come undone

nightime at my place

The czar woke up at 3:30AM. He said he was hungry ("own-hee" actually) but turned down my food selections. He wanted "juice" which translates to any liquid I give him. The choice of liquid this evening was vanilla soy milk and he downed 1½ Nuby cups worth. I could have turned on the light, but the bulb died and I didn't feel like fishing for one in the sea of crap I call my hall closet.

Let's read a book. No.
Let's draw. No.
Let's play with your cars. No.
Still hungry? No.
I tried singing him to sleep. No.

He found the tv remote and prompted me to turn on Thomas the Tank Engine with doot doot doot (the way I sing the show's theme song) and Teh Teh, Teh Teh (which I think is "Thomas"). And of course Thomas is nowhere to be found on tv. And of course I can't find a Thomas DVDs anywhere because we lack light.  After some heavy duty channel changing, we found Sesame Street but after that there was nothing.

Oh look, Arthur!  No.
How about Clifford!  No.

Couldn't get him interested in anything catered to his age...we're all about Thomas, Elmo and Cookie Monster these days...but when we discovered The Fresh Prince of Bel Aire on Noggin' he was satisfied and watched that with me for what must have been an hour. Then he fell asleep at 6:30. And stupid me did the same. he woke up at 7:30 and I woke up at 10:30.  I never learn...I'm better off staying up and beginning the day. Right now, I feel like a cinderblock.

Noggin' starts its 24-hour programming on the 31st. I'm actually excited about this because now we have that moose and bird to entertain the czar on nights like this. Why not learn which worm makes a triangle at 4:00 AM?

On another note, I have been blessed with more freelance work that's due immediately. And I won't get paid until the end of January. I friggin' hate that...I'm off to sit in the tub because I just realized everyone is napping.  Even Zeus.

the physical

Hi. I went to visit the peditrician today and I they made me get naked and sit on the scale. What nerve. I gained two pounds and now weigh 24.6 pounds and Mama freaked out because I didn't break 25 pounds. Ah well, next time Mama...I also grew two inches so now I'm 33 inches tall.  I am in great health but the doctor still chose to give me two shots in the thigh. What the hell? I was spared bloodwork because it was done six months ago. They said they'd do it again in July but I'll make sure that doesn't happen. Afterwards I destroyed the doctor's desk and took her kangaroo pen.  She stamped my hands with animals and I got a sticker. Other kids drew pictures for her, but not me. I'm not drawing a damn thing for anyone that stabs me and feels me up.

Merry Christmas...a day of chocolate

an adoptive mother

Merry Christmas everyone. I hope this day, this season, was everything you thought it would be. 

Papa and the czar are napping now so I have a moment to blog while the roast is in the oven...plus I've had a lot on my mind and need to get the words out. Without getting into the details of the latest family drama, I will say that I sit here today a bit broken.  I am posting the following because its words left me empowered.

What Is an Adoptive Mother?
By Carrie Craft

Being an adoptive mother is not for every woman. She must possess not only the natural mother instinct but an understanding and appreciation of the situation that brought a child into her arms making her a mother. The adoptive family came to be by choices made, choices made by the first parents and by the adoptive parents. This bond the adoptive mother has with her child grows over time, like the child did within his first mother’s womb. Day by day, touch by touch, with each tear, kiss, and memory made they became a family. Adoptive mothers have that special knack to let love grow.

Adoptive mothers know that she’s a mender of wounds, not just of the physical skinned knees with a band-aid and a kiss, but of the heart. She gives love, acceptance, and permission to ask and talk about the day he was born and of his first parents.

Adoptive mothers are embracers, not only of the child with many hugs and kisses, but of the child’s heritage and history. She embraces the facts of her child’s past with strength for herself and the child.

She’s not only a memory maker planning family vacations, activities, and birthday parties, but also a memory keeper. Details of a birth, photos of the hospital, and of the parents who brought her into the world are kept along side the newspaper clipping that announced it all. All these things are kept in a special book that tells the whole story.

She’s a tier of shoelaces and of hearts. She weaves lives together into a tapestry of a new family, with many different brightly, colored threads showcasing their individualities and family origins. Together they create one unit attached to each other.

Adoptive mothers are experts at finding lost objects, but understand and validate the profound, deep loss left by adoption. She allows the tears to fall and grief to be felt, allowing the mourning of the mom not there. She is secure in knowing that she’s not a replacement, but a finisher of a race for someone who, for whatever reason, could not run any longer.

This role is not for the weak of spirit, or the easily wounded. Loving a child not born to her but calling him her own, but this is what she does, it is her calling. She is a mother.

Chestnuts roasting on an open fire

...and toys scattered about our home. We just completed a Christmas Eve celebration at my parents' home. Eating, drinking, playing, bickering and Santa...what a night. And the toys...the TOYS! We are outnumbered. Since July we have received Welcome Home gifts, Halloween gifts, Name Day gifts, Just Because gifts, birthday gifts from everyone and their mother and Christmas gifts. By Wednesday, our Christmas gift collection will come to a close with a visit from the czar's godfather. He and his family will do same damage for sure...overstimulation galore!

The birthday celebration went well on Sunday. My little boy is two. We celebrated with appetizers, a way-too-dry-for-my-taste baked ziti, a small strawberry shortcake to comemerate his first birthday and a small napoleon for his second. I couldn't let the day go by without recognizing his first year. Yeah, we sang twice. Alexander was playing with his cousins so he had no desire for cake. He's just not into sweets...some cookies maybe, but that's just about it. Cake is out of the question. It was fine...more cake for us!

This is a brief post because it's 2:15 AM...I am writing using my Christmas gift, a ridiculously huge 24" monitor. Great for graphics but really funny for anything else.  Enjoy some photos from the party, courtesy of Aunt Judy. God forbid I should take some time to download my photos...

    

where have I been?

I have no idea...we attended my old office's Christmas party last night and my son was everywhere: "Oh he must have just learned to walk" and "He's so curious" and "he seems to understand you."  I was the adoption spokeswoman and did my best to clear up the assinine. I think I did OK. We got there at 7 and by 10 we were exhausted. Following a toddler through cases of paper and around production equipment and blocking him off from the press room was difficult. I wasn't able to maintain a conversation and I left a few hanging and pissed people off. Tough crap. For the past fifteen years, my life was all about work and the people in it. I was a hard-edged deadline-orietnted individual who buried herself in work so she didn't have to pay attention to the rest of her life. This madness always resulted in an awesome gotta-relieve-some-stress Christmas bash. This year's gathering was completely different and I was finally able to realize how much my life has changed. Boy, has it changed...thank God.

The PPR will indeed happen on Sunday an noon — three hours before the czar's birthday party. Thomas the Tank Engine will be all over the place while our social worker, The Expediter, asks us about our lives.  We're cutting it close with the timing of this but this woman and my agency are like this (twisting fingers in right hand) so everything should be just dandy, 

Aunt ME is doing just fine, by the way. She just wants a bath and a shampoo. Desperately.

this and that

I just came in from the grocery store where I fended off elderly drivers. One woman was backing up into my side door and another attempted to turn into my lane which would have removed my front end. Awesome. We did learn new words during this shopping trip: almond, onion and chocolate. He used them on his own at home so they made my Anal Word List. The list now has 82 words. He also knocked over a pile of magazines, but I won't dwell on that...

This weekend flew by. The cocktail party in NJ was OK (stop picking up my kid!) and we made it home in one piece. The PPR was postponed yet again, this time due to weather. We got coated in ice. The plan is to take care of it on Sunday the 23rd — the czar's birthday — or Monday the 24th. The 23rd would be great because that means I only really need to clean this place once. I'll be doing one of my famous cocktail/food parties in honor of Alexander, minus the alcoholic beverages. Months ago, Aunt ME bought him a crown to wear on his special day. We are very sad that she won't be at the party because...

Aunt ME has been in the hospital for the past two weeks. At 6½ months pregnant she went into pre-term labor. She's been stabilized and is on bedrest in the hospital until she gives birth — which could be today, tomorrow or two months from now. She's a phone call away but I miss my sister. It's not easy to drag the czar to the hospital to see her. If Aunt ME has the room to herself, we're there. A roommate makes the visit very difficult so we stay home. And no, he won't stay with anyone in the lobby or waiting room. He wants Aunt ME. Aunt ME is in good spirits and feeling OK. We're just waiting and the longer we wait, the better things are for our new baby. Of course I'm not travelling far in case "something happens." Seems like these two sisters like to take the exciting route when it comes to creating a family.

Anyway...we're on nap #2 and this little guy has been tired and hungry for the past few days. Growth spurt!  The Gap jeans have been expanded and the 12-month tops are a definate no-no.

As for me, a diet begins on December 26. I have no need to get any bigger. I'm taking the radical route and kinda excited about it. I even have someone to coach me along. "If you can go halfway around the world to adopt a baby, you can lose a few pounds" she said. That stuck with me. Let's hope for the best...my next option is to sew my mouth shut and tie my body to an eliptical.

observations and stuff @ five months

I failed to acknowledge my son's five month anniversary home this week. I was too busy writing down everything that was spewing from his mouth: 77 words and a few phrases.  My favorites being a high-pitched "I dunno!" said with a shrug and "Wheh a'go?" which translates to "where did he/she/it go?" He is doing his best to get his point across and sometimes it's so cute I just need to squish him. At dinner, I usually get an "all done" while he's shoveling in more food...he's never quite "all done." This week I heard "More? Nooooo..." said with a shaking head and waving arms, signaling that he truly did not want any more rice. 

The tantrums have slowed down but when we have them, they're intense. Zach was roasting chestnuts this evening and the czar wanted them, right then and there. He explained that they were cooking and all that jazz, but before he could finish his explanation, a red-faced, snotty, tear-soaked, shrieking monster invaded our home screaming "Aaahhhrrrrgggg!!! UPPPP!!!" and once up he couldn't handle the fact that he was up and cried some more.  We ignored him...the chestnuts came out ten minutes later and everyone was happy. That sucked and I was ready for a drink...it didn't help that we were inside all day watching our world get iced over.

He's also a charmer, a damn good actor. My son smiles at everyone and their mother and this week followed a neighbor we really don't know too well into their apartment. She coaxed him into her flat while saying "oh it's not good that he's following me."  That's right. It's not good and it drove me nuts. He didn't respond to his name or my evil facial expressions (which usually works). I'm hoping this is something that will improve with time. At home, I can't leave the room without him panicking. In public, he'll test the waters and see who will take him. He tells everyone I'm mama, but he will walk off with a neighbor...and these people will take them, because hey, it's a friendly toddler. (That's reason #462 why I have to move out of this place.) I think we've stopped the mommy shopping when we're out and about...I'm thinking my non-stop talking prevents him from doing so.

So...five months home and I am in love, quite exhausted, somehow down six pounds and I don't know what day it is.  Parenthood is hard...and I'll go out on a limb here and say that parenting an adopted child is a tad bit more difficult than parenting your home-grown peeps. Well, maybe a lot more difficult, depending on the day.  For those of you adopting two -- I am in awe of your energy and dedication. Those of you home-growing your own, don't email me your complaints...I don't have time to read them and, speaking of complaints (wow, what a ramble)...as an adoptive mom, people don't take me seriously when I complain. I get showered with  "what did you expect?" and "well, you wanted this" as if I didn't know what I was getting into.

Well, kiss my ass...

Happy five months home, cutie petootie. Mama loves you tremendously, even though you make me insane. I wouldn't have it any other way. 

mommies, mommies everywhere

Susan is now the proud mama to Alana Nika!  And a big, belated congratulations to Lisa, proud mama to Anneliese Ksenia and Abbye Anastasia!  Lisa totally needs to post some photos of these munchkins...

ehhhhhoooohhhh-EHHHHHaahAHHHH-eeeehhhh!

That is what I have been listening too all weekend. That whine. That whine that precedes an aggressive toss of a car, train, puzzle or sippy cup. And it's been for no apparent reason. My baby transforms into Mr. Hyde right before my eyes...then I want to shoot myself.  It happened in a store this afternoon and the whining resulted in some tears because I am a mean mama.  No, you cannot eat the box of cookies. TWO individuals, at different times, approached my son in the cart without acknowledging my presence...they TOUCHED him and got in his face in an attempt to calm him down. WTF?  It's not OK for you to approach my child. It is not OK for you to touch him. It is not OK for you to take over my situation and make the kid happy. Yeah, I know you have good intentions. You just witnessed what happened, so respect what's going on...otherwise I will break your legs.

Everyone have a good day?