If Uncle Jason is reading this-- we've had the game on. Woohoo Buckeyes! Now, I may not be much of a sports enthusiast, but I know enough to root for the "home team"!
Saturday, November 18, 2006
My Buckeye Boy
Have I ever mentioned that Casey was born just south of Columbus, Ohio immediately following the Ohio State Buckeye's National Championship win? He was. So today's game is big news around our house-- even if we are in California. I don't even follow football really, but I know what a big deal today's game is.
If Uncle Jason is reading this-- we've had the game on. Woohoo Buckeyes! Now, I may not be much of a sports enthusiast, but I know enough to root for the "home team"!
If Uncle Jason is reading this-- we've had the game on. Woohoo Buckeyes! Now, I may not be much of a sports enthusiast, but I know enough to root for the "home team"!
Thursday, November 16, 2006
A Photo Essay of Marcie's 1st Birthday & Musings on Her First Year
MARCIE'S FIRST BIRTHDAY.
A PHOTOESSAY.
Good morning, Birthday Girl. Are you enjoying eating that beautiful picture of Emma sent from the other side of the United States? It sure was nice of your friend from China to send you a birthday card! (Thank you Emma and Annette!)
Casey knows it's not Halloween anymore, but he thinks it's fun to dress up in Buzz clothes and tickle his sister. (Secretly, he is just eye-balling her Cheerios.)
Which Marcie can feed to herself, thank you very much!
She's pretty good with eggs, too. . . until she flips the bowl in the air and sends egg pieces all over the floor (though the dog doesn't seem to mind!).
Mmmm. Fruit and yogurt, too? What a delicious morning treat!
Facing forward now. . . off to take Casey to speech therapy.
Play time while Casey visits with Miss Nicole . . .
Uh oh. Really, not even a tear shed-- it just looks bad on camera.
Look who fell asleep while we were walking around Webb Lake, looking at the ducks and turtles!
Sound asleep while we get back in the car to take Casey to school.
Outside the preschool. Everyone's awake now!
Casey gives Marcie a kiss good-bye, after wheeling her around the classroom and showing her to Brooke and Katelyn, of course!
Back in the car again. No jacket this time, because the weather has warmed up a bit.
Marcie's favorite pasttime-- playing with Pugasus.
Though playing with Casey's toys while he is away at school is also pretty enjoyable. 
Notice how Marcie ignores her toys so she can eat the Percy tank engine.
Snack time! (No, this is not how she usually takes her bottle. Yes, we do know she is supposed to go cold turkey on the bottle now that she is one. At least she's off the formula and on to whole milk, starting today!)
Look at me, Mommy!
Off to lunch at Pick Up Stix to meet Daddy. Here are the two birthday girls-- Mommy and Marcie! (Isn't Mommy brave posting a picture with no make up on?)
Hello, Daddy!
Weee!
After a lunch of house chicken, cream cheese wontons, and white rice, a girl needs to take a bit of a rest!
Just up from nap time!
Eating the phone.
A bit more play time.
Back in the car again-- on our way to Grandma's so Mommy can go to school.
Yay Grandma!
Musings on my daughter's first birthday (this is long . . .)
A PHOTOESSAY.
Good morning, Birthday Girl. Are you enjoying eating that beautiful picture of Emma sent from the other side of the United States? It sure was nice of your friend from China to send you a birthday card! (Thank you Emma and Annette!)
Casey knows it's not Halloween anymore, but he thinks it's fun to dress up in Buzz clothes and tickle his sister. (Secretly, he is just eye-balling her Cheerios.)
Which Marcie can feed to herself, thank you very much!
She's pretty good with eggs, too. . . until she flips the bowl in the air and sends egg pieces all over the floor (though the dog doesn't seem to mind!).
Mmmm. Fruit and yogurt, too? What a delicious morning treat!
Facing forward now. . . off to take Casey to speech therapy.
Play time while Casey visits with Miss Nicole . . .
Uh oh. Really, not even a tear shed-- it just looks bad on camera.
Look who fell asleep while we were walking around Webb Lake, looking at the ducks and turtles!
Sound asleep while we get back in the car to take Casey to school.
Outside the preschool. Everyone's awake now!
Casey gives Marcie a kiss good-bye, after wheeling her around the classroom and showing her to Brooke and Katelyn, of course!
Back in the car again. No jacket this time, because the weather has warmed up a bit.
Marcie's favorite pasttime-- playing with Pugasus.
Though playing with Casey's toys while he is away at school is also pretty enjoyable. 
Notice how Marcie ignores her toys so she can eat the Percy tank engine.
Snack time! (No, this is not how she usually takes her bottle. Yes, we do know she is supposed to go cold turkey on the bottle now that she is one. At least she's off the formula and on to whole milk, starting today!)
Look at me, Mommy!
Off to lunch at Pick Up Stix to meet Daddy. Here are the two birthday girls-- Mommy and Marcie! (Isn't Mommy brave posting a picture with no make up on?)
Hello, Daddy!
Weee!
After a lunch of house chicken, cream cheese wontons, and white rice, a girl needs to take a bit of a rest!
Just up from nap time!
Eating the phone.
A bit more play time.
Back in the car again-- on our way to Grandma's so Mommy can go to school.
Yay Grandma!Musings on my daughter's first birthday (this is long . . .)
I don't have much documentation of Marcie's first year of life. In fact, pretty much everything is posted right here on this blog. Although Marcie was born November 15, 2005, we didn't learn about her until June 26, 2006. And we didn't meet her until August 21, 2006. That's not to say we didn't think about her before June. We did. Quite a lot. In fact, I wrote Marcie a few letters after our wait began-- the first one dated in June of 2005, before Marcie was even born (though after she was conceived). At the time we were calling her Alexandra, with a nickname of Lexie. But, as time paraded on, our idea of Marcie -- and her name-- evolved. And so Marcie it is.
When I saw her picture for the first time, I could hardly contain my excitement. I immediately printed it out, and walked it all through the law firm office where I spent my summer working. They must have thought I was a nut-- here I was in place where I hadn't even been working a month yet. And I was a gushing mom. Not really the stoic, lawyerly impression one might want to make-- but I didn't care. Because it was my daughter. My second-born child. She looked so serious in the picture. And I knew she was ours immediately.
The wait to travel dragged. As impatient as I'd been during our wait for her referral, the wait to travel was worse. I had convinced myself (before hearing all about Marcie) that the longer the wait to travel, the better-- after all, I wanted to finish my summer job. But once I saw her precious face, I didn't want to wait even another day. . .
When the nannies first brought all the babies into the room, I recognized Marcie immediately. Jason had commented many times over the preceding weeks, "How will we know if they give us the right baby?" But there was no question when they brought her in the room. I don't remember if any of the other babies, in their matching pink and white outfits with little green creatures on them, cried. But I know Marcie did. She sat in the back corner of the big, black conference room chair. A nanny on the edge of the chair, with another baby in her lap. Marcie looked around the room, kind of drinking us in-- and her face scrunched up and she started to cry. The nanny scooped her up immediately, and Marcie stopped crying.
The rest of our first meeting was mainly a blur. I remember picking her up-- and feeling her weight against me-- for the first time. She sure was heavy! And I remember her just staring intensely at us when we returned to our seats, as if to say, "Who are you people?" Of course, she reached out and grabbed for my nose, too. And she smiled for Jason-- ever so briefly.
The orphanage director sat with all of us in a big circle, and the guide, Marie, let us fire off question after question. Alexandra's parents wanted to know how her name was chosen. Ava's parents wanted to know if she was at the beginning or end of her cold. We asked about Marcie's cough (which, it appears, has finally resolved itself just this past week-- nearly three months after we first noticed it).
When we left the conference room to head upstairs for bath and bed, we passed by two nannies in the hallway. They reached out for Marcie, and Marcie reached back. "Good bye, Xiao Ji Mei," they softly called. My throat clamped up a bit, and I swallowed hard, thinking how difficult it must be for those nannies who had cared for Marcie for nine months to say good bye now. And how scary it must be for Marcie to be taken away from them. . . my heart was breaking in the tiniest way. Of course we knew we would be "the best nannies she ever had," as Marie pointed out. But we were still taking her away from her home and the love of her nannies.
Marcie was hard to bathe. She kept slipping around in the bathtub, and we were worried she'd dunk under. She smelled like the tap water of China, and Jason commented that he wondered how many baths in Baby Soap she'd need before she smelled like us. We swaddled her in her towel, changed her into pajamas, and went to play in the bedroom. I don't remember if it was that day or the next when Jason discovered how to make her laugh-- by dropping a small cloth on her head or face. But the sound of her giggles were pure joy. That first night, she fell asleep in my arms, and I laid her gently in the crib, watching her back rise and fall as she slept. She woke up at midnight ever-so-briefly for a small bottle, and then slept in until 7am.
As soon as we had Marcie, I immediately missed Casey-- with a fierceness that took me by surprise. There were a few other families that had arrived with other children, and I felt somehow incomplete knowing that only part of my family was together. I'm so grateful for those initial days alone with Marcie. After all, Casey got a ton of attention, and Marcie deserved it too. But it would be dishonest to say I didn't miss him-- I ached for him, actually. . .
Since we've been back, Marcie has certainly endeared herself to those around us. I can't write about her whole first year, because I'm only a small part of that first year. But I can memorialize her first day with us, and the images that stick out from the past three months. Marcie is mobile. And fast. We have to keep the bathroom doors closed and the toilet seats down, or she will play in what she must think is a porcelain bucket of water. Marcie is smart-- she already has picked up several key words and signs. She can high five and show she is "all done" in sign language. She can shake her head no. She tells us when she wants to eat ("mom-mom" is the word in Cantonese), when she wants to be held ("up"), and when she wants some attention (by dropping something on the floor and saying "uh oh"). She'll even imitate the word "ouch."
Marcie is also very social. She doesn't smile much for the camera or even for strangers. But she bounces her body and wiggles her feet when she sees someone she knows. She is not shy, either. She will crawl right up and tug on your pant legs to pull herself up to standing. In the double stroller, she'll hit Casey to irritate him. And she'll eat his toys to occasionally taunt him. She also has become great friends with our dog, Pugasus. Just today, I caught her pulling on his tongue (which permanently sticks out of his mouth), exploring this "toy" she found. She is has a million little nuanced facial expressions, and she likes to bounce to music. She loves giving kisses and reacts with a smile and a look of great personal accomplishment when we cheer for her. Yesterday she even took her first step (though it was rather accidental). So she is coming along quite well.
She eats just about anything-- and especially whatever you're eating at the moment. She hasn't figured out the sippy cup yet, but she'll need to soon, because we're going cold turkey in the bottle after December 7th (picked because it's the day of my last final and if I'm going to be up multiple times in the middle of the night, I think it should be after final exams). She even likes ice cream-- sure, she makes a face and then smiles and grunts for more.
Marcie is not big on sleep. Occasionally she will nap for a couple hours straight, but just as often it's 50 minutes here or there and then to bed at 8pm and up around 6:30am. I'm wondering why it is that she doesn't really sleep through the night yet-- she gets up any time between 3 and 5am, famished. She drinks the bottle, goes back to sleep, and then when I lay her in her crib, she wakes up screaming, which she does for about 5 minutes until she puts herself to sleep. Maybe I have trained her to do this-- I don't know. If she'd been living with us longer, I might just let her cry and not giver her a middle-of-the night feeding. But she's still learning to trust us and rely on us, so I'm trying to give it time. She's only been in her own bedroom for about a month now, as it is.
In any event, that is the year in review. But the fun part is the photo essay-- the part where you can follow Marcie through her first day as a one-year old. Happy Birthday, Marcie!
When I saw her picture for the first time, I could hardly contain my excitement. I immediately printed it out, and walked it all through the law firm office where I spent my summer working. They must have thought I was a nut-- here I was in place where I hadn't even been working a month yet. And I was a gushing mom. Not really the stoic, lawyerly impression one might want to make-- but I didn't care. Because it was my daughter. My second-born child. She looked so serious in the picture. And I knew she was ours immediately.
The wait to travel dragged. As impatient as I'd been during our wait for her referral, the wait to travel was worse. I had convinced myself (before hearing all about Marcie) that the longer the wait to travel, the better-- after all, I wanted to finish my summer job. But once I saw her precious face, I didn't want to wait even another day. . .
When the nannies first brought all the babies into the room, I recognized Marcie immediately. Jason had commented many times over the preceding weeks, "How will we know if they give us the right baby?" But there was no question when they brought her in the room. I don't remember if any of the other babies, in their matching pink and white outfits with little green creatures on them, cried. But I know Marcie did. She sat in the back corner of the big, black conference room chair. A nanny on the edge of the chair, with another baby in her lap. Marcie looked around the room, kind of drinking us in-- and her face scrunched up and she started to cry. The nanny scooped her up immediately, and Marcie stopped crying.
The rest of our first meeting was mainly a blur. I remember picking her up-- and feeling her weight against me-- for the first time. She sure was heavy! And I remember her just staring intensely at us when we returned to our seats, as if to say, "Who are you people?" Of course, she reached out and grabbed for my nose, too. And she smiled for Jason-- ever so briefly.
The orphanage director sat with all of us in a big circle, and the guide, Marie, let us fire off question after question. Alexandra's parents wanted to know how her name was chosen. Ava's parents wanted to know if she was at the beginning or end of her cold. We asked about Marcie's cough (which, it appears, has finally resolved itself just this past week-- nearly three months after we first noticed it).
When we left the conference room to head upstairs for bath and bed, we passed by two nannies in the hallway. They reached out for Marcie, and Marcie reached back. "Good bye, Xiao Ji Mei," they softly called. My throat clamped up a bit, and I swallowed hard, thinking how difficult it must be for those nannies who had cared for Marcie for nine months to say good bye now. And how scary it must be for Marcie to be taken away from them. . . my heart was breaking in the tiniest way. Of course we knew we would be "the best nannies she ever had," as Marie pointed out. But we were still taking her away from her home and the love of her nannies.
Marcie was hard to bathe. She kept slipping around in the bathtub, and we were worried she'd dunk under. She smelled like the tap water of China, and Jason commented that he wondered how many baths in Baby Soap she'd need before she smelled like us. We swaddled her in her towel, changed her into pajamas, and went to play in the bedroom. I don't remember if it was that day or the next when Jason discovered how to make her laugh-- by dropping a small cloth on her head or face. But the sound of her giggles were pure joy. That first night, she fell asleep in my arms, and I laid her gently in the crib, watching her back rise and fall as she slept. She woke up at midnight ever-so-briefly for a small bottle, and then slept in until 7am.
As soon as we had Marcie, I immediately missed Casey-- with a fierceness that took me by surprise. There were a few other families that had arrived with other children, and I felt somehow incomplete knowing that only part of my family was together. I'm so grateful for those initial days alone with Marcie. After all, Casey got a ton of attention, and Marcie deserved it too. But it would be dishonest to say I didn't miss him-- I ached for him, actually. . .
Since we've been back, Marcie has certainly endeared herself to those around us. I can't write about her whole first year, because I'm only a small part of that first year. But I can memorialize her first day with us, and the images that stick out from the past three months. Marcie is mobile. And fast. We have to keep the bathroom doors closed and the toilet seats down, or she will play in what she must think is a porcelain bucket of water. Marcie is smart-- she already has picked up several key words and signs. She can high five and show she is "all done" in sign language. She can shake her head no. She tells us when she wants to eat ("mom-mom" is the word in Cantonese), when she wants to be held ("up"), and when she wants some attention (by dropping something on the floor and saying "uh oh"). She'll even imitate the word "ouch."
Marcie is also very social. She doesn't smile much for the camera or even for strangers. But she bounces her body and wiggles her feet when she sees someone she knows. She is not shy, either. She will crawl right up and tug on your pant legs to pull herself up to standing. In the double stroller, she'll hit Casey to irritate him. And she'll eat his toys to occasionally taunt him. She also has become great friends with our dog, Pugasus. Just today, I caught her pulling on his tongue (which permanently sticks out of his mouth), exploring this "toy" she found. She is has a million little nuanced facial expressions, and she likes to bounce to music. She loves giving kisses and reacts with a smile and a look of great personal accomplishment when we cheer for her. Yesterday she even took her first step (though it was rather accidental). So she is coming along quite well.
She eats just about anything-- and especially whatever you're eating at the moment. She hasn't figured out the sippy cup yet, but she'll need to soon, because we're going cold turkey in the bottle after December 7th (picked because it's the day of my last final and if I'm going to be up multiple times in the middle of the night, I think it should be after final exams). She even likes ice cream-- sure, she makes a face and then smiles and grunts for more.
Marcie is not big on sleep. Occasionally she will nap for a couple hours straight, but just as often it's 50 minutes here or there and then to bed at 8pm and up around 6:30am. I'm wondering why it is that she doesn't really sleep through the night yet-- she gets up any time between 3 and 5am, famished. She drinks the bottle, goes back to sleep, and then when I lay her in her crib, she wakes up screaming, which she does for about 5 minutes until she puts herself to sleep. Maybe I have trained her to do this-- I don't know. If she'd been living with us longer, I might just let her cry and not giver her a middle-of-the night feeding. But she's still learning to trust us and rely on us, so I'm trying to give it time. She's only been in her own bedroom for about a month now, as it is.
In any event, that is the year in review. But the fun part is the photo essay-- the part where you can follow Marcie through her first day as a one-year old. Happy Birthday, Marcie!
Wednesday, November 15, 2006
Special Guest Teacher
Yesterday, I returned to the classroom . . . sort of.
I volunteered to "guest teach" in Casey's preschool classroom. I arrived around 10:30am, with my bag of "stuff." It included the book The Wide-Mouthed Frog, a bunch of small green paper bags, googly eyes, pre-cut and curled red strips of paper to look like tongues, and fuzzy green balls. This was for making frog puppets. The kids were just finishing up their snack (tortilla chips and refried beans or bean dip of some kind-- blech!). Casey is certainly his mother's son when it comes to snacks. He won't eat for the sake of eating. I watched as he carefully carried his loaded plate and half-full cup to the trash can and dumped them out. And apparently he hasn't been finishing his lunch at school lately. I personally think it's because he is holding out until Jason picks him up so they can eat the food together on the way to pick up Marcie.
When I arrived, Casey asked me where Marcie was-- he looked so concerned. I explained she was with Grandma so we could have some special time together at school. I think he was disappointed. He likes showing off Marcie to his classmates, especially Brooke (who loves all babies) and Katelyn (whose name Casey pronounces as Kaywin).
Anyway, yesterday was rainy, so the kids had an abbreviated play time-- during which they ran three laps around the playground while screaming. It sounds potentially irritating, but it wasn't. It was cute.
After playtime, they all came in and sat on the multi-colored mat for circle time. One of the boys offered Casey his red bumpy circle, but Casey didn't want it. I reminded him to say, "No thank you," and he did. I read the Wide-Mouthed Frog book three or four times to the kids. It's a pop up book that I first heard as a joke in college about a wide mouthed frog who hops around, meeting other animals and offering up that he is a wide-mouthed frogs who eats flies. Then he asks what the other animal eats. At the end of the story, he hops up to an alligator and the alligator tells him he eats wide-mouthed frogs. The frog makes his mouth really small and says "Oh, pleased to meet you," or something like that-- and hops away. I think it's hilarious. But the humor is kind of lost on 3 and 4-year-olds.
After we read the story, we sang the Little Green Frog song. I love this song. It begins with opening and closing hands and the noise "MM-- AT!" And when you say the "at" part, you have to open your mouth and stick out your tongue. It looks very silly, and every time I made the sound, Tuan and Casey burst into laughter at me. They couldn't even really sing the song, they were laughing so hard. Glad I could entertain them.
Last, the kids worked on the frog puppets, which are now hanging from the classroom ceiling. Three year olds don't really get the whole "copy the sample" thing. Most of them put the tongues across the frong of the bag. But I guess what can you expect from toddlers, eh?
It was a lot of fun. I'm really glad I got to spend the time in Casey's classrooms. One of the best parts about being home with Casey and Marcie these past three months has been getting to know his regular routine-- learning about his friends and feeling a part of what goes on in his life. It's not that I was unaware before, but I was mainly the calendar-keeper, and my role primarily consisted of shuttling him from therapy appointments to doctors appointments and so on. This has been a great opportunity to actually experience some of the fun of parenthood with him. To be even sillier than usual. To discover that he hates it when his shoes get wet or his pants get a drop of water on them and he insists on putting on a replacement. He really is quite a character, and he amazes me every day.
In other news, I will be posting a photo-essay later documenting Marcie's first birthday-- which was today. She got several e-cards from her friends from the orphanage where she used to live (how cool is that?!?). Today is also my birthday-- and it was so cool to share it with her today. I know it's only been about three months since we met, but I already can't remember life before her. It's amazing what depth children bring to our lives. . .
I volunteered to "guest teach" in Casey's preschool classroom. I arrived around 10:30am, with my bag of "stuff." It included the book The Wide-Mouthed Frog, a bunch of small green paper bags, googly eyes, pre-cut and curled red strips of paper to look like tongues, and fuzzy green balls. This was for making frog puppets. The kids were just finishing up their snack (tortilla chips and refried beans or bean dip of some kind-- blech!). Casey is certainly his mother's son when it comes to snacks. He won't eat for the sake of eating. I watched as he carefully carried his loaded plate and half-full cup to the trash can and dumped them out. And apparently he hasn't been finishing his lunch at school lately. I personally think it's because he is holding out until Jason picks him up so they can eat the food together on the way to pick up Marcie.
When I arrived, Casey asked me where Marcie was-- he looked so concerned. I explained she was with Grandma so we could have some special time together at school. I think he was disappointed. He likes showing off Marcie to his classmates, especially Brooke (who loves all babies) and Katelyn (whose name Casey pronounces as Kaywin).
Anyway, yesterday was rainy, so the kids had an abbreviated play time-- during which they ran three laps around the playground while screaming. It sounds potentially irritating, but it wasn't. It was cute.
After playtime, they all came in and sat on the multi-colored mat for circle time. One of the boys offered Casey his red bumpy circle, but Casey didn't want it. I reminded him to say, "No thank you," and he did. I read the Wide-Mouthed Frog book three or four times to the kids. It's a pop up book that I first heard as a joke in college about a wide mouthed frog who hops around, meeting other animals and offering up that he is a wide-mouthed frogs who eats flies. Then he asks what the other animal eats. At the end of the story, he hops up to an alligator and the alligator tells him he eats wide-mouthed frogs. The frog makes his mouth really small and says "Oh, pleased to meet you," or something like that-- and hops away. I think it's hilarious. But the humor is kind of lost on 3 and 4-year-olds.
After we read the story, we sang the Little Green Frog song. I love this song. It begins with opening and closing hands and the noise "MM-- AT!" And when you say the "at" part, you have to open your mouth and stick out your tongue. It looks very silly, and every time I made the sound, Tuan and Casey burst into laughter at me. They couldn't even really sing the song, they were laughing so hard. Glad I could entertain them.
Last, the kids worked on the frog puppets, which are now hanging from the classroom ceiling. Three year olds don't really get the whole "copy the sample" thing. Most of them put the tongues across the frong of the bag. But I guess what can you expect from toddlers, eh?
It was a lot of fun. I'm really glad I got to spend the time in Casey's classrooms. One of the best parts about being home with Casey and Marcie these past three months has been getting to know his regular routine-- learning about his friends and feeling a part of what goes on in his life. It's not that I was unaware before, but I was mainly the calendar-keeper, and my role primarily consisted of shuttling him from therapy appointments to doctors appointments and so on. This has been a great opportunity to actually experience some of the fun of parenthood with him. To be even sillier than usual. To discover that he hates it when his shoes get wet or his pants get a drop of water on them and he insists on putting on a replacement. He really is quite a character, and he amazes me every day.
In other news, I will be posting a photo-essay later documenting Marcie's first birthday-- which was today. She got several e-cards from her friends from the orphanage where she used to live (how cool is that?!?). Today is also my birthday-- and it was so cool to share it with her today. I know it's only been about three months since we met, but I already can't remember life before her. It's amazing what depth children bring to our lives. . .
Tuesday, November 14, 2006
Marcie's First Day Without Mommy or Daddy
I officially started back to work on Monday the 13th, though I don't actually return to the office until the 27th because I have some more vacation time banked that I'm using. In these next two weeks before I return to the office full time, I'm "transitioning." I say that I'm transitioning, because isn't that always true? I remember my first day back in the office when Casey was 11 weeks old. All day long, people kept asking, "So, how are you doing?" And it took every ounce of strength not to burst into tears and sobs. I know Casey was fine- he wasn't even three months old-- as long as he got his bottle and someone held him close, he was happy. And Grandma was certainly meeting his needs.
Well, Marcie is a little older. Since we've returned to the U.S., I've been with Marcie every day for a chunk of the day. True, I drop her off at Grandma's around 4pm so I can hustle off to school Monday through Thursday. And she spends almost all day on Sundays with her Dad while I study. But for a healthy chunk of each day, I'm her primary care giver. I have loved this much more than I thought I would. I still don't want to be a full time, stay-at-home mom (though kudos to you who have the personality that makes that job enjoyable). Don't get me wrong. I think stay-at-home moms are incredible. I am so grateful I had one growing up. And our goal is still for my husband to quit his job in the next 3 years so he can be a full-time stay-at-home dad. Anyway, I digress.
I'm transitioning by having Marcie spend more time with her grandmother while I ramp up for final exams. This was a little accidental. I had planned for today to be her first full day with Grandma (full day starting around 9:30am, that is-- which means I'm still up with her for 3 1/2 hours before she's off to Grandma's house). But I did not manage my time well last weekend, got only an hour and a half of sleep Sunday night, and needed to work on a paper yesterday that was due yesterday. So off to Grandma's she went.
She loves being at Grandma's. And my mother-in-law is amazing with her-- she really has a knack for babies. Marcie loves playing at Grandma's house (and so does Casey, for that matter). So I know she is in good hands. Yesterday I barely noticed Marcie was gone. Sure, I paused every hour or so and thought about what Marcie must be doing right then. But I was under such time pressure to get the paper finished, and I was so exhausted that I just didn't think much about it. "Yesterday wasn't so bad," I thought when I drove to drop off Marcie this morning.
But today was weird. I mean, I haven't been home alone since we returned from China. It definitely helps that she's with family and well taken care of. But it was weird. It just didn't feel right. . .
So I thought I should document it. Although I'm documenting this for Marcie, really, I guess it's more of a milestone for me.
Well, Marcie is a little older. Since we've returned to the U.S., I've been with Marcie every day for a chunk of the day. True, I drop her off at Grandma's around 4pm so I can hustle off to school Monday through Thursday. And she spends almost all day on Sundays with her Dad while I study. But for a healthy chunk of each day, I'm her primary care giver. I have loved this much more than I thought I would. I still don't want to be a full time, stay-at-home mom (though kudos to you who have the personality that makes that job enjoyable). Don't get me wrong. I think stay-at-home moms are incredible. I am so grateful I had one growing up. And our goal is still for my husband to quit his job in the next 3 years so he can be a full-time stay-at-home dad. Anyway, I digress.
I'm transitioning by having Marcie spend more time with her grandmother while I ramp up for final exams. This was a little accidental. I had planned for today to be her first full day with Grandma (full day starting around 9:30am, that is-- which means I'm still up with her for 3 1/2 hours before she's off to Grandma's house). But I did not manage my time well last weekend, got only an hour and a half of sleep Sunday night, and needed to work on a paper yesterday that was due yesterday. So off to Grandma's she went.
She loves being at Grandma's. And my mother-in-law is amazing with her-- she really has a knack for babies. Marcie loves playing at Grandma's house (and so does Casey, for that matter). So I know she is in good hands. Yesterday I barely noticed Marcie was gone. Sure, I paused every hour or so and thought about what Marcie must be doing right then. But I was under such time pressure to get the paper finished, and I was so exhausted that I just didn't think much about it. "Yesterday wasn't so bad," I thought when I drove to drop off Marcie this morning.
But today was weird. I mean, I haven't been home alone since we returned from China. It definitely helps that she's with family and well taken care of. But it was weird. It just didn't feel right. . .
So I thought I should document it. Although I'm documenting this for Marcie, really, I guess it's more of a milestone for me.
Sunday, November 12, 2006
Marcie's First Birthday Party
Because we just had a huge shindig for Marcie, we opted to keep her first birthday party very small this year-- just our immediate families. I wasn't home on Jason's birthday, so the plan was to make lasagna for dinner (for the grown ups) and Dino-bite Chicken Nuggets for the boys.
The night before Marcie's birthday party, Casey went into the kitchen and located a nipple, which he put on Marcie's head like a party hat. She sat like that for a long time while he sang Happy Birthday to her. You can see Marcie and Casey both modeling the nipple-hat in these photos. Cracked us up.
The next day Marcie had Little Gym class and Casey had soccer. Then Marcie and I went grocery shopping-- on a hunt for mint chip no-sugar-added icecream (which we found). While the kids napped, I made lasagna. The thing about lasagna is that it's always so much better the second day-- when it sets really well. So I made the lasagna early in the day, hoping it would cool off and I could re-heat it for dinner. The lasagna was out of the oven around 2:30pm and we sat down to eat at 6pm. It worked pretty well.
Before everyone arrived, Jason rearranged the furniture in the area of our house which most people use as the living room-dining room combo. We have never had the money for a dining room set, so we've used that part of the area as a play area for Casey. But then when he got a cool train set from his birth family, we put that on the beat-up Ikea coffee table in the living room. He has a nice train table at his grandparents' house. The Ikea table seems okay for this purpose at our house. Anyway, once his trains were in the living room part of the space, there was no turning back. Now the area is a giant play room with scattered adult furniture throughout. . . Casey has a giant tub filled with beans and rice and macaroni that we let him climb in whenever he asks. It's a sensory tub, and those beans, etc. give Casey's body extra feedback. He is a bit of a sensory-seeking child, so this helps calm him down. He asked to climb in the tub just before Marcie's birthday party, which was to start at 5:30pm. So we let him. The photos are of Casey in his tub and of Marcie watching him play. (As a side note, one thing that makes me nervous about this tub-o-stuff is that it is small stuff that Marcie can choke on. Even though Casey knows not to throw it all over the place, some always ends up on the floor.)
After everyone arrived, we sat down to eat. I had already started feeding Marcie her baby food so that she could finger-feed herself during dinner. I gave her a sippy cup, too-- because we are supposed to give up the bottle after Wednesday (!). She mostly chewed on the cup's bottom. This is not going to be a fun transition . . . Anyway, here are some photos of our decorations for the party:
This was the kitchen table all set up for the party. There is a center piece that says 1 Birthday Girl, and a candle that says "It's fun to be one." and the table cloth matched the centerpiece.
These are the decorations we put up while the kids were napping. You'll notice a couple of Thomas balloons mixed in there-- that's because our only child-guests were Joey and Casey and we thought they'd like those balloons.
Marcie wearing-- and removing-- her birthday hat, which says "Princess."
We sang happy birthday twice-- once outside with the Lotus candle-- this candle that is a lotus flower that opens and lets off a HUGE flame (so big that they warned we might have trouble getting too many of them through customs because they are considered fireworks!). The other one was a regular candle, and we did that inside because the video camera was accidentally on pause when we did the Lotus candle. Somehow I managed not to get photos of either rendition, so I'll have to borrow those from some of our other resident photographers. In any event, the photo above is Marcie eating her cake after the second song. The photo to the right is a Lotus candle-- I borrowed it from Cassidy Tao's birthday photos. I'm sure her parents won't mind. We traveled with them to China-- Cassidy and Jason share the same day for their birthdays!
Then, we opened presents. There were presents for everyone at the party! Marcie had gotten her aunts and grandparents one-year-old portraits and put them in frames. And she got Casey and Joey a Thomas set each with Terrence and a few other characters. Because Jason's birthday was on Monday and mine is on Wednesday, people brought us gifts, too.
The night before Marcie's birthday party, Casey went into the kitchen and located a nipple, which he put on Marcie's head like a party hat. She sat like that for a long time while he sang Happy Birthday to her. You can see Marcie and Casey both modeling the nipple-hat in these photos. Cracked us up.The next day Marcie had Little Gym class and Casey had soccer. Then Marcie and I went grocery shopping-- on a hunt for mint chip no-sugar-added icecream (which we found). While the kids napped, I made lasagna. The thing about lasagna is that it's always so much better the second day-- when it sets really well. So I made the lasagna early in the day, hoping it would cool off and I could re-heat it for dinner. The lasagna was out of the oven around 2:30pm and we sat down to eat at 6pm. It worked pretty well.
Before everyone arrived, Jason rearranged the furniture in the area of our house which most people use as the living room-dining room combo. We have never had the money for a dining room set, so we've used that part of the area as a play area for Casey. But then when he got a cool train set from his birth family, we put that on the beat-up Ikea coffee table in the living room. He has a nice train table at his grandparents' house. The Ikea table seems okay for this purpose at our house. Anyway, once his trains were in the living room part of the space, there was no turning back. Now the area is a giant play room with scattered adult furniture throughout. . . Casey has a giant tub filled with beans and rice and macaroni that we let him climb in whenever he asks. It's a sensory tub, and those beans, etc. give Casey's body extra feedback. He is a bit of a sensory-seeking child, so this helps calm him down. He asked to climb in the tub just before Marcie's birthday party, which was to start at 5:30pm. So we let him. The photos are of Casey in his tub and of Marcie watching him play. (As a side note, one thing that makes me nervous about this tub-o-stuff is that it is small stuff that Marcie can choke on. Even though Casey knows not to throw it all over the place, some always ends up on the floor.)
After everyone arrived, we sat down to eat. I had already started feeding Marcie her baby food so that she could finger-feed herself during dinner. I gave her a sippy cup, too-- because we are supposed to give up the bottle after Wednesday (!). She mostly chewed on the cup's bottom. This is not going to be a fun transition . . . Anyway, here are some photos of our decorations for the party:
This was the kitchen table all set up for the party. There is a center piece that says 1 Birthday Girl, and a candle that says "It's fun to be one." and the table cloth matched the centerpiece.
These are the decorations we put up while the kids were napping. You'll notice a couple of Thomas balloons mixed in there-- that's because our only child-guests were Joey and Casey and we thought they'd like those balloons.
This was the cake we actually ate. I picked a ladybug because in the Chinese adoption world, ladybugs are a symbol of good luck. Interestingly, this is an American phenomenon-- the Chinese do not consider ladybugs particularly lucky creatures or anything. But the cake is cute, regardless. We had a chocolate cake with bavarian cream filling. It wasn't as good as the Costco cake we had for Marcie's baptism, but it met our needs. And we didn't end up with so much left over that we will be eating cake from now until Christmas.
This was Marcie's cake. Our grocery store will make a first birthday cake for free when you purchase a regular cake. This is the cake we let Marcie smash up and eat. When Casey turned one, the store thought Casey was a girl's name, and they originally decorated it pretty much identical to this one. We had them change it to blue frosting, which was extremely difficult to clean out of clothing and off the high chair tray. Fortunately, pink is much easier to clean.
Here are some other photos of the evening:
Marcie wearing-- and removing-- her birthday hat, which says "Princess."
We sang happy birthday twice-- once outside with the Lotus candle-- this candle that is a lotus flower that opens and lets off a HUGE flame (so big that they warned we might have trouble getting too many of them through customs because they are considered fireworks!). The other one was a regular candle, and we did that inside because the video camera was accidentally on pause when we did the Lotus candle. Somehow I managed not to get photos of either rendition, so I'll have to borrow those from some of our other resident photographers. In any event, the photo above is Marcie eating her cake after the second song. The photo to the right is a Lotus candle-- I borrowed it from Cassidy Tao's birthday photos. I'm sure her parents won't mind. We traveled with them to China-- Cassidy and Jason share the same day for their birthdays!
Then, we opened presents. There were presents for everyone at the party! Marcie had gotten her aunts and grandparents one-year-old portraits and put them in frames. And she got Casey and Joey a Thomas set each with Terrence and a few other characters. Because Jason's birthday was on Monday and mine is on Wednesday, people brought us gifts, too.My parents got Marcie the bounce and somethingorother Zebra. They did research to make sure Casey wouldn't break it. It's a good thing, too, because even though we got photos of Marcie riding it, Casey and Joey took turns for the rest of the evening:
After everyone left and we were trying to calm Marcie down for bed, Casey asked for a crayon. He grabbed an envelope, and then stood in front of the T.V., facing me and Jason. He kept calling out names-- "Daddy Soocoo. Here." Then he'd write on his envelope. "Mommy Soocoo. Here." Then he'd scribble again. "Joey Soocoo. Not here. At home." It took us about five minutes to figure out he was taking attendance and the "Soocoo" was his attempt at saying our last name. It was so funny.
Friday, November 10, 2006
Marcie's First Real Word
I can't believe I forgot to post this earlier! Monday was Jason's birthday, and he wowed and amazed his family with a "kid trick" while he was there. For those of you unfamiliar with the term "kid trick," a kid trick is what we parents do to show off our kiddos. For instance, my nephew Joey is a talented actor. He is two now, but from the time he was around 18 months, he would show off his talents on cue. His dad would say, "Joey, show laughing." And Joey would laugh. He could do all sorts of things: laugh, cry, happy, sad, angry-- and even coy!
Anyway, Marcie has spoken her first real word. Any guesses?
It's not "dada." And interestingly, that's not a sound she makes very often-- she makes the "mama" sound more frequently. (And incidentally, mom-mom is the word for "food" in Cantonese-- as in, "Mommy, Marcie wants to eat mom-mom.")
It's not "all done," though she does know and use the sign-language for that.
It's not "no" or "stoppit," which is kind of surprising considering how often she hears those two words from Casey.
And it's not "kisses," which Marcie also knows-- and gives on command. In two languages (the word is "chin chin" in Mandarin).
Give up? That was a clue . . .
It's UP. Yup. She says, "up!"
So cool.
Anyway, Marcie has spoken her first real word. Any guesses?
It's not "dada." And interestingly, that's not a sound she makes very often-- she makes the "mama" sound more frequently. (And incidentally, mom-mom is the word for "food" in Cantonese-- as in, "Mommy, Marcie wants to eat mom-mom.")
It's not "all done," though she does know and use the sign-language for that.
It's not "no" or "stoppit," which is kind of surprising considering how often she hears those two words from Casey.
And it's not "kisses," which Marcie also knows-- and gives on command. In two languages (the word is "chin chin" in Mandarin).
Give up? That was a clue . . .
It's UP. Yup. She says, "up!"
So cool.
Day Out With Thomas
Today we took the kids to meet Thomas the Tank Engine up in Perris, California-- just north of Hemmet. It wasn't supposed to be insanely hot, but it was-- and I had dressed the kids in long sleeves. It didn't seem to dampen Casey's spirits, though.
We parked in this gigantic dirt lot and then walked (forever!) to get to the Orange Empire Railway, where we had tickets to ride Thomas. (Actually, no one rides Thomas because he just pushes or pulls the cabooses Annie and Clarabelle, but you get the idea.)
This is Jason and Casey riding in the train. One strange thing about the way they did things was that instead of the train going in a circle or something, it just went one-way out, then the other direction back. The kids don't care, of course-- it was just interesting.
After we rode in the caboose, we stopped to eat some lunch and then went to get Casey's picture with Thomas. Like the San Diego Fair, this place had all sorts of carnival food. By the way, what the heck is the purpose of deep frying a Snickers? Anyone tried one? Is it actually tasty?
There were all sorts of things-- a play area, arts & crafts, bouncy houses, live music. . . it could have been an all-day event. But by 1pm, Casey was very cranky (because he was so tired and ready for his nap). We stopped by Sir Topham Hat's tent, but we didn't wait in line to get a photo with him.
We finally left around 2pm-- it was actually a pretty full day. Casey is already asking to see Thomas again-- and we've just told him Thomas had to go home . . .
This is the kids as we are leaving the Railway.
Tuesday, November 07, 2006
Poopy Blog Contest
Um. . . so this post is kinda about poop. But I promise not to get graphic (which is more than I can say for my husband, who decided to describe to me-- in detail-- the chunks in our son's poop while we were on the phone earlier, which was particularly yucky because I was eating my sandwich dinner at the time and no one likes to hear about poop even when they aren't eating).
When we were posting about Poop Watch 2006 from China, a friend of mine commented how it seems like life starts and ends with poop. Our parents obsess about it for us when we're babies . . . and then when we get old, we obsess about it ourselves. So parenthood is a precursor to aging in that respect, I guess. Anyway, I know I am not the only parent out there obsessing about my children's bowel movements (and why is it that Casey keeps pooping in the middle of the night in his sleep? I mean, he is wearing a diaper, but it's such a mess!!!). I know this because I have received e-mails from a couple of you telling me about your very own diaper blowouts. Or poop pellets. Or dog poo piles. I suppose I could interpret your willingness to share these very personal stories with me as an offense-- as if there is some significance in the fact that I'm the person with whom you discuss crap. Literally. But instead, I choose to feel flattered by it. After all, you can't talk about poop with just anyone, right?
So this brings me to the contest part of this post. Here's the Poopy Blog Contest scoop. You send me an e-mail including as few or as many of the best "poop" stories you can muster. Preferrably about a child in your life (your own, a niece or nephew, a kid you babysat, etc.). Preferrably not about yourself. Unless it's really funny, and I'll fall out of my chair because I'm laughing so hard. Anyway, your story can be about an exasperating experience, a time where poop almost led to vomit, a tale of hilarity-- it's really up to you. . . I don't know what the winner will win, but I will post my favorite poop stories on the blog. Is that enough of a reward? Is this too gross an idea to conceive? If ya'll hadn't already decided to start sending me poop stories of your volition, I wouldn't be considering this contest. But here we are. So write your story (or stories) and e-mail them to me (you can e-mail me by clicking the "E-mail me!" link here or in the bar to the right of the screen). There is no limit on the number of stories you send, but here are the rules:
1. they must be true stories
2. they can be from long ago or from recent
3. you must include your name and e-mail address in the e-mail to me
4. let me know in your "entry" if you want me to disclose your name and e-mail address on the blog
5. the deadline for submission is MONDAY, NOVEMBER 20th at 9pm PACIFIC time. This will give me time to select a winner before Thanksgiving
6. Also, I reserve the right to add and change rules as I deem appropriate.
Happy Pooply Blog Contest entry writing!
When we were posting about Poop Watch 2006 from China, a friend of mine commented how it seems like life starts and ends with poop. Our parents obsess about it for us when we're babies . . . and then when we get old, we obsess about it ourselves. So parenthood is a precursor to aging in that respect, I guess. Anyway, I know I am not the only parent out there obsessing about my children's bowel movements (and why is it that Casey keeps pooping in the middle of the night in his sleep? I mean, he is wearing a diaper, but it's such a mess!!!). I know this because I have received e-mails from a couple of you telling me about your very own diaper blowouts. Or poop pellets. Or dog poo piles. I suppose I could interpret your willingness to share these very personal stories with me as an offense-- as if there is some significance in the fact that I'm the person with whom you discuss crap. Literally. But instead, I choose to feel flattered by it. After all, you can't talk about poop with just anyone, right?
So this brings me to the contest part of this post. Here's the Poopy Blog Contest scoop. You send me an e-mail including as few or as many of the best "poop" stories you can muster. Preferrably about a child in your life (your own, a niece or nephew, a kid you babysat, etc.). Preferrably not about yourself. Unless it's really funny, and I'll fall out of my chair because I'm laughing so hard. Anyway, your story can be about an exasperating experience, a time where poop almost led to vomit, a tale of hilarity-- it's really up to you. . . I don't know what the winner will win, but I will post my favorite poop stories on the blog. Is that enough of a reward? Is this too gross an idea to conceive? If ya'll hadn't already decided to start sending me poop stories of your volition, I wouldn't be considering this contest. But here we are. So write your story (or stories) and e-mail them to me (you can e-mail me by clicking the "E-mail me!" link here or in the bar to the right of the screen). There is no limit on the number of stories you send, but here are the rules:
1. they must be true stories
2. they can be from long ago or from recent
3. you must include your name and e-mail address in the e-mail to me
4. let me know in your "entry" if you want me to disclose your name and e-mail address on the blog
5. the deadline for submission is MONDAY, NOVEMBER 20th at 9pm PACIFIC time. This will give me time to select a winner before Thanksgiving
6. Also, I reserve the right to add and change rules as I deem appropriate.
Happy Pooply Blog Contest entry writing!
Monday, November 06, 2006
Toilet Discovery
No, this is not a post about poop (don't you think I have other things to worry about in life?!?). But it's probably even grosser. . .
This morning, Casey was throwing a fit when it was time for him to get dressed. Jason had carried him into his bedroom because he'd refused to go on his own. They were sitting on the floor, kind of arguing. I put Marcie down on my bedroom floor, and went into Casey's room. I told Jason I'd help Casey get dressed-- after all, that's our usual routine. Jason wasn't finished getting dressed, so I just assumed he'd go back to our bedroom to get dressed.
He didn't. Several minutes later, I went to check on Jason and Marcie. But neither of them were in the master bedroom. "Marcie, where are you?" I began calling out. I heard a splash. Then another splash. Then I saw Marcie. . .
Playing in the toilet water! So gross.
And yes, I know how dangerous it is not to have toilet locks. They don't fit the kind of toilet seats we have, and we are not in a position to purchase new toilets. We just have to remember to close bathroom doors.
Needless to say, Marcie got a good scrub-down and a change of clothes.
This morning, Casey was throwing a fit when it was time for him to get dressed. Jason had carried him into his bedroom because he'd refused to go on his own. They were sitting on the floor, kind of arguing. I put Marcie down on my bedroom floor, and went into Casey's room. I told Jason I'd help Casey get dressed-- after all, that's our usual routine. Jason wasn't finished getting dressed, so I just assumed he'd go back to our bedroom to get dressed.
He didn't. Several minutes later, I went to check on Jason and Marcie. But neither of them were in the master bedroom. "Marcie, where are you?" I began calling out. I heard a splash. Then another splash. Then I saw Marcie. . .
Playing in the toilet water! So gross.
And yes, I know how dangerous it is not to have toilet locks. They don't fit the kind of toilet seats we have, and we are not in a position to purchase new toilets. We just have to remember to close bathroom doors.
Needless to say, Marcie got a good scrub-down and a change of clothes.
Sunday, November 05, 2006
Neighborhood Party
I'm not sure how long I'll leave this post up because it makes something very public I wasn't planning on sharing. It's not that I haven't written about it-- I have. But I always delete the post before I publish it because I want to remain relatively anonymous and this more or less pinpoints who we are. I suppose it's possible one of my neighbors reads this blog, though I doubt it because no one really talks to us much, and we haven't told any of them about it.
Anyway, one of our neighbors is sensitive to dogs barking. And I guess our pugs were barking while we were away. They were also barking around 7am in the morning when we would feed them outside. Our neighbor began by yelling out a second floor window at my mother-in-law, who was feeding the dog. Then she put notes in our mailbox. Then she called the city to complain. Then she wrote a letter of complaint. We tried everything-- containing the dogs, giving them more space, moving them, even bark collars. Months passed (after the bark collars) and we heard nothing. We thought the problem was resolved. This summer, not a week before Chuffy died, we got another warning letter from the city, this one complaining that our dogs bark "continuously and throughout the night." This is false. The dogs are in the house with us at night, crated. We don't leave them out. I explained this to the city. I also explained that there are dog owners in each of the three houses that butt up against our homes and across the street from the complaining neighbors. At first I was mortified that our dogs were making so much racket-- no one wants to be the neighbor with the annoying dogs. But after a while, and no other complaints, I began to wonder if the dogs really were barking all day, or if our neighbor was extra sensitive. There were lots of days I was home all day with the dogs outside and they didn't make a peep. Anyway, it doesn't matter-- if the dogs are barking all day, that's not okay. I couldn't express this to the neighbor because any time I'd go to the door, she would be conveniently unavailable. And even though I'd ask her kids to let her know I'd stopped by, she never came by our home. She doesn't even walk up to the front door-- just leaves notes in the mailbox.
So now it's just Pugasus. We haven't had any complaints since Chuffy died, and we bring him inside if he barks at all. Or we put the bark collar on him.
Well, on Friday night, the neighbors were playing their music so loud just after midnight (so I guess it was Saturday morning), Jason could hear it in our study. He popped his head over the fence and asked them to turn it down. They shut it off.
Then last night, Jason and I were settling in to watch Nacho Libre, but we could barely hear our television. We had all the windows and doors closed in the house. But all we could hear was the pounding bass of the music next door. "They'll turn it off at 10," I told Jason. "Yeah," he agreed. "They are sticklers for the rules." Well, 10pm rolled around. Then 10:15. Then 10:30. Every time a song would change, we'd think, Finally. But then it'd resume again. Jason wanted to call the police. But I said that I wanted to just go next door and ask them to turn it down-- it's a courtesy I'd want paid to me, so I'll do the same.
When I got next door-- at about 10 till 11pm, I rang the bell. I could hear the people inside:
"Don't answer it. Who could it be at this hour."
"Someone probably called the cops."
"Seriously, don't answer it."
Finally, someone did, and I asked to speak to the homewoner. When she came to the door, I said, "Hey, it's kind of late and the baby has woken up twice. I was wondering if you could turn the music down."
Her response?
Something like, "Well, we're having a birthday party. And I left you a note in your mailbox."
I was surprised by the response. "A note? In my mailbox?"
She said, "Yeah. My whole family is town and it's only going to go until midnight."
I replied, "Well, I understand you're having a big party. I see you have caterers, and I certainly don't want to keep you from having a good time. But the baby has already woken up twice, and so could you just turn it down a bit?"
I left. They turned it down. But it threw me off. Somehow I walked away feeling like I was the asshole. Like I was wrong to ask them to turn down the music. You know, the thing is, if they weren't such sticklers for the rules, I probably wouldn't have said anything-- I would have figured it was a one-time thing and let it go. But you can't go around calling the city on your neighbor, leaving them both signed and anonymous notes in their mailbox and on their front door, and then not expect them to hold you to those same standards, you know?
Anyway, I checked the mailbox on my way past it back up the hill-- no note. And when we left this morning at 7am to go walk the Susan G. Komen Race for the Cure and drove past the mailbox, there was nothing attached to it. But guess what was taped to the outside of the box when we got home around 10am? Yup, a note from the neighbor. It was dated yesterday, but I just don't buy it. Especially because I looked for it last night.
When I told my friend about my conversation with the neighbor this morning, she said, "You should leave them a note in their mailbox that says: We still have a dog." Her rationale? Apparently as long as you warn someone that you are about to violate a city ordinance, it's okay to do so. . . And that got me to thinking-- my friend is right. That music was so loud. It doesn't matter that she left us a note (if she even did). That doesn't excuse the behavior. How about you just turn down the volume. No one was asking them to move the party inside, even though the voices were loud. We just wanted to be able to hear the television in our own home. Geesh.
Anyway, one of our neighbors is sensitive to dogs barking. And I guess our pugs were barking while we were away. They were also barking around 7am in the morning when we would feed them outside. Our neighbor began by yelling out a second floor window at my mother-in-law, who was feeding the dog. Then she put notes in our mailbox. Then she called the city to complain. Then she wrote a letter of complaint. We tried everything-- containing the dogs, giving them more space, moving them, even bark collars. Months passed (after the bark collars) and we heard nothing. We thought the problem was resolved. This summer, not a week before Chuffy died, we got another warning letter from the city, this one complaining that our dogs bark "continuously and throughout the night." This is false. The dogs are in the house with us at night, crated. We don't leave them out. I explained this to the city. I also explained that there are dog owners in each of the three houses that butt up against our homes and across the street from the complaining neighbors. At first I was mortified that our dogs were making so much racket-- no one wants to be the neighbor with the annoying dogs. But after a while, and no other complaints, I began to wonder if the dogs really were barking all day, or if our neighbor was extra sensitive. There were lots of days I was home all day with the dogs outside and they didn't make a peep. Anyway, it doesn't matter-- if the dogs are barking all day, that's not okay. I couldn't express this to the neighbor because any time I'd go to the door, she would be conveniently unavailable. And even though I'd ask her kids to let her know I'd stopped by, she never came by our home. She doesn't even walk up to the front door-- just leaves notes in the mailbox.
So now it's just Pugasus. We haven't had any complaints since Chuffy died, and we bring him inside if he barks at all. Or we put the bark collar on him.
Well, on Friday night, the neighbors were playing their music so loud just after midnight (so I guess it was Saturday morning), Jason could hear it in our study. He popped his head over the fence and asked them to turn it down. They shut it off.
Then last night, Jason and I were settling in to watch Nacho Libre, but we could barely hear our television. We had all the windows and doors closed in the house. But all we could hear was the pounding bass of the music next door. "They'll turn it off at 10," I told Jason. "Yeah," he agreed. "They are sticklers for the rules." Well, 10pm rolled around. Then 10:15. Then 10:30. Every time a song would change, we'd think, Finally. But then it'd resume again. Jason wanted to call the police. But I said that I wanted to just go next door and ask them to turn it down-- it's a courtesy I'd want paid to me, so I'll do the same.
When I got next door-- at about 10 till 11pm, I rang the bell. I could hear the people inside:
"Don't answer it. Who could it be at this hour."
"Someone probably called the cops."
"Seriously, don't answer it."
Finally, someone did, and I asked to speak to the homewoner. When she came to the door, I said, "Hey, it's kind of late and the baby has woken up twice. I was wondering if you could turn the music down."
Her response?
Something like, "Well, we're having a birthday party. And I left you a note in your mailbox."
I was surprised by the response. "A note? In my mailbox?"
She said, "Yeah. My whole family is town and it's only going to go until midnight."
I replied, "Well, I understand you're having a big party. I see you have caterers, and I certainly don't want to keep you from having a good time. But the baby has already woken up twice, and so could you just turn it down a bit?"
I left. They turned it down. But it threw me off. Somehow I walked away feeling like I was the asshole. Like I was wrong to ask them to turn down the music. You know, the thing is, if they weren't such sticklers for the rules, I probably wouldn't have said anything-- I would have figured it was a one-time thing and let it go. But you can't go around calling the city on your neighbor, leaving them both signed and anonymous notes in their mailbox and on their front door, and then not expect them to hold you to those same standards, you know?
Anyway, I checked the mailbox on my way past it back up the hill-- no note. And when we left this morning at 7am to go walk the Susan G. Komen Race for the Cure and drove past the mailbox, there was nothing attached to it. But guess what was taped to the outside of the box when we got home around 10am? Yup, a note from the neighbor. It was dated yesterday, but I just don't buy it. Especially because I looked for it last night.
When I told my friend about my conversation with the neighbor this morning, she said, "You should leave them a note in their mailbox that says: We still have a dog." Her rationale? Apparently as long as you warn someone that you are about to violate a city ordinance, it's okay to do so. . . And that got me to thinking-- my friend is right. That music was so loud. It doesn't matter that she left us a note (if she even did). That doesn't excuse the behavior. How about you just turn down the volume. No one was asking them to move the party inside, even though the voices were loud. We just wanted to be able to hear the television in our own home. Geesh.
Saturday, November 04, 2006
Crap (no, this post is not about poop)
Casey is having a hard day. He is antsy. He hit me (and got a time out), pushed Marcie (and got a time out), tried climbing into Marcie's jumparoo again (and got a time out), climbed into and out of Marcie's crib and her pack-n-play, refused to eat lunch, told us "no" when we asked if he wanted to talk on the phone with his birthfamily, and told Jason, "Good bye, Daddy," and slammed the door shut. I think he needs to run around at the park. And the weather is nice, so he might get to after his name.
Anyway, what precipitated this post was the comment he just made. His shirt got juice on it, so he asked to take it off. He hates wearing a shirt with any spots of wetness on them-- even if it's just water. Just now, he walked up to me and Jason, pointed to his arm and said as clearly as day, "There's a bunch of crap on there. " We bust out laughing. At least he used the word correctly!
Anyway, what precipitated this post was the comment he just made. His shirt got juice on it, so he asked to take it off. He hates wearing a shirt with any spots of wetness on them-- even if it's just water. Just now, he walked up to me and Jason, pointed to his arm and said as clearly as day, "There's a bunch of crap on there. " We bust out laughing. At least he used the word correctly!
Friday, November 03, 2006
Macy Day
Boy, I sure am prolific this week!
Before I started blogging-- long before-- I started reading through some blogs. I wasn't religious to many of them. What can I say? I'm a picky reader. But one blog just really spoke to me. It was written by a woman named Elizabeth whose daughter Macy was born in China. Macy is almost a year younger than our son Casey, and a lot of what Elizabether wrote about were things I had either experienced already or was going through at the same time. For some reason (and I think in large part because the blog is so well-written), this blog just spoke to me. So I read it. Religously. When a week passes that Elizabeth doesn't post, I wonder what has kept her away from the computer-- I need my MacyDay fix!
Anyway, today's post on MacyDay is amazing. You can read it below It's called Three Years Ago Today, and it's about Macy's birth-- and her birthmother in China. I've written before about how much we love and appreciate Casey's birth family-- how grateful we are to his birthmother. How difficult it was to watch her say good-bye to Casey when we'd visit. Not because she wasn't happy for Casey. She was. But because she was experiencing a loss, too. We won't get to know Marcie's birthmother. We won't be able to thank her, to share photos of her, to explain how much we love her and how happy and healthy she is. She is somewhere halfway around the world from us, and she will probably spend the rest of her life thinking about this daughter she gave birth to, wondering. Likewise, we are left to wonder. But we know how the story ends because we are living it. . . here, with Marcie (and by the way, Marcie's name similarity to Macy is pure coincidence, in case you are wondering!).
Sometimes people tell us how lucky Marcie is to have come to America to live with us. I think there is probably some truth to that. I'd like to think so. But deep down, I know we're the lucky ones. To know Marcie. To hold her. To be able to express our love for her. And whatever people think of the situation in China, or the painful decision Marcie's birthmother made, I am so grateful to her for this wonderful, precious gift-- because with her loss comes my gain, and even though I've only known Marcie for a couple short months, I already can't remember life without her-- before her. And that makes me the lucky one. I am not expressing it as well as Elizabeth did, though-- so go on and read!
The information below is re-printed with permission from the author, Elizabeth, who has since removed the post from her blog (and removed her blog completely):
Thursday, November 02, 2006
Three Years Ago Today
Three years ago today, somewhere near Suixi China, my daughter was being born. I picture her birth mother as a young, strikingly beautiful woman who was scared, no terrified, as she pushed my daughter out of her body. Frightened at the birthing process and trembling anxiously to see if she had a son or a daughter. I imagine she was not in a hospital for the birth, but in her home or her parents home. I think of the moment of relief she must have felt with her final push and when she heard my daughter make her first wailing announcement to the world. Then the gut wrenching realization as she stared down at her baby that their time together was to be fleeting. That because she was a girl she would be an orphan. She must have swelled with love and utter sadness when she looked at the perfect little baby she made. She checked her fingers and toes, as I did in the Civil Affairs Office. She held her close and smelled her head like I did when I first held my baby in my arms.
My daughter's birth mother kept her for three days before she left her at the gate of a health center. Or maybe it was her father or grandparents who took her from her mother's arms. How did the person feel as they took her and left her, at night, alone and only three days old. Was she covered in blankets that got lost in the moving she did those first few days- from the health center to a police station and finally to the orphanage? What was she wearing? Was it something that her mother lovingly sewed for her as she awaited her birth? Was it a boys outfit? Did they leave a note with her or some trinket to show she was loved? Her birth mother must have nursed her for those three days. Listened to her cries and bonded with her. I think she kept her baby until she felt she was strong enough to survive. When my daughter was found after having spent the night alone in a box at the health centers gate, she was a little under 5 pounds. The finding ad photos I have show a tiny premature baby whose eyes look like those of a fetal kitten. She is in distress in the photo. Not crying, but alone and longing. It's easy to read the confusion.
Tonight when I put my daughter to bed I talked to her about her birth mother. I said to her, " Let's say a prayer and a hello to your China Mommy". She beamed a huge smile and said to me, " Oh my China mommy! China mommy, it's OK". I had a difficult time not bursting into tears. I then said, " China mommy, We want you to know that your baby is very happy, healthy and loved unconditionally by many people now. I couldn't love her any more than I do and I wish you could see how beautiful and happy she is and how good her life is". My daughter looked at me and said, "I love you mommy. My mommy". Then she held my hand and buried her face in my chest. I love her so much and hurt so deeply for what she went through that it chokes me. I know she'll grieve someday for the mother she had in China and that there will be nothing I can do to help her but love her.
I wish I could tell the woman who gave birth to my daughter how much I love her and that she is safe, healthy, beautiful and living a life that few people in China could ever hope to lead. Maybe that would comfort her. I don't know. I want to tell her how much I love the baby she gave birth to and that I love her as well. She gave birth to my daughter. She is someone I will most likely never meet and yet she changed my life forever. Not only did she give my daughter life, she gave me life as well. A life worth living.
Before I started blogging-- long before-- I started reading through some blogs. I wasn't religious to many of them. What can I say? I'm a picky reader. But one blog just really spoke to me. It was written by a woman named Elizabeth whose daughter Macy was born in China. Macy is almost a year younger than our son Casey, and a lot of what Elizabether wrote about were things I had either experienced already or was going through at the same time. For some reason (and I think in large part because the blog is so well-written), this blog just spoke to me. So I read it. Religously. When a week passes that Elizabeth doesn't post, I wonder what has kept her away from the computer-- I need my MacyDay fix!
Anyway, today's post on MacyDay is amazing. You can read it below It's called Three Years Ago Today, and it's about Macy's birth-- and her birthmother in China. I've written before about how much we love and appreciate Casey's birth family-- how grateful we are to his birthmother. How difficult it was to watch her say good-bye to Casey when we'd visit. Not because she wasn't happy for Casey. She was. But because she was experiencing a loss, too. We won't get to know Marcie's birthmother. We won't be able to thank her, to share photos of her, to explain how much we love her and how happy and healthy she is. She is somewhere halfway around the world from us, and she will probably spend the rest of her life thinking about this daughter she gave birth to, wondering. Likewise, we are left to wonder. But we know how the story ends because we are living it. . . here, with Marcie (and by the way, Marcie's name similarity to Macy is pure coincidence, in case you are wondering!).
Sometimes people tell us how lucky Marcie is to have come to America to live with us. I think there is probably some truth to that. I'd like to think so. But deep down, I know we're the lucky ones. To know Marcie. To hold her. To be able to express our love for her. And whatever people think of the situation in China, or the painful decision Marcie's birthmother made, I am so grateful to her for this wonderful, precious gift-- because with her loss comes my gain, and even though I've only known Marcie for a couple short months, I already can't remember life without her-- before her. And that makes me the lucky one. I am not expressing it as well as Elizabeth did, though-- so go on and read!
The information below is re-printed with permission from the author, Elizabeth, who has since removed the post from her blog (and removed her blog completely):
Thursday, November 02, 2006
Three Years Ago Today
Three years ago today, somewhere near Suixi China, my daughter was being born. I picture her birth mother as a young, strikingly beautiful woman who was scared, no terrified, as she pushed my daughter out of her body. Frightened at the birthing process and trembling anxiously to see if she had a son or a daughter. I imagine she was not in a hospital for the birth, but in her home or her parents home. I think of the moment of relief she must have felt with her final push and when she heard my daughter make her first wailing announcement to the world. Then the gut wrenching realization as she stared down at her baby that their time together was to be fleeting. That because she was a girl she would be an orphan. She must have swelled with love and utter sadness when she looked at the perfect little baby she made. She checked her fingers and toes, as I did in the Civil Affairs Office. She held her close and smelled her head like I did when I first held my baby in my arms.
My daughter's birth mother kept her for three days before she left her at the gate of a health center. Or maybe it was her father or grandparents who took her from her mother's arms. How did the person feel as they took her and left her, at night, alone and only three days old. Was she covered in blankets that got lost in the moving she did those first few days- from the health center to a police station and finally to the orphanage? What was she wearing? Was it something that her mother lovingly sewed for her as she awaited her birth? Was it a boys outfit? Did they leave a note with her or some trinket to show she was loved? Her birth mother must have nursed her for those three days. Listened to her cries and bonded with her. I think she kept her baby until she felt she was strong enough to survive. When my daughter was found after having spent the night alone in a box at the health centers gate, she was a little under 5 pounds. The finding ad photos I have show a tiny premature baby whose eyes look like those of a fetal kitten. She is in distress in the photo. Not crying, but alone and longing. It's easy to read the confusion.
Tonight when I put my daughter to bed I talked to her about her birth mother. I said to her, " Let's say a prayer and a hello to your China Mommy". She beamed a huge smile and said to me, " Oh my China mommy! China mommy, it's OK". I had a difficult time not bursting into tears. I then said, " China mommy, We want you to know that your baby is very happy, healthy and loved unconditionally by many people now. I couldn't love her any more than I do and I wish you could see how beautiful and happy she is and how good her life is". My daughter looked at me and said, "I love you mommy. My mommy". Then she held my hand and buried her face in my chest. I love her so much and hurt so deeply for what she went through that it chokes me. I know she'll grieve someday for the mother she had in China and that there will be nothing I can do to help her but love her.
I wish I could tell the woman who gave birth to my daughter how much I love her and that she is safe, healthy, beautiful and living a life that few people in China could ever hope to lead. Maybe that would comfort her. I don't know. I want to tell her how much I love the baby she gave birth to and that I love her as well. She gave birth to my daughter. She is someone I will most likely never meet and yet she changed my life forever. Not only did she give my daughter life, she gave me life as well. A life worth living.
Thursday, November 02, 2006
Archie, a Slice of Cake, and Stinky Poo
If you don't know me well, you probably think I'm obsessed with poop, considering all the writing about it I've done. When Jason and I first started dating, my stomach was bothering me one night. When I complained about it, he suggested, "Maybe you have to poop." I didn't. But that wasn't the point. I was mortified that he would even think such a thing, let alone suggest it out loud. Obviously I've come a loooong way from those days . . .
My friend Delinda has a dog Archie. She is in her last year of law school and planning her wedding. She is living with her parents to help save money, and between bar expenses and wedding expenses, who can blame her?!? (And if you are wondering, yes, she is paying rent of some amount.) Anyway, the other day she woke up to an awful, eye-watering stench in her room . . . upon investigation, she discovered a pile of dog poo on top of a pile of dirty laundry. Sickened by the smell, she immediately cleaned it up. . .
Later in the day she was relaying to her mother how strange it was that her dog crapped in the bedroom on a pile of clothes. He's been house-broken for years and isn't old enough to have problems with it. Then her mother let her in on a little secret:
My friend Delinda has a dog Archie. She is in her last year of law school and planning her wedding. She is living with her parents to help save money, and between bar expenses and wedding expenses, who can blame her?!? (And if you are wondering, yes, she is paying rent of some amount.) Anyway, the other day she woke up to an awful, eye-watering stench in her room . . . upon investigation, she discovered a pile of dog poo on top of a pile of dirty laundry. Sickened by the smell, she immediately cleaned it up. . .
Later in the day she was relaying to her mother how strange it was that her dog crapped in the bedroom on a pile of clothes. He's been house-broken for years and isn't old enough to have problems with it. Then her mother let her in on a little secret:
That is a picture of Archie eating a slice of cake. The other two dogs in the photos were celebrating their first birthday. And in honor of the celebration, Delinda's mom made them cake. And fed it to them. I'm sure Archie savored that slice of cake. But, boy did he pay for it later-- and so did Delinda!
On a side note (one which I think will amuse my own mother), if you have pets that roam the house-- or even escape on occasion and wander throughout the house-- I don't recommend leaving piles of clothes (dirty or clean) anywhere. When I was in high school, I had this beautiful business outfit that I wore for debate tournaments. It was really expensive, and I begged my parents to let me have it. I looked very professional in it. One weekend, weary from lack of sleep, I left my beautiful outfit in a pile on the floor of my bedroom. My beloved cat Popcorn took this opportunity to pee. All over it. Dog pee is bad. But cat pee-- well, it's pretty unbearable. To this day, my mom reminds me of this error in judgment (and cleanliness) on my part. You'd think this would have taught me not to leave piles of clothes around, but that's actually not the case. Even though I'm a thirty-something with two kids, a spouse, and a dog, I still leave my clothes in piles on the floor. Or the bed. Or the chair. Now I just know to put up the dog gate so the dog can't mark my stuff as his. . .
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