I need a floaty ring to get off the cul-de-sac

We have officially been doing the summer routine, or lack there of it, for 3 weeks now. My kids and their no-school status are kicking my ass. There I said it, I'm Perrin and summer and my kids are kicking my ass and living to laugh about it, probably behind my back. Don't get me wrong, I love summer even more than that average gal. I have been pining away for summer since Christmas. I guess I hadn't really thought about the fact that having the 6 year old in school being entertained by darling little Kindergarten teacher for 7 hours each and every day was as good as prozac for my personal mental health.

All in all, it really isn't her fault. She is as stunned by the lack of routine and sudden onslaught of ridiculously serious swimming lessons as I am having to entertain 2 fighting children 27 hours each and every day. Long gone are the days when Ava would look up at me and state that she truly loved little Olivia because she was the sweetest little sister you could possibly order up from the great nation of China.

My darling sweet tempered Liv, is dealing with the change in routine with a complete personality turnaround only to be rivaled by Sybil herself. Liv now gets my attention by pulling the dog's tail with one hand and sticking her fist in the dog's mouth with the other. Then, in an impressive display of dexterity she will turn on her heel and club her sister with the saliva stained fist all in one full swoop. Maybe I should video it and submit to a contest. If we won we could use the money to send these children away to summer camp.

Oh, I forgot to add that Liv will be named the world's champion whiner at the convention in Las Vegas next month. I bow before you as a humbled noble parent. We got the certified letter in the mail yesterday. It is an esteemed honor, we know and we are so proud. Other children may have tried to compete with sheer number of hours spent whining and number of anti-depressant pills their parents slug in one day. But not one has shown the style that Liv has and the intensity for which she shows her craft. There is some serious emotion behind her talent, it comes deep within her gut at about 60 decibels beyond what even a dog can hear if you must know. Send No-Whining buttons.

Rounding the corner in this week's news round up, Chloe the new dog, you know the one that lets Olivia practice for her proctology and dentist licenses without complaint, has taken to maiming and killing small rodents within the walls of her new backyard. Yesterday's victim was a hapless and sadly cute little chipmunk. May he rest in peace. (In the neighbor's backyard, but that is another summer time story.) This dog, who is amazingly sweet natured and delightful while inside the house has turned into the Executioner as soon as she steps foot on the deck. She caught the chipmunk yesterday and only maimed it. I screamed bloody murder at her until she dropped it on the ground. I made her come inside to give the creature an opportunity to recover and hopefully scamper to safety. An hour later she went back out to "play with the kids". Within 20 minutes I saw her yet again with the chipmunk in her mouth, who I thought was ok since he got up and walked away from the crime scene the first time. I screamed for the Muffin Man who came running with a shovel. Ava yelled at the Muffin Man not to hurt Chloe (the shovel was for a dead little rodent, but Ava thought otherwise) and Livi shouted at the dog "Time Out...Bad Doggie" while swinging happily on the swingset. Where was I during the drama? Running around chasing the dog yelling for her to "DROP IT". Yes, I do know the dog can sprint 40 miles an hour and that is how she caught the thing in the first place.

The whole ordeal ended with Chloe in victory clenching one very dead little chipmunk in her mouth. The kids were surprisingly ok with the scenes of carnage played out before them. Maybe it is because we watch too much Meerkat Manor. The Muffin Man ended the ordeal by heaving the dead chipmunk into the neighbor's back woods...and then we all went inside and ate ice cream. And that, is how Chloe killed Alvin the Chipmunk.

It's only Thursday and quite frankly I have to quit for the week. I'm that tired. And, I didn't even tell you how I ready I am to hire Jo the Supernanny just to help me get out the door by 9am to attend swimming lessons. Seriously, it is too freaking hard just to get two little girls into the car to drive 2 miles to swim lessons? Apparently, for me it is. Apparently, summer itself is a little more than I'd bargained for.

Ahhh, Paradise

Seven whole days in paradise last week, enough to do a soul some good. This is what paradise looked like sitting in the plumb far corner seat inside the Mucky Duck restaurant located at the end of the earth, Florida style. Notice the Miller Lite umbrella? Ahh, yes Captiva Island wants for nothing I tell you.

And then there is paradise with small children. This is what I like to call Paradise Light.





I have taken both of my children to the beach as 1 and 2 year olds and they both have turned on me like rabid raccoons. Liv decided about mid week through the vacation that white sandy beaches, lunches on boats, and fresh grouper were really...not so much her thing. She doesn't care about saving manatees and beautiful curly natural shells are just that...shells that hurt when you step on them. On Thursday, it came to her that if she threw a raging screaming fit out on the beach that Mommy would step into high gear remove writhing screeching 2 year old and high tail it to the pool, located about 300 steps inland. Hmmmm, immediate turn around in attitude when 10,000 jumps from the pool side onto Mom's head commences. Now we are having fun.

Both of my children absolutely had "issues" with the ocean at this age and I am encouraged for future endeavors to paradise by this.

This is Ava's happy as a clam to be in the ocean face. She spent the week charming each and every other child out in the sun and surf and even managed to score all the coveted toys for serious castle making. Wouldn't it be nice it if I had a fabulous picture of that castle to insert here? Yes, it would since I spent over 2 hours making that castle with a moat and sea shell windows with the girls while the Muffin Man and my dad were grocery shopping one morning. (In paradise Mommies do not grocery shop. It's against the law.) Yes, wouldn't it be nice if I had a picture of the TWO castles I made to appease my two year old who wanted a castle of her own? (Think MINE MINE MINE.) Sorry, just as it was approaching sand castle hall of fame quality, Ava and her new little buddy from just north of NYC came crashing in sending all of the little knights and princesses skittering into the Gulf of Mexico. End of sand castles. Apparently I was more impressed with said sand castle than Ava or her new little buddy from just north of NYC.

On a high note, we saw dolphins. Real dolphins swimming in their natural habitat in the gulf while on a tour boat one afternoon. I've decided that everyone is fascinated with dolphins since they are the ocean's equivalent of a Labrador retriever. You clap your hands and whoop and holler a few times and they jump and dance along side the boat. What's not to love?

Can you imagine the end of a perfect vacation at the airport? Wouldn't it be something like you step up to the Air Tran counter and the employee says, "You don't have to layover with 2 little tired kids in Atlanta for 3 hours and get home at 6pm tonight. You can take this flight that is direct RIGHT NOW if you high tail it down to the gate. Oh, and there are no seats together in cattle class so I'm upgrading you and your cute little family up to first class. Don't tell the man sitting next to you. " And then you sailed through the security check because there wasn't one other soul within ear shot. And then your 2 year old giggled hysterically all the way running to the gate since it was so much fun to hurry, hurry hurry through a public building.

Swear, it happened. Man, I so hope my dad wants to party on down with us again in paradise next year. Life's a beach.

Special Requests

It's double post day, since grandma asked for new pictures. Livi does not have a special graduation today...but she just looks so darn cute here on average Thursday...that we had to give her a little equal air time.

























She is completely and thoroughly obsessed with juice boxes. So much so that she has been stealing them out of a cooler in the backyard left over from a backyard party this weekend.

Then she feeds the straws to the dog. Perhaps this is why the dog is now barfing. Perhaps this is too much information...but the dog also got a healthy dose of corn. Don't ask me how I know that, you don't want to know. Livi, don't feed the dog. For the 18th time, don't feed the dog.

Take A Dip In The Pool and Then It's Off To 1st Grade

Kindergarten graduation is right around the corner here on the cul-de-sac. I kid you not, Ava graduates from Kindergarten in about 1 hour. She's glueing her last piece of macaroni to construction paper as we speak (or write, as the case might be). Next year we will be all about spelling words, Brownie Troops, and movie nights with friends. I still think of her as this little kid.




9 months










Or maybe this little kid.





2 1/2 years








Or, if I stretch...maybe I can accept this little kid as my little kid.


5 years old.

But I am simply struggling to accept that she is now this kindergarten graduate today.























Someone, please put a brick on her head. And talk to me about how university education is a thousand eons away.

Chloe

When our dog of 14 years passed away last year I honestly thought I would be ok with not having another dog. Wouldn't it be sweet or romantic to say it was because I was so in love with and enamored of that little Lhasa Apso there could never be a replacement? I suppose it might be but that wouldn't be true. That dog was a pain, we loved her mostly all the same but she could be a pain. She never fully house trained and to replace carpets was a pretty penny. She would bite you if you woke her from sleep and think nothing of it when your finger bled. She ate too many pairs of Italian shoes to count. She simply would not cuddle when you needed it most and refused settle down when guests came to the door. I can't say I wished death on her or anything like that, but I have to admit I was ok with it all after the initial blow that she was going to pass away.

So, as the Muffin Man has been ramping up on his "let's get a new dog campaign 2008"...I have been cool at best. He wanted a pure bred, I insisted on a mutt. He wanted a small dog, I wanted nothing to do with yippee little dogs with attitude. He wanted a completely indoor dog, I wanted a dog who could be independent if left outside for an afternoon. He did not mind spending money at a breeder for a dog, I thought $75 for a shelter dog was the max I could deal with. He wanted a cute dog, I wanted a dog that was eager to please...ME. Needless to say we have been at a stalemate and quite full here on the cul-de-sac with enough beings in the house. I saw no reason to tip the balance. Translate...I got enough goin' on with 2 kids a husband who travels and a wee little small business on the side.

But then last week I got it in my head that maybe it would be ok to look for a breeder of a pug or puggle and surprise him for father's day. He really wanted a dog. So, I combed the rescue web sites and contacted 2 breeders. I had never looked online before but thought, "what the heck he will wear me down eventually anyway." Of course the kids would probably like an dog too. What 6 year old and 2 year old wouldn't? I said nothing about looking online and simply thought if there is a decent dog out there she will find us in time for Father's Day.

That same night Brian took the girls on a walk in the neighborhood and met Jim. Brian stopped him to ask what kind of dog he had, he thought it was super adorable. Jim explained that the dog was a puggle, cross between a beagle and a pug. Then Jim said, "Are you looking for a dog?" Brian explained that we were considering a dog this summer, if only he could convince his wife. Jim said, " You want mine?" Apparently Jim and his wife couldn't give the dog all the exercise she needed and they had contacted 2 rescues that day. They felt that they had made a mistake in taking Chloe and felt that she needed more attention.

As you can imagine it took Brian all of about 6 seconds to get home and tell me about the dog named Chloe who was about to be given up for adoption, and she was only 11 months old, and she had been spayed, and she had all her shots, and and and.......

Now it is a week later. And yes, Jim and Linda did give us the dog. I was excited but also had a slight twinge of fear, what if she is exactly like Bailey, the carpet peeing thumb biting wonder?

It's only been a week but Chloe is definitely ours. When Livi pulls her tail she simply walks away. When Ava gives her a bear hug she licks her face. She is smart and sweet and LOVES the kids. She plays happily all day and sits down on my lap at night while I rub her ears as we watch tv together.

So, I guess this is welcome to the family Chloe.

Updated to add***Chloe came to us with her name and it rhymes with our last name. This provided immeasurable entertainment for the clerk at the Petco when I stopped by to buy her a new tag. It also appears hilarious to our dear friends who this weekend couldn't get enough of yelling "come here little Chloe ______" while tossing a ball her way.

Some things in life just might be meant to be.

Prezzies From Down Under

I received my Lemonade Doll Quilt Swap quilt today. How exciting to come home with a whiny tired toddler after a morning of running errands and the Muffin Man says, "You got something in the mail all the way from Australia."

Whee....Australia, hooray. I visited Sydney and Melbourne several years ago on business. They were the trips of a lifetime. I'd love to go back when the girls are a bit bigger and could truly enjoy a trip like that.

Here is how it came wrapped! In material. That in itself might have been enough of a present for me. You know this darling piece of fabric will not go unused! The little note even had a handmade fabric flower attached. (I might have to "steal" this idea.)

Then....as I opened the fabric wrapped package...

Wow! Red and aqua in an amazing trail complete with beautiful perfect hand quilting stitches. This little quilt has so much detail that this picture does not capture.

Look at the back of the quilt.


















It is every bit as pretty as the front. And, if that was not enough. My present came with a book for my girls.
In a note Donna said that Mem Fox is an Autralian writer. Ava will be so excited when she comes home from school since she is reading now and loves her books.

My day is made. Thank you Donna for all the lovely work. The little quilt will be wrapping a chilly little doll or stuffed bear this afternoon, I just know it.

Why Me

There is an organization called Y-Me who supports women and their families who have been diagnosed with breast cancer. When I was diagnosed at age 31 with breast cancer in September of 2000 I simply could not identify with a group that called itself Why Me. I swear I never once thought Why Me...why NOT me? Yes, I suppose I was a little young to have been given the diagnosis of breast cancer but I always had the feeling Why Not Me? One in 8 of us women will supposedly deal with this diagnosis in our life times. When you lined me up with 7 other women I guess I just never thought I would stand out as being any different on the inside and therefore Why NOT me?

For the first time in the 7 1/2 years since my diagnosis and subsequent remission after surgery, chemo, and radiation I have thought Why Me? Why have I been given the gift of life...or as it is...more life? How did I win this cancer lottery of sorts and then go on to have the two most amazing children in my life? I have my husband who loves me for who I am, I have my immediate family who supports everything I do. I have everything. Why Me?

These Why-Me thoughts have been brought on by a re-lapse of a friend I met along my cancer journey. She is a woman my age who happened to be a friend of a friend. She was about a year behind me in diagnosis and we were able to meet and become friends as we both finished our treatments. We attended cancer fundraisers together periodically, we walked a race or two together. After her treatments ended and she was pronounced in remission she married a wonderful man. The Muffin Man and I went to the wedding. She wanted children. Where I decided to never try for a pregnancy again for fear of tipping the hormonal balance I pursued the adoption route with avengence, she made the decision to have biological children. She had her first baby 2 years ago. His name is Henry. Then she had a second son, Cooper in September 2007. After the birth of her Henry she appeared radiant to me, swelling with pride and love for that little boy as I sat on her couch while visiting. She should be living life, loving her husband, kissing her kids and working at her career.

But she is not. A few weeks ago she was told her cancer had spread to her lung, liver and possibly her brain. She has been immediately transported to another world...one that is filled with treatments, surgeries, chemo, radiation and fear of leaving a young family too soon.

Her name is Tiffany. She is not yet 40 years old. She is real and wears label of cancer on her lovely creamy white skin and in her strawberry blond hair. I guess I could certainly understand if she was now asking Why Me.

If you are one to say a prayer, or send a positive message into the universe would you please think for a moment of Tiffany and her family?

I Flies

We took a little trip to the zoo this week to see the traveling exhibition of butterflies, which Olivia carefully describes as Iflies. This exhibition came to town a few years ago when Ava was about 2 1/2 years old and I was petrified she would stomp the lovely little things and use all her powers to grab the butterflies to squish them in her then chubby little hands. This was at the height of Ava's stomp on all things living including human playmates phase.

But she didn't that day. We talked and talked about how to act at the butterfly house and she was as good as gold. A somewhat rare thing for Ava at 2 1/2. She had a blast and absolutely loved the butterflies. I was amazed at how much she ran through the building with wonder and amazement, all the while carefully holding her fingers up for a hopeful butterfly to land. She talked about the butterflies for weeks after the visit.

You can imagine my excitement as I read that the butterflies would be coming back to our zoo this spring. I invited Livi's playgroup and we caravaned downtown. Knowing how gentle and loving Olivia is by nature, I was sure she would be just as captured by the spirit of the wonderful exhibition with so many gorgeous butterflies everywhere.

Wrong. She freaked. She called them bugs and screamed until I picked her scrawny butt up and perched her on my hip the-entire-time. No amount of explaining that butterflies were in fact the cutest and most gentle of all bugs and they would in no way hurt her would pacify her. Kids? Who ever gets it right?

I enjoyed the butterflies none the less and did my very best to play national geographic photographer with 27 lbs. of Livi on one hip, diaper bag slung over shoulder and camera in the other 3rd hand.

Here is Liv with her little gal pal cronies. Of course trying to get them ALL to pose at one time in one space was not in the cards. The others were behind me either intentionally evading their mothers or or eating snacks behind me as I attempted a picture.

Obviously, this picture was taken before Olivia realized that a trip to visit butterflies meant that she would be in the same room with the dreaded Iflies.










The lovely Miss M thought Olivia's panic was most melodramatic and found satisfaction in bonding with one distinguished yellow butterfly.

And so did Miss E.














You go...ladies. You know these 2 will be explaining the finer points of chrysalis transformation by kindergarten.

Why I don't buy toys anymore....

Because who needs or wants toys when you can sneak into Mommy's closet and find boots made for walkin'.

Or classy pool shoes made for cloggin'.

And all the while the toys lining their little shelves in their beautiful rooms....collect dust.

By the way, I think Liv might have a look going for her there. That's a pretty hot look with the diaper added to the ensemble. The girl's got class.

Picture Time

Yesterday, it was time for the annual pilgrimage to the mall for picture taking time. Oh, the groans...not from them, from me.

I've been putting this off for several weeks, just not being able to muster the energy to wrangle them both in cute coordinating outfits, while making sure their teeth were not growing any fuzz that would show up in the photo and making sure they both had clean hair on the same day. And by clean that means no baby powder in Olivia's hair since on a daily basis she seems to outwit me and finds baby powder stored in the recesses of linen closets to dump all over the floor and her head. Every single time. I now think it is a strange genetic thing and she literally cannot help herself, no matter how many times Mommy gets "mod" (mad).

For Ava clean hair means no bubble gum. She's learned to blow bubbles, and hasn't quite mastered the concept of tossing the head to the side BEFORE bubble pops. This is a highly sought after skill that most females of average or higher intelligence do eventually master, but as we all know it can take time. All this cleanliness and cuteness is no doubt a monumental task for me.

Why do I do it? It's FCC calendar time. I always submit their picture for the FCC calendar because ours is still the largest in the country and makes a decent chunk of change that is submitted to Chinese Children's charities each and every year....for 10 years now running. And, you thought it was because I was a closet stage mom, prepping my cuties for future Miss America contests. Yeah, notice the $5000 gowns they are wearing? Um hm, Target $5.99.
You too can see your amazing darling in the calendar next year by going to www.fcc-in.org for the instructions. It's a worthy cause, really it is.

Olivia for the most part got into the car and sashayed into the mall looking very much like she did in the photo. This was the look we were going for...casual summer, comfortable. Ava on the other had had the white blouse but no matching skirt or shorts. Neither girl had acceptable matching shoes. And, hair bows were folly for upcoming arguments.

My Mission before setting foot in walk-in photo store: Find Ava some coordinating something or other to cover her little bottom and find shoes for them both or give up and hope their feet were not too dirty for photo.

Ava's Mission: Beg and plead 1000 times for flip flops. End of story.

Can you see where this is going?

I had been putting this trip off for several weeks storing up all my energy for undiverted and successful trip to the mall. No amount of begging from 6 year old would break my mental toughness. We enter first shoe joint. Ava begs and plead for gross Hannah Montana pink plastic flip flops. I put my foot down and staunchly deny her. We move to next shoe joint where she finds the shoes she is wearing in the picture. I agree they are acceptable shoes and she proclaims them flip flops! Which they are technically not but who am I to argue? She gets "flip flops" and I don't have to settle on what look like 1985 pink jellies from hell that will pay for Miley Cyrus' future drug rehab in Palm Springs.

Bonus, they have matching ones for Olivia. I whip out a credit card and everyone is stepping a little lighter. Next stop, shorts or skirt that sort of matches the whole theme here. Ava and I argue for a few minutes while I try to cajole her into wearing these completely adorable plaid shorts. Of course, she hates them and refuses. I'm a little worried about her developing sense of style. Then, the whole mission almost got derailed when I spotted this. Because let's be honest, that is cuter that what I originally planned. But, I had to stay focused in that dinner time was approaching and if we didn't make some progress the whole thing was going to blow up in my face if Olivia got, dare I say it, hungry.

After agreeing on non-offensive jean shorts we turned left and headed in to the photo place. Good, news they could take a walk in. The mall was deserted. That's what happens in the mid-west when the first few 70 degree days pop up. So, now all we had to do was re-comb everyone's hair, change Ava's shorts, clean raisins out of Olivia's teeth, change both girls shoes and change a diaper. For posterity's sake, I was sweating by this time.

And, all that BEFORE anyone even picked up a camera.

But, the thrill of victory is sweet. We got a few nice pictures, and since I was in robo-mom mode I quickly discarded any hard sell for "picture club" and walked out with our 2 sheets of photos that we came for and not one thing more.

And then we ate "umburgas" (hamburgers) at Johnny Rockets. Ava asked if Daddy and I came there on dates since it was such a great place. I didn't have the heart to break it to her that no, when daddy and I do date...which is about bicentenially now...we don't choose Johnny Rockets but I would keep it in mind.

A Quirky Tag

I got tagged the other day and because basically I usually do as I'm told....here it is .

1. Link to the person who tagged you: Jill
2. Post the rules: see # 3
3. Share six unimportant habits/quirks about yourself: see below
4. I think I am supposed to tag others...but since I don't do everything I'm told(ha, you believed that crap about doing as I'm told)...please play along if you feel so inclined.

1. I love olives. I eat them almost everyday. My girls love them as well. People think it is strange that a 6 year old and a 2 year old would love olives. I don't. I think it is weird when people don't love them. The first time I went to Spain couldn't believe how lucky I was when all the restaurants served free olives with every meal! I was young and didn't really comprehend the magic of tapas. Do you know what goes with olives really well? Chick peas. I love them too and can eat them out of a can. Is that gross?

2. I don't get out much anymore. Liv loves home and routine and sometimes gets wiggy when we do too much. I'm very social by nature...and have been my whole life. But even though I joke about not showering and leaving the cul-de-sac very often...I'm secretly enjoying this part of my life where I'm somewhat anti-social. I hardly ever worry about what I'm missing out there in the big wide world like I used to. Shower optional is a good thing.

3. When I was little I bit my nails. Gross. Now that I am older I don't bite my nails anymore but I can't seem to stop ripping the holy living crap out of my cuticles. I think it is true what they say about leaving one bad habit but then picking up another bad habit to replace it.

4. I love my daughter's armpits. They are the cutest thing I've ever seen. They are so wrinkly and adorable. She is 6 and I still ask to see them sometimes before she goes to bed. She will give me the equivalent of a quick arm pit flash and then deny me, laughing hysterically. This game makes me laugh every time. I never tire of it.

5. I have clutter issues. I hate clutter. I'm the opposite of those people who are on HGTV or Oprah who need interventions because they hoard so much stuff. I get the willies just watching those shows. But the weird thing is I will let dust pile up and the carpets usually need vaccuming. I compulsively organize and toss junk away but don't deep clean very often for someone who claims to be so bothered by unorganized crap. So, I'm not that much of a neat nick. I'm a fake neat nick. Who has very few preschool art projects saved.

6. Some days I am living for the moment that I will have both of my children in school and I will have time for myself on a regular basis. But then I'm also terrified that I won't find something else that is satisfying and productive that will make me happy. It's an odd feeling to be waiting eagerly for something and sensing a dreaded aspect of it all the same.

What's weird about you?

Holy Tudor Family

When I was visiting my mom she gave me The Other Boleyn Girl, by Phillipa Gregory to read. Since I am wildly and unhealthily addicted to The Tudors on Showtime I snatched it up in 2 seconds flat.

The book is smut...and I am greedily sucking up every word while the girls sleep. Over 600 pages...good grief, overkill. I'm on page 400 something and seriously rooting for Anne to get her pretty little head lopped off. Since I'm not above a little good smut now and again, it does a soul good, I should be done by weekend.

However, reading the book while watching the series at the same time? It is messing with my mind. As I aimlessly walked Olivia in the stroller a few miles this morning at one point I could have sworn I heard the swishing of green velvet in 6 yards of skirts. But then I looked down and realized it was only the muffin man's sport socks I was accidentally wearing. How does one accidentally wear black ankle sport socks even while working out with only a two year old? I casually pulled out a bowl of grapes this morning from the fridge and could have sworn I saw an amazing fruit bowl before me...fit for a king...complete with mangoes and exotic fruits from the far reaches of Europe.

Then I had a little fantasy of purchasing a small Tudor house with a little farm and only taking a few ladies in waiting and man servants as the muffin man and I gave up our time at court to become country farmers. Then of course I bore him a son to carry on the name. Strangely enough there was no Chinese adoption in the day dream.

Is this a sign that I need to talk to someone over the age of 2 1/2 during the daytime hours? I've gotta get a John Irving book off the shelf or something, and maybe a little reality tv.

Spring Break...We're Back

Ahh, a delightful week filled with grandparents huffing and puffing after two little demons wrecking havoc on their usually spotless house. And all the while I simply turned a blind eye and skipped out the front door to watch movies at a real movie theater and sip $4.00 a cup Chinese tea with my brother.

Lovely I tell you. Lovely. But, we are back...we missed the Muffin Man who had to work for a living and chase raccoons out of our backyard while writing no less than 4 checks to the wildlife control people for permanent and irrevocable removal but without euthanasia for the capture of three raccoons and one opossum! He intelligently made the decision to cut the wildlife guy off with his wire traps and sugar donuts for bait when we suspected we were catching each and every wildlife critter in the neighborhood. Would it be unseemly to ask for donations in a tin can at the next neighborhood association meeting? Don't think me above it. So, we are out a few hundred bucks and the long time varmint residents have been evicted. What will the birds do as they actually have a chance to eat the suet block and cardinal grub rather than just watching as the raccoons scarf it greedily down? Maybe if this blog gets boring, too late? I will start posting spring pictures of backyard robins, cardinals, and blue jays...now that could be really exciting.

What else was new while my girls visited more than one park a day with grandma and grandpa? I joined a doll quilt swap and sewed my little heart out capitalizing on my mother's summer dining room table, using it to spread out for the sake of creativity! The story of the doll quilts is over here. Go ahead read it...it is filled with plot, angst, jubilation and a twist of unexpected events involving the color pink.

Since we are back and Costco made my buy the 10 lb. bag rather than the 2lbs. that we really needed...we are celebrating with apple pie! Yes, with swimsuit season right around the corner I need an apple pie on my hips like I need blue doll quilt...or wait...I really do need a blue doll quilt.

In other news I've been tagged for Jill's meme. Now, to come up with some quirky things about myself. Note to self...should I consider mentioning publicly my other career as exotic pole dancing queen to make money for my kids 529's?

Maybe not.

Sides

I can't get this taking sides stuff out of my head. There really is pressure to take sides in our society...Barack or Hillary, pull troops out or keep them there, working mother vs. stay at home mother, soda or pop. Everyone wants there to be a right and a wrong. Good and evil. Black and white. But really, when we commit to honesty there isn't is there? Despite the comfort in cuddling up with one side or another and having your opinion all rolled up in a warm fuzzy blanket and the other guy being completely wrong...it is merely an illusion. Life is complicated, humans are flawed and amazing at the same time, we have been given free will to do good and to do no-good.

Recently, I have read some pieces by people who have weighed in on some arguments both for and against adoption. Personally, I usually find that when complicated issues are boiled down to a simply pro or con...it usually does the issue no justice at all and you end up with something like a sitcom sound bite.

My children, though I know very little about the specifics of their early months in this life did not have it easy. Through no fault of their own they lost birth families, birth culture and endured institutional care. Then they were placed in the arms of some giddy would be parents who traveled across the world to "take them home." Did white privilege play a role in the transaction? Yes, I have to answer I believe it did. Had I been born a poor black woman in the American projects without education or opportunity would I be able to fly across the world and adopt an internationally born child? I cannot say absolutely not, (because I have had the opportunity to know some pretty amazing minority people who have obtained middle class status and high education despite lack of easy opportunity) but statistics would tell me the chances would be slim at best.

Will I apologize or self denigrate to society and my children for my place and my actions that lead me to want to have children in my life? No, I will not. Even though I sought out and actively pursued both of my children for selfish reasons, I believe in my heart that they are better off being raised by loving parents who are wholly committed to seeing they they are raised with warmth and kindness rather than without parents and family at all. Does it mean that they will not or have not grieved for what they have lost? Absolutely not. Sometimes that which does not kill us does indeed make us stronger, kinder and more able to love. It is a choice, to see life in shades of gray trying not to judge others for their misgivings and mistakes. It is a choice to take life and say thank you for small positive things each day. Do not misinterpret this to mean that that which pains us should be forgotten, or suppressed or swept under a proverbial carpet for the sake of a smiling facade. But, when you feel deeply loss and pain, remain with it and then come through it with gratitude you have overcome. You become free to be a being of love.

I would say that on the outside I have probably been a champion, dare I say poster child, for adoption. I have counseled people when they have come to me asking about adoption, I am careful to add it cannot under any circumstance be to physically or spiritually "save" one child, for that will end badly. But it is human nature to want for others what has filled your life with love and hope and I am guilty of perhaps some over zealous conversations in the throws of excited adoptive talk. I'm thinking about these sides people are talking about and perhaps it will make more a tad more careful in my choice of words and more reflective about the realities of what can and does happen in adoption. It cannot be disputed that it would ultimately be better for children if parents were counseled more on the 100's of what ifs..and to get down and dirty...it ain't all ladybugs and red threads and bouncing baby girls in lace headbands at the end of the day.

Ultimately, as my children grow I will continue to defend my choices if need be. I have no
regrets about their adoptions. Do I feel deeply for those who lost when I gained? Yes, I do. I did my best with what information I had at the time. In the same breath I will add I consider it my responsibility to listen to their feelings and wishes as they grow. It is my duty to be open about their situations with them in the home. It is my duty to find professional help, should they at any time need or want it. It is for me to love them but remember that they are not mine, nor would any children who had come through me had that been the case. Their decisions and opinions and actions are their own. They have all the power they need.

I am not naive when it comes to the the gross realities of corrupt individuals on all sides of all oceans. Nor am I naive to the decisions that governments think they need make to protect masses. I advocate discussion that leads to action where children do not lose birth parents due to poverty or lack of education or by the hands of those without parents and children's best interest at heart. But then the day is done, and choices by adults lead to children without homes I think I will always believe that a child will fare best with the love of a permanent family.

26 Minutes

Do you know how long I have been waiting as a parent for a child who would go into a room and find a toy(s) to play with by herself without adult supervision? I think it has been since late 2002. Yes, I've been waiting for 5 1/2 years for a child who would self entertain.

I only mention this because for the last 26 minutes Olivia has been self entertaining in her room with her toys. Her toys that were purchased for the first child who we had hoped would self entertain...but alas, never did. Will wonders never cease, finally a prayer answered...self entertainment. Let's have a party!

What have I been doing for 26 minutes? Paying bills, reading the first 1/2 of my blog list and trying to figure out how to get the Muffin Man to let us adopt a stray cat that has been hanging around our house for the last 2 weeks. He is, shall we say vehemently opposed. He sites his cat allergies and Ava's cat allergies as good reasons in the no category. But really it is the cutest little black cat in the world and it is ripping my heart out to see it wander in and out of our yard and crying each morning as it tries to get into our garage. Oh, and in the yes, category it has really pretty green eyes. Olivia tried to feed it Teddy Grahams this morning after our walk. It refused...perhaps the bird head it ate this weekend is still making it full or so sick that it can't even stomach the thought of a Teddy Graham. It's a toss up.

We are up to 32 minutes of self entertainment. Should I check on her? Should I make sure she is not squirting Purell into her mouth like canned cheese? Should I make sure she is not peeling paint off the wall? Should I take my camera?
This, my friends is the face of self entertainment. Complete with minimal furniture displacement and random toy rearrangement. Nice diaper pail shot in the back, yes? That's the other thing I've been waiting to 5 1/2 years for....no diaper pail. I'll take 'em as I get 'em.

Baby Blankets

I was walking through the fabric store a few weeks ago when Olivia pulled down a bolt off the shelf. Right onto the dirty floor. Within about 2 seconds she had herself wrapped in this fuzzy soft fabric and with a huge grin on her face proclaimed, "Sofffft."

To commemorate her prolific command of the word Sofffft, we bought some. What else would you expect? Perhaps going home and whipping up a darling scrap book page of her clear understanding of a new concept? Oh no, we just bought the fabric.

Then I sort of regretted it later, it wasn't bargain basement clearance and I truly had no real plan for the stuff. As she rolled around on the floor of the fabric store I merely got wrapped up in the fact that she said "soft" clear as a bell without any prompting or prodding. I know I've mentioned here before that Olivia's speech is improving but she will not be giving any long soloiquys on race injustice in this country in the next week or so. I sat on the idea of working with the fabric for a while. Then I folded it up and put it one a shelf. Then it literally came crashing down on me one afternoon...practically shaking a proverbial finger in my face, "You've done nothing with me."

Then I got tired of looking at it.
Then I had an idea. I'll just make some baby blankets out of it and mitre the edges with soft cotton. Then I will pair it with little diaper caddies that hold only 2 diapers and a slimline wipe case. And surely I'll find someone to buy it. Make it and they will come, right?

Only I couldn't for the life of me mitre the edges properly and I was pissed. So pissed that I couldn't figure it out that I got up in the middle of the night and googled Mitred Edges. Directions abounded. The next day I tried again. And failed again. I'm not sure what it is about my brain but things like right angles and inverted rectangles trigger synapse misfires and I usually give up and head for cookies.

So, for the last 2 days I've been obsessed with making these silly little blankets and diaper caddies. Now that I have figured it out I have no more desire to make them. Obsession cured! I'm like that...when the challenge is over, be gone with you, little mitred edges and soft stretchy baby material.

Here they are. If you'd like a set just email me. They are $45.00 each. Be warned, a fair amount of blood sweat and tears went into making them. (Don't worry the diaper caddy that contained real blood with my DNA intact was sacrificed to the sewing room circular file.)

Oh, I almost forget, they are about 24"x30" and are perfect for car or stroller rides or to snuggle up with in the crib. Or, in our case watching Elmo. The little diaper caddies hold 2 diapers and a package of wipes...great for car rides or eating out.

Back to twoladybugs and maddening 2 year old potty training follies soon.

Ambling Around On The Island

Some days as a stay at home mother the thought of emptying the dishwasher yet one more time or folding my husband's mound of underwear in the laundry room is enough to make me scream silently and then go rock myself in a corner. It can be that mind numbing. But then just as I am forming some real day dream in my head about careening off to some important and mentally challenging career a little kid comes along and attaches herself to my pant leg and simply says, "Wuv Yu, mama." And I stop, I smile, and think it's a journey, not a destination this kid rearing gig of mine. If I were working, I wouldn't know that she knows the toy bus is yellow and that she she can say "Wuv Yu, mama" right now. Granted I would probably only have to wait until 6pm to hear "Wuv Yu, mama." But still, you get my point. It seems to be very important to me to hear the "Wuv Yu" moments as they come during the day.

With my first daughter, who is now 6 years old I could hardly call those early years after her adoption "stay at home" motherhood and existence. We were never home, unless you count the fact that we technically lived here and we slept here. We playdated until we were ready to drop, we Gymboree'd every single week, we library story houred each and every Wednesday, we practically lived at the Children's Museum, we took Kindermusik lessons, we took gymnastics and swimming, ballet and tap. She thrived in the excitement and learned so quickly each and every thing life had to toss her way. Now that I look back on those first few years with Ava, I wonder in my heart if she didn't have some mild form of sensory integration problems. She simply was not happy unless she was moving. Even if it was a stroller ride at the mall, she was happy. Sitting at home in the playroom was NOT an option and she would scream until I plopped her body in the car and we did something. Luckily she wasn't picky as long as we would move it, move it. Today she seems to have worked through some of her down time issues and is happy with a mix of high energy activity and some downtime on the couch reading a book or playing a quiet game. For this I am grateful.

Then, in Sept. 2006 we brought Olivia home at 10 months old. She showed early on a completely opposite personality from her sister. She was quiet, easy, and very happy in her comfort zone which included our playroom and her bedroom. One block off the cul-de-sac and she would scare easily. She despised crowds and in the early days would cower and shake in large public places. She was exceedingly kind to everyone and everything and could melt your heart in about 3 seconds flat. All the attachment books offered advice to keep adopted children like this home the first year or more. Form the secure attachment before you do anything else. Let her know this is her home and that will not change, she can trust her family. And that is what we did. With the exception of a few short toddler classes and a twice monthly play date we have stayed home. Exposure to babysitters has been almost none, with no family in town there are no huge Sunday family gatherings. She attends a Moms morning out one morning a week but even for that we had to struggle to find peace and normalcy.

Now it is the 18 month anniversary of Olivia's coming home. She has bonded securely and is a happy healthy child. It is time for some balance. I can't help but sense she needs a slight push out of the nest even if only in small short doses.

A new gym membership has been healthy for me both physically and emotionally these past two weeks. I find myself feeling like I'm in a time warp for 1 hour out of the day without Olivia attached to my hip. I am exceedingly conscious of my body on the elliptical and the people around me as I bob and sway to Amy Winehouse, sweating and panting. It feels so different to be somewhere without her. I strangely stare at each person at the gym wondering if they have a child downstairs in the kid play area. I turn my ipod down to hear the seemingly inevitable page I will receive telling me to come collect my crying child, and yet guiltily I savor each moment until I hear my name over the PA system.

Yesterday I fought pangs of guilt and I pushed her to play in the play area alone, even though she clearly was not thrilled to be alone in the big room full of kids without mommy. When we came home she talked about KidsZone and how she cried. But then I would ask her if she'd like to try KidsZone at the gym again? She'd shake her head yes and say "no cry". Oh, the stab of mommy guilt, be still my heart.

Stepping back from the little cries of missing mommy I think we will not give in and forget about finding a little balance and a little time (very short periods of time) away from each other. It will be good for both of us when my body and mind are a little tighter and her confidence to be on her own is a little stronger.

At Which I Bow Before The Porcelain Goddess

It's not what you think....there are no fabulous stories of chocolate martinis and hard bodied men holding back my waist length chi straightened blond locks while he looks lovingly at my short skirted bottom.

Oh, if only....

This bowing in reverence has everything to do with how freaking hard it can be to potty train another human being. I know what you are thinking, the mighty Olivia is only 2 years 4 months, why is she having a kitten? Sure, in China and lots of other places in the world kids are trained by this age but hey we live in slackerville...they won't go to 3rd grade in diapers right? Well, not riding the normal school bus they won't. But she started it, I swear she did. I'm merely an innocent pawn in her grand scheme to drive me to the nearest psychotherapist seeking chemical intervention.

Setting The Stage...

Often, we'd be at the supermarket or fabric store (I know, I know another problem for another day) and she'd be in the cart pointing to her diaper and say "Mama, pee pee...diaper." And then she'd look up at me with those amazing doe eyes of hers with urgent written all over. We'd scuttle into the public bathroom and she would reluctantly sit on the potty never producing 1 ounce. Not to be discouraged, I started gently encouraging her to try at home. Also met with luke warm reception and a minutia of actual production. Still, I would not be deterred, since she started it! "She's so smart", I told myself with an air of Mommy snobbery. This is the part where I'll be getting the kick in the ass for the air of superciliousness, it's coming up.

Then one day she found her panties in her drawer and asked to wear them. (It was something like "Elmo panties, help....on." Which is Olivia speak for "Mama, could you please help me put these on? Oh great, sure, let's just go potty and you can wear the Elmo panties, I responded. Off we trot to the bathroom and darn it if she doesn't completely flip out at the thought of sitting on the potty, complete with crocodile tears and hyperventilation for full effect. I'm befuzzled...she started it. So, I play hardball..."As soon as you pee pee in the potty one time, you get to wear the Elmo panties all you like." Come on, is that not reasonable? Gees, she keeps asking and then weaseling and seriously has not peed in that potty one time. I clearly have no idea if she even really gets what she needs to do in there. She does however fully understand the idea of complicated mental torture in the form of verbal trickery.

So, then it happens....I'm growing weary of this asking for potty and then refusing to even sit on the damn thing about 6 times a day. So, I completely cave and offer her sugar if she pees just one time on the potty after asking me to do it. Apparently she's been taking negotiation 101 from Bush on the side because her heels are dug down deep and she is unapologetic now about wanting those lollipops and Elmo panties while refusing to even try to sit down on ye' old porcelain goddess.

The State Of Affairs As It Is Today

The Elmo panties are untouched by the little buttless wonder...lollipops are collecting dust on top of the fridge and I've told her. "No more potty talk until you mean business, sister." Capishe?

She's gong to be in size 4 diapers forever, I know it.

Balancing A News Roundup

What a hodge podge of a few weeks we've had. The Muffin Man has been traveling, in and out he has been. I've been loving my new Emerald 830 and also hating it and then loving it again...it takes a while to really develop a true and deep female relationship with one's sewing machine so I haven't been freaking out about the small stuff. Although it is making me seriously want big time sewing lessons, but since most places frown on two year olds with mouths full of lollipops ripping stock down off of tables, that pretty much leaves me out of luck with lessons right now. All the while I've been spending every waking moment filling handbag and accessory orders. Which has left me with this conclusion....

balance is good. Or well, it would be good.

So, in the eternal search for balance that is my life...one that reaches for balance like my 2 year old reaches for strawberry fruit leather, I have joined my local parks and recreation gym. Want to know the best part about said gym? The room called kid zone. Yes, that is the one that lets you deposit toddlers amongst 100 toys and climbing apparatus only to return 1 hour later...tired from exercising a maximus gluttious and then catching a shower! ALONE, or well sort of alone since during the time of day I would be interested in exercising also includes a room full of lactating mothers and senior citizens. Now, those are the folks I like to hang out next to at the gym. Chubby hubbies and wrinkly people. I know that makes me seem shallow but darn it if I don't absolutely hate to exercise amongst girls who look like the chick on the cover of this month's Shape magazine. Yeah, see that itty bitty yellow bikini? I didn't need to see that either. It is not good for my fragile self esteem. So, starting this week...Livi will learn a wee bit more about independence as she navigates kid zone and I will learn a little more about how much it hurts to stretch a muscle covered in a healthy layer of cellulite for the first time in too many years to count.

Oh, one more note on mind, body, spirit wellness. I'm completely and officially obsessed with Tai Chi now at Chinese school on Sundays. It has been my personal mission to learn this in it's entirety this past 2 weeks. It's been a kick in the pants but I love it. It makes my forearms hurt, I have no idea why...and there are no wrinkly or lactating people for me to hang with. Only very svelte little Asian people who seriously look amazing and well balanced as they practice. One can only dream.

In other news about balance, Ava Jing has mastered a 2 wheel bicycle. Well, if you consider going forwards and not turning a mastering of craft. She is riding a 2 wheeler without adult help. Let's leave it at that. Way to go baby girl.

The Emerald 830

Oh boy, I can't believe I just did it. I got in the car drove to the Husquavarna dealership toting my two year old (to be sure I couldn't concentrate or make a rational decision) and bought a new sewing machine. I barely did any research, I asked only minimal questions...I just whipped out my card and bought the thing. Mother of God, what am I doing? I might rip off the mattress tag next people.

Why would I do such a thing?

My old beloved machine...also a Viking Husquavarna that my mother purchased in 1978 and passed on down to me...thanks mom...up and croaked yesterday. Or was it a thunk? It was a cross between a croak and a thunk and now the stitch length and reverse button twirl. This is a bad thing. It is supposed to dial slowly but now it twirls quickly and falls out. Yes, falls out of the hole and onto the floor. This twirl is I am guessing about another $400 twirly fix. Oh dear. So it was either put some cash into a new sparkly machine or put money into my beloved but dying old machine.

I decided on the former.

And you want to know what sealed the deal for me? While I was there oogling the new Emerald 830 another nice lady came up and was interested in a $6000 embroidery machine. I just about had a kitten on the sales floor. Oh, I tried to be cool and all but this lady was seriously interested in a designer $6000 machine. (She was very nice by the way and has a daughter from Korea, I learned.) The lady and the sales lady started talking a language of hoops, and embroidery thread and downloadable patterns from the internet that I did not even understand. Seriously, at one point they must have spoken for 5 minutes and I understood about 6 words...It reminded me of waiting to sign up for next semester at Chinese school, I usually only understand about 1 word in 6 in that line each semester.

So there I was feeding Liv the 8th snack in an hour to bribe her to not whine when the lady was playing with the $6000 embroidery machine and there I was contemplating my little lower end machine (albeit sort of expensive relatively for me) and I just said, "I'm doing it." Bam.

And I did. And now I am the proud owner of a Husquavarna Emerald 830. It's in the box. I'm terrified to open it. Seriously, terrified. And excited. It is so smooth, that is if I can open the box and get it up and running.

I may not sew on it I may just open it up and stare at it...it is so pretty. Kidding, I'm going to go learn how to use the thing and then create something amazing. Wish me luck.

Sisters of Circumstance Published

A few months ago I submitted an article I wrote to the Healing Garden journal, a Michigan based wellness magazine, about my daughter Ava and her LBF, little best friend. They are running a series on globalization.

I've written about LBF here at the blog now and again. She and Ava play quite a bit together and do have a special bond. I am in constant wonder with regards to how the universe guided my daughter to meet another little girl in China in a fancy hotel conference room after coming from less than auspicious beginnings and then end up growing up together a world away in America, living only a few miles apart. I know first hand Ava and her LBF are not the only ones...I read much more amazing stories of Chinese siblings meeting in America and Chinese children caring for each other in orphanages and then meeting again after adoption all the time. These stories inspire me and are a testament to the strength of the human spirit.

This story, Sisters of Circumstance, is not particularly awe inspiring but it is a true one of how my little girl has the amazing gift of friendship in her life. Only time will tell as they age and move on to separate schools and separate interests next year but I do hope they maintain their love for each other.

Please feel free to click on the article if you'd like. Click Table of Contents and then Sisters of Circumstance in the Life and Living section.
Healing Garden Journal

Back to the Tundra

We don't actually live in the tundra but damn if a quick trip to Florida doesn't make it seem like it.
Ironically enough we go to Florida and the weather is a perfect balmy 75 degrees and what do we do the first day? Go to Sea World. Where the girls loved seeing penguins. Who can blame them? They were pretty darn cute.














My favorite was those sharks. I am a sucker for aquariums...could stare at those fish all day. The pass through glass tunnel with sharks swimming over and all around? Fabulous. Then we meandered ever to the stingray pond where you can buy food and feed them. Ava wanted to pitch a tent and spend the night. She was completely captured by those stingray or is it stangrays or stingrai? I don't get it...they were slimy and those wavy fins sort of creep me out. But not Ava...she leaned over that pond edge and personally gave each and every ray a soft loving stroke.

Here we are at Lego land. We got stuck at Lego land. How does that happen? Well, we ended up being held capture by a torrential rain pour and the only cover was the covered lego stand. Not the worst place in the world to get stuck in a rain storm, especially if you are an engineer by way of college degree.

We were there so long my dad got busy building a new 1/2 inch scale replica of the Hoover dam. Or was it Godzilla in his red phase?

Then Ava and Liv got in on the action with their own creations.














Does Liv look like she is seriously considering a career in architecture or what? My mom and I simply took the hour to plan our action plan running through rain drops to procure a Starbucks since us creative types can't be bothered with too many damn legos. The Muffin Man decided to stake out the birthday party happening next to us to see if he could score a birthday cupcake with this amazing green frosting. No luck...the birthday party people were not generous with the leftover cupcakes...sad. We had to run to House of Blues for burgers and fries as soon as the rain let up a bit for consolation.

Over all we had a wild blast down in the land of mouse. The kids were ridiculously fun to be with, I was mentally and emotionally prepared for at least one barfing session and one nuclear meltdown in public and was pleasantly surprised when neither were an issue. Although I did contemplate tossing Ava into the Shamu tank when she incessantly kept asking for carnival games and stuffed animals at Sea World only to be met with my constant parental warnings of "isn't being a Sea World enough to be thankful for".

The Magic Kingdom was a hoot. Ava rode her first real roller coaster and Livi owned the carosel. I waited a record 45 minutes for a 2 minute ride on Dumbo with my 2 children which surely solidifies my space in perpetual heavenly existence when my time here on earth is complete. I'm using that one in my back pocket after I lost 1/2 a notch when I simply refused to swim in the big pool at the hotel with Ava, instead opting for the hot tub ONLY due to the fact that it was not the normal 90 degrees I like when hitting the big pool. So much for mother of the year.

How many more months until the next Florida vacation?

Keep On Driving

If you pull up to our place on the cul-de-sac...just keep on driving. Do not pass go and do not collect $200. That is unless you would like a free transmission of the grossest and yukiest case of whatever form of bad chest cold/flu/headache/stuffy nose/fever/chills plus full frontal green oozing snot you've ever had the pleasure of meeting.

I was icky sick all week while the Muffin Man traveled for business. I've said it before but it is a special kind of hurt reserved for those adults who are sick and still have loads of childcare responsibilities. I'm calling the Sesame Street people to personally thank them for babysitting my kids this week. Where can I buy stock? If it wasn't for my dear friend who fed me and my kids this week while calling each day to make sure I wasn't slamming my head into the brick siding for congestion relief, well, I'm not sure what I would have done. Then, as luck would have it the Muffin Man rolled back into town with it. And, we all know how the average man does with the flu. We are no exception over here. My God, you'd think he's had some dread disease diagnosis. Everyday he's taken to shopping for the best vitamin drink or nasal spray with 8813% B12. I'm not exaggerating, the one he brought home this afternoon has 8813% of the daily recommended value of vitamin B12. It took everything I had not to tell him you just use the 100% and pee out the rest, Sparky. Oh no, I simply nodded and said "Yes dear, I'm sure that energy drink will completely cure you by 8pm tonight."

Everyone must get better by Wednesday morning. End of story. We have a date with the Mouse. You know the big Mouse who lives in Orlando? We are riding his coat tails down to Orlando while he works business.

Of course all Ava cares about is the darn pool at the resort. Magic Kingdom within striking distance and all she is concerned with is if she is tall enough to slide the water slide at the resort. Consequently, I did not go overboard buying park tickets this year. She can slide all she wants and I will sit in that hot tub sipping something overly fruity preferrably with an umbrella in it.

I said Cheeeese

Liv just pointed to the camera on my desk and shouted Cheese Cheese Cheese. I scoffed and told her I would get dinner in a minute.

Then it dawned on me. She's saying Cheese AND pointing to the camera. She gets it that you say Cheese when you have your picture taken.
This is new for us. She hasn't done much verbal association so far. Very exciting. Probably only for me, but exciting nonetheless.

What is a mama to do? Comply and take the darn picture. Is that the best Cheeser you've seen in a while or what? It took Ava about 3 seconds to rip herself away from her room to get in on the action.

Gong Xi Fa Cai

Happy New Year Everyone. The year of the rat. 2008

Ava asked if we could get a rat to celebrate since we don't have pets anymore.
That would be a resounding Bu. Mandarin for No. We have a strict no rodent policy in this house. Rules are rules, mixing of cultures provides for no exceptions.

Livi is celebrating by carrying lucky coins in her overall pockets today. She seems to be guarding them with pitbull"like" instincts. She is also celebrating with several Bu's of her own.
For example, she yells No No No at the top of her lungs when anyone tries to help her with her coat, zippers, snaps, window blinds, light switches, and garage door openers or shoes of any kind. It is the emphatic type of screeching No, No, No, that is sometimes reserved for people who have savant tendencies , which is a little disturbing at the least.

She will then throw herself on the floor screaming when you tell her she has to hurry up or she will miss the family bus ride to where ever we happen to be going. This results in making us permanently 20 minutes late for just about everything.

I'm celebrating in denial that I can't go anywhere without a full frontal diplomatic intervention with a two year old about the importance of socks in February in the midwest. "La La La, I can't hear you." I'm holled (is that a word?) up back in the sewing room which I've decided now should be called the studio...since it sounds more pretentious and official sewing my little guts out just because...for some weird reason it seems to bring me peace.

If you are the crafty type or simply love handbags the way I do feel free to see the new pic'ies at Pink Evita. Is it annoying that I continuously shamelessly plug these fabric bits on the blog? If it is you can tell me. I'm that type of girl.

Here it is. A very happy Gong Xi Fa Cai to you and your family. May the new year bring peace and happiness, health and prosperity to your family. May it also bring you children in your life that can be reasoned with.

Being Chinese, but not....

I'm trying something new at Chinese school on Sundays. Tai Chi. It is by and part to get me up and off the "white table". What is the "white table"? At school most of the white adoptive parents drop off their kids and then head on down to the cafeteria and congregate around one or two tables and chat. Some tell orphanage or travel stories, some talk about schools, some knit, some read. The Chinese parents do pretty much the same but at other tables by themselves. I'm not sure what they talk about. Probably the same things minus the orphanage visit stories. This is not a racial comment or anything on my part...just an observation. I suspect it is a human nature thing...if you are a bear you hang with the bears and don't really make too many owl friends. If you are a bear...bear stuff is comforting and familiar and easy. Owl stuff is weird, and they eat strange stuff, and they have wings. Bears know nothing of wings.

One of the things I want most out of Chinese school is to experience Chinese American culture. This is the selfish part...I find other cultures and other people fascinating. For my kids, I simply don't want them feeling like they have never met an owl when they leave my den. How awful to look like an owl in the big wide open forest but only know bear stuff. It's weird. And I fear someone will have to call the therapist to the animal kingdom if we ignore our obvious differences. But then I am one to be known who worries about being the root of my children's future therapy.

The tai chi practice is an attempt to step away from the bear den and climb a tree to learn how to sit like and owl. I know this analogy sounds rather contrite and simplistic. But the concept of stepping away from the "white bear" table is not. It is not simple and it is not easy. As a side note I am getting a little bit of a physical workout while practicing tai chi each week. More than my usual weekly round of blog reading and sewing can offer a growing girl's butt. The bad news is that I am clearly the big white girl with no obvious rhythm or sense of stage presence in the back row. Thank God for small favors when I tell you that there are no mirrors since the practice takes place in a high school cafeteria. I might have to quit if there were mirrors.

And yet even though I cannot move gracefully and I cannot seem to remember even 4 of the 24 basic movements I love Tai Chi. I love watching my neighbor smoothly swoop down while his hand holds an imaginary ball. I am mesmerized by the old lady in the front row who wears hard soled street shoes and never topples over while raising her left foot high into the air.
When I am doing it...or lacklusterly thumping along...I feel like I am one of them. The music is starting to feel familiar in the same way Dave Brubek's jazz feels familiar to me. Take Five was played in my house as a little girl. I know I am not one of them but for that short period of time the whole bit about Chinese school doesn't feel so "owlish" to me.

Last week us serene folks on the Tai Chi side of the cafeteria were drowned out by the loud rukus of the beating drums and wild dancing dragon and 3 lions. They were practicing for the up coming Chinese New Year show. I couldn't concentrate at all with all the noise and energy. This made me especially daft with my Tai Chi. But just as I was about to be annoyed at the interruption of the loud music...I looked over at the huge dragon shaking his head and that felt familiar too. It's CNY time of course the dragon would be practicing. Of course the tiny beautiful ladies performing ballet would be tip toeing around each other enpointe. And I relaxed.

I have no idea how long I will keep at the Tai Chi practice. I have no idea whether it is giving me or Ava anything remotely like window access to her home culture. But at least I can say we tried a few steps out of the comfy den.