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.

January has left the calendar

I have nothing officially against January. My daughter and my mother were born in this frosty month so, for that I am grateful. However, it does usually end up becoming the month that just will not end for me each year. Why is it that July has 31 days, just as January does but January seemingly drags for for what seems to me like about 50 days...where July just seems to slip through my fingers amongst glasses of backyard lemonade and hoola hooping kids?

So, in this the winter of my discontent, I've been trying to keep busy. Remember the Target clearance sheets?

They have become this.

A nice bright spring green addition if I don't say so myself.



Here is one cute little kid trying out the new duvet cover.





I've also been wishing away the chillies with mind over matter through fabric. I'm stalking the internet and quilt shops for only bright happy springy colors and lighter weights! Mind over matter...the weather man is predicting 4 inches of snow tonight.

Anyway, stop on over at Pink Evita to see some bright and colorful additions to take away the winter blahs.

My day and my back

Oh, my back feels old today. I rolled over this morning and heard a loud crack. Then the wind was almost knocked out of me as I attempted to move my arms, shooting pain. I groaned while attempting to slowly slink out of bed. I have no idea how I could have injured my back while laying on it...but I have. I wonder if this recent resurgence in back pain has something to do with wearing a 27lb. 2 year old several hours a day? Must ask chiropractor tomorrow about that.

After a very long, very hot shower in attempt at heavy duty hydrotherapy for my aching back I shuffled both children off to mom's morning out and kindergarten. Thank goodness for small favors if you have to have a bad back day....it is always best to have it on a day where 4 hours are carved out without kidlets mangling you.

I scooted off to two quilt shops looking for this. Retail therapy is a proven analgesic for physical pain. I found plenty of Michael Miller sock monkeys and Dick and Jane prints but no Chinese kids playing. Sad. I almost had to cave in on the sock monkeys...but then thought better of it and scooted on home to order it online. I'm not sure why I'm obsessed with this material right now and think that I absolutely will die if I don't get it. But I do. Regardless of what the old ladies at the quilt shop think, Michael Miller fabric rocks. One pre-historic blue haired gal sniffed as I asked for my prize. She said that most of "that novelty wear" was mixed in throughout the store and she had no idea how I could easily locate the Chinese kids material amongst the 10,000 bolts of calico prints. Fine, go cut some of that heinous country blue small print for the next gal. Does anyone helpful under the age of 83 work in fabric?

Once home I pacified myself with a baked potato, 2 advil, and her. This is Hopper San, or Hopper three in Mandarin circles. I finished her little yellow coat, added some white eyelash trim and she is ready to be picked up by her new Mommy. Someday she will belong to a little girl who had a 9/2006 LID China date. The best part about Hopper San is her lavender bead bling on the bottom of her underskirt. What bunny doesn't need a bit of bling? Ava said that she liked this Hopper better than her original Hopper...she suggested a trade. Ugh, sorry babe.



Next up on this rainy day?


Green polka dots sheets that will be transformed into a duvet cover for Ava's bed. This is a project that I have been putting off for over a year. She has the best warm down comforter with no duvet cover. It will be ruined sooner or later if I don't cover it. I found the sheets at Target on clearance, for less than I could have purchased material. Of course bonus pillow cases already come made up when you convert sheets to duvet covers.

I'll post bed pictures when there is a pretty duvet to photograph.

P.S. I ordered some made in Mexico oil cloth a few days ago for sturdy grocery bags. (Arrow down for story.) I'm waiting patiently for the UPS truck to deliver my oil cloth...think sunny yellow and bright purple florals? Very Mexican indeed. They will surely make grocery shopping much happier.

Grocery Bags

This morning the Muffin Man and I were watching the Today show over coffee. They have this series on going green where everyday they try to give you little tips on saving money and doing right by the environment. Go green.

They showed Matt Lauer "shopping" for groceries at this amazing store that looked like a high end converted train station. Obviously this store was in Manhattan. Ahhh, if only my dirty Meijer looked so nice. I found myself hard pressed to believe that Matt Lauer really shops for his own groceries in a suit and tie. But they did have these nifty grocery bags which are reusable in the piece. They were pretty bright colors and reusable. The grocery store clerk commented that she asks people if they want to purchase the reusable bags to cut down on plastic consumption. On my last trip to Meijer not only did they not even offer me paper...they were very careless about unsticking the plastic bags from each other resulting in me getting about 10 extra bags. I commented that I'd like to make sure we only got the number of bags we needed and I would help separate them only to be given the serious hairy eyeball by the clerk.

The Muffin Man made the comment that this reusable grocery sack stuff was fine for the slick urban folks who shop for about 2 bags of groceries at a time. Us suburbanites with 2 kids, pets, and a costco membership would simply never carry the 25 bags we would need to the grocery store each and every $220.00 run to fill the cart. He scoffed. I told him "Fine, pull your stupid straight republican ticket." And then I walked into the kitchen and poured myself another cup of Dunkin Donuts coffee that came in a huge plastic bag from Costco.

All day long I've been thinking about those ridiculous grocery bags. Why wouldn't we just get the bags hang them in the pantry and use them? Really is it that much more work? I make handbags for heavens sake. I could make the bags out of canvas or oilcloth.

Perhaps it is for spite, or genuine interest in reducing our rather large environmental footprint but I think I'm going to make the grocery bags and see if I can make it work. Yes, I think I want them in pink frilly patterns and then make HIM take them to the grocery.

Does anyone know where to get super cool looking oilcloth at ridiculously low yardage prices?

About Race...and who killed MLK

We read Martin's Big Words now and again. I wouldn't call it a bookcase favorite or anything but since yesterday was MLK day and there was not so much peace here on the cul-de-sac I thought..."Hey, what the heck. Let's read this at bedtime." I think Ava "got it" on a different level this time. She is just beginning to understand what not being white is. And when you have to explain what "not being white" is to the sweetest most adorable little kid in the world whom you would throw yourself in front of a truck for, well, it stings. It stings like a pang of sour milk in the deepest pit of your gut. And then it resonates...hanging on like a dull headache that even 3 Advil will not help.

Last time we read the book she argued that she was white. "Look at my skin, Mommy. It's pretty much the same color as yours." Yes, I said...pretty close. But you were born in China...and your birthparents were Chinese, that means you are Asian." I say. "But you are Caucasian and grandma and grandpa are Caucasian." she rattled off in defiance. "You are adopted, and OUR skin color or race does not take away from the fact that you and your sister are Asian. Nothing will ever take that away from you." I say. I then tell her that I don't want anyone to ever tell her that she is not Asian, or somehow less of one race and more of another due to circumstances beyond her physical control. "Stand up, be yourself and don't be afraid to originally define whatever it is that makes you, YOU." I tell her on my bedside soapbox.

Last night there was no argument about skin color. There was no comparison of hands or eyes. She knows she is Chinese, Chinese American to be exact. As we read the book her focus was on injustice, not skin color. She just couldn't believe that someone would want to hurt Martin Luther King. She asked who killed him. I couldn't remember. I had to tell her I would Google it today. After school I will tell her it was James Earl Ray. That should be an interesting conversation to have with a 6 year old.

The very last thing she asked was if she could have a Martin Luther King Day party next year. She told me I could read the book to her friends and we would design party invitations. Then she asked if we could do a Martin Luther King craft too. I told her I wasn't sure if Martin was into crafts but sure we would come up with something.

I told her I thought Martin might like that. Next year, we are having a MLK peace party. If you're in town you're invited.

Where is the peace?

Isn't Martin Luther King day supposed to be about peace and non-violence? My kids did not get the memo.

Ava, my 6 year old threw an embarassing tantrum when leaving Liv's parks and recreation music class this morning as she saw children using the indoor pool through the glass. She wanted to stay and swim. We didn't bring swimsuits since we were there for music class. Her solution was to simply run home and get swimsuits. I explained we needed milk and had to run to the grocery. Huge whining hissy fit in front of music class buddies ensued. I then casually remarked to another mother..."Thank God for full time Kindergarten.", and was met with blank stare and of course fit throwing 6 year old.

Twenty minutes later at grocery store Liv pitched a big old fit when she would not get in the cart...opting instead to walk along side of the cart. Which would be fine if she would truly walk along side the cart, which she simply will not. She has to skip gleefully while pulling produce down off the racks. Apparently watching oranges and apples bruise while hitting the dirty floors is monumental fun in her mind. As we moved to the self checkout lane Ava insisted in placing her hands on the overly sensitive bag plate. This completely confused the self check out machine and insisted I be carded for buying frozen pizzas. After convincing the attendant I was not hiding Jack Daniels in my cart I sniped at Ava to keep her hands to herself and stand on the other side of the cart. Then I found myself in a long conversation up in my head about the possibility of going back to aisle 12 and actually picking up a big old bottle of Jack Daniels...and feeding it to my kids. I have no idea how long this weird little day dream lasted but it was long enough for Ava to wander over to the in store bank and attempt to apply for a home equity loan at 6.25% in return for a cherry sucker. The obviously childless attendant gave me this lovely look shooting daggers at me for being one of THOSE yelling mothers. Fine. She then gave me the non-verbal look adoptive mothers sometimes get when one questions whether or not you are their mother. Seriously lady, why the hell would I take the time to bark at a 6 year old applying for a loan just to get the free sucker while pulling organic eggs away from the 2 year old in the cart if it wasn't my kid?

We are now home and Olivia is naked in my house which is set to a chilly 65 degrees. She has spent 1/2 hour contemplating the complexity of her belly button complete with waving at it. She is only distracted by tossing My Little Ponies at her sister's head. I'm not sure why she insisting on the naked bit...but seriously it would be a little smarter of her to go through this phase when June hits.

And I wonder why January brings the wet blanket of motherhood depression my way. I have a dream...yes I have a dream that someone will come rescue me and send me to Jamaica ALONE and toss in a load of whites while they are at it.

6 for 6

It's 1/18/08 and she's 6!

Here are 6 for 6.










































1. The silly faces were her idea. I love that about her.
2. She wanted to make sure that her sister had her picture taken too. I love that about her.
3. She went to the fabric store with me for business on HER special day without complaining. Then she finagled candy from me at the counter due to her hardship and good behavior. I love that about her.
4. She trotted off to afternoon kindergarten singing at the top of her lungs. I love that about her.
5. She came home from school and asked where her sister was. Man, I love that about her.
6. The girl fell asleep this afternoon, tuckered out from the festivities. But not before stealing a bag of potato chips and forgetting to hide them well.

Seriously, this kid will be just fine in life. I love that about her.

We were ready for some football!

These are the happy faces of two little football fans before the big game on Sunday. Perhaps Ava was extra special smiley because she got to weasel out on Chinese school to attend the football party our friend's hosted. Please don't rat us out if you know us in person.

A great time was had by all. Everyone got to make fun of me because I brought my knitting bag to the game. (In my defense, I wore the Muffin Man's old jersey and sat down right in front of that football game.)

But then...they lost. Goodbye football until next August.

The Muffin Man professed serious disdain and is wondering what the heck he will do the rest of the month. Poor Muffin Man.

It is the reality of the life and times of a football fan.

More About Hopper

Forgive this, the gratuitous post and promotion of my little business. I've had a few sweet comments about Ava's new BFF Hopper. I'd be happy to make Hopper's baby brother or sister for you if you'd like one. Easter is right around the corner right? Can you tell I am already emotionally and physically over the month of January, it is about 15 degrees here.

Of course, this was not the original reason for making Hopper. I never had any intention of making multiple Hoppers, but hey she is pretty darn cute and she makes Ava happy. Hmmmm...maybe she would make another little child happy too? Come to think of it, don't rabbits have a reputation for multiplying rather quickly? Maybe making Hopper friends would be good bunny karma.

Ava's Hopper has an underskirt, dress, and jacket complete with fuzzy red fringe and a button closure. All of which can be taken on and off during playtime. She also has a removable red bow tied around her head. (Ours is now underneath the playroom sofa cushion, go figure. I know this because I sat on it this morning while cleaning up spilled coffee, grrrr.)

If you would like a Hopper you could pick his/her colors. Including the colors for the clothes too, of course. This might be on the verge of too much personal information about Hopper...but I'll add delicately that I don't stuff Hopper too tightly because I want Hopper to be a well loved and used doll. Too much stuffing makes for an uptight bunny and who wants to snuggle up at night with a brick bunny? Just ask Ava, she prefers a floppy bunny.

Hopper and the outfit sell for $50.00 plus $5.00 to ship her anywhere you'd like. email me at pslowey@indy.rr.com if you are interested in a Hopper.