Why I Always Carry My Camera

Because you just never know what you'll see on your way in to work. Really. On an average Tuesday. Guy playing bag pipes. In a kilt. In front of my building. No idea why.

Happy Birthday, Jane!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Cherishing My Cinderellas

I heard the sad news this morning about the tragic accident that took the life of Stephen Curtis Chapman’s 5 year old daughter, Maria. The Chapmans adopted Maria in China the same year I adopted OBaby. I can’t even imagine their heartache right now.

Someone sent me a link to a SCC video for his song “Cinderella”. At the end of the video, he explains how he came to write the song. As he was telling the story, all I could think about was how many times I have missed the moments with my girls because I was too busy or too tired or too stressed to slow down and just enjoy them. Although the song is about a father and his daughter, the first verse and the chorus really applies to all parents.


She spins and she sways to whatever song plays,
Without a care in the world.
And I'm sittin' here wearin' the weight of the world on my shoulders.
It's been a long day and there's still work to do,
She's pulling at me saying "Dad I need you!
There's a ball at the castle and I've been invited and I need to practice my dancin'
"Oh please, daddy, please!"





So I will dance with Cinderella
While she is here in my arms
Cause I know something the prince never knew
Oh I will dance with CinderellaI don't wanna miss even one song,
Cuz all to soon the clock will strike midnight
And she'll be gone

Excuse me, I've got some dancing to do.

Hardwood Floor: 1 Forehead: 0

Thanks, Aunt Manny for sending me the picture! (Yeah, I still don't know how that phone thing works.)

Preschool Picnic

Yesterday was OBaby’s farewell picnic at preschool. Today is her last day of school. Yes, my baby girl is going to kindergarten in the fall. (We don’t know where, but that is a whole nuther story!)

So, yesterday we braved the cool temperatures and threat of rain to eat our lunch out on the playground. Afterwards we went inside where the kids sang to us, recited some poems, and then showed off all of the projects they’ve been working on this semester. OBaby especially enjoyed the unit on firefighting and wanted to show me how cute she looks in the gear. That coat weighs like 20 pounds! I don’t even know how she could stand up with it on. And note the boots – just a smidge too big!

When I picked up YBaby yesterday she had fallen while running on hardwood floors. She had a nice goose egg right in the middle of the forehead. I took a picture with my cell phone, but I don’t know how to get it off the phone! Yes, I teach technology but my cell phone baffles me. Oh well, take my word for it, the lump is big and purple and apparently doesn’t hurt at all. (I say this since I had to wash chocolate ice cream off of it last night and baby didn’t even flinch. Yes, she had ice cream on her forehead. No, I don’t know how things that this happen, but they do.)

Everybody off the sidewalks!

Olivia has learned to ride a 2-wheeler! Ok, last week she learned to ride - I'm a little behind (story of my life). She's been wanting to ride a bike without training wheels for awhile, and last week she asked her preschool teacher to help her learn. 5 minutes later, OBaby was OBaby on Wheels as she just took off riding. We took the training wheels off of her little bike at home on Saturday and she's been riding like a pro. Ok, story about taking the wheels off - she asked me to do it Saturday evening after a long day of shopping at the outlet mall. Since the grandparents were coming the next day, I suggested that we could wait and let Grandpa take them off since Grandpas like to do stuff like that to feel useful. A little later, OBaby looked at me and said wistfully, "I wish you knew how to take training wheels off, Mama." Seriously, the kid took my laziness for being unable to do it! So, naturally we headed to the garage where I broke out my socket wrench and socket set and proceeded to remove the training wheels from the bike. Had to, you know. I can’t have my girls thinking that there are things girls can’t do. For her part, OBaby was sufficiently impressed. I am the best Mommy in the world and I know how to do everything. Keep on thinking that, baby!

Happy Mother’s Day

Dear Mamas,

I don't know your names. I don't know anything about you, really except that you both live in China, and both, for whatever reasons, left a daughter to be found. How I wish I could meet you and ease the worries you must have over the fate of these daughters. I would want you to know that they are safe and warm and well-fed (very well-fed!). I would tell you how loved they are – by me, by each other, and by everyone who has the privilege of knowing them. Then I would tell you what amazing little girls they are. Your February baby, Mama, is so smart and funny and has such a loving heart. And your August baby, Mama, is strong and clever and loves to laugh. And, because I know you would want to know, I'd tell you how happy they are. Both girls find great joy in life. Every day is a new adventure – always something new to learn and to experience, and they each, in her own way, leap into those adventures.

I also want to thank you. You have given me two of the greatest gifts any woman could ever hope to receive. Thank you for having the courage and the strength to make the decision you had to make. I can't image how hard that must have been for you. You, Mama, to say goodbye your daughter on a chilly February morning when you had barely had the chance to say hello. Or you, Mama, who held on to your baby long past August and all the way into the fall – loving and nurturing her until she was strong enough to survive without you. I will never forget that everything I have, I owe to the two of you – all the joy and happiness in my life I have at your expense. Thank you seems so inadequate. I hope that I will be able to teach our daughters to love and respect the two of you as I do. You will always be an important part of our family. Happy Mother's Day, Mamas.

No Arm, Mama, Otay?

Ever since the first night YBaby realized that I was all she had as far as sleep companions go, she has insisted on sleeping with her head on my shoulder. That’s right, snuggled right up next to Mama with her sweet little head on my shoulder. It was lovely – especially since she spent the first two weeks I knew her refusing any kind of affection from me. So, like I said, it was lovely. For the first few weeks. Then my shoulder started to hurt in the mornings. And then on into the afternoons. Yeah, then pretty much all the time, but I couldn’t get her to go to sleep unless I had my arm wrapped around her and her head on my shoulder. At first, I even had to keep my arm wrapped around her little body, too. Later, just sleeping on my arm was enough. Every night. For 13 months. As her speech improved, she started asking me at night, “”Arm, Mama”. And I would wrap my arm around her and let her fall asleep on my shoulder.

The people who know about stuff like this (or like to pretend that they do) say it’s all about security. She doesn’t trust that I’ll be there in the morning, so she wants to hold on to me so I can’t sneak away. I can see that, especially since waking without me beside her brings on an instant melt down. In all the time I’ve known this child she has only once actually gotten out of bed by herself. Generally if I don’t wake her, she just cries until I come get her. I know, she’s spoiled.

So, here’s the thing. In the past week, Y has told me three different times, “No arm, Mama, otay?” – meaning that she wants to go to sleep without pinning my left arm to the bed. And she has. Gone to sleep that is. Without me holding her. Could it be that after 13 months she finally believes that I will still be around in the morning? Is she actually starting to trust me? Does my baby finally feel safe? I truly hope so. But still, in a way, I miss that little head resting on my shoulder, you know?

The Babies Unplugged

Today is the day we cut ourselves off from all forms of electronic entertainment – no television, no computer (at home, folks, I have to use one at work), no video games (like we actually have any to begin with), no DVDs. That’s it. We’ve pulled the plug. We’re going cold turkey. Well, sort of. Um, I’m still watching about 15 minutes of local news in the morning so I can catch the weather. In April it could be near 80 (like today) or cold and raining and the kids need a coat. So, I have to watch the weather. And a little bit of news, just so I know what’s going on in the world. But that’s it. Oh, and Survivor. Yeah, we’re making an exception during our week unplugged for Survivor because, um, it’s Survivor. Hello? We can’t miss it! James might get voted off!

But the internet? The internet is gone. I canceled it. Over and out. No more Mommy on the computer in the evenings. Not even after this week is over. See, Olivia told me that I spend all my time on the computer. Not true, of course, but it is her perception, and I don’t want her to remember her childhood with Mommy sitting at the computer all the time. So, bye-bye high-speed internet. Man, I’m going to miss you and that cute little way you have of taking me anywhere I want to go in the virtual world. Sigh.

So, instead of electronic entertainment, we are going to spend our week playing outside, doing crafts, reading, and playing games. Heaven help me. What am I supposed to do at 2 am when I wake up and can't go back to sleep? I have a feeling this may be a very, very long week.

YBaby Phrase of the Week

Because YBaby has some speech issues, I’m always paying attention to how long her sentences are and how many words I can actually understand. Yesterday when her aunt and uncle came to visit, she very clearly told her aunt, “Uncle Jon touched my head.” How proud are we of that? Yeah, mostly we just like to hear her say “Uncle Jon”. Dear aunt and uncle were also clearly impressed with Y’s ability to say “knuckles” while holding her little fist out for you to bump. (Doesn’t everyone teach their 2 year old to do this?)

But, the YBaby phrase of the week has to be: “I love you much.” She told me this for the first time yesterday (actually, “I a do mush”) and when I replied, “I love you very much, too” she was so proud of herself because I got it! I was proud because she thought of it all by herself. My girl loves me much. Does it get any better?

I Love the Smell of a Clean Dog in the Morning

Since the day Bella came to live with us, OBaby has wanted to give her a bath. Not because she smelled or anything, O just thought it would be fun to give a dog a bath. I, on the other hand, feel like it is enough that I manage to bathe regularly and get both girls into the tub on a semi-regular basis. I really wasn’t jazzed to add “give dog a bath” to my endless list of “To Do” items.

However, for the past few days, Bella has grown to smell, well, like a dog. So, we decided last night to bathe Bella. Let me tell you, even after more than a decade of dog ownership I had never tried to give a dog a bath. Marbles HATED water. Even the groomers said he was a tough dog to wash. So, I never tried to get his 50-pound body into the tub. I really expected that giving a dog a bath would be a horrible, messy, unpleasant experience. It wasn’t. Belle takes a bath like it’s something she does every day. She let me pick her up and put her in the water. She stood perfectly still while I washed her and the babies took turns rising her off by pouring cups of water over her. She didn’t even complain when YBaby’s cup of water inevitably ended up in her face – no matter how many times I said, “No, don’t pour the water in her eyes.” Apparently Y only heard “water in her eyes” and thought it was a good idea.

When she was all clean, Bella let me pick her up, wrap her in her towel, and dry her off. The only thing she nixed was the idea of a blow dry. I guess she prefers to air dry.

In the end we had a clean dog, a fairly clean bathroom, and two wonderfully happy girls who got to help Mama give the dog her bath. Of course now I expect that the next time the girls are in the tub, Bella will be jumping in with them. (Yes, she can jump into and out of the tub. That’s one of the reasons I was afraid to give her a bath – I could just see a wet, soapy dog jumping out of the tub and running through the house shaking soap and water onto everything. Hey, wait, maybe that’s not such a bad idea . . . )

Help Me!

You know the old joke about how you spend the first 2 years of a child’s life trying to get them to talk, then the next 16 trying to get them to shut up? Yeah, well, I taught Ying to say something that I am really starting to regret (and no, Mom, it’s not ARM PIT – nor is it a profanity). She had a habit of going into a different room, then crying because she wanted something. Well, a couple of time she was in another room crying because she had gotten herself into a situation that she couldn’t get out of. Unfortunately for her, I was so used to the crying because she couldn’t reach the rubber duck in the bottom of the tub or get the hall closet doors open that I didn’t respond quickly when she really needed me (like the time her fingers were stuck in the doggy door – hey, I told her not to put her hand in there!). So, I taught her to ask for help – specifically to say “HELP ME” when she is hurt or stuck and needs Mama to come help her. Stupid, stupid Mommy. We now have an average of 7 “help me” situations a day. I’ll be busy making dinner or throwing some laundry into the washer when I’ll hear “Mama, help me, help me”. Yeah, help me get some strawberry milk. Help me strap Blue Bear into the stroller. Help me take my pajamas off. Not one time has “help me” been used in an actual emergency type situation. She’s like that little boy crying wolf. Pretty soon I’m going to stop responding to the “help mes” – and you know as soon as I do she’ll get her hair caught in the dryer door. Some lifes, you just can’t win.

Shhhhhhh

Baby is sleeping. She fell asleep sitting on the bottom of the stairs a J's house. The girls covered her up before J saw her and snapped a picture (then moved her to a more comfortable napping spot).

When the Door Bell Rings at 4:30 in the Blessed AM!

You just know it can't be anything good. I mean, those Publisher's Clearinghouse guys hardly ever show up pre-dawn, right. So when my lovely door bell chimes gently woke me from my slumber at 4:28 am today, I really wasn’t excited to go see who it was. It was my neighbor. On his way to work. At 4:28 am. (It sounds as if his life sucks more than mine.) My garage door was open. Yeah, I forgot to close it last night. Hey, I had a migraine. I’m lucky I remembered to unbuckle the kids. Thanks a lot, buddy. I’ll get that door closed right away. Then go back to sleep – like normal people do at 4:30 in the blessed AM!

I got back in bed and had to move Ying over off of the 2.5 inches of mattress that they allow me to sleep on. Apparently, she was very, very tired and thought I was trying to wake her up. Her response: “Mama, more sleeps.”

Exactly what I need in my life. More sleeps.

It's Hard to Take a Picture of a Moving Target

One Year Ago

Exactly one year ago, I met Little Bit for the first time. I had been looking at the same three little pictures of her for over 8 months by then, and I had her little face memorized. When I opened the door and saw her in the hall, being held by a nanny, my first thought was, "That's her, but she's just a tiny baby." She was 19 months old. Except for the mouth full of teeth, she could have passed for a 6 month old. I was in awe of her. She was so tiny, but she had this little look on her face like, "Hey, don't mess with me, lady." Tiny, but tough. The first time I held her, she was not as into the moment as I was. In fact, she really just wanted to be done with whatever business brought her to this room so that she could get the heck out of there. She was swimming in a huge orange sweat suit and little blue shoes that some other baby had practically worn the soles off of. I don't remember what I said to the orphanage staff. I was too busy drinking in this amazing little girl. She was just so pitiful – trying to be brave. When I look at the pictures of her from that day, I can't believe it's only been a year. She's come so far in a year. She's learned so much – most importantly, she's learned that Mama is pretty nice, and having a Mama is a very good thing. Last night, we were both still feeling pretty cruddy. Ying was being fussy and just wanted Mama to hold her. I asked her if she was tired. Yes. Do you want to go to bed? No. Do you want to go to bed with Mama? Yes. Do you want Mama to snuggle you? Yes. Then she laid her head over on my shoulder and sighed. 366 days ago, we were strangers. Now, we are a family. What a miracle.

Apparently, I Can

be sick. So much for the power of positive thinking. Day 6 and I am still not feeling great.

I CANNOT BE SICK!!

OK, I'm just gonna to put it out there to God and the universe and whatever - I cannot be sick this week. This cough HAS to go. The chest pain - be gone with you! The ever-so-slight fever - I banish you! To put it mildly, I don’t have time to be sick. I absolutely HAVE to teach a class tomorrow. They’ve already been postponed once, twice would NOT look good. I really, really need to get our other lab set up on Thursday. And, of course, on Friday we have to go to Riley for Little Bit’s appointment. That’s a three-hour drive that I can’t do sick. Oh, and we are supposed to go visit the grandparents after the appointment. Mom (aka “poppaw” – yeah, we don’t know why, either) is having knee-replacement surgery on Monday, so I can’t go see her if I’m a walking germ factory. So, power of positive thinking: I AM NOT SICK. I AM NOT SICK. I AM NOT (hack, hack, cough, cough) SICK!

“Failure to Thrive”

Eleven months ago when Dr. E first diagnosed my little Ying-a-Bing with "failure to thrive" I wasn't really too surprised. She had spent her first 19 months in a place where the goal was merely to survive, not thrive. I smugly thought that after a few months of good old American food with its excessive caloric and fat contents, my girl will be thriving. So, I took her home and fed her. A lot. You want French fries, baby? You got 'em! Ice cream? No problem. Six fish sticks? Here you go. She ate, and ate, and ate. And, 11 months later, she has gained a whopping 4 pounds – most of it in her first 5 months home.

So, yesterday we saw Dr. E again. He plotted Little Bit's weight and found that she is no longer following her own curve. See, average size kids (like OBaby) grow on a curve – the older they get, the more they weigh (and the taller they get) so the curve goes up and out. As long as an unusually small baby is following this curve (not on it, below it, but still following the curve) they are ok – just little. The graphic above shows the height/weight charts for girls. The top curve is height, the bottom weight. The red dots are where Ying falls on the chart. As you can see, she's a lot closer to being in the bottom 3% for height than weight, but right now she's in the negatives for both.

Once again, Dr. E labeled her with that awful diagnosis – Failure to Thrive. Failure of Mama to be able to fatten baby up. Unbelievable. I mean seriously, for someone in MY family to need to fatten up and not be able to? Inconceivable! Suddenly I'm not feeling so smug about my parenting skills or that good old American food. She's been eating like a baby truck driver for 11 months, and yet still she fails to thrive. Damn.

The doctor then decided that it is time for Ying to see a specialist – a Pediatric Gastroenterologist. So, next Friday we will trek down to Riley to see the Peds GI specialist. Gee, aren't I getting to learn a whole lot of neat new medical terms. Hopefully, we will find out something that will help get Little Bit onto the charts!

Baby's Feeling Better

I am very relieved to report that YBaby is on the mend. The fever is gone, and she is starting to act like her old self again.

However, today I am reminded of how much worse this virus can be. A woman I work with has a little boy in the ICU at the local hospital today. He had been being treated for pneumonia-like symptoms (much like YBaby’s) when he had a seizure. His big brother is in OBaby’s class. There but for the grace of God . . .

So, today I won’t whimper or whine about how hard the last week was. I’ll just be grateful that my sweet baby is getting better, and I’ll say a little prayer for Baby D and his family. There truly is almost nothing worse than a sick baby.

Quote of the Day

YBaby and I are home sick again today (she’s been sick for 2 days, I’m just sick of being home). She is feeling much better, and the fever hasn’t gone much over 102 today. She is currently playing with a balloon, tossing it up and trying to catch it. Every time she misses, she says her new favorite expression, “Awwww, man!” I don’t know where she picked that up, but it is cute as heck. The best is the way she draws it out. Just too funny. I know, you’re all sorry you’re missing it, aren’t you?

Color My World

Yesterday, as I was carrying YBaby out to the car from her sitter’s house, it was snowing big, huge flakes. We were all three getting covered in snow. YBaby looked at me with this serious little face and said, “Mama, white on me!” I just smiled and said, “Yes, baby, it’s just snow, it won’t hurt us.” She gave me her best fake laugh, and continued wiping the white off of her coat, just in case Mama was, like, not right about the whole not hurting us thing.

BTW, pink is YBaby’s favorite color (OBaby’s has always been blue). However, it is the only color she can’t pronounce correctly. She can say red, blue, yellow – even orange and purple. But her beloved pink is “peent”. Of course, when singing the Wonder Pets song, (“What’s gonna work? Teamwork!”) she does have the cutest little way of saying, “tee-wort” so I guess that means we need to work harder on those ending “k”s.

You Can’t Make This Stuff Up

Ok, my kid just cracks me up. Really, she's THAT funny all the time. Last night we were talking about her birthday party. We have discussed several time how to politely accept a gift – even if it's something we don't care for (like Bratz stuff). OBaby told me that if Michael or Seamus give her a gift she really likes, she is going to give them a hug. I laughed and said, "Oh, you just like to hug boys." Her response – "Oh, Mommy, that's not true. I like to kiss them."

Heaven help me.

Hail to the Chief

The Today Show was on while we were getting dressed this morning. OBaby was listening to Hilary Clinton talk when she suddenly announced, "I want to be president of the U-nited States, Mommy." (OBaby, not Hilary) I just nodded and said "Sure, honey, when you grow up." No point going into the whole "you can't be president because you weren't born in the US" conversation since I totally expect Arnold's people to get that problem fixed long before O is old enough to vote, let alone run.

"No, Mommy, I want to be president now."

Hmm, well, how do we respond to this? Oh, yeah, "Well, babe, you have to be a grown up and at least as old as Mrs. Clinton before you can be the president."

"Oh." Still, I could see the wheels were still turning. "Ok, then can I be the president of the Baby U-nited States?"

So, it's official. OBaby is now running for president of the Baby U-nited States. She is accepting contributions to her college, er, I mean campaign fund.

Why I’ll Never Sleep Alone

Last night, the girls were in rare form – neither one listening to me or obeying my too frequent demands that they get in bed and be quite. Finally, I totally lost all patience with them and sent them both to sleep in their own room. They have a queen size bed in there, so it's not like they can't still sleep together. Well, judging by the reaction, you'd think I'd sent them to sleep in a den of vipers. They both screamed and cried and sobbed. Ying got out of bed and came to me in the family room. I tried the Super Nanny thing and took her back to her bed and explained that she needed to sleep here with jie-jie and Mama would sleep in her bed. I went into my room and closed the door. Through the wall I could hear the wailing. Then I heard Ying outside my door sobbing so hard I was afraid she would throw up. I heard Bella scratch at the door, but still I didn't open the door. A couple of minutes later, I hear Bella coming through the half bath into my room, with Ying right behind her. I could just imagine her telling Ying, "Hey, follow me kid. I know a back way into your mom's room." Bella came in the room, stood and looked at me for a minute, then left – "Here's your kid, lady. She wants you." Now I have a sobbing Ying standing in the middle of my floor. I picked her up, thinking I would take her back to her bed, then realized that the poor little thing was scared to death. I asked her if she was ok – head nod "no". "Do you want to sleep with Mama?" – tiny little whisper "yes". DANG. I am never going to get to sleep alone, ever, in my entire life. They both ended up sleeping in my bed last night. And I ended up feeling like a total jerk because Ying really was just terrified by the idea of not sleeping with Mama. Score: Girls 1, Mama 0.