How Could They Leave Me?

Peanut has brought up her birthparents off and on for the past 6 months. She usually says she misses her "foster parents"...Big Girl had foster parents, so that is what she thinks is in China. We have been explaining to her that she had a nanny in the SWI, and a birth mom and a birth dad.

She's expressed before that she misses them. And it hasn't gone much further than that.

Last night, she wasn't feeling great, and was out of sorts at dinner. For some reason, out of the blue, she brought up foster parents again, so we got into the discussion. We were having the normal discussion...you had a birth mom and dad, for some reason which we don't know why they couldn't take care of ANY kid...you know, the whole thing.

It was all going ok. We were good...having a good discussion. We were talking about the differences between the two girls' stories etc. All good open honest age appropriate discussion all around.

All of a sudden, Peanut starts to SOB. Big, giant, chest heaving sobs. I reach over to her and rub her arm, and ask what is wrong...what is she thinking about?

She heaves about 3-4 more giant sobs. Then stops. Dead. She meets my eyes in the strongest beautiful chocolate colored stare I've ever gotten from her:
"But...but...but...Mama...they LEFT me! They left me ALONE. I was a baby. Babies aren't supposed to be alone."
And then as she didn't move, and the biggest, roundest tears I have ever seen came rolling (even worse) silently out of her eyes as she just stared at me with knit eyebrows. For about a minute, but it felt like an eternity. Pure unadulterated pain was etched across her face.

Then the sobs racked her body again and she collapsed into a puddle of sorrow.

_______________________________
I've read the books. I've read the adoption boards. I've talked to older adoptees, and talked to friends about their kids when they hit these realizations.

And I can attest straight out that NOTHING...absolutely nothing in this world, can prepare you for the moment you see your child realize that they were abandoned helpless and alone. For that moment that they realize that their birth parents, for whatever reason, were not able (or didn't want to) make whatever sacrifice that would keep their babies with them. The realization that an adult...worse...their parent...failed them. Even if the parent couldn't help it...and these days I believe that more and more cases the parents could have done something to alleviate it, to our children, the parents failed them. They left them, helpless.

Gawd, what a horrible feeling for anyone to shoulder...and for a 4.75 year old to have that knowledge? To extrapoloate that themselves? No child should ever have to go thru that.

She was much more vigilant today at our CNY playgroup celebration. A lot more calls for us to both be within close proximity to the arts table or such.

Peanut's heart seemed to die a little bit last night.

So did mine.

A New Year

Ironic that I use this blog to air out the clutter in my brain, but when it gets really cluttered and overwhelming, I stop writing. I close up my brain, I close up myself, I hunker down, do what I have to do, and really THINK about it all later. I do that here IRL too...I talk after the fact. Something my constantly questioning older daughter does not do well with. She needs to take my emotional temperature about 50 times a day, which sometimes gets very old. I remind myself though that she cares, that we haven't had to fight any of those battles.

2012 has already become a year I did not expect back around that once a year day where you get reminded that time marches on and you are headed towards the dirt at some point...the ironic celebration of your birth when your reminded via Hallmark about your (apparently imminent) death. August had me reevaluating my job, our house, myself. I had made some vows to myself, some of them to be content/ride out certain things.

And I'm about 2 lightyears from all that, just from August!

My Dad moved out West. About 18 months ago he up and sold the company. There's no acrimony between Dad and I, but he's a totally unsentimental/utterly Vulcan kinda guy. Anyways I knew this was coming...they bought the AZ Palace at about the same time as he sold the company. And of course, new management has put our whole company into a tailspin. It's not like how it was. It was a tight knit family...one I never sought out before - wanted a big company (or the government way back when) where one could function in anonimity or fly as high as they wanted. Didn't want that personal crap that came with small companies. Got sucked in when I graduated, thought I'd stay a year until the economy improved...been there 15 years now. And I loved it. You might have had someone come up to you and say "What the hell did you do with this?!" and I liked it that way. No bullshit. No target markers. No extraneous crap. Sit down, do your job, do it YOUR way, as we were all unique in our talents, and move on. Have some pizza lunches, bbq out back, do stupid shit together if we had a slow moment and it was all good. Then the Bigger Company came. We're underutilized. We're marginalized. Attitude is in the crapper. I'm coasting. Doing my job. And I hate it. If I had to be in the office, I'd have a knife to my own throat.

I got offered the idea of changing careers. It sounds wonderful. Why haven't I jumped? Well...the first is that their is a schmuck there too. One I hope is gone soon. That'd make it easier. But it's also scary. I have max flexibility, I can write my own life for right now still day to day (there is no future though), at this place...but once my Dad retires in 3.5 more years, what little shreds of what is good here will be gone, if there's even any left by then.

And that gets me back to Dad. In typical Dad fashion, we saw him on Turkey Day. He said we'd be talking before he left 10 days later. We did. About work. Now mind you, he lived about 3 minutes away. He saw my kids as much as the Grandparents in FL. I spoke with him 2 days before he left...about my step-mom dropping off the sports car. And then I realized he was gone. Yeah, it's only a 4 hour plane ride away. But he didn't say good bye to me. To his 2 granddaughters. To anyone at the office. Just left, like it didn't matter.

And that sucked. That hurt. That made me angry. And it hurt my kids. And it drove all the way into my heart, way down in the corner, the one that still holds the hurt from being left by him when I was 3, to live the life he wanted. And even though he kept talking about when he was going, it kept moving backwards, and he's ALWAYS lived by me, and poof he's gone.

And gone on his terms...again.

I know, Daddy issues. Sadly, Daddy issues feed into work issues and that together is a decent part of my life.

Moving on...
I tell you, the men in my life I driving me crazy.

There was a boy. I saw him, back when we were paperchasing for Big Girl. Still weren't DTC yet. Thought many nights to myself, if we didn't have her, I'd talk husband into a boy. He was the age that husband wanted...but we were in love and in process for our girl. Moot idea.

Then I noticed, amazingly, he was still waiting. That was now Fall of 2010.

Then we came home with Big Girl...Christmas. New Years. Husband's Bday.

Noticed he was still waiting. Could not believe it.

Summer of 2011. He was still waiting. Why? Why would such a perfect little boy still wait? Just cause he has a penis? Seriously? Minor needs, beautiful eyes, supposedly in a pretty good care situation. He didn't appear on any advocacy board, nowhere. He was forgotten on the shared list since middle of 2009. I asked for updates from our agency. They went to work on it. I threw out the line to my husband.

He would not bite. No way in hell.

I threw down, demanded a discussion. He closed up. OK. Not my best move.

Asked again for updates...just got little feel good stuff, a few pics, nothing concrete.

Now it's Fall of 2011. Ask again. Husband digs in again. Ask again about those damn updates. Somewhere I've gotten my heart invested in this. Decide to lay it all down.

I spent over a week getting all the financials of the house. Then amazingly I got an update from the SWI. An open and honest one.

He said no. I knew he would. He always does...knee jerk husband of mine. I mourned. It was over.

Three days later, husband got home from work while I was in the shower. When I turned it off, he was standing on the other side of the door. Head bowed, hands in pockets. "You know, you are right. I always say no right away. And I shouldn't do that. With the girls...or with you. I know how much xxxx means to you. And you are right, there is no reason we can't do it. When you are married, you follow each other's dreams sometimes."

I looked at him and said that we couldn't do it just cause I wanted it. It wasn't fair to him. He paused..."He is darn cute...he reminds me of Peanut. He has a good personality for our family. I see it. I just didn't want to. And the SWI started talking...now I know they aren't hiding anything. They seemed like they were hiding things. His file was so old." That...for my husband, is huge. All of it.

I waited another week. Asked him again and again...gauged his every reaction to see if it was really what he wanted. In the end, he finally got fed up with me..."Will you please send LOI already so we can go get our son?" First time he used that word. And I sent it an hour later.

So now, here we are, the beginning of January...I'm hating my job, but making money and that's the important part, still haven't decided if we should move or not, and I'm waiting for my son. Yin and Yang. That's life. More good then bad and call yourself lucky. And I am...

My girls, every day, ask when they get to go get Squish. They are overjoyed. He's 6.5, and my husband is right...he's got eyes that are going to make every girl's heart skip about 20 beats.

Fixing Me...

Ahhhh, a breather, dare I say it. (Insert knock on plastic keyboard surround). Dare I risk saying: A Week With Not One Doctor's Appointment. That's a new thing. It's been over 3 months since that's happened. Now, I realize that there are people who live that life, or worse, for years. And I know we'll end up there again, but I'm thankful for this breather. Big Girl is back in school now, and is happy. Her holes from her skin biopsies are bothering her, but are healing. She has access to a new study, and therefore new options now. Peanut is waiting for Begindergarten to start, and excited for that too.

I'm a year older as of last week. The air is starting to turn just a tad cool in the morning, when we walk to school. It feels lovely. It feels fresh. Odd that as the growing season starts to think about winding down, I feel like everything *could* start to bloom in life...potential seems to fill the air.

I don't know if this is a mid-life crisis brought on as I move upwards towards 40, "deflating" since the stress of the last months has eased off, or if this is something more positive...I'm feeling need for change. Maybe it's just all the House Hunters International I've been watching, but it feels deeper than that.

I need to travel.

I need to change the house.

I need to change...me.

I'll be honest. I've been trying to lose 20 pounds, for years. I look in the mirror and I'm not happy. But I'm also not happy with how I present myself. Once upon a time I never left the house sans makeup. I'm glad I'm less uptight than that now. But I've fallen into the SAHM uniform of jeans and tshirts. My beautiful jewelry sits mostly unworn in the box. Most of my shoes go unworn. (I'm not a Vogue-reading fashionista, but I do love my shoes.) I've got my intellectual-in-training (read: nerdy bookhound) glasses, but everything else is blah. I come across to myself as blah. So how does everyone else see me? There's lots of cool shit rattling around inside my brain...but it stays there mostly.

I found myself more and more speaking of kids, school, errands, to do lists, and parenting my kids as waaaay too much of my communication load. I hate that. I'm so much smarter and more interesting than just that.

Last year, before we renovated, we looked at moving. I hated the idea of leaving my house, my beautiful, tons-of-work-poured-into-it home. Now, I could move for the right house, or the right opportunity. New. Adventure. Excitement. I am actually excited at the thought when emails from the real estate agent hit my inbox.

We hit 15 years of marriage together this past summer. A feat I'm proud of, rolling thru the rocky times that were partially brought on by infertility, and getting thru over double the length of marriage that my parents ever were able to attain, and still going. But at the same time, I had probably, for myself, the hardest summer of feeling a lack of communication between myself and my husband. Topics came up that had us at odds, and I've never ever had it where discussions were shut down on me without being treated as an equal, worthy of discussion merely because I was the partner that was speaking. And that has me still smarting. Partially cause I don't do well with that, period, partially because his parents are masters at that technique and any and all disfunction in that family unit stems from it, and is my biggest source of irritation. Therefore, I'm very vigilent as to if I ever see P starting to slide into that territory. Partially because the topic at hand sits very deep in my heart, no matter how I try to purge it from there. Do I fear for our marriage in any way? Hell No. Has it changed? Yes. Is that bad? No. Good? No. Just different? Yes. And that takes an adjustment.

Peanut will be gone 4 mornings a week this school year. Next year, it's K for her, then I've got both girls gone most of the time. Now I can look at what I'm doing with my life - I'll be chef/chauffeur/teacher/mom most of the time, but for the first time in 3+ years, I will have devoted time that I can be "me". Yeah, a lot of that will be errands and cleaning and such, but I'll have time, if I want it, to devote to me and what I want out of life. And I realize now that I have not done enough of that...nothing since Big Girl came home, not very much in all the years Peanut has been home, and actually not very much from the time we put in our paperwork for Peanut back in 2005.

So the question is: What do I do with myself? As I see it, I have a few options:

1. Embrace the new me. Come to terms with it. A few pounds I don't want, feeling like less than a *star* in life, coming to terms with suburban contentment, but potentially mediocrity. Do I say that with disdain? A smidge. But that's my point...not that I have to settle, but maybe I have to readjust my viewpoints, and realize the good I do have and be content with that...that there is nothing negative about it at all.

2. Revamp, restyle, recreate. Keep the cool glasses. Lose the weight. Tell the hairstylist to take the new haircut further...devote a few mornings a week to *me*. Find time to scrapbook, excercise, read, or better yet, learn cello, get my master gardner certification or get back to horse back riding, like I've wanted to. Push the "buy" button on that shopping cart with the cool new purse and the funky sweater with the polka dots and the crisp white - needing ironing - nicely fitting dress shirt to go under it. And most importantly, not feel guilty for making life for me too. The kids are my life, but they don't need to have my 24/7 adoration...they are of the age that if I want to read a book, I should be able to be left alone for a wee bit. Find more time for P and I too.

3. Go bat shit over the top. New hair color, lose the weight, get a tattoo, take a job, move the household to a new house with a new feel - ultra clean lined contemporary maybe. I'm guessing this is probably not the best idea, especially if I got a tattoo before losing the weight I want to lose. Oh, and make that house sitting on the cliff overlooking a valley or water of a far off place.

Either way, I have to learn to live with, or change the issues deep in my heart. That's gonna be the hard part.

But as to which option...I think 3 gets kicked to the curb cause P has an awesome job and loves it, and the girls would kill me if I moved them. Door number 1 is a good lesson in appreciation of the fine details of life, and realizing it's the little stuff that makes the biggest hill when it's piled together. Door number 2 though is a lesson in setting a goal and achieving it, for not settling for anything but everything for yourself and your loved ones. Both admirable lessons, but which is the one for me?

THIS could be your story...

I've wanted to post this, in a complete post, for awhile, but I've hesitiated...I believe in SN adoptions. I totally believe in older child adoptions. I believe in IA.

I honestly believe, above a doubt, that you can love any child you are placed with. I don't believe in fate...I believe it's what we make it. A lot of people would argue with me, and I don't want to argue the point...it's how I feel.

But I ALSO believe that there are so many people who want a child, who got, well, fucked, by the shut down of much of IA in the world, so many that have dodgy agencies (cause most of them are, I dare say) that some really don't want to know what CAN happen...does happen, and have gone into SN adoption, at best, semi-prepared. Period. I believe that most agencies don't facilitate gathering of information, and some people really want to just go into this process starry eyed at the idea of a new child, which I understand. They want to play the odds, and roll the dice that it comes out in their favor, and chances are that it will. But it's foolish.

So I don't want to dissuade people by our story. But I do want to educate them, and it's a fine edged sword...and I've decided to sum it all up because in the end, I *think* it'll all turn out ok...so there's that moral to the story...



What We Were Told

We were told that Big Girl had limb differences of the left upper and left lower limb. We were told she was smart, articulate, outgoing, and had no other issues. We were not told limb lengths, and of course she was 8.5. The name given to the difference was universally dismissed by the Drs. It was not agenesis. They were growing, but were smaller.

What We Thought We Were Walking Into
We figured between the more advanced age and the lack of limb measurements that that was why she sat on the list for 3 years. We had three doctors review it. We even had my FIL the fancy neurologist look at it. We came to the assumption that either this was a random occurrance of skeletal abnormalities, probably due to environmental factors, or, more likely, we were going to get a diagnosis of minor CP when she was brought home. We knew she'd be delayed in behaviors, the language would be a huge issue, all those things that we knew would be big hurdles like customs, social mores, language, family integration etc and worked on learning about that...a LOT. All the Drs felt this was basically a non-issue...the limb difference was minimal from the photos, and everything looked great. She was on the shorter side, but hey, on the charts.

What We Saw When We Got To China
She came to us much as we figured. Clean, quiet, introverted, scared, inquisitive, and quickly changing to curiosity and exploration mode. She wanted to know everything. She had a basic learning of the English language - most alphabet letters were known, some basic words. She proudly showed off her math skills. She played quite well with our 3.5 year old...too well. She really does NOT act like the now-9 year old she is. And honestly, that has taken some getting used to. A lot, on our parts, actually.

We also saw spotting on her skin, on her forearms and calves. Ehhh, dry skin. Our proverbial Titantic Iceberg...but we had no idea at the time...we figured dry skin. The SWI told us "a lot of the kids" had had this start happening, about the time that the weather started changing. We did lotions etc. Her limbs were as we expected...except it was the wrong leg. And she had some thin spots in her scalp. One was under her pony tail, which seemed to have never been removed, so we got that. Or so we thought.

December to Late May
Shortly after we came home, she started the Great Doctor Tour. Ahhh, eczema, glasses for the bad vision we found in Guangzhou. Oh, a slight lazy eye, no problem, prisms in the lenses of the glasses.

Then we went in to see the orthopaedic. Yeah, one leg shorter, one arm shorter. Not neurological. Oh, and she has scoliosis. And a dislocated elbow. And her one finger is shorter. And about 3 little other quirks of a skeletal nature. Genetics are thrown in there. Ok...research. Dr never calls back. We "fire" her in March, go see a specialist and he says no genetics, probably environmental, and no big deal, surgery when she's 14 ish, dont' touch the dislocated elbow, she's fine.

The eczema doesn't go away. We see a dermatologist. He says ichtyosis, gives a cream. It works, we move on. Ok, a small bump in the road, seriously, this is it?! No issues. I even looked at a file for a boy waiting for adoption with ichtyosis because this was so not an issue...

I *think* I see a mark on my daughter's sternum. Could it be a scar? No...they wouldn't hide that...I keep looking at it. It's so light, I think I'm crazy.

Big Girl starts to aquire language...rapidly. Crazy rapidly. She settles in, starts to go to school in January, becomes part of our family rather quickly. She just...does. She acts very juevinile. She has NO logic. No "common sense". Was never ever taught anything but rote memorization. And she's damn good at that. She becomes a clinging shadow, and we work thru that. She gives love freely and openly. Her transistion to being our daughter only has one rough patch, when sister has her birthday and the jealousy is just too much for this little one to bear. It's what finally pushes her over the edge for a week, but she sulks, and keeps the acting out to minor harrassments and mayhem. All in all, we're overjoyed at how easy this has been. I had a rough time about 3 months home, being the go between for language, etc etc...everything is very time consuming...every bit of homework has to be handheld, everything explained in 2 languages, teaching her all those things like how to shower properly, wipe properly, brush her teeth properly (which none of these things were taught!) etc that we thought we wouldn't have to teach her. But, again, hey, we do it and move on.

Late May
Something happens. We don't know what. Big Girl ends up in convenient care with an all over body rash. We get antibiotics, ointments, follow up appts.
And they keep coming. And so does the condition. And the ichtyosis gets horrible. And everything gets horrible. And it doesn't get better. We start going to the Drs almost daily. No one knows what is going on. We start doing 3-5 Dr appts a week. We start to climb up the Doctor chain. Life becomes Dr appts. We do light treatments and more potions.

We finally, late July, get to a wonderful Dr at Children's Memorial. She takes one look at my daughter and says "wow, your daughter is quite an interesting case." You never ever want to hear that about your kid.

We got thru cycles. We get it under control, and then it flares again. We go around and around. I have a BOX of creams and lotions. Some help, most don't, some set us 10 steps back. The kid takes nightly bleach baths. She is a puzzle of cream application. Any trauma to her skin can set off a chain reaction. The daily maintenance of her skin becomes a huge task.

The wonderful Dr comes back with a name...Conradi-Hunermann. Look it up. There's not a lot of info. We're on the cutting edge of rare disorders. And she's atypical Conradi for some reason. That we still don't know - the how and the why. The interesting thing about Conradi? The ichtyosis comes in patterns...when she's flared, her chest looks like the patterns of a butterfly wing. Think about that - a rash type condition that is symmetrical across the two halves of a body. That line I saw? The kid's midline stays clear no matter what.

Limb differences, alopecia of the scalp, ichtyosis...main indicators of Conradi...

And what did we find yesterday? She has the most common of other indicators of Conradi...cataracts, in both eyes. And strasbismus. And Ambloypa (I know I don't have that spelled right)...and we don't know if we can correct those at this advanced age either...the cataracts will grow at some rate, and she will need those removed.


The Moral Of The Story
There is no way that the SWI didn't know about this. She says she never had it like this in China, but she talks of her foster mother scrubbing the ichtyosis off her skin. Chances are she presented quite obviously in her first years of life. Chances are almost absolutely that China did know some of this...that it was purposefully left out of her file.

And when I started asking those questions of my contact in China, she disappeared. She won't answer emails. That speaks volumes to me...

We're lucky. we have damn good insurance. I don't work that much outside the home. This is hard. I worry constantly. I fear the next Drs appt. Thankfully this kid is as easy going as they come...she takes this with style and grace and does what we need willingly. She whines about another Dr, but from what we could have, who knows. I know she'll tire of her eye patching...but, for an almost-10 year old, I'm thankful she works with me so well on this. My Peanut is insanely jealous. She hates when Mamam leaves with Big Sister for another appt, she misses the extra time we had with each of them.

I would not change this for a kid that came as she presented in her file. I accept all these challenges willingly vs the potential behavior issues I've seen with many older adoptees. Especially with a little one in the house, omg, she's been wonderful with her. I'm grieving right now. I am mad at myself...what did I miss? What Dr should I have consulted? Why didn't someone catch this? Why couldn't we stop this bus of trauma from hitting her these last 3 months? Why did China hide this? I'm trying to focus on the good, that this doesn't preclude a "normal" life for her...but right now, I'm just tired. Tired from having to fight stupid Drs, cut lots of the "fun" out of life, tired of wondering *why, why, why*??

And the worst part is that I'm scared of wondering "What's next?"

This, my dear friends, is what can happen, and does happen. More than anyone wants to let you know. If you are ok with this, this worst case, or worse, then adopt SN. I would still, again, do it, one more time. But everyone should realize that it can turn out like this, even when the Doctors give you the big grin, the big thumbs up and say "no worries" over and over and over again. If we didn't have the resources: the really good insurance, the HSA account, the red headed stubborness, or the schedules that we can adapt to this schedule, our family would be in crisis right now. Absolutely. And that we are not... I am trying to be thankful for that every moment right now.

When I Get Mad at Well-Intentioned People...

When we first got mired down in the lengthening crushing wait that China NSN became...back when we were waiting for Peanut...at one time we asked our crappy agency about SN adoptions. Mind you, back in 2006, these were so very much not the norm in China adoptions. After being treated like line-jumpers, we were advised "If you want to do this, just get a cleft lip and palate baby...one easy surgery, maybe two, and you are done."

How wrong these mis-guided people were...9 out of 10 times...

As the line grew longer, and moved slower, more and more people began advocating for SN kids as the SN program grew rapidly hand over fist in size vs. the NSN program. I'm all for that SN program growing, though I'm not all for it in the manner that it occurred, at the expense of the NSN program. Every kid deserves a home of course.

What I'm not ok with is with many degrees of the advocacy. I've seen some great advocators out there...don't get me wrong. I've seen people who have kids who have x y and z condition, and they go out there, post links, tell their stories, tell the good and the bad, the realistic, and the truth. And I commend them for using the internet and their time to do so. It helps people so much. I try to be this kind of person, someome who people can email and say "Hey, I read about Big Girl...can you tell me about this?!"

What I'm not ok with is the "It's Just" mentality. That's usually coupled with the "(s)he is so cute! Look at that dimple, SOMEONE has got to scoop him up" mentality.

Here's the thing...kids themselves aren't NSN. Sorry. They aren't. All kids, or 9,999,999 out of 10,000,000 of them will always be their own kind of mother-traumatizing ball of energy somehow...broken bones, or speech delays, curved spines, bad vision, rare genetic disorders etc etc etc

But I see these people say "It's JUST Cleft Palate." "It's JUST a missing hand." "It's JUST Hep B."

Here's the thing...you can't promise that. You just can't. Cause guess what...a lot of times there's moderate (or bigger) issues that are never placed in these kids' files. Period. And even the declared SNs...you can NEVER say "It's Just..." until that child is here and diagnosed and dissected and reviewed. And even then, another Dr will come and say "nope that one is wrong"...and sometimes that diagnosis is better, sometimes it is worse. There's misdiagnosed conditions. There's that dreaded "s" word: Syndrome. There's non-disclosed information. It's the dirty little secret of the adoption community...it'll all be ok with just love, we the people promise...

NO ONE should go out there and say "it's just". Gawd yes, you will love your child nonetheless, but one has to go fully into this saying "I'm ok if it isn't just..." and not just paying lip service to that discussion. Too much of this advocating is falling into the "Cute Puppy" arena these days, and it makes me nervous. Very nervous.

Should these kids be available for adoption? Hell Yes. Should people educated in the SNs that this child is supposedly presenting be free to advocate for these children? Damn straight, and I welcome it with open arms... Should people who see a cute pic on a website run around the internet squealing: "We can't afford one more, but if we could, this one would be it! Someone adopt him/her cause she's wearing the cutest little dress!" Ummmmm...no. And on the flip side, people shouldn't be taking "IHeartChina7932" and "somebody28"'s word that this is "just no big deal."

Prepare for the worst, hope for the best, and store up buckets of education and love to share when you decide to walk down that path...

I Screwed Up...

A few days ago, my mom came over and watched the girls while we got some work done around the house. She brought pork chops with her, and asked if husband would bbq them for dinner for all of us. Sure. All is good.

Big Girl likes fat. It's a delicacy in China. When we had country ribs, she picked the fat off my plate and smacked her lips as she ate it. Gives me the heebies, but, hey, that's ok. Now, I do want to temper it, cause it's not the healthiest habit, and she's eating a LOT more meat than she ever had in China. Anyways, she tried to scam everyone's fat from the edge of the chops...my mom instantly, in her tactful, kind hearted way kinda squealed "Ewwww...you don't eat THAT...at least here you don't."

I should have let Big Girl have my fat. Just mine. But I didn't. I was tired from working all day, and I hopped on the bandwagon. "No, Babe, not tonight, it's not good for you." "But it's yummmm." "It's not good for your heart." She was disappointed.

I'm mad at myself. I want to teach the girls moderation - something I wasn't taught as a kid. My mom was the kind that would not allow herself any chocolate for a month, then take down a whole bag of M&Ms in a day and a half because she had deprived herself. Like, it's ok to have a piece of chocolate. Not ok to take down a bag of them. It's ok to have a glass of wine or two...not ok to routinely take down a case of beer by yourself. etc etc etc

And I'm mad at myself for a bigger reason too...this is how she was raised. This is what her tastes and inclinations have been formed as...and who am I to say "no...ick."???

And this goes to a bigger issue I'm seeing more and more as older kids are being adopted more and more...this belief that we should make them conform to our desires, mores, and wants. I've seen things on blogs that turn my stomach...a man who shattered an amulet from a beloved caretaker in China (no, throwing it out wasn't good enough even) because it wasn't part of his religion...people talking smack about the horrible country these kids come from, people changing habits that don't need to be changed asap, to suit the family's life asap.

Here's the thing about adopting older: I see too often posts on boards that go like this:
My husband and I believe in (insert here - religion, non religion, vegetarianism, the world is flat, that vampires exist...whatever) and we want to adopt an older kid, but husband is worried that the kid won't take to our weekly honoring of the Eggplant God in our Family Room.

See, this is reversed messed up thinking...

WE, as prospective parents, have to be preparing ourselves now for how we'll cope with the kid not wanting to give up their fat, or not go to church or being a die-hard Communist. We have to prepare to change...not figure out how to change their minds!
If you are religious, realize your kid may not believe what you believe. In fact, these kids may have been raised in another religion and be devout. I should have taught Big Girl about moderation with the fat, instead of forbidding it. Or if your kid loves to shower at night instead of the morning, then, what's the harm? Or what if your kid has no interest in a college education, but wants to be an electrician...even though 4 generations of your family has become doctors. Or...what if you are a devout pacifist, and your new child aspires to join the military? It may not be how you would do it. But that's not the point...

Ask YOURSELF instead: How will I feel if she insists on eating meat that's been slaughtered against my wishes. How will I feel if she doesn't take on my religious beliefs. What is she takes on a different religions beliefs? How will I feel if she thinks Communism is The Bomb? How will I accomodate HER? How will I not strip her of all the things that she feels makes up who she is?

You may not want the little palm sized Buddha, or the amulet from the caretaker...but your kid might. It might mean something non-religious to them...just a small piece of the life they are leaving for us. You may not want to eat fat...and they probably don't want a twinkie either, cause let's face it, if you weren't raised with them, they are gross. Would it have hurt for her to eat a few pieces of fat? No. Would a child bringing an amulet, a certain ratty toy from the SWI, or a little religious statue hurt your home? No. Can you explain why YOU believe in vegetarianism, atheism, Model T Car Sacrifices on the Full Moon? Of course...that's being a parent. (And of course, when issues of safety or laws etc come into play, that's a different situation that I'm not tackling here...)

Being an "adoptive" parent just means that you may not like the response you get when the child gives their opinion on your opinion re the topic at hand at that moment. And you have to be ok with that. A vegetarian may have to produce grilled chicken breasts for the kids, a Christian may have to allow a small statue of a non-Western religious figure because that brings comfort to the child, for religious or social memories and love. A staunch Right-Wing Conservative might have a kid that wants to become a supporter of socialism in the US. A picky eater may have a child that needs them to go get 4 different hot sauces and rather eat dofu, spicy noodles and eel than mac n cheese. Morning people may get a kid that just can't move more than snail speed in the morning for the first hour. A family of pacifists might get an aspiring army officer.

Cause these kids come as a package deal...they have likes, dislikes, hatred, and loves. They have histories, and cultural norms embedded in their brains.

If you want to adopt older, be willing to learn to live with a child that very well might not emulate your thought process on many subjects. Learn to embrace that new different thought process embedded in that little body and appreciate seeing a different viewpoint of the world around you...and anticipate learning to appreciate what they deem important, even if you don't.

Bad, Bad Language...

I've got a lawyer in my oldest daughter. I can see it now. She lawyers who has the best cup for juice and why, she lawyers why what Peanut said about her doll getting married is wrong, because OBVIOUSLY the doll can't marry the teddy, cause it married the giraffe the Tuesday before last, etc etc etc...she negotiates everything, analyzes everything...

We've had lots of "glimmer discussions" lately...things in China, histories, events, timelines etc etc etc. And that's cool. Sideswipes me out of nowhere, but I *think* I've been holding my own. Even though she discusses the symantics of every bit of the discussion...

Of course I have to figure out what she's talking about...she's like Peanut in that she doesn't set up her story/discussion first. And we do have a small language barrier still. And *gasp* she doesn't know her *proper* adoption language.

Bad, bad, bad adoptee!

She swiped me while I was making oatmeal about a week and a half ago: "My real parents no keep me. I no know them."

Gasp - I'm not the "real" mom. Gasp - I'm not "mom". So many of my original agencies Social Workers from Hell would be rolling over in their grave right now.

"My mom take me to the little ocean to swim this summer" (That threw me - I thought she was asking - she was talking about her foster mom.

But, I'm not a go with the norm kinda girl as it is, and the more I thought about it, I don't care. I did give her words - foster mom has been offered up as China mom (which, considering she has 2 China moms didn't rub well with me, just for clarity), and she's gravitated towards "foster mom." That's great with me - it's clear and concise. I gave her the words "birth mom", she sometimes uses it, sometimes no. Which is ok. If she thinks she's her "real" mom, so be it. Her choice. She doesn't have the vocabulary to use it otherwise yet, but if that's how she thinks about it, that's gonna have to be ok. She doesn't seem to long for them - I think more she is thinking about her abandonment, but we'll get there.

So I started thinking about my names...Mom, Mama, Maaaaaaammmmmmyyyy, and what the rest of the adoption world calls me: "AP...adoptive mom".

I don't like it. We rail against people calling our kids "our adopted kids." So why am I her "adopted mom"? Why do we so much identify ourselves as such?

No doubt, we are different critters, we face different hurdles with our kids than bio kids...most of the time. There are RAD kids and PTSD kids that are living with their birth parents. There are ones that have ODD or sensory issues or Autism. There are ones that couldn't be with their babies the first x months of their lives as they struggled in incubators, or the parents could not be there to parent for whatever reasons. There are "APs" that have perfectly well adjusted babies and kids who have no issues. I don't go out to the world and say "I'm a Limb Difference Mom". So why am I an AP?

What Big Girl calls me is between her and herself. But, to the rest of the world, I'm "mama" to my girls. Period. I refuse to quantify my mother-ness (as saint or as second best) to the rest of the world.

Could You Be My Parent?!

This boy...who turns 9 this month, who always has a smile on his face, who can be a little agitator, who also can be the most caring little boy, who has been an orphan his whole life, who has been on the list for almost 3 years...needs a home. Is it yours? He has been on THREE agencies special focus/camp lists...he was Nathan with MAA. He was Ryder with FTIA. Now he's a dehumanizing number with Hand in Hand. This child should be GAINING a family name...not being given random Western names to be called with a paragraph blurb next to an outdated photo.

This little boy NEEDS a home.

He's also my daughter's foster brother. He's been in a loving home for over 5 years. Nothing is guaranteed, but I can tell you, Big Girl has had one of the smoothest transitions (SO FAR! KNOCK ON WOOD!!!) that I have ever heard of in older child adoption. They were/are loved by the foster parents, the foster parents' older kids, and the extended foster family.

This little boy NEEDS a home.

I have more info on him. More pics, more video. I have more up to date stuff than that file that is 2 years out of date that CCAA has published of him. I have not met him, but I can speak of my impressions of the 20 minutes long video we have shot in the foster family's home. He has repaired cleft lip and palate. My daughter says he speaks clearly, but he will need dental work. She said he would learn quick when the foster mother told her to help him with his homework.

This little boy NEEDS a home.

Please, contact me...contact Hand in Hand...if he pulls at your heart, do something to give this boy a family.

Gimme, gimme, gimme...

Big Girl has had a rough week or two of it. You see, it's been Peanut's birthday, recently. Grandparents have flown in (not that they would have flown in to meet their new granddaughter or anything just cause of that big reason, but I digress), there's been singing, cakes, candles...and gifts. Oh yes, those lucious, tasty, tempting, wrapped-in-goodness presents.

Big Girl likes to tally. I got 4 shorts, sister got 5. I got 3 crackers, sister got 2. She wants to know the score. Always. And we've had lots of tears, lectures, hissy fits (on both sides) etc over it. And I refuse to play a dead man's game...cause I won't win.

She finally did something vindictive towards Peanut. I knew it would come someday, but I didn't expect it this way...Peanut got an extra balloon (gasp! the horror!) from a certain tolerable burger chain with a large red avian as it's mascot. Peanut even shared her ice cream sundae with Big Girl. But that fact wasn't remembered. A few days later, as the boredom of a spring break under grueling conditions of Peanut-illness and cold damp weather set in, the girls decided (well, Big Girl decided and roped the little on into it) to pop a balloon. They couldn't get those buggers to pop. I stayed out of it beyond telling them that once they are gone, they are gone. Finally I hear Big Girl grunt in disgust, so I tell her to bring her balloon to me and I'll get rid of it if she doesn't want it. (I was in the kitchen paying bills). She brings it to me, I take a scissors and pop...gone.

Then the screaming starts. From Peanut. "I MISS MY GREEEN BALLOON". I didn't even look...Big Girl had handed me Peanut's 2nd balloon. Not the red one. Red is Peanut's favorite. She knew better. But blue/green/mom's busy...yup, she screwed me. And I didn't think. I admit it. And I apologized profusely to Peanut...and also pointed out to her she was walking around with a shoe on to help pop said balloons.

I asked Big Girl why she gave me Peanut's balloon. The tears started. I asked her why again. "I dunno." I asked again. "She have 2 balloons."

Needless to say, I was mad. We went over again that they both get all the love we can give, but I WILL NOT tally stuff. Items will be replaced with values, with size, with something. I cannot win. So I will not play.

She also likes to "help" sister with all her new presents. If Peanut offers them of her own free will, that's great. But I am not allowing "helpful coercion" because poor Peanut has not been given ample time to play many times with anything...even so far as being called "always annoying" when she wanted to play with her sister with one of her new toys.

It's something she has to work thru. We know that. But this is where we are at now. We're climbing the learning curve...quickly, and with grappling hooks.

I Only Share Because You Don't Know Me...

Scene: I'm in the bathroom, just out of the shower, pj pants on, no shirt, drying my hair. I hear the clomping, giggling, squeals of overtired littles coming up the stairs...hoping that they head to get pjs on instead of breaking my blissful quiet time. No such luck...

Big Girl comes in, courtesy visit and leaves. Whew.

Peanut comes in...kindly says "I wanted to say 'Hi'". Ok, cool, I lean over, kiss her, and as I back up, this discussion unfolds. Mind you, I don't have huge boobs, 'kay?

Peanut: Why do you have big (scrunch up left eye)...what are those things called again?
Me: Breasts.
P: Ok, thanks...sigh...why do you have such big breasts, mommy?
M: Because I'm a girl.
P: I'm a girl.
M: Correction: I'm a BIG girl...when you grow up, you'll have breasts too.
Peanut affects the most serious face she's ever had on, between passing a kidney stone, doing taxes, and discussing current world policy re government aid to NGOs.
P: (Deadpan) Oh my goodness... Really?

At this point, I busted a gut laughing to the point that all creatures with a heartbeat ended up in the bathroom to see what was going on.

Just as I gain my composure, overheard in the hallway:
P: , you are a girl.
BG: Yeah (I hear the eyeroll in her voice), I girl. I know.
P: When you grow up you'll have breasts.
BG: All girls when big, I know. Everyone who girl get them.
P: No, mama is going to give them to you.

The Sorta-Hard Questions...

Big Girl has been tossing me curve balls left and right lately. I'm shocked. We've gone from basic discussions of "what's that" or "why" when we do normal life things, to these great philisophical discussions. Thank Gawd she's the mellow one, otherwise, we'd be all over the drama here, more than Peanut's normal background noise of Diva going on.

This is where missing 6 age years of parenting is catching up with me...and the fact that Peanut, though she knows/remembers everything told to her, could care less. We've never had baby-in-belly discussions, even though my SIL hatched this week, and Peanut has had tons of photos of the baby sent to her, and seen Auntie on skype AND preschool teacher is very pregnant now too. We've never had "where is my Mom" discussions. None of it. Not from our lack of trying, for lack of a better word...Peanut knows her story. She's exposed to the words, the books, the ideas. She will tell you that she is from China, that we adopted her, that she lived in Hunan, and she needed a mama and a dada. She'll tell you that we came when she was 10 months old and brought her home to be our baby. She knows her "story", and can do more than just recite it. Of course, she doesn't understand the true implications of what all these words mean, but she's got the gist of it. And she was in China with us getting Big Girl, so she's seen it. She's seen sobbing babies at the hotel mad because they are in shock, confused etc too...

But the one thing my Peanut is NOT drama on is her story. When a kid asks who I am, she says "my mom" and the kid will look perplexed and ask "are you sure, she doesn't look like you" and Peanut will say: I'm Chinese. I look Chinese. She's my mom. She's not Chinese.
Bam, she moves on. It is what it is to this kid and nothing more, nothing less.

Big Girl, my laid back girl, asks questions that are indicative of the depth of her intelligence, and of her awareness of her unique situation. The first one she asked, about two weeks ago was when she was getting out of the shower..."Mama, you no babies, why?" So we talked about my endo in terms she could understand, and that I don't care where my babies come from, I love her and Peanut because they are my kids no matter what. She was easily satisfied.

Then last week, she asked me "I am sorta like hummm, this, brown. You no brown, you are like white. Why?" To which I answered "Chinese are like you. I am like pale French and German people." To which she answered "Where you born in? Deguo?" So we talked about how there is what your family gives to you, that she will always be Chinese and I will always be French and German, but we are both Americans, I was born here, but I am these things that were given to me by my family...she is an immigrant, but nothing can take away the Chinese in her. We discussed the Vietnamese and African girls in her class too. And that everyone is how they should be, no better, no worse.

Can I say these are damn hard discussions to have partially in Mandarin, even though her English seems to be coming even faster than the crazy fast it was even a month ago?

We've had discussions on Martin Luther King...and helping people...and personal space...and why I chose P to marry...and on and on and on.

Today, she hit me with another one, I think - well, I know - because we celebrated Peanut's 3rd whatever-you-want-to-call-it-so-the-least-amount-of-people-will-get-offended day. She asked if I knew what she looked like as a baby. This one hit me hard. Because I have no idea. They didn't give us her HTS memory book. I'm trying to get it. The earliest pic I have of her, she is 3-4 years old. I was honest with her and said no...I do not. And I would try to get them. She shrugged and said it was ok. We finished drying her hair, then I showed her the Big Girl box I'm putting together...all her paperwork, copies of everything etc. She read every document from CCAA. She read her finding ad. She said thank you for showing her her things. And hugged me.

That's the first time she's shown any interest in her past. And the kid who will play with the toddlers happily...the one who acts no where like a 9 year old...she acted like a 35 year old, processing the data, the information, the lack of information, like few adults can. Better than I could. And she gave me an extra hug and kiss tonight, and told me "I like you a lot mama...very much a lot."

I must be doing something right...

The Anxiety Conundrum...

I'm going to go off topic for a bit today...

Here's where we stand in our family:
Husband is coming up on 40 (not quite yet)...he originally told me when we talked #2 that 40 was his cutoff. Done. Over. Don't raise the "a" word again after that. I'm 18 months behind him but age is just a stupid number to me.

We have Peanut who is 3.5 and Big Girl who is 9. Peanut is high maintenance...I don't deny it. So far Big Girl has been here 7 weeks, and seems to be a pretty laid back kid. Both are wickedly smart. Big girl does have some SWI behaviors and such (ignore the fact that mom is upset there is chili on her linen drape and maybe it'll go away) but has gone better than we have ever hoped so far. Peanut is to smart for her own good - let's just leave it at that for the behavior department.

We don't ever want to do a child under 3 again. No way no how. Babies hold no charm for us.

I think I want one more child. Husband, not so much. I think I want a boy...I'd take either if husband was happy with that pursuit.

We know Big Girl needs at least 9 months, at least a year home probably as the new kid.

Big Girl told me she wants a big brother...not gonna happen. Big Girl is Big Girl - she will stay the oldest. I think Peanut would do best being the youngest. And there's a nice age gap where you can settle a kidlet in the middle.

We're still waiting for Taiwan. Why...I dunno. Because, well, how the hell do you stop? You've invested time/money/heart into it to have them up and stop on you...find out this program was borderline on ethics...live another 14 months with next to no info...but... what if? And...I'm damn pigheaded - I don't give up. I dig my heels in. I was raised to see things to an end, whatever that end may be. I'm redheaded, stubborn and I don't do well with ambiguity.

What if...what if...what if...

Everything is expired - immigration, Home Studies etc...so we have to admit that we're basically almost totally back at a square one anyways.

Do we now also submit a birth parent letter for another program that would allow us access to other older kid's files? Let the treadmill keep going until a file comes across our hands and we have to choose - yes or no? Make circumstances back us into a wall to make the final decision?

Or do we stop. Do we get off the gerbil wheel of this pretty much/probably doomed program? Do we just say enough-is-enough? Start over with China when and if both of us are back on board completely? See....to me, husband won't say that...ever. And I won't "convince" him it's time cause I don't believe in that...but could he see a file offered and change his mind? Yeah, I could see him doing that.

But there's an emotional toll that adopting plays on you. We've been on this wheel for basically 6 years now. We started Peanut's adoption in early 2005. She came home 3 years later. (eeep!). We only waited about 4 months to start Taiwan because we know how much it sucks to adopt internationally these days. Then we changed course and pursued Big Girl in 12/09. That's a long time to be treading time. And chances are the Taiwan program will be/is a bust. Maybe an older kid would come along, probably not...and I would LOVE to not have to rot another week in Guangzhou ever again...and the trip is a week...lots of things that if we did beat those lotto-like odds that would be nice...

But do we just say "we give up". Do we put it behind us to give us peace? Will it give us peace? Or will it be a fearful panic attack as you drop the letter in the box but then feel an explosion of serenity? Or would we be clawing at the mailbox to get the letter back? To send that letter...to stop the wheel spinning...doesn't that admit that you are willing to turn your back on "just maybe"?

The importance of 13 Stuffed Animals...

Big Girl is starting to get indignant. In moments...here and there, randomly, with no rhyme or reason. The other day she came into Peanut's room as I helped Peanut make her bed. Big Girl wandered around the room and in the end tallied up Peanut's stuffies. Good counting I thought. Then she went to her room. She tallied her stuffies. Good English there too, I thought and told her so. Then more English came out "Why 13 friends?" Huh? I dunno...most were gifts. "I no 13 friends."

Ahhhhhh....

Well, you have 6 friends. And they are nice friends. And a beautiful Big Girl doll that you got for Christmas...

A few days later..."why you blankies?"...because when she was a baby those are what we used in her crib." "Why now?!" Because she feels good holding a certain kind of them." "I get blankies..." Ok, I'll get one for your room, are you cold? Or do you want one for watching TV? "Room". OK...will do - purple, white or green?

No. No one blankie. 10 blankies.

No - you don't need 10 blankies. Let's get one, and if you use it, I'll get you another.

20 blankies.

OK, now I'm a bit miffed.

I get it, I get she wants what she feels she didn't have. Totally. And she will get those things...she does get those things - if she needs them or can use them.

But we also have to deal with the fact that we're getting a little...errrr...grubby. You see, even Peanut never had 20 blankets. Now, whatever she perceives she should have too, she ups it by a factor of 2. Peanut has 4? I have 2? I need 8... THAT my friends, is unacceptable. We do not buy to buy. That is a bad lesson if you've been here 10 years, or 10 days.

And how I've quickly decided this house will run is that "fair" does NOT equal "equal." Yes, Peanut has a ton of stuffed animals. Got it. She's 3.5. That's her thing. YOU got a $100 Karito Kid doll. Yes, Peanut has more jeans than you...she is 3.5 and spills more. You have more sweaters because you go to go school and play outside. "Fair" is that we take care of both girls, give them both what they needs physically, emotionally, and support-wise. "Fair" isn't two equal piles of crap stacked up and tallied in a spreadsheet.

It's a hard lesson to learn for everyone. And we're walking the fine line of giving a little more at times for that emotional need Big Girl has, even when things aren't needed. And not crossing it into, for lack of a better word, decadence. She wanted a pink room last week, like sister's. Ummm....no. Sister has pink, you have purple. Mama bought you beautiful sheets and comforters. I will NOT cast them aside so you can match sister. You want a girly girly pillow for your bed, I'm all over that.

And I've been a bit cautious compared to what I think I would normally do -the trip to Gymboree ended up, almost accidentally, one for one girl for girl...yet Big Girl got miffed that Peanut had a few more pair of underwear. Welllll...when your undies fit great and Peanuts are getting a bit tight, she gets more. That's what she needs. We got you one pair because we knew you'd like the strawberries on them, though you didn't need them. That sister got 3 pair, well, that's what happened.

Tough lesson, and one some would argue I shouldn't teach yet...but it's gonna be harder to learn if we don't do it now. And Peanut is learning the same thing...you can't get what the Big Sister has many times...you can't have scissors like Big Girl cause you aren't old enough.

I refuse to count out my kisses, time, or the hugs, or the crackers. I see a momentary glint of something in your eyes, you get a hug and a kiss and a stroke on the cheek. I will not tally and count these things either. I will dole them out with abandon, the one that needs, takes, until they don't need anymore.

The old adage...life isn't fair. And especially Big Girl is aware of it. It's a hard lesson for littles, but it is their lives - their pasts have stamped that lesson in their schoolbook of life early. I can't...I won't...make up for it in some ways. In other ways...in the important ways...we will not only make up for it, we have vowed to compensate to the nth degree. And that's what is more important than anything.

The realities of saying no...

I rarely make sense to myself. I'm the first one to admit that, so remember this as I roll the garbage out of my head onto the computer screen...

I Do Not believe it fate...I do not believe in The Child that was Meant To Be Yours. I think that's a lot of crap that gives some people solace that they are waiting in a ridiculous line for what, sadly, may be a pipe dream due to China's opaque policies and planning. I truly believe that you love the child you are given. Could you take Peanut from me now? Only if you pry her out of my dead and decomposed hands, of course. Would have have elected to take three years of my life hoping and praying for her, not knowing her? No. I would have loved the child that was handed to us a year earlier in the wait, or a year later. And I truly believe that. The "they do this" or "they laugh at Chevy Chase just like us" is a product of being raised in our households. And.. that we learn to love whatever is possible to love in our children because of them being our children.

With that being said, I also truly believe in people truly planning out adoption and really admitting to what they can handle. I believe in people having the funds for it (and yes, we held off an adoption and got closed out of a program when my husband lost his job...so I do walk the walk.) and I believe that people should research all the aspects of SN (and all adoptions) before they leap for a cute picture with a warm smile. I personally believe that is responsible. And honestly, I don't want to debate it, cause, well, everyone has their viewpoint, and it's not one that's going to change. I have friends who have acted contrary to the principals that I hold for myself, and I've supported them all the way, cause as you know, that's how I roll - it's my life...and it's your life.

So one month to the day after we met Big Girl, we got an email, from our Taiwan agency. The one that a year later still supposedly will have a viable program soon. We have fought tooth and nail to have them redefine the child we are looking for, and their awesome Inter-Country director did do this. I never thought we'd hear from them though. Not in a million years. The title of the email was "our last name: 5 year old girl file for your review."

After I picked my teeth up off the floor after they fell out when the jaw bone cracked on the tile...I just stared at it for a minute. Really?! And the heart racing. The sweaty palms...the whole bit. And I clicked, opened and read it.

I read it to husband. He just rolled his eyes at me and said "Do you really want another one?!"

Yeah...I think I do. There went another tooth on the tile...

But she was not it. She was listed as having developmental delays due to severe neglect at a young age. We cannot take on those kinds of issues. Just as we couldn't take on the issues of the other 3 files we looked at before Big Girl...no matter how desperate that we felt to find our daughter a year ago. Sooo...within 20 minutes I had sent an email that said "no, I'm sorry, we cannot do that" and then again outlined the SNs we do feel comfortable with. Seems easy and done with, right?!

It jerked something inside of me...the possibilities. The future. The analyzing. The processing...cause no matter how much you see advocacy threads etc, to get a file offered to your family...all you have to do is say "yes" is a much different feeling. And, my thought is you love the child you get, right?

But it's not a matter of love. It's a matter of ability. And we weren't able, no matter how good Big Girl's adjustment is going, to take this on. And regardless of Big Girl...husband and I cannot take it on. We are not emotionally in the place to start this all over again. Cause there's sometimes living, and sometimes survival. I don't want us to just be surviving.

The simple fact is that adoptive parents don't play by the rules of bio parents. We can choose to embrace or reject a child who needs a home. And for us...for her...this was the thing to do. We can't be the best parents to her. We can't be to anyone right now until we get Big Girl settled in - and Peanut adjusted. And that has to come first. Would I have grown to love that little girl in the email? No doubt. But I had the luxury of making that choice...of not risking having to put my family in crisis. Adoption isn't birth and vice versa. And the quicker we all admit to the inequities and stop trying to make these processes as much the same as possible, the better.

I'm wistful for what might have been. Hopeful for what might be the future. And assured in my moments of clarity that I used the right organ in my body to decide what was best for everyone...for right now.

Living with a Stranger You Love...

There's a reality of older child adoption that nothing can prepare you for: no matter how good placement and adjustment go, no matter how much you fiercely-to-the-death would protect this human, no matter how much you have dreamed about the laughter of two little girls under the Christmas tree...you end up living with a complete stranger in your home. It sounds harsh to call a child that, but they are. A living breathing being who you have no idea how to anticipate anything out of...

Our daughter has done amazingly well. We still worry (cause that's what I do best, right?!) that it's too good. But I guess we'll cross that bridge when we get there, if we get there. We thankfully (isn't that sick) got our first tears the day of Christmas, the day after I got my first kisses...good to see her not being so glib with everything for a change.

But, and I think I feel this magnified with H running around right on A's heels and my unending awareness that A was 6 when H was born...and a little over 6.5 when H was adopted...the awareness that you HAVE to treat the children the same, but they are worlds apart - not only in personality but also in familiarity. The whole "fake it till you make it" thing is totally different when the being that is looking back at you can read you - your face, your body posture, your reactions. You have to be as free loving and strict and silly and serious with the new child as you are with the one who you know down to the cellular level. Which for an over-contemplating, introspective human like me is something that does not come as second nature.

I admit it: It feels really really surreal to kiss a child you don't know and have them stare blankly back at you. You feel presumptious, yet you feel the bud of love in your heart. And you know that no matter the knowledge that it will open and bloom soon, there is no way you can say you really really love the child. You realize how much you don't know that child...at. all.

It's much more akin to learning to live with a spouse...the first morning home, downstairs having a cup of tea - you hear a light bump upstairs...you instantly jump, thinking your child fell out of bed. But it's in a part of the ceiling where she isn't sleeping, because it's not the child that you are used to listening for...this one...will she be up at 4a, or 9a, or will you have to force her to get up? These little things are NOTHING that are of consequence in the scheme of becoming a family in and of themselves, but they add up to a huge lack of knowledge that is EVERYTHING that is standing between the newness changing to the absolute certainty in the feeling of being a family.

Learning the way to get them to calm down and focus, how they like their eggs cooked, that they are more up for practicing English reading in the early morning hours...how to make them feel comfortable at the 18th Drs office visit...that hot chocolate is good, but chocolate cake is too sweet...and carrots are even better...learning that they have great language skills but were never taught critical problem solving...learning that they will pop their own baby teeth out without a blink, but tell them that you don't like people in your face 3 inches away 24/7 and the hurt will flash in a second across their face...learning that they like robots and dolls and pink and RC cars and sparkly clothes...but not anything in their hair other than a band...doing an odd dance of courtship of a being that comes up to your armpit.

Seeing them open up and tell a story about how they used to pick mushrooms in China. Seeing that they desperately want the snuggles and hugs they have never had and act like they don't need and then the next day coming and climbing in your lap after some milestone was reached in their hearts. Seeing them peek in your room and then sneak quietly downstairs cause they know you didn't feel good the night before. Seeing the pride of receiving parental approval when they master a set of English words. Hearing her admit that she would like the picture of her foster mother you offered - letting that shield down to her heart. Laughing at when she takes a Happy Meal box and sticks it on her head to make you smile after a bad conference call with work.

All those things...and a thousand million others...THAT is what makes this stranger slowly and steadily into the child of your dreams. And when the child is 9, you can count those things so much more clearly one by one as they tick by - when you can see them open up and blossom by being able to share the people they were before, when they want you to be part of their whole lives - those lives that were before - their preferences, their memories, their story. Cause this time around, it's much much more about them accepting you into the story that is their life.

A few weeks...

A few weeks, and I'll be called "mama" by 2 little girls. Hopefully. Unless Big Girl is actually really pissed off that we keep our promise and show up. Who knows? I can only hope and see what is to come. It'll be a whole new world that I thought was years off, that's all I know for sure. And one I actually feel at peace with. Somehow I know in my bones this is right. Even as I fume over the further bad crap coming out of our on-hold Taiwan program, I know that adopting Big Girl instead of a child younger than Peanut is the right move. I know if we adopt another, it will be a child 3 or over. How I know this, I dunno, but I do.

It's been sooo long, this process. And yet, I'm panicked now that it is so close. So much to do. No time to mentally prepare (hah...yeah...right) and yet a need to try to prepare, control, organize, file...in ways that cannot happen within the laws of physics of this world. Doesn't help with the crazy house still torn up (at a "mostly" cosmetic level at this point in the renovation.) with my freaking.

I'm scared to death to bring Peanut with. I'm more terrified to leave her here, so she comes. I do hope she gets something out of going back to China at this age. The kid remembers every.damn.thing...eveh. So I hope so. I hope she absorbs enough to feel her country of origin...to feel a bit of the adoption and to see her story thru the unfolding of her sister's story.

Oddly, I'm not so worried (well, not out of the ordinary levels for a neurotic redhead) about the trip...I'm worried about being a mother to her day to day. I still many days fret about my skill set with Peanut (see neurotic thing above), and...well...school, social dynamics of almost-tweens, sibling stuff, discussions about things that are more scary to discuss then trying to explain to a 3.5 year old, though deep and complex, as to why she cannot put nail polish on the cat or why KaiLans friend is so mean...I worry that I'll be a disappointment to her after she's waited 9 years for a mama and a baba.

Getting my swimming cap on, pulling up the swimsuit...getting ready to dive in. Hope the water is warm...

I've been humbled...

Two nights ago, I turned on my computer, sat with butterflies in my stomach, and waited to see the little icon turn green next to someone's name in my contacts list...when it did, my stomach lept right past my throat and into the ceiling above me. The I heard a little girl's voice impatiently pestering someone half-way around the world: "I want to see my mama, I want to see my baba, let me see them now."

The bravado quickly disappeared once she saw us. She was shy looking at us in the computer. We were getting short answers...which lengthened as the timer on the bottom of the screen clicked up with time. We got more eye contact, we got a few smiles, we saw her personality emerge in small glimpses - more towards her caretaker, but she was showing her true personality in fits and starts. Finally, giggles when baba swore up and down that yes, he likes the Chinese peppers too in food.

I was overwhelmed with the realization of the true depth of the language gap...she either didn't bother to listen to my feeble attempts at Mandarin, or found my tones so atrocious that she couldn't understand me. Truly in fear of the difference in societal norms for kids her age. She seemed so much younger than her age, she's smart, no doubt, but she's subservient in her thoughts, she did not feel at all comfortable in speaking her mind to us. She wanted to say whatever to please us, not realizing in this country that learning to be strong and sure of herself is a goal of parents.

I worry, she looked thinner, very very tired. She'd been in the SWI a month. And it looks like it is taking it's toll on her. I worry a lot.

And then I went to bed and laid there thinking about that hour...our first hour of life "together". And I thought about how she must have perceived the whole event...seeing the people who will come whisk her away, instantly to bigger, plusher hotels than she can imagine, onto planes she's only seen overhead, into a family that is completely foreign in more ways than one can imagine. The first time she heard us speak, in the language she will assimilate into, in the home she will inhabit, with all the mores and beliefs and history of "us" in this construct of a family she will join.

And there she had sat, worked up her guts and reached out to a new life waiting for her in clouded obscurity a world away. And she did all this sitting in a new place, a place that is foreign to her in the world she is used to...a place where she has recently had to work 24/7 to learn how to survive. Gone from what she has known for 4+ years...her family. She carried herself like a queen I believe, seeming small and fragile on the outside until you realized the strength carrying her thru to the point she's gotten to, and knowing that strength will continue to carry her thru farther than most of us could ever drive ourselves.

Enough with the fundraising already!

See, I'm liberal leaning. Not flaming pants liberal, but not a neo-con. I believe in helping someone when they are down...for awhile. Then I expect them to pick themselves up again. And I believe in frying people who do really bad things to society. Just so you know where I'm coming from.

But, honestly, why in hell do people think it's other people's jobs to pay for their adoptions??? Does anyone go to their friends and say "hey, husband and I had awesome sex a few months ago, and I've got a bun in the oven, so can everyone else chip in and buy me a crib, some clothes, pay my hospital co-pay, and buy me some maternity clothes?!?! I've got a 'chip-in' on my blog." Do they put one of those creepy 3-D ultrasound pictures on a poster board and post it in front of a garage sale and toss a cute "jimmy's here" shirt on mom with an arrow pointing to her belly to entice people to buy their old stuff, for the sake of little Jimmy??


Do people ask churches to pony up so their husbands can squirt in a cup and the Dr can mix it in a petri dish?


Then, why the hell do people expect other people to pay for their children thru adoption??? Whose job is it raise these kids? Us, the parents. Is it my job to feed my kid? Yes. To clothe her? Yes. To put her thru college? Yes. Then why is it not my job to bring her home?


And there's these people out there who cry "we've done 2 adoptions in 2 years" or "well, this will be our 7th". Kudos to you, cause Lord knows I can't parent 7 kids. But it ISN'T MY JOB! You want 7 kids? Make enough money for 7 kids. You want to bring hom 2 in 14 months? Save your pennies, cut your cable and cell phone, dear gawd, even take out a loan (shudder)...but PAY FOR IT YOURSELF!!!


A. your child isn't a charity case. Don't set your kid up to be told by Martha at church (nicely, hopefully), or Brittany the 7 year old down the street (unkindly as a jab), that they assisted your kid's parents in buying them.


B. We're adults. Don't bite off more than you can chew. If you can't afford 7 kids, stop at 6. If you can't afford 2, stop at 1. I'd love a 650,000USD house that I saw up the street, but I can't afford it, so guess what? I didn't buy it. I want to travel to Australia. But I don't have the money. If it's cause you did two adoptions fast, well, maybe then you have to wait a few years till you adopt a third.Cause guess what? That’s what life is all about. Just cause it’s a kid, doesn’t mean that the laws of economics don’t apply. We all roll our eyes at people who have too many kids by birth and really just say “shut your legs already”…so what’s the difference? Cause, you know what, they get more expensive when they get here...

I also don't buy the argument "we can feed them and love them but we can't afford all the crazy adoption fees". Well, I can afford to maintain that 650k house, but I don't have 650k in my wallet, so guess what? I don't have it. That's part of the expense of a child thru adoption.

I went thru infertility. I wanted to have children so bad it hurt. But I don't have a right to a child. I do have a duty though to my child here and all children I would like to have to be fiscally responsible for the sake of the family. I have a responsiblity to keep my child's story private too. I have a responsibility to take on the responsibility of that child, no matter what comes with it. That's my role as a parent.

The Real Meaning of "Waiting Child"

Now my daughter is a waiting child. A true waiting child. She is only now truly waiting for us. A was moved to the SWI in charge of her file a few weeks ago, unbeknowst to us. Of course we didn't know...we're not allowed to know next to anything officially. She was moved on the day we were DTC, ironically enough.

My daughter was taken out of a loving stable foster home she has been in for over 5 years to live in an institution. From the accounts I've gotten, it's a good one. But she's gone from the only family she's ever known. And I didn't know. And we caused it, technically. That's a hard pill to swallow...the first real effect we've had on her life is to cause that move, and to not be aware of it.

We had hoped, with how our state had fucked around with our paperwork, that they would not move her so soon. We had hoped that we would know. We had had a guess it would happen this summer, but...well, there were a lot of hopes.

And we understand why they did it. In principal at least. They don't want her to equate us with being taken away. But...she's older than most. She is aware. She's not a 2, 3 year old who viscerally reacts and doesn't understand the connections (s)he is making. No. This is an 8.5 year old girl. A girl who was loved...oh dear gawd was she loved. A girl who was actually being prepared for the adoption by her foster mother. Scratch that - a girl who was being prepared by her mother to be adopted. That to me was the best scenario possible - a loving stable home telling her this is good and they want her to be ready...it's not always that way, but in this case, it was. But rules don't see exceptions. No matter when they did it, she knows why she was moved. And now...right now...she is sleeping in a strange bed, in a group facility, with unknown kids and unknown social mores and unknown schedules and unknown fate. That's a lot for a child of 8.5 to be going thru...for the promise from some strangers 1/2 a world away that they are going to come for her, and that it's all going to be worth it.

My daughter is 8.5. Older than most would consider adopting, and that's fine. But she's not the 13 year old that is about to age out so that China moves mountains to hand carry their paperwork thru...so how long will she languish there? We don't have LID yet. We should have it. But we don't. So how long? We made a promise to be there by the end of the year...that's 6 months. Will China and the US allow us to keep that promise? Will she really have to be there 6 months? I can't hope for the special paperwork pushing cause she's not a special case to anyone but us. And nothing paperwork wise has gone well this adoption...thank you Illinois.

What does she have with her? Was she allowed to take her cherished belongings from home? Was she allowed to take her stuffed animal we saw in the video? Was she allowed pictures of her family? Was she allowed the scrapbook of her new life and the gifts we sent her? If anything, I hope she was allowed to fill the backpack we sent her with things from her life - we have a future together, I hope she was allowed to keep her past.

And I think about her foster sibs. I really think about her foster brother. Less than a year apart, tight as can be from what we know. He's up for adoption too. No one wants an 8 year old boy it seems. I've tried to advocate for him. I'll keep advocating for him...here and everywhere.

And her foster mother. I know she loves A. I saw it when she looked straight at me thru the lens of a video camera a few months ago and spoke to my husband and I. I saw her bury it quickly under Chinese dignity, but I saw it before she could stop it from bubbling to the surface...the pain in her eyes and the rock in her throat choking her at the thought of it.

This is what it means to be a "waiting child". She is waiting for a new life to start, paddling to keep going and learn a new temporary life. "Waiting child" is a monicker normally given to all the SN kids that are waiting...it gives a warm fuzzy name to a list of kids that many Chinese feel are unadoptable. It gives many APs the belief that these kids, older to a degree, will be happy to come here, that they truly are "waiting" for us, when in reality they are not.

Yes, this is short term. Yes, in the long term, this is good for A too...for 1001 reasons why she shouldn't stay in China. And yes, we have been given more info than we thought possible at the beginning of this, and for that I am thankful every moment of every day. But for right now, until my chalkboard score is more positives than negatives, it feels like crap to be in the negative with how I've affected her life.

My Sock Drawer Turned On Me...

There's just some moments in life, odd ones where my brain plays tricks on me, where I'm reminded in odd little ways about how my life has changed...what age has brought to my life.

I've had a lot of sock deaths lately. Been thru a few maddening weeks where every time I put a sock pair on, I have a hole on the balls of me feet of at least one of the pair. Most fought a valiant death, some just gave up the ghost like sissys. Either way, I found myself not filling my sock drawer to the brim about 6 weeks ago - it was pathetically empty on its best day. So I did one of those evil nasty shopping trips. You know the kind...where you spend like double the money you intend to, and quadruple the amount you want to, and you still probably should have bought more. Yeah...I stocked up on socks and basic tshirts and the like. My drawer was mostly full...tolerable at least so that I'm still driven to do laundry by the demands of a certain toddler to wash the cupcake underwear vs needing a pair of black socks that look decent for going to Mandarin Class.

This week I was in laundry hell. Dunno why, but every day I had to do laundry. And ironing. And more laundry. Last night, I came up the stairs and groaned -the cat had found the clean laundry bucket I had forgot about. So everything was packed down with cat weight. Yeah, great. So grumbling under my breath, I tossed all the rumpled clothes into the appropriate drawers.

Tossed about 3 pairs of my socks in the drawer. Kicked it shut with my foot in a gray sock, and paused. Then I opened the drawer again and peered inside. Eyeballed it from about 3 angles. There they all were, all my little toe warmers in various weights and textures and colors. Well, then it hit me. Blah. Boring. Uninspiring.

What had happened to my lime green with gray polka dot socks? Where were the black and gray polka dots cashmere socks? Where were the lime, gray and purple stripes? And the turquiose and gray? And the purple ones? The ones with the little paint splattery looking blobs? Oh, and the ones with the vine going up the side? All gone. In the landfill.

And in their place? An assortment of gray, brown, black, light gray, ivory, and beige....adult socks. Boring. Grown up. Responsible socks. Socks that worry about the fees paid into their 401k and worry about making sure to get the low sodium products.

I'm middle aged apparently.