Ela's baaaack....yay!

Micah's teacher, Ela, is back from her maternity leave. She delivered her daughter via C-section on July 22, 2008 and is back part-time. Micah talked about it all morning. El-LAH? El-LAH? We wrapped a baby gift for her, we talked about her bringing toys to play with, blah, blah, blah.

And he proceeded to call her Nancy for the first hour she was here. Nancy being Ela's substitute for July and August, Nancy whose name I couldn't get Micah to say clearly despite much practicing. Nan-SEE, Nan-SEE. Clear as a bell today, damn kid. Fortunately he snapped out of it and she's back to being his first love, as far as teachers go. And Ela seems to understand me - I'm fairly blunt (or honest) about disliking going to group (the mommies portion, Micah loves his two hours at Summit School; I'd rather have a hot poker stuck in my eye than hang with a bunch of cochlear implant kids' mommies who re-hash the same issues week in and week out.)

Today both Thea and Micah went to see Dr. Andy, their dentist. Micah survived the first invasion of his mouth by fingers not his own and was pretty non-plussed by the experience. Thea got a cleaning and fluoride treatment and will need to go back in October to have a little soft spot - not quite yet a cavity - checked and either sealed or filled.

We snagged the first appointment of the day at the dentist so we were in and out by 9:15, so Thea only missed a few minutes of school. Good thing, since she was the first "Leader of the Day" - sort of a teacher's helper, line-leader, featured kid at sharing time. She didn't really have much to say about it, so she probably had a good time being semi-in charge.

Interesting Article

I hope this will be my kids in 10 or so years:

http://www.boston.com/lifestyle/articles/2008/08/30/the_point_of_return/?page=1

In case the link doesn't last, it's an article about three teenagers who were adopted from a SWI in Wuhan (Micah's province) who went back this summer to volunteer there. I'm just amazed that they got cleared to do it by the authorities.

Kindergarten

The day arrived, my baby went off to Kindergarten today. Thea had on her yellow polo shirt and blue shorts, and was sporting her backpack (which is my old semi-see-through backpack from when I worked in a prison and clear purses or backpacks were the order of the day.) She managed to forget her lunch box, despite pep talks on how she would now be responsible for having her lunch with her when we left the house.

Micah and I celebrated by going to ShopRite to do our grocery shopping, then we stopped by Marquand Park for a bit. At home, he 'drove' my car while I unloaded and unpacked and then we went for a bike ride. He's upstairs resting from his labors, I'm avoiding cleaning up and doing the rest of the unpacking from our trip.

I'm proud of myself. I took pictures of her and I managed not to cry.

Labor Day Weekend and Nosy Problems

It finally happened, one of those annoying encounters with a person who actually was so out of touch with the social norms of this world that she asked how much my children cost - and did so right in front of my children and my mother. This is a rather long-winded post, so cut to the bottom if you want to know exactly how I feel about the above.

Thea, Micah and I joined the rather limited throngs of Labor Day travelers on Friday, driving down to Southern Maryland to see Oma. We hadn't been to visit since the end of June/beginning of July, giving Oma almost seven weeks to recover from babysitting both kids while I attended the AANP conference. Oma called and warned us off of our usual back roads route that brings us over the Chesapeake Bay Bridge so we came down I-95 onto the Baltimore Beltway and over the Key Bridge to I-97. Other than the usual glitch where the Delaware Memorial Bridge route merges with I-95, it was smooth sailing. Thea slept most of the way and Micah chattered on about how his balloon blew away (three weeks ago).

Saturday we went with my brother, sister-in-law and nephew to an Amish Market in Upper Marlboro, followed by a trip to Watkins Regional Park which has a train, a carousel and a miniature golf course. I managed to snap the cutest picture of all three kids (youngest to oldest, Micah, Willi, Thea) hanging on the gate waiting and watching for the train to pull in. Micah and Willi were just about beside themselves over the train. Thea actually screwed up her courage and went for a carousel ride, though both of them rode on the benches and not on the up-and-down or even the stationary animals. (This earned us the comment from the carousel operator, "You did not pay $1.25 each just to sit on some benches. . . ")

Thea and I played a round of miniature golf while my brother folded himself back into the train with the two boys for a third trip around the track. Thea and I played by four-year old rules: no scoring, do-overs allowed, no worrying about stance, etc. - so we were done in about the same time it took for the boys to ride the train. Eighteen holes. (When Thea and Steve played this course on Fathers' Day, it took them forever because Steve actually felt compelled to teach Thea how to stand, line up her shot, and all that nonsense. For that, he deserved to roast in the hot sun.)

While Micah napped, all the train-riding and carousel-riding having taken a toll on him, Thea and I went to Target for school supplies. Yes, Kindergartners have school supply lists. It was a short list: one box of 24 crayons, one box of colored pencils, two erasers, one pencil sharpener with cover, a package of #2 pencils, three glue sticks and a box to put it in, 5"x 8" x 2". Charles County schools were back in session last week, so we had a major search for Pink Pearl erasers.

Later that evening Aunt Shannon and Willi came over and we went to Rita's for ice cream. Willi and Micah were just too cute, chasing each other around on the patio at the ice cream place. They both love to laugh and run, and it's just so neat to see how a like two-year olds are despite being born two months and thousands of miles apart.

Sunday we decided to "go and see the goats" - which means a trip to Westmoreland Berry Farm in the Northern Neck of Virginia. It's a farm store, berry-picking place that happens to have goats and has built a long ramp so that the goats can ascend, cross over the road that leads down to the berry fields and arrive at a platform where they wait in joyous anticipation (as joyous as a goat gets) of fools who put a quarter in a gumball machine that now cranks out feed corn. The corn is placed in a little cup and a pulley system is used to raise it up to the goat. All of this is endlessly fascinating if you are five and under. If you are forty and over, you just spend time praying that goats do not move their bowels while they are 25 feet in the air. The farm store has a large open-air pavilion with a snack shop, so we had ice cream and snacks (my mother was appalled that I followed my dish of butter pecan with a side of sauerkraut - I just love sauerkraut; she always has to make extra on holidays because I'll start eating it from the pot at breakfast._ The kids got to run around on the playground equipment and we made a trip through the petting zoo section. Thea was brave and got into having the goats eat from her hand, though she thought that the goat spit was nasty; Micah was right there watching but he kept saying "NO GOAT, NO GOAT, Mommeeeeee" so something about them, the smell, the vacuous eyes with those weird slit-like irises, skeeved him.

So on the way home, we decided to go to Mom's local Chinese restaurant. It's straight out of the 1960s and its decor is only slightly different from the Sampan, which was the Chinese place in Hyattsville that I used to go to while I lived in N.E. Washington. The staff is friendly, they are very tolerant of children and the messes that follow in their wakes, and the food is typical American-style Chinese food. We were seated at a booth in the back, they were either being kind to my mother who would not have to walk far on her bad knees to the buffet or were putting us in Siberia because they remember when we last patronized them.

Mom wanted the buffet, but I decided to order off the menu - the buffet leaves too much opportunity for Micah Man to run around and cause chaos. About the time the kids were occupied with their egg-drop soup and dumplings, a woman stops by our table and asks, "Where are they from?" Since I was hungry and about to get my mouth around a dumpling, I didn't have the wherewithal to say Princeton, New Jersey, but I don't think that would have done much to shut this person down.

Her next query was, "How much did they cost?" At this point my idiot-radar did start to function, and I said something to the effect of "Not as much as we love them" which was sort of a nonsequitar, but anyone able to read social nuances would get the idea to BUGGER OFF, BUTTHEAD. I should have asked her if she had children, and if so, were they conceived in the conventional manner or with the assist of a petri dish, were they delivered vaginally or by C-section? But I digress, she followed this with, "Sooo, you weren't able to have children of your own?" What the HECK to these two little people look like? They are my own children, you moron. At that point I decided to just go back to eating in hopes she would find that she needed to return to her table before her plate of food from the buffet got cold. And if she made any further trips to the buffet, she thankfully left us alone.

In all the Yahoo! groups I've belonged to related to adoption from China, I've read about this stuff, and I've always figured that having read about it, I would handle it so much better, but I didn't. Fortunately the children were oblivious to the whole encounter, dumplings trump nosy strangers.

This is right up there with a question posed to me last year by one of the after-care teachers at Thea's school: What do you know about their real mothers? I AM THEIR 'REAL' MOTHER. I wrote that one off to language (the person's first language was not English) and cultural differences, but in many ways it still was irksome. And considering that there are a few Chinese-born adopted children in the school, they'd better learn the lingo quick, cultural differences or not.

Thea's been thinking about adoption: she knows that she was born in China and that we came to China to bring her home. And she knows that the same is true for her brother. While we were at my mother's, she made the observation that, "Micah's first mommy recycled him so we got him." Which is an interesting interpretation, and proof that Bob the Builder's "Reduce, Reuse, Recycle" message has made an impression on her.

Monday we went to Miss Gertrude's to feed starlight mints to her neighbor's horses. Gertrude and Micah clicked so Thea and I walked to the barn and Micah held fast to Gertrude and regaled her with his best conversational tidbits, most of which I don't think she understood, but she did an excellent job of faking it. Thea again got into feeding the animals and allowed Ethel and the other horses to eat out of her hand; Micah at first wouldn't even go in the barn. But he got scooped up and brought in so he could help me feed some peppermints to the horse. Such a soft nose this one had, and they were nice because they were eager, but not greedy so they kept their teeth in check.

After horses came a trip for school shoes for the kids - with a stop to look at a desk Mom saw and thought would be neat for Thea. It was like a little secretary desk with a fold out table-top and lots of cubbies at Everything Amish (If It Ain't Dutch, It Ain't Much is the store's sign's subtext). I took pictures of it, but I think it's a little out of our price range.

The best day of the weekend - for me - was yesterday morning. My mother made an appointment with Lindsey, the stylist who had been cutting and coloring my hair until around the time we went to China last year. I went back to a salon around here that I had gone to once upon a time and the stylist was ok, but she wasn't Lindsey. So yesterday I got to catch up with Lindsey and I let her lop off and thin out a ton of hair. When I saw the floor, it looked like a poodle and a pitbull went at it, and it wasn't pretty for the poodle. (The haircut turned out fine, it was just more hair on the floor than I've seen in awhile.)

I think Thea was having a little pre-first day of school anxiety because I told her that we were going to home she wanted to stay with Oma and she was very sad to be packing up. By staying the extra day, we avoided holiday weekend/beach traffic. Everyone was in a good mood for the four-hour drive.

Anyway, the bottom line to the encounter with the nosy wench in the Chinese restaurant is: It is totally unacceptable to ask adoptive parents how much their children cost, and the sin is doubled if it is asked in front of the child(ren) in question. Ditto with the use of 'real' as an adjective in front of mother when the real mother is the one being asked. Birthparent. Biological mother. Whatever. Pick one, use it.

And don't get me started on people who ask about how my children were abandoned or found (not a subject for casual conversation) or those who say that "Baby girls aren't wanted in China" because it's so much more complicated than that.

Thea's Birthday

I have only just started thinking about Thea's birthday - I think by this time last year we'd settled on a venue (My Gym) and made a few other critical decisions (Backyardigans theme), so all that left was the cupcakes and the party bags to round out the day. Now we're into two parties: a small one for school on her actual birthday and one for her friends.

When I was interrogating her as to any choices as to theme, she said, "People can just come as whatever they want. . ." So I had the idea, while out running errands yesterday, that we could do a Hallowe'en costume preview party: since all that effort goes into finding the right costume and the kids just where them at school and then that evening for trick-or-treating, why not give them one more chance to dress up.

Now the 'where' of the party-planning becomes an issue: if we do costumes, then a gym setting is out. God help me if some little cherub damages his or her costume two weeks before Hallowe'en. Ditto for the artsy-craftsy places, same reason. Pizza parlor party, third verse same as the first. For the number of people Thea wants, we could do it at the house, but the nice thing about doing it SOMEWHERE ELSE is you pay, and walk away.

Thea's going to be a knight for Hallowe'en, I think I'm going to stuff Micah into a puppy costume if I can find one cheap.

I'm off to cruise web sites of possible party places, and I'm reconsidering the whole costume idea. It seemed brilliant yesterday, but today upon re-examination, it's not as bright and shiny of an idea.

Happy Birthday Lucas!

Both of Thea's best school friends have turned five within the past ten days. Last weekend was Kalani's pizza parlor party (with his actual birthdate a few days prior to the party) and today we went to Lucas's party (actual birthday four days ago.) They will all be in Kindergarten together at YingHua this fall.

It was a great party because there was a huge playground to run around, and it was a semi-unstructured event. Run, play, make up your own adventures interspersed with time for pizza and juice boxes and another break for cake. And I just love Lucas because as he and his mother were putting together party bags, Lucas spoke up and said, "I don't think Thea will like the pink princess stuff." Here's a kid who pays attention to detail - and I've got to appreciate his mother as well because she had extra stuff set aside to swap out of the bag that Thea found on the treasure hunt. So my baby came running up to me happily exclaiming, "Look Mommy, a rake and a car!" This put her in such a good mood she actualy shared her party tooter-thingy with her brother.

So now the heat is on to plan Thea's 5th birthday party - both one for school, and one for her friends. Fortunately her birthday is a Monday, so we can have it in school on a day I'm not working. But it's the theme, the party favors, the cake, the ice cream, the where to have it that is all swirling through my mind. . . .

The camera and the connector is acting wonky again, so I haven't been able to upload to Kodak and put any new pictures on the blog. They're both growing like weeds, so I've got to solve my camera issues to show them off.

After Labor Day: The Return of Ela - Micah's speech instructor (I hate the title teacher of the deaf because he is NOT deaf) who is coming back from maternity leave that started around the beginning of July. We were very, very lucky to have Nancy take over for the past two months, and both Micah and I will miss her, but it will be nice to have Ela coming back to us, especially after Micah's summer speech explosion. She's going to be in for a shock, which will be kind of fun to see.

Update

Today would have been my Dad's 78th birthday, so Happy Birthday, Dad, hope you're celebrating.

The first week back from vacation is always tough, mostly for Micah. He who loves his babysitter, Lisa, almost as much as his family wailed piteously both Tuesday and Thursday when I dropped him off. So I got to go off to work cloaked in that mist of Mommy-guilt. Of course when I checked up on him, he snapped out of it once I was out of sight and got into playing with the other children. I don't know if it was truly traumatic for him, or if he was just being a bit of a Drama Queen, which he does seem to have a certain flair for.

Last Wednesday Thea and I had a wonderful afternoon on the beach and playing in the water -we had to stick pretty close to the water's edge or be eaten alive by green-head flies. I have never, ever had the experience of seeing a small dot of blood well up from a fly bite and if there was a system of voting on next species to be wiped off the planet, these pests would get my vote. We made sand castles, buried each other in the sand (to hide from the aforementioned blood-sucking pests) and collected shells. Thea started getting brave about letting the surf come up and wash over her legs. When Steve and Micah came down to the beach, Steve brought our bottle of Off!, but this brand of insect repellant seemed to be more of a marinade/condiment or aphrodisiac for the damn flies because there were more bites rather than fewer after applying the stuff.

Friday we were back at the beach, after going on a fruitless quest to both Seaside and Point Pleasant looking for miniature golf. Despite threatening skies, we had Kite-y with us, and I managed to get it airborne, though with the sky greying and a few drops of rain falling, Thea's vote was for reeling Kite-y in and going back to the beach house. Fortunately, even though we reeled Kite-y in, we stayed on the beach and the clouds and sprinkles passed and the kids had a blast terrorizing two abandoned sand heaps complete with moat and throwing shells back into the waves. And since most of the wind was coming off on the water, the green-heads were not out en masse.

Since I worked last week while commuting from the beach, getting back into the routine wasn't too hard - and the drive was cut in half even with two separate drop-offs for school/daycare. Tuesday I had a patient with a really angry sebaceous cyst between the shoulder blades. With just a little help from a #11 blade and despite being covered with two gauze 4x4s, it blew, spewing its contents three or more feet at which point it splatted on the wall. Then I covered it even better and reapplied a little pressure. And again it spewed a swath through the room. It was simply amazing. Unfortunately, our rather small exam room soon smelled like someone opened a Limburger cheese shop, and the aroma lingered even though we washed down the wall, the exam table and sprayed enough air freshener to asphixiate half the office. Even Micah knew something was up, because I got "Mommy stinky" when he put his head on my shoulder when I picked him up from the babysitter's.

And somehow word must've made it back to the Sebaceous Cyst Fairy, because Thursday I had another patient with a nice bump at the nape of the neck with a nice little puncta in the middle. This one emptied more like Silly String or Cheez Whiz, but that same tell-tale odor hung in the room afterwards. I wish the Ear Lavage Fairy would send a few people my way, that has the same delightful ookiness factor, but without the smell.

Thea is being a 'five-day' kid at school, practice for starting Kindergarten in the fall, so today was just me and Micah-man. He's going to be banned from grocery shopping soon, at least from going with me to the Lawrenceville ShopRite. Damn the grocery stores with their displays of balloons and Beanie Babies. Micah is currently in a Mylar balloon and puppy phase - and unlike Thea who is steadfastly loyal to her two white tigers, Micah is a stuffed animal polygamist. He has his #1 lovey, Bunny Bear, and then he has a small horde of sister and brother stuff animals that he also seems to be devoted to, and his philosophy is the more, the merrier. If all of his 'favorite' stuffed animals were put in his crib, there would be no room for Micah.

I was privilege to Micah's first in-mall sit-in outside of Pottery Barn Kids on Monday, protesting his mother's lack of sensitivity to his need for a life-size toy dog (and mind you, if this were the real deal, wagging its tail in front of him, he'd be quaking in his booties and clawing his way up my leg and into my arms.). I was scoping the sale items and he found two dogs, a Jack Russell and a Boston Terrier, both life-size and he was in love. He carried the Jack Russell around the store, playing with it in the PBK toy kitchen, babbling away to it, until we put it back ($34 for a stuff animal, I love my son, just not in that way). I put it back, picked Micah up and strolled out of the store and then put him down again. And he promptly sat his shapely little butt down on the pavement and pouted. So he got picked up, tucked under my arm like a football and carted back to the car. Mommy can be such an insensitive b*tch a times, all in a day's work - one more thing he can share with his future therapist if he ever gets through being adopted, the ears issue and whatever other trauma to his psyche we have inflicted on him.