Love Little Ethiopians (and their families)

Last night we had the best afternoon/evening with a bunch of little people racing all over our house and having a madcap time together!  We have a great group of about 30 families or so that live in the "Triad" of North Carolina (that's Winston-Salem, High Point, Greensboro and everything in between to those of you who may be confusing it with the slightly more well known triangular geographic area of the state known as the "Triangle").  We have big get-togethers every few months, but this time we just had a little late afternoon moms & margaritas playdate.  I think maybe the acoustics in our house are sort of funny, but it was really loud in here for about 4 hours.  Between 7 moms, I think we had about 20 kids between 2 and 7, so it was chaos - but awesome.  Ruby loves the crowd - she's little shy with a new person when it's one-on-one, but with a bunch of kids, she's so happy to run around pretending like she's one of the big kids.  This morning, it's all quiet and empty again.  Actually, that's not true, since the children are racing around fighting with light sabers, but it's a little quieter!

Is it just me,

or is it really annoying when you tell someone a story where your kids are total monsters, and they sort of string you along, nodding, sympathizing, and then when you finish, they tell a story where their kids were acting in a similar manner, but because of what great parents they are, or how awesome their kids are, it all worked out great?  That's irritating, right?  

This afternoon, following a morning of taking my kids to the science center and then to Five Guys for lunch - basically, a day filled with happiness and treats, the boys came home and were complete jerks.  I had put Ruby down for a nap and then I lay down for a minute to overcome the headache that came on sometime during the third hour of our visit to the museum.  I sent the boys down to the basement to clean up Legos (knowing that they would not do that, but at least I thought they would not bother Ruby down there).  Plus, I told them not to wake Ruby up or else they would have a "really bad punishment" - that's my fallback when I don't have a carrot left to dangle.  Fifteen minutes later, they were both in my room, lying on my bed, complaining they were bored.  So I told them they could just play instead of cleaning, so long as they were quiet.  So they were really quiet and sweet and went back downstairs and cleaned up the whole basement.  Just kidding, but that's what I would say if I were trying to annoy you after you told me something really awful about your kids.  What they actually did was go downstairs and start fighting right outside of Ruby's room until she woke up.  So then I told them that they would have to go to their rooms and that we would not be going to the bookstore later (see what I nice mom I was planning to be?), and then all hell broke loose.  They both started bawling and thrashing around like I had thrown acid at them, saying that today was "the worst day ever" and wondering if it could be possible to have a worse "pennishment" - that's how Finn says punishment, and it kind of cracks me up when he is so upset but saying words wrong, so I never correct him.  But then a great thing happened:  Ruby fell back asleep and the boys both apologized and said that they would accept the punishment because they knew they should not have been fighting loudly outside of Ruby's door and told me how much they love me and went downstairs and really cleaned up that basement - they even cleaned the cats' litter box for me!  Just kidding again, but see how if that was what had happened, then the whole story would have actually been a way to brag about my kids and would make you want to throw up?  No, what really happened is that they cried and carried on for a long time while I went to get Ruby up and then I finally lost it when Finn shouted that he "hated this house," and I told them that if I heard another sound out of either of their mouths they would really hate this house because it would become their prison for a few days.  (My mom thought that was sort of mean, but she wasn't here, so I can't really accept her judgment on the matter.)  

Both of the boys fell asleep after about five minutes in their beds, and now I've been playing with Ruby (who is very cranky from lack of sleep) and cleaning up after her constant mess-making rather than accomplishing the million things I had planned to do this afternoon (okay, writing a blog is not really that productive, and while I am doing this, I can hear Ruby working on her favorite project, which is going through the recycling and drinking the last few drops out of all of the soda cans, but I'm trying to block that out.)  

So I'm still sort of mad at all three of them, and also vaguely mad at Matt, even though he wasn't any part of the problem, but he's not here, so he's not part of the solution, either.  And it really doesn't make me feel better to hear that someone else (who shall remain nameless, or course) would have turned the whole situation into something less than traumatic for all involved.  Something really awesome, as a matter of fact.  I know I've done that myself to other people (and on this blog I'm sure), sometimes in a genuine effort to give constructive advice, but sometimes just to make myself feel better.  It's really annoying and self-serving and, basically, pointless, because it doesn't make the other person think you're a better mom or that your kids are better than theirs, it just makes them think you are a jerk.  But sometimes I guess that's the only thing parents have in the way of a pat on the back:  self-promotion to other parents who don't want to hear it anyway.  If parenting were more like a real job, you might have someone paying attention to your better moments and telling you "nice job on that!"  Like, you might have a little plaque on your wall or buried under a stack of mail that said that you got your kids to school on time 90% of the time.  Or it might say that you had never let your kids get a peeling sunburn (I would not receive that award), because we all know that takes a lot of effort.  Maybe even one that said that you were "most improved in the area of patience when trying to get the kids in and out of the car."  You get the idea.  I could think of a million categories, but the point is that at least someone would have noticed.  Then you wouldn't occasionally slip into conversation that you potty-trained your kids "well before three," or that you were worried because your 4 year old has "stopped liking kale, no matter how many times I have presented it to him.  Now his favorite food seems to be grilled asparagus."  That just makes me start desperately trying to think of something terrible about your kid so that I won't feel like such a crummy mother.  I realize that's shallow, immature and petty, but when I've just had a parenting failure, that's how I feel.  Now, on the other hand, I would be more than happy to attend a black tie party where they are handing out awards to all my friends for being awesome moms and dads, because in my heart I know they are, even if I don't always want to hear it from them!  

It's all in the details ...

Ruby's first 4th of July as an American (although technically still Ethiopian, but who's counting?).  I didn't really think about that until my mom pointed it out, but it is sort of momentous.  The kids actually did not make it for the fireworks (and, therefore, neither did we), because after a day of playing with friends and swimming at the pool, they were crashing hard around 7:30.  Plus, Matt is on call and had to go in to sew up somebody's eye, so here I sit, celebrating the 4th by folding laundry (perpetual state of affairs), and catching up on emails, blog, etc.  But it's all good and we've had a fun weekend, so I'm pretty content to be home just hanging out.

So, last week I got a new cell phone.  The reason I ended up getting it is a little embarrassing, and the incident made me think that maybe other people don't see me the same way I see myself.  Maybe I'm not as nice as I think I am.  And then that made me think about other things that I think about myself, and I realized that I persist in thinking of myself as the person I may have been at one time, but am no longer.  For example, I would think to myself that I am the kind of person who likes to go out and have fun.  Kind of a "fun" person.  And, in fact, I did used to be such a person.  Now, however, I am actually the kind of person who enjoys a good night of sleep and has recently been extremely hung over from over-indulging in white wine.  Not too cool.  Also, I tend to think of myself as a person who feeds her kids healthy meals.  And I do remember that I used to make the boys eat their vegetables before they got the rest of their food.  Lately, however, I'm definitely counting spaghetti sauce as a veggie and hot dogs as a healthy dinner meat.  Similarly, I previously was "the kind of person" who would write nice thank you notes promptly upon receiving a gift.  Or "the kind of person" who would insist that her children wear clean and neat clothing when leaving the house.  However, when I reflect on reality, I see that most of the boys' clothes are stained, so that they appear dirty even when they are actually clean, and I really don't care.  It would seem that the evidence is pointing towards my being a boring, lazy, dirty unappreciative person.  Ouch!

A friend was recently telling me how annoyed she was that a friend of hers sent a really nice thank you note to her.  I could totally relate.  The fact that other people are still doing the things that you used to do when you were a more with it person can really be a buzz kill.  Isn't that petty?  Also, realizing that you maybe are no longer one kind of person and maybe have not been for a while leads you to wonder what kind of a person you really are.  Am I now the kind of person who wishes they wrote thank you notes right away because I really do appreciate when people do nice things for me, or the kind of person who thinks feeding my kids healthy meals is a good idea, even if I don't usually do so?  The worst part is realizing that I used to think those things about myself were really part of my fundamental make-up.  There were all of these absolutes - things I knew I would never do - let my 4 year old child watch Star Wars, for instance, and things I could always be counted on to do - read the book club selection before attending the meeting.  And now, as you may have been able to guess, Star Wars is our favorite movie around here, and I can't remember the last time I made it to book club and had read the book (either I've read it but can't go to the meeting, or I go but haven't read).

I realize that those are little things, but I really felt like those kinds of things made me who I was.  I guess it's because the big facts about most people, myself included, are so generic and overwhelming.  Yes, I am a married, stay-at-home mother.  So are a lot of people.  I have three kids, I went to Middlebury, I am from Texas, etc, etc.  But all of that stuff wouldn't tell a person who I really am in the same way that one little detail sometimes can.  You know when you have a good friend, and you're trying to describe something or someone to her, and you can just say one little thing to convey the whole picture.  Like you might say, "let's just say that my brother's new girlfriend is the kind of person who would send food back in a restaurant if she didn't like it."  And your friend would totally understand that this girl is not a keeper.  So, I'm guessing that people did not used to sit around saying, "Claire is the kind of person who really stays on top of her book club reading material," but I will admit (nerdishly) that it was something I thought was cool because I love to read.  And mostly, we can fool other people by revealing select details of our lives or telling only the stories that leave the impression we want others to have of us.  But then there's this big disconnect where I'm not quite sure what details would give people the full story about me.  And maybe I am secretly afraid that a few details would make a person think I'm a hypocrite, or a bore, or self-important, or flaky.  Well, actually, I am sometimes those things some of the time, but hopefully not all of the time.

So here's the cell phone store, and even though it points towards me being spoiled and indulgent I'll just tell it anyway.  I lost the charger for my cell phone last week on our trip (predictably, I left it sitting in the motel where we spent the night on the way home from Texas), so I stopped by the Sprint store on the way to the grocery store to pick up a new one.  If you've had dealings with the delightful people at Sprint, you know the drill.  One guy takes your name and problem, types it into his computer, and then you see your name up on a screen behind the 50 or so other people who arrived before you.  But I'm in a hurry, plus I have all three kids with me, and, really, all I need is a cord.  So when I realize that the guy is going to toss me onto the computer list, just to buy a cord, I freak.  At first I tried to make him see reason.  "All I need is a cord, I don't really need to see one of your "experts," you could just get the cord for me and I could give you my money."  Have you ever read the book Don't Let the Pigeon Drive the Bus?  I was the pigeon.  As with the pigeon, my tactics failed.  Didn't I see all of the other people waiting?  Did I think it would be fair for me to go ahead of all of them?  I didn't yell, but I wasn't very nice either, as I informed the guy that I thought it was ridiculous that they would make me wait to buy a cord and I was going to cancel my Sprint contract and never do business there again.  I stormed out and hustled the kids back to the car.  Once back in the car, Finn said, "Mom, you weren't very nice to that man."  My very mature response:  "that guy was an idiot."  And off we went to AT&T.      

Almost 37 ...

Tomorrow is my birthday.  July 1 was also Princess Diana's birthday, but, I can't leave out, it is Pamela Anderson's birthday as well.  So, as with most things, it's a mixed bag.  Anyway, I'm not too one way or the other about 37.  It used to seem really old, but now, not so much.  The only thing I really don't like about a birthday - mine or one of the kids' - is that it just seems so unfair that life just keeps moving on, inevitably, towards the end.  It really doesn't seem like 17 or 27 were very long ago, so I know that 47, 57, 67 and so on (if I'm so lucky as to live that long), will seem to have arrived in the blink of an eye.  I watch Finn try to act older than he is, and then Gus trying to be just like Finn, and I remember feeling at that age like life seemed to be taking a terribly long time to get started.  And now even seven seems like just yesterday.  I guess it's like a roller coaster chugging uphill for so long that you can't stand the anticipation another minute, and then the fun, thrilling downhill part flies by so fast you can't even think while it's happening.  The only thing you keep thinking while you're speeding around out of control and screaming your head off is that you will never, ever do this again and it was a horrible mistake to get on the roller coaster in the first place, and you get off all queasy and telling your friends how you thought you were going to die or vomit.  But then after a little while you start to think how that ride was so awesome and it makes you want to stand in line for the ride all over again.  Thus, that age-old question is finally answered by me:  life really does imitate a carnival ride, even if the prizes are a little better.

Avoiding unpacking ...

Well, we're settling in at home once again, and I am realizing how much I hate unpacking and putting things back together.  The house is a mess, I haven't made it to the grocery store yet, I have 22 messages on my home phone that I haven't had the strength to check yet, and my lovingly planted vegetable garden is a jungle of weeds.  And what am I doing about it?  Not too much.  It seems like much more fun to look at vacation pictures, catch up with friends on the phone, go to the pool and, as you can see, catch up on the blog.  I found that I really did miss blogging while I was gone.  While we were there, I kept thinking of little things I would have liked to write about, but once the moment passed, it was gone.  The computer situation at my parents' house was much better when we first arrived, as they both have new computers, but, unsurprisingly, about a week into the trip their internet stopped working completely.  I really feel that their house is a black hole where technology cannot exist, but scientists can't explain why.

Anyway, now that we're home I thought I would write about all of these interesting and funny things from the trip, but I find that when I sit down to write, there's nothing there.  Lately I feel like my whole life is so like that though, that all of these really remarkable things happen every minute of the day, but then when someone asks me what we've been up to, or what we did in Texas, I draw a blank.  My responses are so boring: not too much, it was really fun, we were really busy.  I guess it's because now we're on to the next thing, and since my mind is so full just keeping everything together from one minute to the next, I can hardly remember what I did an hour ago.

Mostly, friends keep asking my about the car trip part of our three week trip.  They're like, "I can't believe you drove so far by yourself," while thinking to themselves, "wtf?"  I know, it seems either crazy or just really cheap.  Probably both.  I will say, in my own defense, that it was oddly satisfying to be on the road for two days with nothing to do but drive.  In my regular life, I often find myself wishing that there was a way to stop time for a little while and just see everything clearly for a minute.  Just appreciate where we are and who my children have become.  And during the car ride home, in between the misery of having to take everyone into every nasty gas station bathroom and trying to think of a way to keep Ruby from soaking herself in juice (she refused to use her sippy when she saw the boys drinking from juice boxes, so she would shriek until she got one too, but then half the juice would invariably end up on her, resulting in more shrieking), I had a few little glimpses.  At one point, when Finn and Gus were playing a game they had made up with each other and Ruby was babbling at her baby doll, I realized that I was really, truly happy with my children, and, consequently, with my life.  That's so rare for me, since I'm usually annoyed with someone for making a mess or hitting someone, or exhausted with the effort of keeping them all fed, clean-ish, and well-rested that it's hard simultaneously to appreciate the big picture.  But in the car, at least for a few minutes, I was like, you know what, self?  these are great kids.  you just spent three weeks with them, and 75% of was really fun.  the boys dealt really well with being tired, moving around alot, not sleeping in their own beds, and mostly just having each other for company, and Ruby was so outgoing and funny with all of these new people that I really got a chance to see how far she's come since we brought her home.  you are incredibly lucky to have these little people in your life.

So that's it, that's probably the best moment of the trip, among many other great ones.  We had so much fun with my parents and my brother and his family - their little boy Jack is almost 3 and he is a wild, hilarious little kid.  Ruby really loves seeing him and he is so sweet with her.  She also loved meeting her new baby cousin Abby, 2 months, and was surprisingly gentle with her.  I kept expecting her to treat "baby" the same way she treats pretend "baby" - a loving hug followed by being slammed to the floor, but she seemed to apprehend the difference between living baby and plastic baby.  I also got to catch up with my oldest girlfriends and their kids in Austin for a few days, and that always makes me happy.

Here are a few pics from the trip.

Finn catching his first crab.  Cousin Jack is impressed with the feat.

Gus takes a break from the heat at the zoo.

Everyone loves paddle boating (at least for the first 10 minutes or so).

Dad came for a long weekend, and Ruby was so happy to see him!

A very rare, quiet moment.

back from texas in one (or five) pieces

The kids and I arrived home from Texas tonight, tired but happy to see Matt, the house & the kitties.  It was, no surprise, a long trip (almost 1200 miles).  We left Saturday morning around 10 am, drove for 10 hours, stopped for the night, slept very little due to Ruby's excitement over being in a giant bed with me and the boys for the night, and then got up and drove 9+ hours today.  I feel like a shell of a person.  Our trip tally included 4 movies watched, 10 juice boxes emptied (many onto Ruby's lap, causing her to cry and me to curse), many nasty bathrooms visited, excessive amounts of peanut M&Ms and doritos consumed by me (why do I feel that when I am on a road trip, I can just shove thousands of calories into my body and think they won't count?), 25 fights that had to be broken up with threats of throwing prized possessions out the window, 0 speeding tickets or accidents (yeah!), and countless moments of wondering if "that smell" was coming from inside or outside of the car.  Fun times.  But, actually, the whole three weeks were awesome & worth the hassle of the journey, so I would do it again in a minute (or, maybe not a minute, but probably next summer).  More on the trip after I recharge ...

We Made It!

And it really wasn't that bad.  Really.  Yes, it was two full days of driving and that was boring for everyone, but nothing dramatically bad happened.  No breakdowns, no two hour tantrums in the car, no major instances of getting lost.  Just alot of hours in the car with each other, listening to the quiet hum of the DVD player (not quiet, actually, because for some reason I have to have the radio at full volume in the front for the boys to be able to hear it in the back at all, so I can only tolerate one movie every 5 hours or so).  It was really a very long way and a very many hours - like 20.  Also, I remember that at one point in driver's ed I learned that on a long car trip, it's best to stop ever two hours or 100 miles, whichever comes first.  I will have to say that we were averaging more like 15 minutes or 15 miles, whichever comes first, during parts of our trip.  Like we would get in the car, drive a little ways and then I would realize that I had to have coffee.  So we would stop.  Then I would think that since we were stopping anyway, maybe we should hit the bathroom.  So we would all get out, cram into the handicap stall of the ladies' room, which elicted a protest from the boys each and every time, and use the bathroom one at a time while the others tried to keep Ruby from touching anything on the floor (unsuccessfully, for the most part).  All set, 20 minutes later we were back in the car.  Drive 45 minutes.  Realize that we're all hungry.  Stop to eat.  And so on and on and on until we finally arrived in Texas. 

Since we've been here, we've been swimming, hanging out with my brother and his family, eating lots and trying to keep everyone from getting sunburned.  Gus was sidelined yesterday with strepp and a lovely scarlett fever rash - thank God for the Minute Clinic, but he seems a little better today and is determined to go crabbing with us this morning.  My parents used to take me and my brother crabbing when we were little, and even though it was never my favorite pasttime, it seems to be an activity that little boys can't get enough of.  I mean, what's not to love about dangling a chicken neck off of a string while you stand in the blazing hot sun beating off flies and mosquitoes?  Ruby will not be crabbing with us today, as I don't think she's old enough yet to appreciate the thrill of the catch.  Next year for her. 

More to come ...

T Minus 2 hours!

We're about to take off for Texas, and I'm nervous - about the drive, about leaving Matt alone (I recently watched him stumble around for a few minutes in the kitchen before admitting that he has no idea how to make TEA!), and just about how the kids will do down there for so long.  Hopefully, I'll be able to keep it all in my head and write about it later - what doesn't kill me at least makes for a funny blog!  In the meantime, here is a bonus guest blog from my friend Tara, who recently took her two kids camping (not recommended by me!).  If you are thinking that camping might be fun to do this summer with your kids, read this first!!!

The Great Outdoors

I’ve never been a huge fan of camping. I lived in Denver for a while, so there was the occasional obligatory weekend camping in mountains when friends came to visit, but I much preferred staying in the cleaner and carpeted world of a condo. Camping in Texas is a whole ‘nother matter. It’s hot, there are large bugs and snakes, and then there’s the half-insect/half-bird otherwise known as a Texan mosquito. I think my fear of bugs started way back when in the 6^th grade when our class trip took us to YO Ranch. We had a long slide show in science class the week before to show us what copperhead snakes and scorpions looked like. Mrs Johns did a good job of putting the fear of God into our hearts, right Claire??

A few weeks ago, we packed up the kids (age 10 months and 3.5) and half of our house to embark on a cabin-camping weekend to celebrate a friend’s birthday. Oh, the packing. Bottles (both baby and wine), formula, toys, linens for the cabin, every food group stuffed into a cooler, camp chairs, so much drinking water you’d think you could bathe in it, matches, the list goes on. Packing for camping is rivaled only by the resulting unpacking and washing.

I gave Gage the old don’t-touch-unknown-bugs speech, and he was off! So funny how Gage will find stuff to play with that you’d never guess. I thought he’d be in the lake the whole weekend. Even bought some silly battery-operated boats for him to enjoy--total waste of money. Turns out, the spigot by our cabin was a makeshift “carwash” and much more fun. I thought he’d want to stay out in the canoe for hours. Turns out, he wanted to stand by the loading dock and watch fishing boats being put in and taken out of the water.

Ever been camping with a crawling baby? Whew, talk about exhausting. It’s like a good boxing match. In one corner: dirt and grime; in the other corner, the Reigning Champ: the 10 month old who has it in mind to explore each last surface on earth on her hands and knees. Yes, after enough kicking and screaming, you finally put her down and let her diaper slowly fill up with various leaves, campfire debris, and sand. And there’s no way you’re taking her into a disgusting, only-would-go-in-there-with-Crocs-on, public bathhouse for a shower. I took her in once and had to sling her over my shoulder so she wouldn’t touch anything as I took care of my own business in the stall. Gross.

We learned a super-cool trick from the cabin next door for when the sun goes down. Try this! You take a flashlight, hold it between your eyes pointing forward, and all the spiders around you reflect back as little, shiny diamonds. I guess it’s their multiple, beady eyes…There are so many more spiders out there than you would ever imagine. Like I said, cool, but not really something I wanted to know right before I went to bed.

The first night went off without a hitch. Even Calla “slept like a baby,” and Gage was especially thrilled that I had ported in his Bob the Builder sheets all the way from home. The second morning, I woke up at my usual 7ish hour. I listened for stirrings…everyone was still asleep. Sweet! I’ll go back to sleep. So I roll over onto my left side and feel the sting of my life on my thigh. I reached down, brushed whatever it was off, and woke up the whole cabin. I knew just what it was: a scorpion had slithered its way into my bed! Mrs. Johns was right, “it’s like a bad bee sting, only worse.” Oh. My. God. I’m writing this 2 weeks later, and I still have a mark where it stung me. I’m fully recovered now, physically at least, but I think it’ll be at least another year before I venture out to camp with the kids again! 

School's Out for Summer!

So summer is really here.  Yesterday we picked Finn up from a half day of school, and now he's done with first grade and we're on our own.  I had meant to plan a special day to celebrate Finn being finished with school, since we did that last week when Gus finished preschool, but as it turned out, I did not.  When my brother and I were growing up, my parents would always make a big deal at the end of the school year.  We would get to pick out a fancy restaurant and we would all get dressed up and go out to celebrate.  We always chose either Benihana (hopefully everyone has been to one of these and knows the joy of having a shrimp flipped onto your plate from 10 feet away) or Vargo's, a great restaurant in Houston with peacocks and a beautiful garden to stroll around while you wait for dinner.  While we ate, my parents would exclaim over our academic successes and express pride in our general character development and just generally make a big deal out of us.  Those are such nice memories for me, and so I strive to provide similar happy memories and traditions for my own children.  So, even though I did not have anything super-special planned for yesterday, the kids and I did go out for lunch to Finn's favorite restaurant The Olive Tree, but it was a bit of a disaster because there were - surprise - no high chairs, only boosters.  This meant that Ruby was free to stand up and try to grab at anyone's food that looked good to her.  We were all racing to finish our food and get out of the joint, so it wasn't exactly a special moment.  Not too much time for reminiscing on all that Finn learned as I stuffed my sandwich into my mouth with one hand and held Ruby's legs down under the table as she screamed at me to let go so she could get Gus' spaghetti.  The only thing I was saying to the kids between bites was "hurry up and finish so we can get out of here!"

By the time we left, everyone was pretty cranky, so it seemed like a good idea to enforce a little rest period as a sort of restart button on the day.  While Ruby slept peacefully, I could hear the boys (via the baby monitor) wrestling and making noise in their rooms.  Ignoring them, I closed my eyes for a few minutes and fell into a delicious sleep.  A mere 10 minutes later, however, I awoke to hear Ruby crying after being woken up by the wild rumpus in the boys' room.  Rage welled up within me, however unfair, and I ran downstairs to really let everybody have it.  Extreme punishments were handed out, lectures were delivered but not heard, tears were shed, punishments were modified before being lifted altogether, and eventually everyone was happy again.  We ended up going swimming next door and then grilling salmon - another of Finn's favorites, so it was sort of a special day if you take away the middle few hours.  So, day 1 of summer down, many, many more to go!


Bonus video (now that I know how to do it!):

Don't have enough fighting in your own house?  Here is a funny video that Matt took of the boys engaged in their favorite activity - light-saber fighting.  Finn has created a new Star Wars character - "orangy torangy" and he is working on what he calls Episode 12:  The Transport is Finished.  We're not sure how much of a commercial success this will be, but he loves to try to get Gus enact battles in a specific way and then he wants us to film it.  I will almost never do this, but on the weekends Matt sometimes obliges him.  As you can see here, he does take on quite the directorial attitude, although he may also be alienating his talent.  As an older child myself, I feel his frustration over trying to get a younger sibling to do your bidding, but at the same time it makes me crazy to hear their constant arguing when Finn gets mad at Gus for doing it "wrong."  Anyway, I love that Matt captured this little moment in our lives, because it clearly illustrates so many things about us:  1) I look hideous first thing in the morning, 2) Finn is always "acting" as can be seen by his first tantrum directed at the camera, 3) Gus is usually happily doing whatever he wants to do, as seen here when he ignores Finny's direction and tries to stab him in the neck, 4) Matt is a patient parent who will get out the video camera when the kids want to do something like this, and 5) I am not patient in the same way, and often punish everyone when it seems easier than sorting out who is at fault.

(I just watched this video on the blog, and the right half of it seems to be cut off, so you miss seeing Finn's dramatic expressions as he delivers his speeches.  Trust me, you're not missing much!)

Memorial Day Dance Party!

While I slept in yesterday, Matt and the kids had a little pajama dance party.  Notice that in the video, Ruby keeps saying "Cheese!" - anytime she sees a camera or anything that looks like a camera she elbows her way into the action and says "Cheese!" It's a good thing she likes to be in front of the camera though, because with these dance moves she's destined to be a star.  The boys, on the other hand, will probably die of embarrassment about five years from now if this video ever comes to light.  At the moment, though, I think they are pretty impressed with their own bad selves!



In other news, we're less than a week away from our first summer trip. Next weekend, the boys, Ruby and myself will being a long, long car ride down to Texas. We're spending a few weeks there visiting friends and family, so I thought it would be nice to have the car. And when I planned to drive down, it was still quite a ways in the future. (Incidentally, this is how I ended up running a marathon - the registration was like six months before the actual event, so it seemed really doable from that distance. As was the case with the marathon, each day closer to departure I get more nervous, and the actual drive will probably be almost as painful as the marathon!) The boys are seasoned road-trippers, as we drive to New Hampshire at least once a year and we take other 10+ hour trips with some frequency.  They get excited to watch movies in the car (they still believe that the DVD player only works on long trips), and they will sleep here and there. Of course, there will be some bad moments, as on a trip home from New Hampshire last Thanksgiving both boys were crying their eyes out when the McDonald's we pulled into was out of "boy toys" and could only offer us Strawberry Shortcake items with our Happy Meals.  I'm embarrassed to report that we drove away from that McDonald's and proceeded to the next highway exit to find a McDonald's that would make our kids stop crying.  And then last summer, as I drove the boys home from a lake trip by myself, our air conditioning broke about an hour into the trip, forcing us to either suffer the heat inside the car or keep the windows down as we rolled down the highway at 80 miles an hour.

So those were not some of our finest moments, but all in all, they have proven to be pretty good kids to go places with.  But, of course, this will be our first such adventure with Ruby.  I have to believe that even though it will be 18 hours, it cannot be worse than the 3 hour flight I took with her to Houston several months ago.  At least there will not be that element of public condemnation involved.  Whatever struggles we have, we will have them within the close confines of the car, not to be witnessed or judged by angry co-passengers.  It's going to be just fine, maybe even fun.  I'm almost convincing myself of this as I write it!  So anyway, that's what I'm going to be getting ready for this week.  We leave on Sunday and will hopefully get there on Monday.  Either that or we'll be back home later on Sunday.  I will certainly report on the adventure once I get to Houston.  (Internet capability at their house is only recently possible because my parents finally have a computer that was assembled in the 21st century.  Up until a few months ago, I would have had to say that the guest house we stayed in while we were in Ethiopia had much better computer and internet access than my parents' house in Houston.)

Bye' for now!

I did drink too much ...

but the day was fun once it was over.  By the time I dragged myself down the street to our neighbor's house yesterday at 5:30, I was exhausted and had logged many hours in the car.  As predicted, my presence at Finn's picnic went largely unnoticed, but it was still good to see him in his element with all his buddies playing and having fun.  We had a great time at Gus' picnic, where Ruby discovered a new passion - the slide.  The rest of the afternoon was a bit of a haze of driving and making food for the party, but we made it to everything relatively on-time, and I was rewarded for all my hard work with a very strong cocktail that involved gin, blackberries and muddling.  In full disclosure, I did do some yelling during the day, and Ruby did not get a nap all day except when I carried her on my shoulder as we rushed through a grocery store to buy the shish kebobs I was supposed to have made for the party.  But hey, learning to be flexible is all part of the adventure, right?

Here's all the evidence of the fun:

Finn (in green shorts) celebrates a good beach volleyball move.

The thrill of the slide!

Going back for more ...

And more!

Happy cake face!

End of School Daze

Just a few more days until school will be a thing of the past, at least for three months.  Finn will be a second grader, and Gus will be moving up to Jr Kindergarten at Finn's school, which he is very excited about.  I think he thinks that he will be in class with Finn, and I can't seem to make him understand what will actually be going down.  Anyway, even though I am excited about summer in some ways, I am also a little sad that this Spring is winding down.  It's been so full of changes and I've had so much time to just be with Ruby, getting to know her and watching her open up to me.  When the boys are around, she really only has eyes for them, so our dynamic will be a little different.  But good too, since my ultimate goal is to get them all raised up and out the door one day with a sense that they can always call their brother or sister at 4 am if they need to.  As long as they're not calling me.

So, the end of the school year is always full of school events, and today it seems they are all happening at once.  I have been going to a weekly playgroup for Ruby every Thursday, which has been really fun for her, and today is the last one for a while, so we will go to that at 9:30.  But then we'll leave early to drive about 30 minutes to Finn's end of school picnic, where we will stay for about an hour (even though the event lasts several hours, and Finn will probably be annoyed that I am leaving early, even though I am sure that my presence will go largely unnoticed while I am there).  Then Ruby and I will drive 30 minutes back into town to pick up Gus from school and take him to his end of the year picnic at a different park.  When that is over, we'll head over to pick Finn up from school and drive carpool home.  Once home, we will dust off and turn around to take Finn to a birthday party and then back home to get ready for a dinner with neighbors to say good-bye as they head off for the whole summer.  By this point, I will undoubtedly be annoyed with everyone, so any good-parent points I earned by attending all of these events for my children will be erased when I send them all to their rooms for driving me crazy.

And what will anyone even remember of this relatively ordinary, busy day?  Not too much, probably.  Will the boys appreciate all of my crazy driving and scheduling?  Definitely not.  If anything, they might later reflect that I was always rushing around in a bad mood.  But hopefully, when we all fall into bed tonight, we will be tired and will sleep well.  And hopefully the kids will have lots of tiny moments tucked into brain folds - many to fade away forever into the abyss of childhood, but maybe one or two to savor later on.  And I will too - maybe some I'd like to forget (since at 8 am I can already tell I'll be a crazy ogre at some point today), but some really good ones as well.  I'll let you know though - there's potential for total meltdown ...

Ruby, the Kissing Bandito

Well, hopefully not so much anymore.  Today marks three months since we arrived home with her, and, of course, we have had so many adventures and changes and things to learn about each other in a short amount of time.  To be sure, we are far from finished, but I guess you never are, so I'm feeling pretty happy and zen with things at the moment (at least, this very, tiny moment when Ruby is napping, Finn is at school, Gus is watching cartoons and I am in a room where I can't see any dirty diapers, laundry or dishes).

But something funny happened today that made me think about something that Ruby did for the first few days that we were home, and I'm now realizing that my interpretation at the time was way off base.  So, when we got on the plane to fly home with Ruby, I had a few magazines in my bag in case I had a few minutes to zone out on the airplane.  Needless to say, I did not, but I was glad I had them because I pulled them out and let Ruby look at the pictures and rip up the pages for entertainment on the trip.  During the flight, I noticed that she loved to look at pictures of faces - particularly all the ads with close-ups of models and the like.  And, of course, most of these beautiful ladies were white.  She would look at the page for a few minutes and then start madly kissing the picture, which I of course thought was adorable.  Even after we were home, she would find discarded magazines in the trash and take them out to kiss the faces in them.

At the time, I attributed this behavior to her being a girl.  Having raised two boys who never once glanced at pictures of real people, but rather preferred books with pictures of lizards and dinosaurs and tractors, I thought this to be a sign that girls and boys really are different.  Girls, being so relational, would naturally be drawn to the human face.  Boys, not so much.  I rejoiced, happy to know that I really would have someone to talk to about the important stuff of life in a few years.  After a few weeks maybe, I never saw Ruby do that again, but I didn't think much of it since I was so busy noticing all of her other cute little habits and developments.

So today, I was sitting here at the computer checking my email, and Ruby came over from whatever little mess she was making and started madly kissing my leg.  She is really affectionate, and loves to come over for a little kissing session from time to time, so it wasn't so strange or anything, but it just made me remember how she used to do that with the magazines and realize that she doesn't do it anymore.  So, naturally, I can't just let something like that pass by totally unanalyzed, or what kind of obsessive-compulsive person would I be?  I have come up with two possible theories, although maybe it was something totally different that I haven't thought of yet.  One thought I had was that we had sent a little photo album over with a traveling family for Ruby to start looking at us and getting used to our faces.  I could imagine the caregivers over there showing her the pictures and teaching her to kiss our pictures, as they were generally the most demonstrative people I've ever met.  And then, since she was used to kissing the pictures, even though she now had us in the flesh, the pictures of random white ladies in a magazine probably seemed more familiar to her than our tired-looking mugs in person.  (Also, I look alot like a model, so clearly I can see why she was so confused!).

So that theory kind of makes sense, and it makes me laugh that maybe she really couldn't tell the difference.  But then I was thinking about how babies engage in all sorts of attachment-promoting behavior such as being cute, crying, and, as they get older, hugging and kissing.  Babies are no dummies - they know where their next meal is coming from, and they know they need to keep our attention to get it.  So then what about a child who has not had one particular person there for them to develop that give and take with?  When a baby has had lots and lots of different people coming and going in her life ever since she was born, would she perhaps be a little confused about where she needed to direct her love in order to make her way in the world?  I'm not sure (although I am sure there are probably books dedicated to this subject that I could read, but I most likely won't do that), and it doesn't really matter, since now she's all about kissing my leg while I'm writing emails, so I think she sorted it out.  Ruby's a smart cookie, and those girls may be pretty and all, but I haven't seen any of them at our house cutting up bananas or making their famous spaghetti a la Ragu.  Now, if they do start coming around, I'm definitely putting them on diaper duty.

 

Every rose has its thorns ...

Since we've been home from Ethiopia for three months, I figured it was time to share a side of our time together that has not been so pleasant.  I didn't want to mention it before because, well, it's pretty gross and I don't want anyone to think of sweet little Ruby as a germy kid.  But I've decided that it's just another part of the whole experience, so I'll just give you a peek at the dark side ... or, as I think of it, the diaper side.  (And then after you read this horrifying tale, be sure to check out the cute pics of our day at the park below!)

***************

Ah, the joys of having a child in diapers.  I know, I know, we signed on for this, but I have to say that it's really no fun at all.  The boys have been out of diapers for years, so I had sort of blocked out the whole experience.  But I figured that at least Ruby would be old enough where there wouldn't be so many diapers every day, and maybe, I hoped, she would be close to being ready to be potty trained.  And, I will admit, I'm pretty old school when it comes to potty training.  In most other areas, I'm pretty laid back, but when it came to potty training the boys, I was like a drill sergeant.  My mother-in-law happened to be visiting around the time I decided that Gus was ready to leave diapers in his past, and I think she is still traumatized by the experience.  Gus, on the other hand, seems fine, but we'll probably hear more about this when he grows up and robs a convenience store and blames it on unresolved control issues.  Sorry about that, Gus.  I just couldn't take the diapers anymore.


Anyway, back to my current problem.  Not only is Ruby nowhere near ready to be potty trained (she is only 19 months, after all), but she arrived home three months ago with a lovely companion, giardia.  For anyone who is unfamiliar with this disgusting parasite, it causes diarrhea, gas, and stomach pain, among other things.  In Ethiopia, I think pretty much everyone has it and just lives with the symptoms that can flare up and then go away from time to time.  Some people don't have severe symptoms, and they can pass the parasite out without knowing they have had it.  Before we tested Ruby, I didn't really connect the dots, and I figured that any of her bowel issues were probably just her getting used to American food and the like.  I think I even made an early reference to a mysterious stomach pain that was making Ruby scream and writhe around, and we eventually discovered that it was the bug.  And while the illness is not pleasant, the treatment for it is pretty rough as well.  The medicine kills (or at least tries to kill) the parasite, but at the same time it kills everything else in your intestines, so it's hard to digest anything.  


Anyway, poor Ruby has been through three rounds of treatment and it looks like the big G still has the upper hand.  Lots of diarrhea (4-6 times) every day, gas, and stomach pain that gives her little fits.  I have to say that overall she's doing really well - she's happy, eats great, sleeps well, plays and gets into everything like she is supposed to be doing, so I don't want to give the impression that she's huddled in a corner holding her tummy all day.  But after three months, I think we're both getting really, really sick of it.  Of course, I hate to complain (you know what a mature and patient person I am), but I feel almost as sorry for myself as I do for Ruby.  Not only do Ruby's diapers smell like something that died two weeks ago, but they are messy and she hates (with great passion) having them changed, so she kicks and screams while I'm doing it, thereby causing alot of collateral damage to the changing pad, Ruby's clothes and, often, my clothes.  And since I've already said too much about laundry elsewhere in my blog, I'll just say that I'm doing many loads a day on the sanitary setting.  And I really don't want to make you feel too sorry for me, so I won't go into detail about the sanitizing and lysol-ing I engage in to prevent anyone else in the house from catching it.  So far so good on that score, so maybe I'm a better housecleaner than I had suspected (doubtful, as I can see the evidence to the contrary from where I'm sitting typing this).  


Anyway, I know you're all busted up crying your eyes out for me at this point, and I really appreciate that, because I'm trying to be strong, but it's really hard.  I mean, of all of the "issues" an orphan from Ethiopia could have had, is this really so bad?  No.  I know that.  However, it has not been great, but I feel like I have not wanted to talk about this particular issue with anyone because I worried that they wouldn't want to be around us (even though you really can't catch it unless, as previously stated, you actually get poop into your mouth somehow*), or they would have a negative feeling about adopting children from Ethiopia.  In fact, I think that in general I have that urge to paint a really positive picture of the whole experience, especially to non-adoption people, for that reason.  Friends and sometimes strangers ask how it's all going, and I only discuss all of the great things about Ruby and Ethiopia - and there are plenty to discuss, so it's not like I don't have anything to say.  But when Finn and Gus were little, pretty much all I ever talked about were things like sleep issues, eating issues, aggressive behavior, doubts, concerns, petty annoyances.  Because as much as I might complain about my biological children, it's not going to deter a person from having a child if they want to do that to hear that there are (many) times when I want to lock them both in a room with a bag of Cheetos and come back a few hours later.  


But adoption is different.  People are curious and they may have heard stories about adopted kids that were difficult or dangerous or never fit in with the family.  Those kinds of stories circulate around as fast as giardia in a mountain stream.  I couldn't even count the number of times someone has relayed a story to me about a person they know who adopted a child and there were "problems."  People rarely suggest that a non-adopted person's bad behavior might stem from him being kept in the family.  Like, maybe if this idiot lacrosse player who murdered his girlfriend at UVA recently had been put up for adoption, he would have turned out much better.  Or maybe not, but my point is that people ascribe things to "adoption issues" when a child is adopted because it's easy to point to that and say, well that must be what is wrong with him.  Obviously, every child and every situation is totally different, and I'm not trying to make some larger statement about adoption vs. anything.  I wouldn't even call myself an advocate for adoption, because it's so complicated and it's not the right thing for every family, but I hate that there might be people who would consider adopting and then get scared off by the stories they hear from friends or in the media.   


But back to me (of course!), I think that because I have a child who is adopted, I seem to want to make it seem like Ruby doesn't have any issues.  "See, this adopted child is perfect, so all of those stories you have heard are totally untrue."  Truthfully, she is perfect.  No, but she is awesome and funny and smart and loving, so that's about as close as you get.  But are there times when she, like my other children, drives me nuts?  Yes.  Will there be other problems on the road ahead of us, some perhaps stemming from the fact that she is adopted?  Yes.  Will Ruby ever be cured of giardia so that I can stop having to use lysol spray on every surface in our house, thereby risking future cancer vs. immediate threat of diarrhea? Ask me in a few months.  

*You get it from drinking water that has been contaminated by feces, which evidently all of the water in Ethiopia has been.  In the US, people (myself not included) who enjoy hiking and camping know better than to drink water out of streams and rivers due to the risk of contracting giardia from the water (since animals can carry it and, naturally, don't use toilets).  You can also get it if you inadvertently touch something that has been contaminated and then put your hands in your mouth - what a lovely thought!    

Loving Every Child

This is a post that I meant to write around the time of Mother's Day, but I got busy and never did it.  I know I usually write silly things about my kids or the strange things that go through my head, and in general I to keep things light.  And I promise I won't write about things that make my cry very much, but I feel like this is worth it.  

A few years ago, I read about a man named Janusz Korczak, and I think about him from time to time, and every time I do, I literally burst into tears thinking of his beautiful life.  And I'm not really a burst into tears kind of person most of the time.  So I always wonder why more people don't know about him, and I wish there were more people in the world like him.  I wanted to summarize the little bit I know about his life because it is inspiring to me and moves me every time I think of it.  Some of his writings on children are collected in a small book called Loving Every Child: Wisdom for Parents, and I highly recommend it as a gift to new parents, old parents, adoptive parents and anyone else.  There are so many pearls of wisdom and just plain parenting advice in this tiny book that I keep it by my bed and read a page or two whenever I feel like a day didn't go the way I had hoped, or I worry that I'm screwing up my kids, or I just need to remember what I'm doing all this (driving, laundry, yelling, cooking, counseling, etc, etc, etc) for.  


Korczak was a Polish Jew born in 1878 who became famous in Europe as a pediatrician and author of several books about children.  He became the director of a Jewish orphanage in Warsaw, and spent his life living in the orphanage and caring for the children in a way that was revolutionary at the time.  He believed that children deserved to be listened to, respected and encouraged to express themselves.  His orphanage was a place of happiness and light, where children without families were not considered worthless, but rather encouraged to learn and grow and be someone in the world.  In his books, he writes eloquently of the lessons he learns from watching them, playing with them, and listening to them.


Reading his observations reminds me of the best parent I hope to be, although in the midst of busy days I often fall short.  One of my favorite quotes is this:  "As a parent, you say: 'The child cries very little, she sleeps through the night.'  She is good-natured; she is a good child.  A bad one is one who makes a fuss and a lot of noise and one who, for no apparent reason, evokes more unpleasant than pleasant emotions in her parents.  One must be careful not to confuse a good child with an easy one."


After the Germans invaded Poland in 1939, Korczak and the children of the orphanage were ordered to move to the Jewish ghetto in Warsaw, where disease and starvation were the norm.  There he started the Orphans' Refuge for dying children, trying to give these children dignity where there was none.  Because of his fame and connections, Korczak had various opportunities to leave the children and escape Poland, but he refused to do so.  He wrote to a friend who urged him to leave, "You wouldn't abandon your own child in sickness, misfortune, or danger, would you?  So how can I leave two hundred children now!"


In 1942, Korczak and his two hundred orphans were marched through the streets of Warsaw to the train station.  They walked quietly through the silent streets, four by four, behind the orphanage flag, with each child carrying a special toy or book.  That train carried Korczak and the children to the gas chambers in the death camp at Treblinka.


That's all I know.  I haven't read any histories of Korczak's life, just the few pages at the end of the collection of his writing.  But it says so much.  Here was a person who did not have to care for these children.  They were not his own, and no one would have blamed him for saving his own life.  But I imagine that he knew that they would need him.  He knew that the train ride would be hard, that the children would be scared.  He would have known where they were going, but he would not have wanted the children to know, so he would have made it into an adventure for them.  He had written that "If a child has a life where cruelty has become the norm, what a powerful effect would be the memory of that person - perhaps the only one - who showed kindness, understanding, and respect.  The child's future life and sense of his self could take a different course, knowing that there was one person who would not fail him."  For those two hundred children, he was that one person.  I just find myself in awe of his bravery and his capacity to stand up for those two hundred children, even at the cost of his own life.  

Celebrity Blog Post!!

I am so lucky!  I have a very famous neighbor, Paige, who voluntarily wrote up this blog for my and emailed it to me to post here on my blog!  (Actually, don't tell her this, but she isn't really famous, but she really wanted me to call this a "celebrity" post rather than just a "guest" post, so I will humor her and make her rainy Monday a little more exciting!)

She actually sent me this last week, and I didn't know whether to post it, due to the fact that she had a big paragraph about how cool Matt and I are, and even though I know that having a blog is pretty self-absorbed in the first place, I didn't want to come off as a total head case.  "Here's my blog, all my ideas, pictures of my kids, and, oh, by the way, here's how awesome my friends think I am!"  However, after a little tactful editing, I really wanted to share it, because it was interesting for me to read this from her perspective.

I could go on and on about how awesome Paige and her husband are and how much they impact the world for good.  She is an awesome mom, a camp director, and one of the most positive people I know, and she is always setting little goals for herself to be even more so (but not in an annoying, goody-two-shoes kind of way).  They were both so supportive of us during the whole adoption process, and they love on Ruby all the time, but I never knew that they had considered adoption as a possibility.  And maybe still do.  At the time we started the adoption process, we were a little nervous about doing something so outside of our experience, and we didn't have any close friends who had adopted from Africa (although, happily, now we know lots of wonderful people who have!).  I remember thinking that, of all the people I knew, Paige and Andy might actually be able to be convinced to do it with us.  I jokingly suggested it to her, even while at the same time realizing that you don't just adopt a baby to have a fun adventure with a friend.  And I really never thought about it after that, so it was funny to read that she chewed on it for a while.  Two years and one baby later, I selfishly am happy that they don't have a new baby and therefore can shower Ruby with as much love and attention as her highness deserves.  We really are lucky, and that's no joke!

That's Paige, surrounded by good-looking men, as always!

*************

It's hard to believe that it's nearly been two years since Matt and Claire shared their big news with us. We were standing around the kitchen at a little "summer's ending" get together, and I was talking about my idea for starting a "Happiness Club*", when Claire announced in an excited but "oh by the way"-casual way "we're adopting a baby from Ethiopia" and then she added "you should do it with us" as if she had just said "Hey, I'm going to go get my nails done. Let's get yours done too." Part of me (the part that had already had a little wine) was ready to just jump in with equal enthusiasm. After all, I never want to miss a good party, and getting a baby from Ethiopia sounded like fun. Of course, a bigger part of me thought better of it. I have two kids who are finally in elementary school and are becoming more and more independent each day. I'm just getting used to being able to be somewhat independent again myself.

So, obviously I didn't rush out and file adoption papers,but the thing is, from time to time I really considered it. I looked at adoption websites and casually asked Matt and Claire probing questions about the process and expected outcome. I thought seriously about how adopting would change my life and how adoption would change someone else's. We all want to make a positive impact on the world, and as I told my husband Andy, we're pretty good parents. Maybe adopting was something we could do to help. But not now.

I know from talking to Claire and from reading her blog that she doesn't believe or buy into the idea of adopting just to save a poor starving child. I know that she and Matt understand the magnitude of what they've done and how they've helped Ruby, but they see it as an equally reciprocal relationship. They really wanted something out of the deal too, and it wasn't just to feel like they'd helped someone or made a positive impact on the world. They wanted a daughter. They wanted another cuddly babe (which she REALLY is), and they wanted to move closer to what felt like completing their family. I also think that they wanted to take a risk and have an adventure (a much bigger one than opening an ice house or putting condos on top of Wal-Mart "Wal-dos").

I'm starting to ramble on a little, so let me see if I can circle back and bring this altogether. I guess what I'm trying to say is that I haven't really known Claire and Matt for very long. I don't think that it's even been three years since they moved into my neighborhood and Matt diagnosed me with Cat Scratch Fever. But in many ways I feel I've known them forever. 

Andy and I are no closer to adopting a baby than we were back in September of 2008, but thanks to Matt and Claire and Finn and Gus and Ruby, I am a lot closer to starting the Happiness Club.

* Anyone can be a part of the Happiness Club. All you have to do is laugh with a friend, smile, take a friend (or stranger) an unexpected gift, let your heart feel joy and PASS IT ON!

Update: Not Done ...

I wrote that post last night all tucked into bed and cosy.  At this moment (8:30 am), I am ready to scream at someone after spending 20 minutes tying a million little ties to reattach the crib bumper to Ruby's crib after I had to wash it (over a month ago) when she pooped in the crib and smeared it all over everything.  What is the deal with crib bumpers!!?  Why so many ties?  Can't they apply velcro technology to this product?  Does this make anyone else want to pull every hair on their head out?  So much for finding peace ...

Also, I head this author being interviewed on Fresh Air on NPR yesterday, and thought it would be interesting for the adoption crowd ...

Rose in Brooklyn

Also, this is Gus at the end of his Spring Music performance at preschool being mobbed by all of his girlfriends.  Crazy cute!

Not Done:

So, my experiment with a pared-down to do list worked really well.  By the end of the day, I felt really happy with all that I had accomplished, as I had gone beyond my list to make a nice dinner for my family, fold at least 5 loads of laundry, and get in a quick run.  I totally killed it that day.  However.  The problem with making a To Do list that makes you feel good but fails to capture the volume of things that you in fact need to do is that two days later you realize that those things you didn't write down didn't just magically disappear.  They still need to be done.

Well, as it turns out, I can't just start with a clean slate, clear of obligations and duties, even if I really feel like it.  And so many of the things that creep onto my To Do lists turn out to be things that keep me tied to my friends, my family and the life I want our family to lead.  Sure, a trip to Target to buy a birthday present is certainly not high on my list of fun ways to spend time.  And sorting though baskets of toys that have become jumbled beyond recognition makes me want a beer almost immediately, but those are just the little pieces of a big puzzle of our lives that include lots of birthday parties with friends big and small, a house where I can send my kids to play in the basement and figure they can find something to do that will buy me a few minutes of peace and quiet, and good meals together, kids who are happily involved in sports and activities they enjoy, a place to lie down at night that doesn't make our skin itch in the morning.  So, yes, laundry must be done, snacks for the soccer team purchased, calls returned, invitations extended, bills paid, closets occasionally addressed.  And if I can't get a warm feeling at the end of the day from checking off every single thing on my list, so be it.  There's always red wine and sweaty hugs from little people.

To Do:

I once read that a good way to make yourself feel better about yourself is to make a To Do list everyday that only has things on it that you absolutely know you will be able to accomplish that day.  You should never put things on a To Do list like "clean out closets," "lose five pounds," "finish writing thank you notes," because the failure to get through these tasks will just make you feel worse about yourself.  Those are "Goals," and should properly be relegated to another list.  Of course, it would also be sad to have a list of goals with those things on it, as one would ideally have slightly higher and more exciting goals, but the point is just to keep things off the To Do list that you have any chance of not doing.  If, at the end of the day, you can reflect with satisfaction that you have done everything you set out to do that day - and perhaps even more (!) - you will feel like a big fat winner.  Does this little self-deception really work?  I'm not sure, but it can't hurt.

So today I think my To Do list would look like this:
Get out of bed.  Check
Make and drink coffee.  Check
Short blog.  Check
Deliver children to school.
Change diapers as needed.
Shower.  I had to strike that, because there have been days when that is an unattainable goal.
Feed children and self, inform Matt of sandwich fixings if he requires sustenance.
Watch Lost.

See, I didn't even include crazy things like exercise, stimulating activities for the children, reading, cleaning, catching up on email, paying bills, dealing with this one corner of the room I'm in right now where there are several weeks worth of papers and bills and general things I need to deal with piled up before Ruby completely destroys everything in it.  And I certainly didn't include anything like try to be a better mother, don't spend money on non-essentials, fold the laundry, organize pictures of the children from the past 7 years, and drink less coffee, diet coke and wine.

So, I'm looking forward to an awesome day of reaching for the stars and actually getting there.  I'll let you know how it works and you might want to try it yourself ...

Update at 4 pm:
I'm adding the following to my List, since I've already done them & therefore can feel even better with a longer list:
Fold significant amount of laundry & get most of it put away before Ruby woke up from morning nap, whereupon she unfolded the remainder.  Check
Exercise and shower (including shave legs).  Check, although this was done unsafely, as I instructed Gus to watch Ruby and come get me if "anything" happened while I was in the shower, but at least I did it.
Help Gus overcome 3 days of constipation by spending a long time with him in the bathroom.  Check

Update at 4:44 pm:
Clean up horrifying accident Gus had on the stairs.  Check (Apparently, I should not have congratulated myself previously, as I was punished when he called up the stairs to tell me that he had pooped and peed in his pants and it had "fallen out."  Yes, indeed, it had.)

Attachment is ... the Texas Two-Step?

It's circular, sweaty, requires alcohol.

Before I say anything about further about my "attachment theory," let me just share a story with you that will tell you something about me, so that it won't seem like I'm trying to share some kind of wonderful parenting theory as if I know anything about anything.  So, I am always coming up with ideas - some good, some bad - for various products or ads or marketing plans for McDonald's, let's say, but since I don't really have a job or an outlet for turning my ideas into reality, I plague everyone I know by talking about them.  About 6 years ago, I was visiting my old boss with Finn, and we were driving to go eat lunch, and I shared this really revolutionary idea with him.  I felt like it was one of my best ideas ever, and I had really put some time into thinking about it and why it would be such an advantageous product.  The idea, my friends, was the magnetic bumper sticker.  Without saying anything, my boss pulled into a parking lot, parked, got out of the car and went over to another car and lifted one of those Support Our Troops ribbon stickers off of that car and just held it up.  I was a little crestfallen that someone had already come up with my idea, but at least it was a really good idea, as evidenced by the demise of the bumper "sticker" market.  Another time, about a year ago, I was called a friend of mine to share another revolutionary idea, but it turned out that my idea was already in existence:  PayPal.  I had not come up with a catchy name yet.  Anyway, just letting you know that I realize I'm pretty out of it, and I don't keep up with things, so anything I "come to realize" has probably already been written about a million times, using better grammar and vocabulary.  Perhaps if I would actually read parenting material, instead of perezhilton.com, I would not have to learn all of these lessons the hard way.

Okay, so, attachment.  WTF?  Was this even a term 35 years ago?  I am pretty sure that my mother did not analyze her relative attachment to me and my brother as she waived goodbye to us with her tennis racquet and left us with the Spanish-speaking housekeeper.  However, as with so many other things that my mother seems to think that I have made up just to vex her and make her feel that she was a bad mother, such as putting babies to sleep on their backs, not giving them rice cereal when they are 2 weeks old, baby-proofing (not necessary back then due to the approved use of the play pen), we seem to be stuck with it.  Not to say that I don't get it or agree that it is desirable in the parent-child relationship.  I totally do.  It's just that I feel like it is yet another example of a very vague, yet lofty goal that we (I'm talking women) feel we need to reach before we could think of ourselves as "good mothers."  It's like a holy grail, especially with adopted children, that you might one day reach - the heavens open, lights dim ... Secure Attachment has been reached.

People lately have been asking me how the bonding or attachment "is going."  Well, I guess it's going great.  But then again, maybe it's not.  Because is there some kind of a test?  Can I get an outside opinion on whether this particular child is "securely attached" to me, to our family?  What would such a test look like?  Who would administer it?  The thing is, I'm starting to realize that attachment is a moving target, and what it looks like changes from day to day, sometimes minute to minute.  And I'm not just talking about with Ruby.  Finn, who just turned 7, is constantly testing our attachment.  He asked me when we were in Ethiopia if we would even have to take him to an orphanage if we couldn't take care of him.  When he gets extremely mad at me for punishing him for something, he says that he will stay in his bed forever, even if we move and a new family comes to live here.  And this is a child who was treated to the Cadillac version of attachment parenting as a firstborn whose parents dutifully read and followed all of Dr. Sears' A+ advice.  No "crying it out" for Baby Finn.  Never a moment when the breast was not available to the little angel.  He in fact did not sleep in his crib until he was two, so happy was he to nestle between mommy and daddy.  And yet he tests us, all the time.

Does this make me feel really crappy?  Yes.  Do I wonder how I will survive the teen years without excessive drinking (on my part)?  Yes.  However, it also reminds me that attachment is not a destination.  If I am still working on attachment issues with Finn, and can anticipate doing so for the rest of my life, can't Ruby and I have a little room to breathe?  I love her, and I know she loves us.  Some days I feel like she's been a part of our family forever, and other days I feel strange with her, like it's not real yet.  It's definitely a bumpy road for me, and I know it is for her too.  She had been going to bed so happily a week or so ago, just lying down and closing her eyes to sleep, and now the last several nights she shrieks and cries hysterically if we leave her in her room before she is asleep.  So we step back in our little dance.  Sometimes I watch her watching the boys with me, and I feel like she's learning how to act in our family.  If Gus comes and jumps on my lap to cuddle, she thinks she better do that too.  And we cuddle and tickle and love on each other and all feel happy and lovey.  But then we go out to dinner, and Ruby reaches out to be held by someone she has just met, and I feel a little sad.  It's just a crazy ride we get on when we have children, and they are ours forever.  That is such a long time, and there are so many little turns and stops along the way.  You might look back one day and remember a moment you didn't even pay attention to at the time and think, "that was really the best time."

So my theory turns out not to have much substance, much like my idea that Wal-Mart should build apartments on top of their stores and allow people to order things via a computer/dumb-waiter conveyance.  I don't have any research or practical advice, or really even a case study.  We've known Ruby for less than three months, so whatever I would say about attachment can be dismissed due to inexperience.  But, I am trying to turn off the thing where I am always keeping track, taking stock of the gains and losses as we move forward as a family.  I'm hoping that we will not end up on the parenting version of failblog.org (one of the best ways to kill time, by the way), and since there still is not a Nobel Prize in Mothering, I don't even have to worry about how I'm stacking up against anyone else in the field.  I'm just here, duct taping my children to me to keep us all attached and hoping for the best.