Saturday, December 30, 2006
And here is Christmas Eve:
And here is Christmas Day:
I didn't take any photos the day after Christmas. I spent pretty much the entire day holding Marcie, who was uncomfortable with a new cold. But here are photos from the 27th and 28th:
And here are the photos from the 29th, our last day with the family in 2006:
Anyway, they seemed a bit annoyed that we weren't willing to sit in smoking, and also that the twelve of us weren't will to cram into two booths designed for four people each (let's see-- 12 people, including 5 kids, crammed into a space for 8-- that's asking for some major mayhem). So we got a table together. The kids were pretty good waiting for their food. Marcie even colored! I couldn't believe it. She colored with crayons by herself. Now, don't get me wrong. It wasn't in the lines or even straight or anything. But since Casey only started coloring in the last 9 months and he is 3 years older than Marcie, I was pretty floored.
Breakfast was delicious, and we returned home for some packing. Marcie napped and the kids ran around outside. They are a bit loud outside-- but isn't that the whole point? I guess not to the golfers on the 7th hole. My parents' house backs up to the tee for the 7th hole, and apparently the noise can be distracting. But hey, it's only once every 3 years for crying out loud! And fortunately not many golfers came through.
My mom, sister, and I also snuck out for a tiny bit of retail therapy over to Birkdale, which is just across the street from my parents' neighborhood. My mom wanted to get me a Christmas gift, which was fine with me. :) And though I call it "therapy," I'm really not much for shopping. But it was nice to get some time with my mom and sister all the same.
We finished packing up our things, and when I went to change Marcie's diaper, I noticed a . . . um . . . reaction down there. The skin looks like it's sluffing off or peeling. So I called our pediatrician in California who indicated it's probably an external yeast infection (who ever heard of that?!?) and to use Monostat cream. Crazy, huh? And off to the airport we headed.
Our flight was full (of course), but we had a whole row together. Casey slept the first half of the flight and watched some videos the second half. Marcie slept the second half of the flight. And Jason and I were able to read quite a bit. There were some bumps along the way, and when we landed, Casey cheered: "Yay Mommy! Yay Daddy!" On our way off the airplane, the pilot even let Casey pop into the cockpit to check out the digs. It was neat because Casey knows one of his grandfathers flies airplanes for a living, so we got to "show him" where Grandpa works.
Jason's parents were waiting for us when we arrived at baggage claim (boy were we all glad to see them!). And then an episode of keystone cops ensued-- because Marcie dropped Grandpa's car keys on the bench seat and we didn't realize it until we got to Grandpa's car. Harbor Police was closed. And when I asked information for them, they asked me to describe them. Uh. Hello? It is a pile of keys. No key chain. Just keys. With a tiny grocery store tag. What kind of car? A truck. A white one. A Ford? I don't know. Probably. Fortunately I seemed honest enough, and they handed them over so we could get home.
The kids went right to bed and slept (gloriously) until 7am this morning. When Casey woke up, he expressed incredible interest in all the toys he'd expressed no interest in while we were in North Carolina, including the camera he got from one of his cousins. It'll be fun to see what pictures he's snapped!
So we're home. Marcie and Casey and I all still have our colds. But we managed to survive the grocery store. And take a nap. And tonight we are headed out to see Christmas lights before they are all pulled down. It's hard to believe the holiday season is almost over. And I still haven't finished sending out our Christmas cards! Aargh!
You can see pictures of our last day in North Carolina by clicking the photo below:
Thursday, December 28, 2006
So after just about an hour at urgent care, we have been able to dose up Marcie with an antibiotic for her double ear infection. I asked the doctor if we need to have her checked out before we fly home tomorrow-- or if she can even fly tomorrow at all. He said we brought her in very early; her ears are nowhere near rupture (thank goodness) and after a couple doses of the antibiotic, she should be back to her usual self.
Here's what was interesting (and suspicious): He said we don't need to alternate the Tylenol and Motrin like we have been-- said that's the "old school" way. Said studies now show that Motrin is more effective because it reduces inflamation in addition to be a pain reliever. Now, there is no question that the Motrin has had a better effect on Marcie than the Tylenol. But I was under the impression that we alternate so that she doesn't build up a tolerance to the Motrin. So I'll have to ask our pediatrician when we get home. In the meantime, after just one dose of Motrin and one dose of the antibiotic, Marcie is in much better spirits (though she has a gross and snotty nose).
But guess who got engaged Christmas morning?
My sister, Megan. Her fiance, Timour, had our nephew Leo deliver the box. I caught it all on video, but I haven't tried to figure out how to upload it yet, so you'll just have to take my word for it. Megan literally screamed, which startled Casey, who thought she was hurt, and cried out, "Oh no!"
So I will post a photo of the happy couple in a bit. And update Christmas, too. But not right now.
Sunday, December 24, 2006
Before we left for North Carolina, though, we did manage to steal some time to head up to the Wild Animal Park with the kiddos, where they saw Santa. I'll have to scan in the photo, which is of me with both kids-- one is smiling and the other is screaming. Can you guess which is which? Poor Marcie. Hope we didn't traumatize her. It's still a cute photo. I love going to the holiday thingy at the Wild Animal Park. They have snow for the kids to play in, a scavenger hunt, and special animal talks. On the 21st, we saw an owl and a golden eagle. Pretty cool stuff.
We left town on Friday, hit the red eye for a flight to my parents' house in North Carolina. Now if you are wondering why I had time to pack up and head out but not time to send you a Christmas card, no worries-- I just didn't get to all the cards yet and didn't bring them with me. But one will probably be arriving shortly after Christmas. When you're sick and stuff, something's gotta give, and this year it was Christmas cards (that and baking, which is fine because my sister is a way better cook and we knew we'd be headed for her delicious snacks for a week).
Casey was super excited to ride on a great big airplane. The crazy airline gave us split tickets. Casey and I had a window and a middle, with Marcie on my lap. Jason had the other middle seat in the row. This was particularly irritating because I'd confirmed our seats, which were supposed to be a middle, an aisle, and an aisle. Fortunately, this insanely nice man with the aisle seat traded his aisle for Jason's middle seat. I hope he gets some good karma for making the switch! After we'd settled in, a flight attendant came on the loud speaker and said they needed three more volunteers-- they were offering a night in a hotel room, guaranteed seats on the first flight out in the morning, and two round trip tickets for each seat given up. I wanted to totally go for it, but the kids were pretty well settled, so we decided to stick it out. It was pretty bumpy-- bumpy enough that I was actually secretly grateful my whole family was on the flight. I just figured if we were going to crash, we'd all go down together, and that saved me from mentally going through the details of my will during the turbulance (does anyone else do that?!?).
My parents were waiting for us at 6am when we landed-- very impressive considering they'd shuttled my brother's family home around 1am that morning. The boys (all five of them) were so excited to see each other and to play with the trains. They are all pretty close in age-- the oldest just turned 5 in August, Casey turns 4 in January, the next one just turned 4 in June, then one turned 2 in July, one turned 2 last week, and Marcie is 1. This makes them pretty great playmates.
The weather has been pretty temperate. Yesterday we were outside with the boys, playing in the grass and the leaves. And today we took a walk with Casey, Vince, and Marcie over to Birkdale, where they have animatronic singing bears (the one named Blue actually sand Blue Christmas). As we pushed the boys home, we all sang Christmas carols.
This afternoon we ventured off to Christmas Eve Mass, where we started with a rendition of Happy Birthday, Jesus. I've been thinking a lot about how irregularly we attend mass and how we should go more often, especially because Casey should be starting Sunday school in the fall. But then, when we are there-- I totally remember why we never go. Casey can never make it past the homily. Today he started chewing cheerios (which we probably aren't even supposed t have) and spitting them out on the pew. Megan took him to a play area to play in the sand, which he loved of course. Marcie flirted with the people behind us (I should pause here just to note I get a lot more stares here with Marcie than I do in San Diego. I'm not sure if this is because Marcie doesn't look like me -- and this is not so rare in San Diego, where there are lots of mixed race families. But it is just as likely it's because she is so darn beautiful. So I'm going to assume the latter, because it's a much nicer thought). Then she wanted to climb out of our arms and crawl around on the floor. I think I caught about three words the priest was saying during the whole mass. But I'm determined not to skip the big holidays, at least. My dad admitted, as we were leaving, that when my older brother and I were young, my parents took turns going to mass. And when he was out of town, my mom hired a babysitter. That figures.
After church, while we were getting dinner ready, my dad played the accordian for the kids, and we sang and danced. I love that he plays the accordian. I tried to convince him to play it during the cocktail hour at our wedding, but to no avail. Anyway, then we sat the kids down to eat pasta and meatballs. Marcie gobbled hers right up. Casey insisted on chicken nuggets for dinner, and we obliged. Then we had Christmas poke cake (which is white cake with green and red swirly layers from the jello poured into the cake). We sang happy birthday with a lotus candle for fun-- and it was pretty cool. Sal (the oldest cousin) even commented, "That's just like fireworks." And indeed it was. Hours and hours later it was still playing happy birthday -- until Jason finally dismantled the battery. We grown ups ate dinner while the kids watched The Polar Express. Marcie sat with us and ate some lasagna.
Dinner was followed by a tiny bit more of play, then setting out cookies and milk for Santa, then off to bed. We set out soy milk this year because Tram (my younger brother's wife, whose name is pronounced Chum) suggested that perhaps Santa is a bit lactose intolerant. Jason pointed out that he probably takes Lactaid if that's the case, but since we have the soy, we used it. Karin (my older brother's wife) recited a (memorized!) version of 'Twas the Night Before Christmas before we tucked in the boys for the night.
And so here I am. I have pictures to go with all of this, of course-- including some excellent photos of stockings hung by the chimney with care. I'll even have some great shots of the FULL stockings tomorrow. There are eighteen of us here, celebrating Christmas together. And the stockings are hanging via 3M removable clips. So I'll be impressed if the mantle and the stockings are still hanging in the morning, after Santa has filled them all up. Tomorrow or the next day, I'll download and post them. I doubt anyone will be reading this on Christmas anyway, so by the time you read this post, photos will probably be up. If you are reading this on Christmas day, Merry Christmas!
Please check back soon!
Tuesday, December 19, 2006
Anyway, in a booster seat, the shoulder-belt has been essentially re-adjusted to align appropriately with Casey's shoulder so that it doesn't cut into his neck. But he almost immediately figured out how to remove the shoulder part, tucking it under his arm, to increase his mobility. The first time he did this was before Marcie arrived. I threatened to pull the car over. He could tell I was not kidding. He put it back. And that was the end of the issue.
Until Sunday. On Sunday evening, after picking up the kids from Grandma's and buckling them into their respective child restraints, I headed home. About seven minutes down the road, Marcie started crying. Now Marcie isn't the kind of child who just cries at random, for no reason. So when I came to the light, I turned and looked-- and lo and behold, there was Casey, leaned across the back seat, smacking Marcie's arm repeatedly. I don't think Marcie was hurt so much as she was irritated. I barked at Casey to put on his seat belt and he told me no. I threatened him with no television for the rest of the day if I had to pull over the car, but he was not going to budge. So I pulled over, gave him a good talking to (during which he laughed in my face, literally), and fixed the seat belt. Displeased with his attitude, I kept the television off that night.
Then yesterday Casey and I went to pick up Marcie from Grandma's house. I should have reminded Casey on the ride over that "hands are not for hitting" and that the seatbelt needs to stay in place. But my mind was not on the incident from the previous day, so the time passed with me neglecting to "prepare" Casey for the situation. Once again, about seven minutes into our drive, the same thing occurred. This time when I raised my voice, Casey laughed. Hard. So I stopped yelling. I got very quiet. I pulled over the car to fix the belt. I told Casey was was not happy with him and that he would have no TV because of this behavior. I tugged the belt snug, and home we went. Where Casey passed yet another evening with no television.
We have such willful children. On the one hand, this is very trying. On the other hand, it means they are independently-minded, and I think that will be a good thing in the long run. I'm just glad we decided to start trying for kids right away. If I'm tired now, I can hardly imagine how I'd be feeling with such stubborn kiddos in another 10 years!
You see, after reading my friend's Grosser Than Gross post over at South Cackalackin (if you haven't yet checked out that blog, your really should. I was so bummed when Elizabeth decided to shut down Macy Day, but I love South Cackalackin-- she is a great writer, just like Elizabeth!), I thought I'd add my two cents here. Of course no one can really top the grossness of that post, but Casey has recently learned the expression, "Ew! Gross!" And I've been trying to put it to good use.
I discovered Casey understood the term the other day when Marcie leaned in to kiss him (she is really lovey-dovey that way-- it took Casey years to learn to kiss us, but Marcie came kiss-ready), and Casey, after leaning forward to accept the kiss, leaned back and exclaimed, "Ew! Gross!" Of course I said it wasn't gross and that Marcie was showing how much she loved him and on and on and on.
But this morning when Casey picked his nose and ate it while I watched, I couldn't help exclaiming "Gross!" myself. Of course it had the opposite of the desired effect. Casey thought it was absolutely hilarious and screeched with laughter when I said it-- like it would be a fun game to play. I can hardly wait to see what grossness he'll come up with next just to get a reaction out of me. . . do I ignore it? My "stern" tone doesn't really work in these situations-- so if you have any suggestions, I'm certainly open to them!
Sunday, December 17, 2006
I was going to spend some of Friday evening working on a paper (I've been working on for a week or so to revise), then wrap it up on Saturday. No problem!
Well, life had other plans. On Friday, I woke up at around 4:15am to shower and dress and hit the rode to Long Beach. Fortunately for me, my mom is three hours ahead and she was willing to chat with me for about 45 minutes of my drive. I'm not a very good "distance" driver because I get sleepy so easily, so talking on the phone, ironically I suppose, helps me stay alert. Anyway, I arrived at my destination a bit early, and I set off to find a bagel, but I found McDonald's instead. So I indulged in a egg mcmuffin with no meat. Following my business in Long Beach, I hit the road again, and headed back to San Diego.
I stopped to fill out some paperwork at my school district, to grab some scrapbooking stuff, and then I headed in to the office (stopping along the way to apply for Marcie's social security card). As a side note, I needed everything to apply for that social security number-- her original birth certificate, our adoption registration, her passport, my passport, her proof of citizenship, and her medical card! I sure am glad I brought it all with me!
Anyway, I did some work in the office, felt a little queasy, but forced half a frozen mac n cheese down my throat, and then left the office to head over to scrapbook. Not 30 minutes in to what was going to be a nice evening treat, I really started feeling sick. The kind of sick where I wasn't sure I'd make it home. So I packed up and left, again relying on my mom to keep me focused while driving.
I fell into bed and woke up to Jason coming home with the kids. Let's just say he was a little ticked off. He thinks I over-extended myself and that was why I was feeling sick. Until he felt my head and we realized I had a fever of over 102! (Well, for the record, he still thinks I got sick because I don't take good enough care of myself.) Anyway, I spent most of Friday night moaning and groaning from the aches and pains until I finally vomitted up everything I'd had for the previous 24 hours around 4am. I still felt awful yesterday, but I dragged myself out of bed long enough to get a package in the mail to my parents' house.
Of course, after waiting in line for an hour and a half to mail the darn thing, I learned that the post office would be open on Sunday! I wish I'd known that before waiting in line. But at least it gave me the opportunity to wrap the presents we'd purchased last week for Jason's sister and her husband to mail to them in Seattle today. And what a difference a day makes. They had the same number of employees staffing the post office, but there was no line!
And so here I am blogging when I should be working on that paper-- which is exactly what I'm going to do as soon as I finish this post. I'm feeling better today, though definitely not fully healthy. Last night Jason and his dad took the kids to see the beautiful lights at Candy Cane Lane, but instead of walking, they drove because it was pouring down rain. Nothing compared to waht they are experiencing in Seattle, mind you.
So a friend of mine who I met while in China and I have been comparing the number of illnesses we've experienced since meeting our girls. For me this makes 5 colds (it might be 6), 1 urinary tract infection, and the flu since August 21st, 2006. That's insane. It's probably a record-- and not the good kind to hold.
At least Casey and Marcie are relatively health . . . for now.
Tuesday, December 12, 2006
I blurred the photo to try and cover the other kids' faces, so hopefully they aren't recognizable bu tyou can still see what they are wearing. Notice Casey in the middle, in his sweatshirt and jeans. And notice all the other kids around him-- the girls in fancy dresses and the boy in a suit and tie. Yup. I blew it.
The sad thing is, I could have picked up Casey and taken him home to get all dressed up yesterday. I had the beginnings of a migraine headache, though, so when I left work early and found myself passing the preschool at 5pm, instead of picking up Casey and taking him home to change, I went home and laid down for 20 minutes, then went to get Marcie. Our original plan was not to pick up Casey early anyhow (because we didn't realize we should change him). Even more sad is that I could have easily brought him a change of clothes to wear-- I mean, I made cookies over the weekend and I took them to work with me so I'd have them. It wouldn't have been more work to bring his adorable snowman Christmas sweater with the matching courdoroy pants his grandmother picked out. She even hemmed the pants and took in the waist so the outfit would fit him correctly. Again, I blame myself for not knowing I was supposed to dress him up . . .
Though, my guess is that everyone who knows Casey just figured, "Oh, he refused to dress up so they just brought him in what he wanted to wear. That's SO Casey." That's what I'm hoping anyway. . .
Another reason I won't be winning mother of the year? I forgot to put the media card in the digital camera before I grabbed it. I remembered to charge it up, but I didn't check to make sure there was memory! What an idiot! Fortunately, I was able to take four photos, and I did bring the video camera, so we have the whole show on video.
Speaking of the video, this brings me to the final reason (in this episode) for why I won't be winning Mother of the Year any time soon. In the video, you can see (and hear) all the children in Casey's class singing the words to the song beautifully. Now, there's no question that Casey knows all the words to the songs. He and I sang them before bed together on Sunday night. We've been practicing for a couple weeks. But did Casey sing them for an audience? Of course not. Instead, he stood in the very center of all the children half-singing, half-shouting, "WHO WHO WHO, WHO WHO WHO!" Jason was laughing so hard at this, I think the video camera might have been shaking. And those of you who know Casey probably think this is totally amusing, and very Casey-like behavior.
So why would Casey do this when he knows all the words? Well, first because it got him quite a lot of attention. But also because I didn't feed him dinner before the show. I didn't even give him a snack. Casey always gets a snack on his way home from school before dinner because it helps keep him focused. But not last night because his lunch bag was in the classroom, behind some tables. And I forgot to go locate it to feed the poor kid. Now he still had dinner before 7pm, so it's not like it was the end of the world. But I am confident that if I were a better mother and had picked him up early, gotten him dressed appropriately, and fed him a snack, I would have saved the teachers a boatload of anxiety during the show. Not to mention eliminating my own embarrassment.
Someone commented to me, when I explained how mortified I felt, "Well, you can't do it all-- give yourself a break-- you are in school and working, too." Even if this is true, it is just not good enough. That's just no excuse for dropping the ball (particularly because I took my last final last week and haven't really worked on my paper since then-- but even if I were still in the middle of finals, it wouldn't be good enough). I chose to be a mother. I knew it would be hard to balance with school and work, but it's what I wanted more than anything in the world. To shirk these small responsibilities is totally unfair to Casey. . . Thankfully he won't likely remember this Holiday program and my sub-par parenting skills. And I am pretty sure it will never happen again. Of course, we do have it on video now, for all time. . . what a whacky period of our lives. . .
Marcie wouldn't have understood what the heck Disneyland was anyway, so I don't think she minded. Besides, she was happy as could be playing with Casey's unopened Gatorade bottle. . .
Saturday, December 09, 2006
In any event, with each of the pet adoptions, we had to complete a pretty lengthy questionnaire about why we wanted a pug, why a rescue dog, how much made, how much we thought we'd spend, and so on. And they sent someone to our home to check out the yard and make sure it was dog-safe. And they asked us to sign a contract promising to neuter the dog (they all were when we got them) and promising that we would not give them away and if something happened making it impossible for us to keep the pugs, we'd return them to the pug rescue group. The whole process took something like a week or two each time. Then we went and picked up the dog or dogs and we brought 'em home to given 'em love.
So back to the story. I don't actually remember which rescue group the woman said she was using because her next comment threw me for a loop-- even though I know she meant it as a joke. She said that she couldn't believe how much work it was to adopt the pug. She said that she thought it was probably harder to adopt a dog than it was to adopt a child-- and explained that the application was lengthy and the organization interviewed her and everything. Even though I knew she was being rather tongue-in-cheek, I just couldn't help myself. I said, "Well, all our dogs have been rescue dogs, and both my kids are adopted. And I can assure that the pet adoption process pales in comparison."
Was that mean of me? I just felt weird that she was comparing the process of adopting a child to that of adopting a dog. I'm not saying pets are inferior to people. Wait. Yes I am. I am saying just that. I love our dog. But when push comes to shove, my kids will always come first. I would never mis-treat our dog. I would never let anyone else mis-treat our dog. But seriously, adopting a dog and a child-- not even in the same league. I think I really embarrassed her. And for that I'm sorry. Was I being oversensitive? Probably. I didn't get much sleep the night before. But really. No. comparison.
Casey was so excited about us putting up our Christmas tree, that he went down a little late-- maybe around 9pm. Jason and I stayed up to watch a bit of TV, and around 10pm, Casey called out to us. Jason went to check on him and told me I should "come see this." (Now after 7 1/2 years of marriage, you'd think he'd do everything in his power to help me avoid seeing that scene!) Casey had, in fact, puked all over himself, then rolled over in the vomit-covered sheets and gone back to sleep.
I was a bit miffed Jason needed me, but to his credit, he did all the throw-up cleaning up. And shame on me for not putting the plastic pad over the mattress pad the last time I changed Casey's sheets! It would've prevented the nightmare of getting the vomit out of the mattress. Anyway, I threw Casey in the shower (I actually got in with him). He threw up again in the shower. Then I helped him get on some clean pajamas and invited him to come lay down on the couch next to me. He did that for an hour or so, and then asked to sleep in my bed. I got him all set up in my bed, which lasted for about another hour before he threw up again. (And yes, I did leave him a bowl to throw up in, but the kid's not quite four yet, and this is his first real vomitous experience, so who can really blame him?) Fortunately, it didn't soak through the sheet, which we then pulled off the bed.
Jason suggested we sleep on the couch. Not the pull out queen sleeper, but the regular old leather couch. This worked for me for about another hour or so. By the end of that time, my head and my feet were supported, but Casey had shoved the rest of me into the empty space of the L-shape of the couch, and I wasn't sleeping at all. So I got up, made up our bed again, and transferred Casey back into it, I got into it, and Jason followed suit. Then I started the dry coughing (because of the cold I'm getting over).
It felt like I'd just fallen asleep again around 2:30am, when Casey woke up and wanted water. We padded to the kitchen together, me carrying his throw-up bowl, and he had a couple glasses of water. Half of which he gagged back up into the bowl. I begged him to take some pepto bismal, but he was not having it (though he did offer to take some fish oil-- how crazy is that?). I dissolved as much as I could and spoon fed him water. Then back to bed.
I slept restlessly until 5:00am, when Casey woke me up again, thirsty. This time he insisted it was morning. I know he was technically right, but it was still dark-- and I was not having it. He drank some more water, then went back to sleep.
At 6:00am, Marcie woke up hungry. I gave her a bottle, then she went back to sleep (miraculously). I crawled back in bed around 6:15am, and then Casey was up again at 6:30am, pointing out this time that it was light out. So we offered to let him watch TV in bed in our room. Which he did until 7am, at which time he wanted to watch something we don't have TIVO'd on our TV. So up I got. Which was fine, really, because I needed to get Marcie up and fed and dressed for her Little Gym class.
After Little Gym, Marcie and I headed to Costco to purchase new tires for the Camry. The cork was showing on one of them, which is very bad. Jason and Casey picked us up, we dropped off Jason at work, and then we ran home to pick up Pugasus for our vet appointment. From the vet, we went to the Toy Depot, which has an amazing (and way over-priced) selection of Thomas the Tank Engine toys because Jason promised Casey last weekend that we'd go there this weekend. And then both kids fell asleep in the car on the way home. I put Casey right to bed, but I had to wake up Marcie to feed her.
Jason returned home (with the Camry sporting new tires) right around the same time Casey woke up from his nap. Burning up. I took his temperature, and what do you know-- 102.6. Yikes! So be forced Tylenol down his throat, and watched his fever drop to normal over the next hour. And then Casey threw up again. He hadn't eaten anything, really, though-- so it was just liquid. All over the hallway flooring, the carpet, and the wall. Lovely. Lucky Jason got to clean it up. But Casey must have been feeling a bit better because then he asked for popcorn. And actually ate it. Nothing else, but popcorn is better than nothing.
He sat with us through dinner, though he didn't eat anything (despite the fact that we'd actually prepared him all his favorites-- pizza, white rice, and apple sauce-- and offered him others-- peanut butter on a spoon or chips--). At bedtime, he asked to sleep in his own bed, which I made up with the plastic protector this time. And that was almost three hours ago now. Keep your fingers crossed for us . . .
Friday, December 08, 2006
Today we got a thank you message from the orphanage forwarded by our agency. Here is what it said:
Our orphanage had received the donation of 2630 RMB. We had spent the money 1780 to buy a digital camera and babyoutfits of 850 RMB to help our orphanage abandoned and orphans. Your love brought them the hope and helped keep their life moments. (photos attached).
On behalf of our orphanage, we would like to extend our sincere thanks to you.
Chongqing Yunyang Chenxiang Social Welfare Institute
October 30, 2006
Even though the note specifies the money spent on the camera, Marie (our guide) actually purchased the camera and showed it to us before delivering it to the orphanage. In any event, here were the photos they sent with the note (I've left them full size in case someone who wants pictures of the orphanage for their child can use the images):
This is a photo of the entrance to the Yunyang Chengxiange Social Welfare Institute (where Marcie lived from age one week to age 9 months)
This is a photo of the one of the rooms where the babies sleep. You can see in this photo that the children are a little older because they are sleeping with one child in each crib. In some of the photos we got back from our disposable camera, there were shots of two or three girls in a crib, but they were standing up, and that leads me to wonder if they were placed there just for the photos. . .
This is a photo of some of the blankets and clothing our meager donation provided.
So, here's an update on how Marcie is doing during her transition to Grandma's care. She is pretty clingy lately. This is not surprising on oh-so-many levels. I don't know if I should attribute her sudden anxiety around others when I'm out of eye-shot to her age (Casey did this right around the same age), or if it's an attachment thing (like, hey-- you just got me used to being with you and now you're gone!), or if it's something else. I'm sure she's fine with Grandma once I'm gone, but there have been some glitches. On Saturday she freaked out when she couldn't see me because I'd gone into the kitchen to clean her spoon. She was inconsolable until she fell asleep. Then, yesterday when I dropped of Casey at school, she had another mini-meltdown.
On the way to school, Casey spilled his bottle of water down the front of his shirt and onto his pants, so when we got to school, he had to change. I had Marcie in her stroller parked sort of near the door of the classroom, but facing the room so that she had a clear view of me no matter where I went. Then I stepped into the bathroom with Casey to help him change his pants. All of a sudden, Casey and I heard wailing (now, to be fair, there was a little girl who was crying when we entered the bathroom, so it took us a couple minutes to hear the second set of wails). Casey and I both recognized the crying as Marcie, and I immediately rushed out the bathroom door to get her. Her eyes were pouring out tears, and I took her out of her stroller. After getting Casey settled, I carrried Marcie back out to the car, where we sat while I rocked her for a good 5-10 minutes. I couldn't stay in the parking lot all day, though, so I strapped her into her carseat, and she started crying again. Fortunately, I was able to calm her by singing on the way to Grandma's.
I handed Marcie off rather abruptly (kind of like tearing off the band-aid quickly rather than peeling it back little by little), thinking it would make things easier for her. This was around 9:45am. But I didn't mention to my mother in law that she was experiencing extra separation anxiety, and my mother in law took her to the gym for a 10:30am class. Now, knowing Marcie as I do, and having been with her twice in the last month when she's had these miniature melt-downs, I know that the rest of the day following one is pretty much shot-- not only can you not go anywhere where there are strangers, but you really can't put her down because she is inconsolable unless she's being held. Anyway, apparently Marcie bawled the entire time she was at the gym, and they had to go get my mother-in-law out of her yoga class to take her home. She fell asleep in the car ride home (exhaustion from all the tears, in my opinion-- given that she'd already napped for 40 minutes in the morning), and she was fine for the rest of the day.
So I don't know what to make of all this. If she weren't adopted at age 9 months, ripped away from the only home she'd really known, I'd think, Well, she just needs to tough it out. But the thing is that she is from an orphanage, and she has only been with us for a little over 3 months. And even though she is clearly attached to me, that's not all that attachment is about. Attachment is also about feeling comfortable and safe and secure. Knowing that your mom and dad (and grandmother) will always come back. And for a child who has twice had her caretaker not come back, who knows what is going on in her little head. Now I'm not suggesting my mother in law skip the gym by any means. And I don't think the solution is for me to hold Marcie non-stop and to quit my job and drop out of school, either. But I know that I need to be cognizant of the fact that three and a half months just isn't that long to adjust to a new place, new sounds, new smells, and new people. This child, who slept like a log in China, wakes up two or three times a night now (and pretty much always puts herself back to sleep). This child-- my Marcie-- who is full of kisses and smiles and people-pleasing strategies must, on some subconscious level, still worry that maybe one of these times when we drop her off with someone we won't come back. And part of our job is to show her that we always come back. So I don't really know what to do about her new super-glue attitude. On the one hand, we can't just stop living our lives. On the other hand, the most important thing in the world is for Marcie to feel safe and secure. And the balance there is a bit tricky.
I have no solutions to this dilemma-- I'm not even sure it is a dilemma. So although I feel conflicted about the whole thing, that's where I have to leave it for now-- in this state of mild turmoil. Because it is what it is. I guess I just have to trust my gut-- look forward to the week of Christmas when we'll be together as a family full-time, and know that because Marcie is so loved and so well-cared-for while I'm away, I really couldn't hope for a better situation. I mean, there are only so many things we have control over in life, and we are just lucky she's with family. . .
Sunday, December 03, 2006
(If you are wondering why I'd travel an hour round-trip to spend only 30 minutes at my friend's house, I can't tell you. I mean, she'd be worth the distance anyway, but the purpose of the trip was for Mother's Day gifts for my mom and mother-in-law. As much as I'd like to tell you all about the super-cool things I got, I cannot because my mom occassionally checks in on my by reading this blog. So you'll have to check back in May to see what it was all about. Suffice it to say this was a one-time opportunity, so I lept at it.)
So I got out the door relatively on-time. I had thought to stop and pack up lunch for both the kids (though I did manage to forget a bib for Marcie), which was wise on my part. I arrive around 11:15. And waited. And waited. And waited. Now this was not the fault of my friend. And truth be told, Casey didn't mind at all. In fact, he was having a ball. Literally-- there were some other boys his age there-- and of course their puppy golden retriever, so Casey had free reign to run all around the back yard playing fetch. When he tired of that, he discovered the stairs. On the landing was a pile of tiny, fluffy toy mice (or "mouses" as Casey insisted on referring to them). He rolled them down the stairs. He tossed them off the landing. He piled them up on the coffee table and slid them one-by-one off the edge. He carried them over to the cats' climbing toy and dropped them off the ledge, making an "Aaaah!" sound. He was in heaven.
Marcie on the other hand was not as pleasant. I mean, she is a pleasant child, to be sure. As long as I'm holding her. Despite her newly found walking abilities, she was not going to let go of me. I don't know if she was just overwhelmed by the shear number of people there (a distinct possibility), or uncomfortable with the number of strangers there (another possibility) or just tired (certainly could be the case), or if she was reacting to me having been away from her all week at work (I'm hoping this was not the case). In fact, I was thinking back to every other semester of final exams-- and very consistently, Casey has become more clingy just when finals rolled around. It's like a sixth-sense these guys have: Mom has a very important test coming up that requires oodles of studying, so I'm going to become as whiny and needy as I possibly can, making it seem as if no one but Mommy will do-- even though I've been ignoring her for weeks. . .
Anyway, once we finished up with the reason for our visit, it was almost noon. Casey plopped down to eat his lunch, and I set up Marcie in my friend's daughter's high chair. She was not pleased to be out of my arms, but she is just too heavy to hold while feeding-- and there were too many people to sit on the floor. She gobbled down her food, but when I turned my back to wash the spoon, she burst into hysterical tears-- and it didn't really stop from there.
Actually, that's not true-- it did stop momentarily. For about the first five minutes after I'd packed the two kids back in the car to head home. But then it started. She was wailing. And when Marcie cries, her eyes get all puffy and swollen, and the tears streaming down her pudgy little cheeks, leaving burn-like marks. So when I got to a place where I could pull over and stop, I did-- thinking I might be able to console her (and calm down my pounding headache). Bad idea.
Once I stopped the car to get out and check on her, her crying became worse. She looked at me as if to say: How can you leave me strapped in this carseat when I'm so obviously upset? I told her I was sorry she had to stay buckled in, but we would be home soon.
Well, once I stopped the car for Marcie, Casey wasn't going to sit back and let his sister get all the glory. And he started wailing. WAILING, I tell you, not wimpering. Real alligator tears and all. I told him I was sorry, too. I begged him to stop crying. I asked him to breath with me, and tried to help him. All to no avail. Finally, I took a deep breath, resolved myself to just make it home (thinking they'd probably fall asleep on the way anyway since it was just about nap time by now), and got back in the driver's seat and set off.
Well, my patience were thin. My head was throbbing. My stomach hurt because I felt awful that they felt awful. And I was irritated that Casey was fake-crying. I couldn't even hear the radio over their wails. Not that it was great music-- it was just Bear in the Big Blue House, after all. Finally, after I shouted out to Casey to PLEASE stop crying, I could take it no more. So I turned up the volume until I could barely hear the noise in the back seat. And it suddenly. got. very. quiet. Then, just as I turned the radio nob back down, Casey said in a clear, cry-free voice, "Mommy, it's so loud. Why so loud?"
I almost wanted to laugh. Marcie resumed crying almost immediately, but Casey remained quiet the rest of the way home. . . Marcie fell asleep as we turned the final corner onto our street, and then (of course) immediately startled awake as soon as I removed her from her carseat. And then, she was inconsolable again. Every time I tried putting her to sleep, she just stood at the edge of her crib screaming and crying and carrying on. So I did what any mother of a child she'd known for only three months or so would do . . . I held her. And held her. . . and held her.
She skipped her nap yesterday and barely stayed awake through dinner before she crashed for the evening. I'm still not sure what tripped her off in the first place. The last time she got this upset was when she got her five shots at her one-year well-baby visit. I guess that was only last week-- it seems a lot longer ago already . . .
I sure hope the Mother's Day gifts end up being worth it!
Friday, December 01, 2006
Thursday, November 30, 2006
This news of the death has really shaken me to my core. The wonderful preschool directors sent out a letter to all the families in the school, explaining that when tragedy strikes one member of the school, the whole school community is affected. It invited us to contribute whatever we wanted to the family and explained that the child's father had lost his life in an accident at home.
Why has this shaken me up so much? I suppose that one of the things that changes when you become a parent is that suddenly your mortality becomes important-- not just because you like your life and want to live, but because there are others really counting on you. This is certainly not to say that single people or married people who have no children have less meaningful or valuable lives. What I'm saying is that my mortality became a bigger concern once I had kids. And not just my mortality-- Jason's too.
I think part of why this family's story has broken my heart a little bit is because their world is not so different from mine. We have the same number of children, close to the same ages, who attend the same school. I guess it's a palpable lesson in how fleeting life is. I have so much to be grateful for in my life, and that means I have so much to lose.
I am at a loss for words to really express how I'm feeling-- except that I cannot imagine being in her shoes, losing a husband and being left to raise two small children alone. Their lives have been forever altered from the course on which they'd planned to travel-- and not by choice. And this makes me feel just. incredibly. sad.
Tuesday, November 28, 2006
Please click the link and vote for them now. . .
Oh. You want to know why I think you should give Coffee To The People your vote? Okay, here goes:
Several members of my family opened a coffee house in the San Francisco area a while back. The brain child of my older brother and his wife, Coffee to the People is partly owned by my parents (who help out behind the counter when they are in town and take care of the books), my older brother and his wife, and my sister, who has managed the joint for the past year and a half or so.
Coffee to the People is located just off Haight Street in San Francisco, and it brings organic, fair-trade coffee and free wireless access to the neighborhood. One of their goals is to provide coffee with a conscience because, as their website explains, "you shouldn't have to choose between drinking coffee and doing what's right." They pay their employees well above minimum wage and offer healthcare benefits for employees who work over 20 hours a week (and they don't schedule them to work just 19.75 hours to cheat them out of healthcare, either).
You can read the AOL Cityguide description of the coffeehouse here.
And you can vote for Coffee to the People here.
And if you wouldn't mind, I'd sure appreciate it if you'd pass along my request for votes to all your friends and family. And if you have a blog, feel free to post the request there, too! Oh. And please. Only vote once! THANKS!
But what is this business with it still being dark at 6am? Come on. How am I supposed to wake up when it's still dark out? I've worked hard to train our son that when it's dark, it's night time (and that means he should be in bed, asleep). So when Marcie awoke at 5:50am, why on earth did I go back to bed after feeding her the bottle? Because when it's dark, it's night time.
Ugh. I'm impressed I only got out the door 20 minutes late, given that I'd only left myself 20 minutes to shower, dress, make lunch, feed Casey, feed Marcie, help both kids get dressed, and write a quick note to the speech therapist. The note to the speech therapist was all for naught though, as luck would have it.
Apparently not only was I sleepy this morning, but so was Jason. Because around 9:15am, I received a voicemail message from Casey's speech therapist explaining that Casey's grandmother was there at 9:ooam to pick him up, but Casey had never arrived this morning. WHAT?!? My heart sank. I dialed Jason's cell phone in a panic. No answer. Crap. Where could they be? Were they in a car accident? Did he just forget?
Next, I called the preschool-- and they told me Casey had been there all morning. PHEW! And I guess I wasn't the first one to call the preschool to check (when the speech therapist didn't get me or my husband on our cell phones, she called the preschool, too).
So it's a new routine. We'll figure it out. It'll be fine. But heck if I didn't nearly have a heart attack this morning.
If you don’t have kids, you’ll feel lucky after reading this. If you do have kids, you’ll fell lucky after reading this.
As most of you know, O has a real fascination… no, obsession… with well, shit. Her own, primarily. Mind you, she’s 3 and a half now, and knows right from wrong in most situations. But when it comes to crap, she just can’t help herself.
It’s like crack, no pun.
We’ve gone through so many phases – maybe you were around for some of them? She used to take off her diaper and poo in her crib when she was an infant and make art projects with it… or I’d find her sitting staring at a pile of it in her bed, like a glowing campfire, with her pacifiers all stuck into it. Then about a year ago, she decided she would be a dog. This lasted for, oh, 9 or 10 months – in full character – barking at strangers and postmen, eating off the floor with her mouth, drinking out of the toilet, putting herself on a lead and whining to be walked, and yes, crapping in the yard whenever we weren’t looking. We still have dead spots in the grass where she peed and pooped so many times it killed the grass. She stopped being a dog a few months ago, though we get an occasional relapse when she feels nervous – she’ll bark at others. Loudly. But what happened yesterday made it all seem like halfway “normal” behavior.
She is starting to refuse her naps, playing in her room or closet secretly instead of sleeping. Sometimes she makes her pillows look like she’s in her bed, and she loses herself into the closet and has conversations with her animals. But yesterday she was bored with this prospect, and so turned to her old favorite hobby – crap. I’ll omit most of the disgusting details about quantity and quality – both noteworthy – and just suffice to say that she became a “fecal artist” of sorts. I found her nude, brown up to the elbows. At first her room looked pretty normal, until I caught a glimpse in the corner of my eye of several small brown mice on the floor and crawling up the wall. Oh, if only they were mice… I put 2 and 2 together (being the brilliant mom that I am) and realized a game of projectile poo had occurred here. But the worst was yet to come. I opened her closet door to look for her clothes and the door moved much slower than normal over the cream colored carpet. Once completely open, a glorious 3 foot brown rainbow spanned the entry. The entire bottom of the closet door had become a big paintbrush.
For you dog owners, thanks for the tip – Nature’s Miracle. We need a miracle.
I may be writing to moan, whine and probably gross you out.. but the main point is this. We still find her to be lovely, clever, beautiful, funny, and incredibly entertaining, most of the time. Just goes to show you that God totally monkeys with your brain when you have kids to make sure you love them too much to physically harm them.
Isn't she a great writer? O is a lovely child, by the way. Quite verbal and entertaining to chat with. . . I guess her parents should think about removing all carpeting from their home, eh?
Monday, November 27, 2006
Against my better judgment, we are set for Vegas-- airline tickets and all. Even if I'd wanted to cancel after you'd [my friend] purchased the non-refundable tickets to LOVE, I couldn't, because some time last week (or the week before?!) in an apparent moment of sleepless stupor I asked my mother in law if she'd watch the kids while we were in Vegas for a couple nights. And she responded with glee. Glee. How could I take that away from her? So suffer I must.
For not-quite-48 hours away from the kids, imbibing drinks I dare-not try at home, sleeping in, and enjoying a good show will just have to be my burden to bear. The things we do in the name of sacrifice.
I copied my husband on this e-mail (so he'd know I'd finally booked the tickets). His response to my friend? Sometimes she is a little intense.
Lest you think I'm hopping on a plane and leaving my babies-- even for a brief 43 hours-- any time in the very near future, worry not. The trip is still a couple months away. I'll still worry the whole time. When I'm not drunk, that is. (Just kidding, Mom. Of course I never get drunk!)
I don't know these things because I'm at home. I'm not. I'm at work. But I still like to check in every once in a while.
This morning Marcie slept late (all the way to 6:20am!), and I overslept a bit, too. When I prepared her bottle, I set it on the table so I could adjust myself with Marcie on my lap. In that brief moment, Casey snagged the bottle and refused to give it back. I tried my patient mommy voice. My forceful mommy voice. Even my pleading mommy voice. All to no avail. I had to literally snatch that bottle out of his hands, with him screaming in response. Why oh why didn't I put him in time out? Apparently Firm Mommy disappeared this morning, as she has gone off to work. It felt like all these weeks of training and preparation to be calm but firm went right out the window with my desperation to get out the door on time.
It wasn't all bad. I managed to get Casey breakfast (is it bad that he ate sour cream onion chips and dry cheerios? He refused everything else I offered), get Casey dressed (in a turtleneck under the short-sleeved shirt he picked out), and get Casey's teeth brushed. I also managed to make his lunch, dress Marcie, brush Marcie's teeth, shower and put myself together and get out the door only 15 minutes behind schedule. Pretty impressive, if you ask me. . .
When I dropped off Marcie, she initially smiled-- but clung, with her arm wrapped tightly around mine. My mother in law had to pull Marcie from my arms. Grandma managed to do so in one fell swoop-- removing Marcie and unclenching that death-grip she had on me in mere seconds. Marcie's facial expression was . . . well . . . unsure. She looked like she wanted to cry, but Jason's mom did a great job smiling and keeping Marcie entertained and avoiding tears. They stood at the front window and waved to me from inside as I backed the car out of the driveway and drove off to work. I'm sure Marcie forgot all about me within five minutes. . .
Gosh, I sure do miss her. . .
Sunday, November 26, 2006
So whether you are my 1000th hit or not, thank you for visiting my blog.
It's always so much nicer to blog when you know people are actually reading it!
Anyway, here are things I will miss when I go back to work (even though it's only for four days, then a week off for final exams, then back to work):
- Being able to sleep in until 6:30am some days (and 7:00am on Wednesdays if the kids sleep that long).
- Walking the kids to school (Casey there and Marcie home) or just walking (with Marcie while Casey is in speech therapy).
- Watching Casey run up to the signs at Webb Lake and "read" the sign: DO NOT FEED THE DUCKS.
- Amusement of Casey's antics. Case in point: Yesterday, after being placed in time out three times for wrestling moves on Marcie, he looked me square in the eye and shouted at me, "I DON'T LIKE YOU VERY MUCH RIGHT NOW, MOMMY. ONE. TWO.THREE. TIMEOUT. GO TO CASEY'S ROOM." I didn't laugh out loud, but I sure wanted to.
- Running interference between Casey and poor Pugasus. (Casey is quickly learning the expression: You are not in charge of the dog.)
- Naps. Need I say more here?
- Being able to do laundry any day of the week, all day long, if I want.
- Holding Marcie and feeding her the bottle.
- Running errands.
- Grocery shopping in the middle of the day, in the middle of the week.
- Watching Marcie as she gains confidence walking. This morning, for instance, she was regularly letting go of the bed, the couch, the table, etc. and taking two steps toward me.
- Being in charge of what Marcie wears.
- Eating at random times throughout the day, whenever I'm hungry. And actually cooking lunch if I want.
- Meeting Jason for lunch.
- Not showering until after lunch.
- Getting to know Casey's teachers and therapists and talking to them regularly.
- Seeing Casey in action at school.
- Singing silly songs and dancing like a crazy lady to music.
- Watching Marcie nap.
- Watching Casey nap.
- Participating in Casey's speech therapy.
- Marcie pulling down my pants accidentally while she pulls herself up on me.
- Taking crazy photos (like the one yesterday of the cheerios on Casey's table after he dumped half the box out to snack).
- Getting to watch kind of a lot of TV.
- Hugging and kissing Marcie and Casey as much as I want (or as they want).
- Hearing Marcie and Casey's laughter as they play together.
- Baby babbling.
- My speedy computer (the one at work is slow as molassess).
Things I will NOT miss when I go back to work:
- Running interference between Casey and Marcie.
- Disciplining Casey for demonstrating wrestling moves on his sister.
- Repeatedly chiding Casey for (trying to put on) wearing Marcie's socks, shoes, etc.
- Not having time to shower until after lunch.
- Vacuuming all the time.
- Feeling obligated to do laundry any given day of the week.
- Cleaning up lots and and lots of poop.
- Not getting paid.
- Not needing to ingest much caffeine.
- The anxiety of having my next door neighbor call the police because the dogs are barking when really it's not our dog but the two big dogs who belong to the house directly behind ours.
Things I am looking forward to about going back to work:
- Getting paid.
- Having time to myself in the bathroom.
- Wearing "work clothes."
- Talking to adults all day long.
- Surfing the Internet (it's a job requirement!).
- Morning meetings with the PDOP team.
- My coworkers' sense of humor.
- Access to e-mail all day long.
- Having an excuse to eat lunch out (I have a friend who is recently at-home who insists she doesn't like to eat lunch now because it just doesn't taste as good when you make it at home-- yes, you know who you are, and I'm outing your working mom instincts!)
In other news, Marcie is really taking steps now-- it's like a game. She hangs onto the couch or the bed or the table (or whatever) for dear life, turns toward me, lets go, takes a couple steps, and either I catch her or she face-plants onto the carpet. Then I pick her up and she laughs. And I laugh, and I cheer. And we repeat the process all over again. It's pretty cool.
Saturday, November 25, 2006
First, a sequence of Marcie dancing to the music from the Old MacDonald toy:
Daddy and Casey
Bath time after a messy meal!
Friday, November 24, 2006
I am taking a Law & Religion class this year. And one of the things I learned is that Thanksgiving is actually a religious holiday. How is it that I am thirty-something and I never knew this? I am not sure. I mean, I suppose when you are thankful for something (or someone), you are thankful to someone-- like a higher power. But I just never thought of it that way. I just thought Thanksgiving was a time to stop and smell the roses, so to speak. A time to give thanks. But apparently there is a long history of a presidential prayer on Thanksgiving (though one past President, at least, refused to participate in this ritual, citing a separation between church and state).
Though I am not a big fan o' Bush (or "Dub" as some like to call him), he did in fact fulfill his presidential duties and offer up a prayer for our nation in Thanksgiving. You can read the full text of this prayer here. Here is an excerpt of the prayer part:
Tomorrow is our day of Thanksgiving. It's a national observance first proclaimed by George Washington. In our journey across the centuries from a few tiny settlements to a prosperous and powerful nation, Americans have always been a grateful people, and we are this year as well. We're grateful for our beautiful land. We're grateful for a harvest big enough to feed us all, plus much of the world. We're grateful for our freedom. We're grateful for our families. And we're grateful for life itself.
So on Thanksgiving Day, we gather with loved ones and we lift our hearts toward heaven in humility and gratitude. As we count our blessings, Americans also share our blessings. We're a generous country. We're filled with caring citizens who reach out to others, people who've heard the universal call to love a neighbor as we want to be loved ourselves. On Thanksgiving and every day of the year, Americans live out of a spirit of compassion and care, and I thank you for that. It's the spirit that moves men and women to be mentors to the young, to be scout leaders, to be helpers of the elderly, to be comforters of the lonely and those who are left out.
We love our country, and the greatest example of that devotion is the citizen who steps forward to defend our nation from harm. Members of our military have set aside their own comfort and convenience and safety to protect the rest of us. Their courage keeps us free. Their sacrifice makes us grateful, and their character makes us proud. Especially during the holidays our whole nation keeps them and their families in our thoughts and prayers.
It's interesting to me how narcissistic we are-- I mean, check out that middle paragraph. It's not about how thankful we should feel for our many blessings; it reads more like how great America is. Now don't get me wrong-- I'm not necessarily saying Bush was wrong. I just think the tone is interesting. . .
Things I Am Thankful For
In honor of Thanksgiving, though, I thought I'd jot down a few things I'm personally thankful for. I'm not saying my list of things is better than the President's. I'm speaking only on behalf of myself-- not for an entire nation of people, after all.
(These are in no particular order by the way)
- My husband, Jason. I can't believe how quickly our time together has breezed by. I could write a whole book about what a lucky woman I am. . .
- My son, Casey. He makes me laugh and worries me and challenges me to care about the future and where the world is headed; I hope to leave it a little better for his sake and the sake of his generation.
- My daughter, Marcie. She also makes me laugh and worry, for much the same reason. I can hardly believe she's been in our lives for such a short period of time.
- My parents. They are really amazing role models for the kind of parent I hope to become. My parents are reasonable. They have always shown unconditional love for each other and for my and my siblings. And what is most impressive to me is their ability to let go and encourage us each to live our own lives-- they really taught us to be independent and to know when to ask for help. I am such a control freak that I hope one day I will be able to give my children the freedom they deserve-- and trust them to make the decisions that are best for them.
- My in-laws. They are really a safety-net for us, and I am so grateful to have their help and support. They are fiercely loyal and big-time cheerleaders. I didn't get to grow up living near my grandparents, so I'm hoping my kids will gain a greater perspective of the world from spending so much time with theirs. I'm so lucky to have them in our lives.
- My siblings and my husband's siblings (and their kids). What would I do without their sense of humor? Who could I play random board games with? I love hearing how their choices have differed from mine, and I'm so lucky to get to spend time with our extended families fairly regularly.
- School. I am grateful that I get to be intellectually stimulated and challenged on a regular basis. I feel especially lucky to be taking international business transactions, my least favorite class this semester-- the professor is actually quite good, but boy has it taught me that I really don't want to practice transactional law (and watch, I've probably just jinxed myself into a job doing just that after graduation!).
- Family leave. I am so lucky to be able to take time off of work to spend it with my kids. I've loved being home with Marcie and trucking Casey off to his therapy.
- Casey's birthfamily. We really consider them extended family, and I feel so blessed that his birthmother was so strong and loved him so much that she chose this life for him. I also feel very fortunate that his birthfamily considers us family (just like we consider them family).
- Marcie's birthfamily. Although we will never get to know them or the reasons for their decisions, we know they must have loved Marcie a lot to give her to an orphanage where she could be placed with a family. Casey really needed a little sister. . . and our family wouldn't be complete with out her.
- Enough money. Not to say we couldn't use more. :) But we are really, really lucky to make enough money to put a roof over our heads, clothes on our backs, and food in our mouths. We are so fortunate to have been able to afford two adoptions and to have a little cash to do the extra stuff with our kids. Life is full of choices and there are lots of other things we could be spending money one, but they are so very worth it.
- Friends. I'm so lucky to have people all over the country (and maybe the world!) who care about me and my family, to pray for our well-being, to laugh with me, to hold me when I cry, to question me when I'm out of line, and to push me to study when I don't feel like it. Oh, and to listen to me complain. :)
- Faith. In God. In humanity. Enough said.
- Blogging. Don't laugh. I really like this. . .
Tuesday, November 21, 2006
I know all moms have massive anxiety when they return to work. I really thought I'd be crawling up the walls being home for so long. But I'm not. I'm okay with going back to work. I like working. I like the people with whom I work. And I'm really fortunate to have Grandma to watch Marcie-- she loves Marcie, and I know Marcie is well cared-for while we are away. I should be grateful. I am grateful. But it's still hard. . .
It's likely I won't be the one to watch Marcie walk for the first time. Not a step here or there, but really walk. I won't get to read stories to Casey's class, or check out his little friends to see how cute Kaitlyn is or if Jacob really does push him. I won't be the one to drop Casey off and pick him up from speech-- certain to get a weekly update on his progress. I won't be the one who rocks Marcie to sleep at naptime, or who shuffles whatever I'm eating for lunch into her mouth.
I don't know what's worse-- that stomach-knotting-guilt feeling that accompanies watching your child cry when you hand her over and leave the room (even though the person you are leaving her with is her grandmother or her father or someone else equally well equipped to meet her needs), or the stomach-knotting-low-life feeling that accompanies watching your child squeal with joy when you hand her over (to someone who she loves and who loves her back) and leave the room.
Perhaps it is terrible to admit. But in the first instance, though it's mainly painful, there is a part of me that thinks, Yeah. She still wants ME. She still loves me BEST. I'M the one she turns to for comfort. In the second instance, though it's mainly comforting, there is a small part of me that thinks, Hey-- I'M your mother. I'M the one you should turn to for comfort and joy. Is that selfish of me? Probably. But I think every mom (and dad) feels that way. I still remember when Casey went through that phase where the only person he wanted was Daddy.
I know that once I left this morning and walked out the door, Marcie was fine. I have no question in my mind that she's having a terrific time with her grandmother. I don't know why I'm making this about me. But I doubt that I'm the only mother who does.
Sunday, November 19, 2006
By 8am, Casey needed to get out of the house. So I bundled up the kids, threw on my running shoes, and we did my 3 mile loop through the neighborhood. The one I used to run in 30 minutes. It took us an hour and fifteen minutes to complete. Now, in my defense, I encouraged Casey to walk a healthy chunk of the flat part. And also in my defense, pushing a stroller with over 50 pounds up hill after walking for an hour in the heat is no picnic, either. But I needed the exercise-- and more importantly, so did Casey.
On our walk, we explored many things-- the fence along a neighbor's yard, the rocks that create a path for the rain in another yard, the leaves that have fallen off tree branches to the ground, and the sewage drain. Seriously. I have this irrational fear of sewer drains. I'm not sure why I have it. I also have a fear of going to bed with the closet door open. At least I know the root of this bizarre fear-- it stems from a horrible nightmare I had when I was in middle school. A nightmare I had the night I left my closet door open. A nightmare I probably had because I'd taken cold medicine before bed. I don't remember the details of the dream, but it sufficiently frightened me that I still won't sleep with the closet doors open. And I won't put a child to bed with his closet doors open either. Anyway, that's not the irrational fear I was writing about. I was telling you about my fear of sewer drains.
You know how sometimes you park the car along the curb, and it happens to be the section of the street where the sewer drain is? I always had this fear as a kid that I'd fall down one. If I had to cross a street, I'd walk the extra steps to avoid stepping over the opening to the sewer drain. I still do-- after all, what would I do if one of my kids slipped and fell, right into the drain's opening? Do you think anyone could even fit down the drain that way? Anyway, I made the mistake of stopping near one of those drains today with the double stroller, to let Casey out so he could walk for a while. Casey is mostly fearless, which has its plusses and minuses. He went right to the edge of the drain (which I didn't think anything of since I'd asked him to get on the sidewalk), then got down on one knee and hollered into the drain to hear his voice echo. He thought it was hilarious. I was terrified. Stupid drain. Of course he didn't fall into it. And neither did I. But I still don't like 'em.
And so my day went. At one point in the day, I went to change Marcie's gag-reflex-inducing diaper. As I had her on the changing table, Casey came barrelling into the room with Pugasus (actually it was the other way around; Casey was chasing the dog). I told Casey to leave the dog alone, and when he ignored me, I stuck out my leg-- which he tripped over. He looked up at me from the ground, with those wounded eyes, and said, "NO PUSHING MOMMY." I told him I didn't push him. He wasn't listening, and he needed to go to his room. He said, "No," as he walked out the door, and the next thing I heard was his wretching. I came around the corner with Marcie and Casey looked up at me: "Casey frewed up, Mommy."
This is Casey's new thing. Fake vomiting. He makes a gagging sound, which grosses us out. Anyway, there on the ground in front of him was food he had chewed up and spit out. I told him to pick it up. He refused. So I picked it up, opened up his hand, placed the mushy food in it, and told him to throw it away. Then I told him to go wash his hands. He became hysterical. He screamed and cried, while washing his hands, "I WANT DADDY. I WANT DADDY." This is improvement. Last time he got mad when I punished hime he wanted Grandma. After about 10 minutes of this, I helped him calm down and we talked about being a good listener and not pretending to throw up.
Then Casey asked me for some water, and I gave him a small bottle. I opened it and left the room to put the cap up somewhere so Marcie couldn't reach it. In the 30 seconds or so that I was out of the room, Marcie spit up curdled milk. Casey told me, "Marcie frewed up." So I turned back around to get some paper towels from the kitchen. In that 30 seconds, Marcie picked up Casey's water bottle and proceeded to try and drink it, instead dumping about 4 ounces of it down the front of herself, all over the couch, the floors, and the area rug, and sending Casey into another wave of tears. I took the bottle from Marcie, cleaned up the water and the spit-up, removed Marcie's wet clothes, and threw away the dirty paper towels. But then Casey wanted his shirt off because Marcie had her shirt off.
And so it went for the next 30 minutes or so. Now, I'm sure all you astute readers can tell from my saga that 1. my patience were wearing awfully thin, and 2. what my kids really needed was a nap. No kidding! And nap they did-- for their Dad, right after he walked in the door from work and I walked out the door to head to school to study.
When I got home tonight, Marcie and Casey and I played for a while. They kids belly-laughed and giggled and hugged and kissed. Marcie now tries to say the word for "cow" ("owc") and she gives high fives, claps, and blows kisses. I look at her face and I can hardly believe it hasn't even been three months yet. I watch her watch Casey and I know we were meant to be a family. Casey needed a sister. Marcie needed a brother. She really helps complete us. And you know, as trying as being a parent can be, not a day goes by that I don't think it's all worth it. And then some.