9/16 Makes 6

This picture will be forever embedded in the recesses of my mind. I can smell the crowded conference room and elevator lobby. The man with the black bag was a local guide and sang to us on bus rides those 6 days we were in Changsha. This most auspicious of all days should have been relaxed and calm. It wasn't and to this day I cannot relax my stomach when seeing this photo. It was moments before Jing Tang, now Ava, was carried off the elevator to meet us. I had never been more scared in my whole life. That was exactly 6 years ago today.

She was handed to me and simply stared at me with the most beautiful eyes I had ever seen. Her perfect little round face sat square on sturdy shoulders. She had no eyelashes. Her size 18 month Western sleeper hung on her body even though she was quite a chunk of amazing baby bulge. Her fingers were perfect, there were 10, I noticed that right away. I suppose that is what all parents do, count fingers. My long arms and tall frame must have felt very awkward for her. But she was silent, for all of 3 minutes. And then the baby next to us in the conference room started to cry. Ava Jing couldn't take it any more, she let out a wail that still rocks my soul just thinking about it. I wanted to run. Get this poor child out of here, I thought. But there was no where to run, there seemed to be hundreds of people blocking our way. Chinese officials stamping A4 sized papers, well wishing parents and crying nannies all stood sentry blocking my escape. She cried and I panicked through a gritty smile. My husband wanted to video tape our first minutes with her. I couldn't get over the raw indignity of the public nature of this our first meeting with the person whom we would forever call daughter. I wanted no video tape. To this day I shutter at the thought of watching it. It is just too emotional, too raw.


And then we were released to our hotel rooms. Each family was supposed to retire comfortably for some alone time to feed their child, calm them and begin that almost elusive bonding. Ava just wailed, obviously pining for someone who knew better than us how to calm her rattled nerves.

Here the Muffin Man holds our new daughter, 17lbs. of gorgeous strangeness. He looks happy, and truly he was able to embrace the moment so much better than yours truly. She rewarded him with the priviledge of holding her without terrified screams. I look into that face in the picture today and almost don't see her. The real Ava. I see a far scared and tramautized 8 month old who had just had her world rocked. Someone tipped that bough just a little too far, is what she would say in the picture if she could.

I pressed on the next few days as if she were a project to be managed. There was never a project I couldn't manage, it was all about planning and executing to the written order. Or, it had been in the past.

She had her doubts about my plans and projects.







And, then we found water. A perfect equalizer in her mind. Any woman willing to stick her in a warm bath couldn't be all that terrible. And so we bathed and bathed that next week.

It has now been 6 years with Ava. I wouldn't give even one of them up. Not one day, and there have been a few where I once thought, hmmm...maybe we'll just forget about this one. But no. This person, our daughter is an amazing spirit that we are simply honored to be in the presence of. She's a survivor, she'll do anything she has the inkling to do, I'm just so forever grateful she saw it in her plan to make us part of her life.

Happy 6th adoption day, my Ava, my Evita, my love.

Moon Festival

It's Chinese Moon Festival time already again this year. Our city held the first ever all city Chinese festival downtown sponsored by the mayor's office. Chinese American organizations

from all over the area were invited to participate. There were food vendors, entertainment, and cultural booths. It was not a huge festival but definitely something I can see growing quite a bit in the next few years.

I decided to take the girls on my own since the Muffin Man has a hurt foot and can't do too much walking. (Another story for another day.) I always struggle how to dress the girls at events like this. On the one hand I don't want to be the obnoxious white woman with children of color pushing their "traditional" garb on them a few times a year for the sake of dressing them up like silk dolls. Let's be honest, I'm not sure this is even slightly representative of their traditional garb. I'm going to go out on a limb here and guess that red tulle fluffy knee length skirts were not in fact traditional dress of Chinese women of the Ming Dynasty. Just a hunch. On the other hand if they want to wear the outfits because either they enjoy the colors and ummm...twirl factor on a skirt and seem to be proud of wearing something special to a special event...hey, what the heck? And really, where and when else will they ever wear the 1600 dresses I thought we needed while shopping the streets of Guangzhou in 2002 and 2006? I asked them what they wanted to wear and this is what they came up with. And darn it it if might not end up being our Christmas card this year. Now seriously how convoluted is that? We are nothing if not a family willing to mix the secular with sacred when it comes to cheap imitation red silk.

The festival was pretty darn fun, if I don't count the fact that my two year old did not read the memo about napping in the stroller as was instructed. She sort of grumped her way through paper cutting and chop stick tossing until falling asleep mouth wide open a mere three hours late. Oh did I mention that I took my children to this fabulous cultural opportunity 1/2 hour's drive away, by myself in 90 degree heat and all they wanted to do upon arriving was jump in the bouce house that was on the property? Not being one for extreme sports including kid and toddler whining punishment I said, "Have at it munchkins... jump until you barf your lunch, I'll be here waiting for you under this shade tree." They jumped for what seemed like an eternity and they we were able to enjoy the culture and festivities.

They best part of the day was when Ava wore me down and scored ice cream at the festival. She happily announced in front of a large group waiting behind us in line, "Wow, Mom we sure are good at spending your money."

Ahhh, yes you are darling. Yes you are.

Everybody's Adjusting To School

Ava: State of Affairs

Ava has clearly adjusted to school. In the last two weeks she had taken spelling tests, and aced them. She rides a very large bus. She has even found ways to make the ten year old neighbor girl her very own personal playmate, even though a much older and probably cooler 11 year old girl lives in between the two girls. Eleven year old girl still will not be caught dead with 1st grader Ava. But it is only September, and there is of course time for her to weave her complicated web drawing older and more sophisticated beings into her inner circle.

And her new favorite thing to say to me is.....

"Mom, your lip gloss is soooo not shiny any more." Then she bursts into hysterical giggles and skips away.

The kicker is, she gets proper timing, and just when to get me with the lipgloss comments. Move over Palin...you've met your match. Although, my daughter will not be banning anyone's books. I'm still her mother and I won't allow that.

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Liv: State of Affairs

Went to preschool last week day one...cried only 10 minutes...a rousing success if you ask me.
Went to preschool day two and cried over 1/2 an hour and would not participate in very much at all. Declares little girl named Sara her good friend. "Sara nice, no hurt." Hmmm....must speak to teacher about that comment.

All weekend, I occasionally hear...No peeskool, I kwry." Oh child, do twist that knife in my heart before you take it out again. Need I explain why you simply must venture off the cul-de-sac and out of the Caillou infested playroom before age 4 again?

Tomorrow is peeskool day three. I'm gearing up.

Two Most Glorious Years With Liv

There are simply no words to describe how much we have grown to love this little girl. Yesterday marked 2 years since this picture was taken on the bus, in the rain, as we rolled away from the Guangzhou Civil Affairs Building with the greatest of all gifts life can bring. It is still often inconceivable to me that you can roll up to a big government office with only a red bag of trinket gifts, line up behind 10 other families and then be handed a baby with only the clothes on her back. And you are hers and she is yours.

She has made us 4. She has made us laugh. She has softened us, no easy task in a house full of type A's.

In the last two years she has been scared but now pulls herself away the comfort of my arms. She has been hungry but now fills herself and knows when to read her body's signs to stop. She has known the pains of intimate eye contact with an adult who seeks trust, but now freely engages. She has compulsively and repetitively pulled at her skin as an attempt to soothe what is uncomfortable on the inside and out but now seems calmer as she handles life's daily stresses. She is an shining example to others as she always shows unending kindness towards others. I sometimes ache for her when we are not near. I love her with all of my heart, and then some more.

And, it is on this day two years later that I once again wonder where her biological family is. Are they safe, are they well, do they think of her? I am sorry they cannot be with this beautiful child. I wish they could have seen her two pigtails bobbing through the store aisles while she played hide and seek with me only an hour ago. In my mind I imagine that would ease their burden.

Tonight we will light our customary 3 family day candles.

• One for China, the country from which she came. They saw fit to trust us with her. We are grateful.
• One for her biological family. This candle as it is lit comes with a prayer for their health and happiness. May they know in their hearts that the little girl they had to let go landed on safe ground.
• And finally, one candle for us as a family of four. May we bring each other peace and understanding throughout the years to come.

I'm In a Chinese School Daze

I know I've mentioned it here before that Ava, our 6 1/2 year old attends Mandarin language classes on Sunday afternoons at the Chinese Community Center. This fall marks the beginning of our 3rd year there. Hardly newbies...and yet hardly fitting in.

I'll start by saying my personal goals and motivations for spending 2 hours at Chinese school on Sundays have absolutely nothing to do with learning fluent Mandarin. In my opinion this is a completely unattainable goal in a non-Mandarin speaking household on a mere 2 hours a week...even if we did practice more. All of my goals are not clearly defined in my own mind though I have put considerable thought into what the heck I want out of a Chinese school experience for my Chinese born child. I'll admit to winging it as a first time parent to an adopted child that I pulled from her home country as I navigate the few cultural resources I have available. I will say that as Ava gets a little older she is pushing back. Chinese school has Chinese teachers, who teach in the Chinese way. It is not like American Kindergarten and 1st grade. You sit down, you raise your hand and you memorize stuff. You study, and you hope to be the best. ( I make a point of offsetting that "being the best" crap whenever applicable.) Ava told me that she doesn't like it anymore and wants to quit. This is the first time I have ever pushed her a little harder to stick with something. So we signed up again.

Before I go further let me say that I would feel like a complete and utter failure as an adoptive parent of a child of a different race and heritage if I did not try to at least expose them to that race and heritage in the formative years of their lives. What an ass I would be if I just assumed that being raised American and white would be enough to insure emotional stability for the entirety of their lives.

I am making an assumption here, but I think my girls will indeed choose some sort of higher education after high school. At the very least I plan to make sure they know it IS an option for them. I believe the life experience of higher education is intrinsically valuable above and beyond the obvious book learning. So, it is off to dorm life they will go...kidding, sort of. With that being said I simply cannot stand the thought of my daughters as 18 year old freshmen walking by the Asian American Alliance or the Chinese campus organization or Asian sorority and turning a blind eye thinking there is absolutely no place for her in that club or organization because even though her skin and face look like those other students...she knows deep in her heart is not them. Their talk is foreign, what they do on Saturday nights is foreign, what their mama's house smells like at dinner time is foreign, their punishing attitude towards achievement is foreign....this scenario seems overwhelmingly sad to me. My girls should know something, even if it is snippets of what it means to be Chinese in America...or France if they decide on the Sorbonne. Again, tongue in cheek. Damn it if they want to "pass" or try to "pass" I think they should be given that opportunity to see if it is where they want to be.

And this is why we go, each and every week. Perhaps my goal is simple normalcy in all that is them, the real Chinese. I told Ava that I honestly did not care what she does at the Chinese school, it could be dance, Gong Fu, Tai Ji or language, but she had to choose something. As of this summer she reluctantly signed up for folk dance. But then her teacher suggested we try a semi-immersion class with children more her own age this fall. Ava has for the last few years been on the younger end of the children in the class. I thought this would be a good idea...some English and some Mandarin spoken in the class of 5-7 year olds rather than the wholly English class of only American families with Chinese children who are a few years older. That English Mandarin class had seriously dwindling numbers and was in jeopardy of closing. So, I signed her up for language again to try this new class.

This brings us to last week. We go to the assigned class, which is now integrated. It is about 50% Chinese families and 30% adoptive families and 20% English speaking non-white families. This is comprised of mixed race families, and 2nd or 3rd generation Chinese or Asian families that speak 100% English in the home. I am ecstastic. We FINALLY get to be in a class where we can associate with some families who are not exactly like ours.

And of course, it is chaos. The teacher is nearly in tears with the number of students, apparently she thought there would be less. And the Chinese families are sitting on one side and the rest of us are on the other. Then one father starts in on how his child needs to have some English in the classroom, because they don't speak Mandarin at home. He is Asian and so is his child. The teacher turns a lovely shade of purple and announces that perhaps this isn't the class for junior, in the nicest way possible, of course. Mr. I Need English states that the enrollment folks told him to come here. Chinese families squirm and some white parents appear wide eyed. I'm in the back, rolling my eyes because quite frankly here we go again. (Organization and finite planning are not this schools' strong point.)

At the end of the orientation, if you could call it that Ava somehow missed being on the list to get a set of books. I stay after class to add her name to the list. The teacher apologizes profusely and I tell her "Hey girl, Don't sweat it." Ok, perhaps I was a tad more formal, but you get the drift. Then I turn on my heels as one of the Chinese mom's starts laying into the teacher. She's speaking Mandarin at about 110 miles and minute and I'm catching only a word or two at very best. Clearly she is not happy, and I do hear FCC families, in English spoken several times. Ok, so I'm at this point inferring that she is not pleased that her little darling is in class with the likes of anyone not authentically Chinese and or speaking Mandarin in the home. I'm somewhat surprised she would have this conversation right in front of me...but heh, she was correct to assume that I don't speak fluent Mandarin. But hey lady, I do speak body language and can understand a few words like FCC Families. Of course I'm also finely tuned in the universal language of "pissy". At this point there is nothing else to do but hold my head up high turn on a dime and get the hell out of there. I did not want to add to the teacher's distress and I honestly never believe it is appropriate for adults to get overly snippy and petty in front of children. That is to be done after they go to bed.

Later on in the week, we all get an email saying everyone has been assigned to new classrooms. And guess what? All the kids who's parents don't speak Mandarin are in one class and all the kids who whose parents speak Mandarin are in another. Lovely...we are now segregated again.

And honestly, who am I to complain? My kid gets to go to Mandarin class...albeit on the fringe. She could take dancing if she'd like. She could take Gong Fu, even though we were told it was for boys. Now that is one I AM willing to fight about. This school is primarily run by volunteers who are serving the people that mostly make up their contingency...high achieving 1st generation Chinese Americans who have attended only the best schools in China and are now doctors and scientists working for a very large pharmaceutical company here in town or one of the few universities here. There isn't one schlep in the bunch. They worked hard to get here...and now nothing will stand in the way of their children topping even their accomplishments.

Is this school the right place for our family? I don't know. I have often spoken to leaders of the community and they are warm and inviting, saying they love our children...their children...see, it's confusing. They want to serve the community at large and you don't need to be Chinese to be at the community center. But, then maybe they are having growing pains too, not always agreeing about the direction and the tone of the organization and the school.

We'll just take it week by week and see what happens. It's times like these that I wish the Muffin Man hadn't forgotten the manual at the hotel in Changsha.

Olivia

No, not the real Olivia you know and love. Olivia the Pig. All about Olivia the Pig over here.

Sorry, were you expecting something along the lines of Ian Falconer?

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I also have some heavy thoughts and observations about our new year of Chinese school brewing in my head...soon to be brewing on the blog. But seriously, I've had to let my white privileged, majority enjoying self cool off and think things through before I make a complete ass of myself by spewing off impulsively. Let's just say I've had a bitty little taste of assumptive disrespectful behavior and, shocker, poor me I didn't like it.

More about muddling through meager attempts at fitting in at Chinese school as the very large and very white elephant in the back of the room later.

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Yards of Tulle

I love the section of my newspaper that mentions local small businesses and of course shopping opportunities. I admit I rarely go buy anything from these companies and use them mostly for my own entertainment and creative inspiration. Does this make me a heel? Someday when my ship full of gold sails into the front yard...I swear I'll burn up that plastic buying from local artisans. Right now, baby needs a new pair of shoes, and its sadly not a new pair of pink mary janes with yellow flowers. Capishe?

Last week I saw this adorable web site mentioned...simply sweet tutus. Oh, the adorable yards and yards of amazing cotton candy colored tulle. My heart swooned. My girls need tutus, I thought. Never mind that neither one is especially girlie, but they do enjoy dressing up together. You're seeing where this is going right?

I latched onto this tutu idea like a pit bull to raw meat and while Liv and I were out last week buying some supplies for Pink Evita, I was freakishly distracted by a wall of soft tulle in all colors at the local fabric joint. "I know, I'll make everyone I know a magic tutu for Christmas", I thought excitedly. She picked pink and I picked blue for Ava. Her favorite, of course.

We ran home and I excited started cutting tulle into strips. I measured her tiny little waist and for some reason couldn't stop attaching pink strips of tulle to the elastic. There was bits of tulle flying throughout the kitchen. The muffin man pulled a 6" piece from the microwave. I think there might be ten yards of tulle strapped to her little waist.


No wonder she doesn't like it.
This is what happened exactly 30 seconds after she reluctantly modeled the thing.
In a strange turn of events the puggle is the most girliest of them all here on the cul-de-sac. She can't get enough of the thing. She looks like she's frowning here, but I swear she is at this moment frolicking around the house with the enormous pink puff ball stuck to her nose.

Another craft catastrophe. Hmmmmph...I guess that is why some people pay the professionals to do a job.

1st Day of 1st

I did in fact attempt to take photos of my dear 1st grader on her 1st day of 1st grade, which happened this week. But, wouldn't you know it, perhaps it was because I was forced to recognize the un-godly hour of 6:30am...all the pictures I took were grim at best. Yes, this shot was the best of the lot.

Poor little kid has to get up at 6:30am to catch the bus at 7:25am. An unwelcome 25 minutes earlier than last year due to the headache inducing major construction project going on next door at our intersection of all American dream and how precious can one road project really get in this town. The one redeeming factor is that by December 1st this little road project which is giving me headaches from the constant day and night banging banging is that my kids might not ever have to take that 7:25am bus again since we are supposed to be getting some kick ass sidewalk out of the deal that leads directly to the elementary school.

So there she is...Ava is now officially a 1st grader. She even had homework last night. Most of which required me to run around the house finding pictures of the family, trips to China, and summer vacations. She was in charge of writing the story to accompany each one. Olivia colored the kitchen table with markers while all this was going on. Seriously, how do large families do the homework thing without the little ones burning the joint down? Email me separately if you know the secret.

I'm thrilled she's thrilled with the whole school shebang, but I'm also ambling around the house a bit. Livi asks to go the pool about 6 times a day, it is closed during the week now and I'm just not sure what our schedule should be. It has dawned on me that I might pick up a broom and clean something around here, but I've resisted and the summer grime persists. Oh joy.

Remind me how I go through this usual 1-2 week funk when our schedules abruptly change each and every summer and fall. Change is not easy for me. I'm like the fish that got tossed out of the tank immediately before someone decides to pick me up and tosses me back into swim the pink coral and 6" castle. Where's Nemo?

Think about how I'll be all sunshine and roses when Livi starts preschool in a few weeks.

As We Walked The Pork Tent

In my town there are two types of people, people who are state fair snobs and absolutely refuse to attend each and every August even though the state fair serves up big yummy fried stuff and meat on a stick. Perhaps that's part of the reason they are state fair snobs to begin with. And then, there are your state fair enthusiasts. I personally haven't met anyone in the middle politically when speaking of the state fair in mixed company. You love it or hate it, it's a Hilary thing.

I used to be a state fair snob. I went once in the early 1990's and suffered my way through the entire day. It was hot, lots and lots of sweaty people, not one vegetable within ear shot and did I mention the lots and lots of sweaty people...some without teeth. So, for the next 10 years I was a proud and unrepentant state fair snob, wouldn't touch the place.

Then I starting taking up with a couple of little neo-fair'ites on a regular basis. I have repented and seen the light. The light of a fried twinkie, light enough to brighten up even the darkest hour has changed my once dreary and cold heart forever.

Yesterday was it, state fair day. We went with our friends...who are quite frankly, hardcore. Arrive early, leave late and munch munch munch along the way. I am not afraid to tell you I walked a mile and a half after being at the fair for 8 hours just to get the best damn cheese popcorn this state makes. It was that kind of day.

It was a food tour-de-force to make Emeril and Paula blush. This is how good Livi's first snack of corn dog was. This was especially meaningful to the group since it contained BOTH something fried AND meat on a stick.














If that is not worth $4.50, I don't know what is. Mmmmm...good.

The kids ate their corn dogs and fries while I was scolded for choosing that plate of fries for the children to share. My friend explained..."Fries?...no no no, you can get those any old day, you must get something more exotic it's our day at the fair." Oh, I nodded in sophomoric agreement as ketchup dribbled onto my tee shirt. My friend added a paper basket of fried green tomatoes to the table for emphasis. Oh, and they were heavenly.

On our way over to the rides I stopped for a lemon shake up. In another good hearted but lame move on my part I decided to share with my kids and my friend's daughter. Needless to say I should have upped the order to the 32oz. lemon shake up...I got exactly 4 sips for myself.

Meanwhile, we arrive at the carnival rides section of the fair and my friend announces we need the family pack of at least 25 tickets. (In past years, I have NEVER conceded to let my children ride the rides.) Hey, they are operating on a horses stomach over at the equine barn, who needs rides? All of us rode the ferris wheel and not one of us saw a seat belt! And we lived to tell about it.

After Ava rode the log water ride all by herself my friend started to speak quietly and leaned into me as if she wanted to share a secret. I tilted my head as she announced, "I have a secret. I have been in the closet for years but I LOVE the games. Want to win the kids a stuffed animal?" I replied, "What are you crazy, pay $20.00 for a stupid cheap stuffed dog? " Stop, you must know what happened next.

My little Ava soaked that water balloon with the gun faster than anyone else, beating my friend two times in a row...she and her little friend walked out of there with matching pugs.


After all the stuffed animal winning drama I started to loosen up a bit. How could one not be happy surrounded by so many corn dogs?

This corn dog tent won most original dressing up of corn dogs 2008. Blue ribbon corn dog presentation if you will.


Here is my friend L and her daughter E. Pay close attention to the corn dog second from the left. Don't worry, I don't think Mr. Corn Dog inhales.










After, more fun with corn dogs I promptly purchased a fully loaded cheesy chicken quesidilla. It was all of 20 minutes before I was running to the nearest, ummm, ladies room.

To cheer myself up...a trip to the snow cone kiosk. What else could I do?


But then the same thing happened to the sno cone that happened to my lemon shake up. Why does Liv still weigh 27 lbs but my pants are tight? Interesting phenomenon that should be studied next year in the bovine tent.




After all this merriment we stumbled on the outdoor circus, and saw an elephant walk on a ball. That site was beaten in shock and awe value when we saw a 63 year old woman in spandex "Vogue" as her 5 Afgan dogs jumped six feet bars. The quesidilla was rumbling again, it had to have been the spandex sighting. I looked at my watch and we had been at the fair no shorter than 7 1/2 hours at that point.

It was then that my friend announced she would be walking 1 1/2 miles to the farthest popcorn tent there was in the central state area before getting in the car to go home. Was I in? At that point, how could I say no to yet more adventure. Off we went, working our little pork filled legs to the cheesy popcorn tent.

Today, I'm a little sad there is no champion grey rabbit to pet or 1200 lb. World's Largest Pig to snicker at. Oh well , there's always next year to get the fried bananas foster cheescake.

Accounting 101

In the last 2 days I've spent about 5 hours trying to balance my hard drive version of MS Money to the online version of my bank's assessment of our local checking account. And, I'm approximately 1/2 way done. I'm only out of balance $130.00 for the record. But I still have 6 months left to go.

Why would anyone want or need to spend this much time on such a mundane project? Well, it appears that if you don't actually balance your checking account in 13 months...it might get a little out of whack. No really, it might, trust me.

Let me back up the rolling out of control financial train here by saying that I've been slightly aware all summer that I was perhaps minorly out of balance...a tad out of balance in my world is no need to panic and take drastic measures like printing off an online statement or anything. I really thought I had been sticking my fingers in my ears while singing la la la la taking the passive approach to cul-de-sac financial matters for approximately 3-4 months. The big old 13 months...well, that was a shocker...even to me.

How does one get this out of touch with reality? Well, I don't know in my world money is just not colorful and interesting. It is interesting when I have enough to hop on over to Target to buy whatever nonsense I need this week. In depth teachings from Suzy Orman and Alan Greenspan...not so much. I'm desperately trying to configure a way that I can blame my kids...because mostly that is the way I operate around here...poor me I'm so distracted by two little girls eating their weight in yogurt bars and Yogos. But I suppose that would be over the top even for me...I couldn't balance my checking account since I have 2 kids. Perhaps I will ultimately justify my lackadaisical behavior on the fact that I am truly a work at home mom now. My sewing room seems to foster the "life in a bubble" lifestyle I seem to relish. But then again, I do have several close friends who miraculously work 50+ hours a week, grocery shop, and have 2+ kids. But then again they don't have the Today show habit that I do. Points for me again.

Reading line by line what we spent at the grocery 8 months ago and reviewing online expenditures of $4.99 and below 10 1/2 months ago, is shall I say the true butt lashing I deserve for letting this go on so long.

Maybe I need a brownie to cheer me up. No wait, I don't want to have to balance that damn brownie $2.50 expenditure in the checking account in about another 13 months from now.

In Your Room Young Lady

Did your mom ever make you spend the whole afternoon in your room?

Ava's Mom did.

Here's the thing, for the last week taking my children to public places has been well ummm...rather hellish. They run in different directions at the chiropractors, they pull shit down off the walls at the hobby place, and they were caught licking the floor at the grocery store - in separate aisles, no less. (I'm saving that tidbit for the first boy they ever decide to kiss.) And, don't even ask what happened when I tried to take the dog to the groomer with both of them in tow. It was not pretty. Let's just say the dog was the most well behaved on that trip off the cul-de-sac.

So, today I warned them and I warned them good. No shenanigans, stay close to me and do not touch one bolt of $50.00 a yard fabric. We enter the store and they make a bee line for the cording by the roll, pick it up and take off running...cording in hand unraveling throughout the store. Squealing in delight, no less.

The rather snippy mean lady checking me out barked something about not wiping noses on the cream damask silk drapery. I grabbed the first little arm I could get pinched it lightly and said SIT DOWN. Two very beautiful almond shaped eyes glared at me and one little pouty lipped girl simply said NO. I immediately had a kitten and walked out of the store...quiet and eloquent with rage.

I did not yell, amazingly enough. I did not stomp, still reveling at that one. I like to stomp on occasion. I simply announced that little girls who cannot listen and who act like heathens will no longer be privy to society.

It's a few hours later and little trouble is sleeping it off. Big trouble is starting to feel the pain since all the puzzles have been put together, all the dress up clothes are strewn over the floor and she's been denied scissors. I'm not sure why she needed scissors but today is not a day for her to wielding sharp implements, just for everybody's overall personal safety.

Oh god of raising small heathens and converting them into civilized critical thinking feminist young ladies...toss a Mom a bone.

Do we need to dial up the airconditioning?

Things have hit a maximum 10 on the boredom summer scale here today. I know this because the children have started scavenging the depths of Olivia's closet for things to make a mess of...I mean play with.


This seemed like a good idea at the time, it is 90 degrees outside.
















Now, I'm rethinking the whole thing. These mitts don't even match my dress.


















So Olivia, Did anyone help you with this little fleece mitts and hat and boots idea in the middle of July?

"Yeah, I'm looking at the culprit. And I'm wondering why SHE isn't the one sporting the mittens, my hands are starting to sweat."







How do I get myself into these things?

Summer Concert Series

Starting right after Christmas I pine away for the free summer concert series here in my town and conveniently enough my neighboring town. How gracious of them to schedule on different nights from each other. Technically, I could see a free little concert each and every Tuesday and Wednesday night of the summer if I so chose or could get my act into gear that many days a week. Which I can't, so I don't. This year I vowed to make it to tons of them though, fall is right around the corner and the children will be cooped up driving me to insanity in a few short months. Carpe Diem.

Pack the girls, add a few friends and their kids, tail gate like your kid is the star of Purdue football and toss in some sidewalk chalk...presto, have carload, will travel up the street to summer free concerts.

This week the older girls...meaning the 6 year old set, got jiggy with the sidewalk chalk. Knowing that chalk usually under most circumstances washes off next day at the pool...I mean in a quick shower, I chose to stick my fingers in my ears and close my eyes to the perplexing pandemonium.
The new portrait art, as defined by Ava.








Livi...helping herself to a "grown up " chair. That face means feed me cheese.


















Chalk noses all around.














And finally, my favorite. Anyone who has ever had a sibling will get this picture. Big sister is goofing around with her cronies and I just don't get it. Chalk on the face, falling all over themselves...how bourgeois. I think I 'll help myself to the 3rd chocolate chip cookie before my mom notices.

Two...and a half

Don't you just hate it when you are speaking to someone about the cantankerous and onerous things your 2 1/2 year old is doing on a very regular basis and then they remind you that 2 is nothing it is the three year olds you must seriously fear?

The once shy and laid back easiest baby in the whole wide world has now entered the chamber of darkness and has taken to regularly spinning her head 360 degrees while spewing green goo. Video at 10pm.

Here are some things I've noticed this week:

• She will not tolerate anyone within 6 feet of her while she attempts to completely dress herself. This includes diapering and complicated sandal buckles, of course.
  
• She cannot stand when her sister even suggests that they, God forbid, share a toy. She shows her displeasure with 63 decibel schreeching that has me headed for early hearing aids.
  
• She insists on fastening the car seat all by herself even though it has been ergonomically designed by engineering staff to make sure it is not doable for any two year old.
• She cannot help herself from stealing everyone's shoes and spreading them throughout the house making it quite difficult to find a matching pair of shoes when you are already 10 minutes late leaving the house.
  
• She delights in science experiments, like feeding the dog peanut butter from a hole in the crate and dumping the water bowl into the food bowl. Once was sort of funny, twice and I called her independent and spunky thrice....and she's going to find a new place to rent.
  
• She cannot help herself from torturing the dog by holding her collar in a vice grip every second I am not eagle eyeing her.
• She makes a second pass at doggie torture by tossing her obviously illegal toys to the dog while Ava and I run screaming after the dog DROP IT CHLOE!
  
• She simply WILL NOT concede to being potty trained, but delights in telling me the minute she pees and poops in the diaper and then insists on being changed.
• She will perform olympic quality splits, front rollovers, and monkey bar antics on command at home and screams and whines while clinging to my neck at toddler gymnastics (which we dropped out of today, thank you very much.)
  
• She refuses to eat meat, green things and whirls sippy cups at moving targets. And still she has managed to attain 37" and 28 1/2 lbs. She is the same size as her sister at 3 1/2 years old. This little fact caused me to have to scavenage around in the 105 degree attic this weekend for gently used size nine shoes and size 3T clothes. How does one grow that much on fruit snacks and cheese crackers?
  
• Oh, and she's pushing back on nap time.
  

Oh, no hold on there sparky...nap time is non-negotiable.

On The Go

Besides the fact that this summer of constant on the go status with my children is making me dog tired by 9pm each night, I have laundry stacked up 6 feet tall, and I just now got to mopping the kitchen floors this morning after a hiatus from cleaning the kitchen floors that set a new personal record, I am pausing to laugh hysterically at how much fun the girls are having now that summer is here. I'm tired...but man they are living large in the sun.

No, I'm not telling you how long that personal best was on the kitchen grime situation...but really you would have been as disgusted as I was. The break in the stretch was only set into motion as I saw the dog happily licking her breakfast of caked on applesauce off a kitchen chair. All I'm saying is she licked long enough to work her way through applesauce and then hit oatmeal. Old oatmeal.

We took the girls this past weekend to a neighboring town's freedom festival complete with candy parade. Ava named it the candy parade a few years ago when she realized that truly the only thing remotely interesting about the parade is the fact that participants in the parade toss copious amounts of candy to small children lining the street and doing the best to look forlorn after their evil rice cake carrying parents won't let them have any candy at home. Toss a girl a tootsie roll...PuhLEASE! Ava is famous in our circle of friends for throwing an elbow a few years ago on some unsuspecting three year old to get that one last Bit-O-Honey off the ground. She ALWAYS comes home with the biggest and baddest bag O' candy. Let no challenger step forth. Here she is on her scooter with bag of sweet loot slung over arm 10 minutes after the parade ended. Notice the aire of seriousness, and the 16th gobstopper giving her yet another cavity. You saw it here first.

A note about this town's freedom parade...the adults have resorted to placing bets on number of cheerleading squads not related school bands. I'm happy to report we came in a little under last year's record breaking 17 squads all cheering their little hearts out. And as a bonus, girls were less scantily clad this year in an amazing twist of events. And who said America is moving away from conservatism? An alarming number of little girls in skimpy bras and bare midriffs were spotted last year. Thank goodness the fashion police intervened for 2008. On a sad note, there were a few of the under 10 set that were sporting crimson lipstick and blue eyeshadow. Good bye, Jon Benet.

Finally, Livi...she had a ball. Here's the money shot. The child was in perpetual motion for 12 hours that day. Freinds and neighbors were amazed at her ability to scamper, ride a scooter, and skip all within a 2 minute time span. It must have been the tootsie rolls her sister was slipping her on the side. Yes that adorable red, white and blue dress is set off with a pink and yellow floral hat accessory. Don't judge me.

Two Years...from Ge Ge to Olivia

There is one very strange law of time and universe that I still cannot seem to wrap my mind around. Time with small children in your life often creeps along at a snails pace when you are living and breathing it...but then you turn around and reflect for just one moment and time seems to have slipped through your fingers like cherry jello...gone as fast as it seemed to appear.

Two years, it has been two years since my beautiful little Olivia Xi GeGe came into our lives for the first time. It was June 26, 2006 that our agency rep. called and said...you have a daughter from Guangdong Province, born November 12, 2005 in the town of Yangxi. We see lots of these pictures...but wow is she a super cutie with big chubby cheeks. We will email you the picture tomorrow as soon as everything has been translated and processed.

And, then time stood still. I was a mother to a living breathing daughter once again.
All of our hopes and dreams for one more child, a sister, were locked inside a Chinese Fed Ex packet. Something so mundane to wrap something so important that would change so many lives so quickly and with such permanence. It is virtually impossible to imagine life without her now. She is in many ways this family's little rock. She is the grounded one. She is the even keeled one. She is the one who trusts us most, she is one who loves without reservation or expectation. She can turn a grumpy stranger into a fast friend by choosing them for a quick high five and perhaps a random hug. I've seen her brighten store keeper's days and quickly chase blue days away.

And now, two years later that little round faced baby walks and talks and refuses to use the potty. She will kiss the dog on the lips and snuggle with you in the morning in bed always remembering to share the blankets. She has devilish charm that can be seen when she tells you "One more time", holding her one finger up as she climbs the playground slide for the 26th time.
You are where you are supposed to be, baby girl. Thanks for coming into our lives. Can't wait to see what the next two years brings.

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.