, I'm a lucky woman. I have everything I've ever really wanted.

Reality hit today when I marched my 4 year old off to Chinese School, aka the Sino Pressure Pit. Today's class marked the last day of the school year. One full year for Ava and I in two classrooms; she learned to count to 30 in Mandarin, several songs, a few calligraphy characters, almost every body part, and a smattering of light conversation; me, 8 weeks of perfect pronounciation of each pinyin vowel and consonant followed by 4 weeks of an even lighter smattering of pleasant conversation. Wo jiao Perrin. Wo cong meiguo lai.

Overall, I've been pretty pleased with our classes. Admittedly, I struggle philosophically with Ava's teacher. She is a sweet young gal who married and moved here recently. She is unapologetically teaching the traditional Chinese way. Children sit, children study, big test at end of semester. Funny business is not tolerated. Ava is all about the the funny business, so you can only imagine it hasn't exactly been a match made in heaven between teacher and student. I think Ava has done tremendously well keeping up with the bigger kids in class. I've not pushed her at all to study as her teacher suggests to the parents. When she wants to play naming body parts or counting or singing songs we play. When she doesn't...we don't practice. My reasoning being that I do not want to burn my four year old out on formalized classroom education before Kindergarten starts. Ava surprised me this week by easily rattling off counting 1-30 in perfect Mandarin with tones. I thought for sure her teacher would give her a nod. Again, not meant to be. After test time teacher told me Ava disappointed her, not being able to answer all the questions. I was a little disheartened. I guess my expectation of what a young four year old should be expected to accomplish is different than the traditional Chinese way. In the car I told Ava that she did not have to attend teacher's class again in the fall if she did not choose to, we would try another class. We have the summer to think about trying new options at the school.

What an education this year at Chinese school has been. I've learned how hard some parents push their children in the name of academic success. I 've seen a glimpse at how hard first generation immigrants have to work when they arrive in a new country. I've seen cultural differences and have first hand experience in how hard it is not to judge with my own personal values. I've had moments of wanting to walk away from the school and it's people...too different and not comfortable for me. I've had moments of making new friends and seeing people reach out to a greater Mandarin as a second language community bending to be flexible for our needs. I walk away from this semester wondering how we will fit into the mold next semester.

It's Mother's Day. I wonder what my daughter's Chinese birthmother would think of how my daughter and I spent our day together? Would it mean something to her that we are making an attempt to keep something Chinese in our lives? Or would she feel more "culture is as culture does, don't look back"? Would she be happy with what Ava has learned, like I am? Or would she too want a child to be pushed to be the best, the winner, awarded the prize?

We are thinking of her today since she was and is the first mother. I suppose that is what what really matters, all this other stuff is just life filler.

Might We Get This Show On The Road?

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.

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.

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.

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?

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.