Christmas 2010 -- Phase I

The first part of our Christmas celebration is winding down.  The three of us were greeters at church for the first Christmas Eve service.  Sarah is quite good at shaking hands, but eye contact with strangers is a bit much for her.  We picked up Chinese take-out on the way home (one of my favorite new Christmas traditions).  We had a relaxing Christmas Day, and Emily, Omar, and Sophia arrived in time for dinner (Italian fisherman's stew, which may also become a tradition).  Rachel, her fiance Matt, and Reid came yesterday for our family celebration (and ham dinner) and will leave later today.  It's so fun to have a full house!

Now, it's time to prepare for Phase II.  We fly to Mass. very early Wednesday to spend five days with my family.  Can't wait to see them all and watch Sarah play with them!

A shot from a "formal" sitting at home the week before Christmas



And another....

Ready for church on Christmas Eve

Santa brought a train table...

...and, of course, filled Sarah's stocking

Opening presents Christmas morning

Don cooking Christmas dinner (such a good man!)

Sarah and her niece Sophia on their trusty Labrador

Dinner with the family the day after Christmas

Don and his big kids -- Rachel, Reid, and Emily

White Christmas Guaranteed

Last weekend, we had a whopper of a winter storm.  Over Saturday and Sunday, we got 20" of snow and had winds up to 45 MPH.  It started early Saturday morning, with heavy snow and cold temps.  We had planned to go cut our Christmas tree as a family, but Don ended up going alone because of the weather.  Fortunately, the tree farm is only a few miles away.  He was the only customer.  The old guys who run the place were surprised to see him (and I bet a little reluctant to come out of their warming tent).  He chose a balsam fir in record time (Don is not one to hem and haw about a decision).  It was a perfect day for tree-trimming. 

Since we're in the open, we had drifts up to four feet deep by Monday morning.  Don started chipping away at the driveway with our small snowblower.  Fortunately, the town front-end loader showed up soon and moved the five feet of snow the plow had placed at the end of the driveway.  By Tuesday morning, it was -24, and there was no question winter had arrived.

Two Christmas angels

The driveway pre-front-end loader

The mountain of snow that makes backing out tricky these days

Don was able to break the goats out of their stall.

The donkeys aren't so lucky -- they may be snow-bound 'til spring.  (I know what you're thinking -- why does anybody need five donkeys?  Well, it's obviously not a question of need.)

This Year's Christmas Card

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Some Good Sleep News

The last time I wrote about our slumber struggles, I was sleeping with Sarah most of the night and she was fighting naps.  I'm happy to report that I am now in my own bed most nights, and, after two straight weeks of no naps, Sarah has succombed yesterday and today (How else would I be able to write this?).  It's been a long, trying couple of weeks (a two-year-old that's been up for 8 hours is no fun, let alone 14), but I don't think we could have made the progress we have without that pain. 

Once Sarah decided not to nap, or even stay in bed to rest, I took advantage of her exhaustion at the end of the day and started putting her to bed and leaving the room instead of staying with her until she was asleep.  The advice I'd read said when the child gets up to lead her back to bed quietly and calmly; she'll do this a few times then give up because it's not any fun.  They don't know Sarah. 

The first night, I walked her back to her room 28 times before she finally lacked the strength to get back up and promptly passed out.  The second night, she made the trip 65 times before succombing.  I'm not kidding.  The third night, we were at 33 when I realized that she thought this was just a new way of going to bed -- walk until you collapse.  At that point, I put her in bed and told her if she got up again, I'd close the door.  She got up once more, and I held the doorknob.  I let her scream for a minute then put her back in bed and left.  She was asleep in about two minutes.

Since then, I've put her to bed and told her to stay there or I'll close the door.  She usually gets up once a night, but once the door gets closed, she gets the message and is snoozing in a few minutes.  It's pure bliss for Mom.  Since she now goes to bed alone, she has also remembered how to put herself back to sleep when she wakes at night.  I had to let her cry for a few minutes a couple of nights (after tucking her back in), but she now goes back to sleep on her own and I return to my bed.  Hallelujah! 

While no naps made the bedtime transition easier, it took a toll on all of us.  Sarah has been sleep-deprived and extremely difficult.  She wasn't sleeping any longer at night, so she was getting only 9-10 hours of sleep a day, when she should get about 13.  I scoured the Internet for ideas to help, but nothing worked.  I finally decided to try a sticker chart, since it was a big hit with potty training.

Sarah  doesn't respond that well to discipline (can you say, "stubborn"?), but she likes incentive programs.  When we started potty training a few weeks ago, we weren't having any luck getting her to poop in the potty, until we offered two M&Ms as a reward.  She now goes multiple times a day.  I swear she plans for the maximum candy haul.

For "Project Nap," I drew a chart made of 10 steps, like a staircase, and numbered the steps.  I bought some Elmo stickers (Sarah loves Elmo, although she has never watched him on TV -- what does that say about the power of marketing?) and told her she would get a sticker every day.  When she gets five stickers (five steps), she'll get a new can of Play-Doh.  Five more, another can, etc. 

My original plan was to get her to just stay in bed for a minute, then add to the time each day until she was lying down for 30 minutes.  I figured if she could lie still that long, she'd likely fall asleep.  That plan blew up in my face the first day, when she refused to stay in bed even for a second.  To say I was discouraged is an understatement.  She still wanted her sticker, though.  I don't think she understood the deal.

Back to the drawing board, and the Internet for more ideas.  Yesterday, I got into bed with Sarah and read books for a few minutes, then got her to lie down with me (even that was a struggle).  I sang our bedtime song (My Favorite Things) over and over while she thrashed around fighting sleep, as usual.  Finally, after 15 minutes, and who-knows-how-many refrains, she closed her eyes and was asleep soon after. 

When she got up 90 minutes later, I made a big deal out of giving her the sticker.  She was thrilled but then asked for the Play-Doh.  I explained that she needed to take four more naps and get four more stickers to get the Play-Doh.  She seemed to understand and proceeded to explain the whole deal to Dada when he came upstairs.

So, today we headed to bed, covered ourselves up with her comforter, and read some books.  When we were done, she balked a bit at lying down, but when I reminded her of the pay-off, she grabbed her stuffed dog and lay with me while I sang.  She was asleep in about five minutes!  I've learned not to proclaim victory too soon when it comes to Sarah, but, boy, am I hopeful.  Once she commits to something, there's little that can stop her.  My next challenge is getting her to sleep past 5:30 a.m....

A Quiet Thanksgiving at Home

With our extended families at least a few hours away, Don and I have spent most of our Thanksgivings at home, just the two of us.  Last year, we flew to M*ssachusetts to be with my family, and it was the first time most of them met Sarah.  This year, we'll be going back East for New Year's, so it was the three of us here.  We had a fairly simple meal, with all of the requisite side dishes (which, for me, are whole cranberry sauce, butternut squash, peas, and pearl onions -- love the taste and the colors!).  At the last minute on Wednesday, I made three mini apple pies with the last of the apples from our trees.  The crust was tough, but they were yummy anyway!

Sarah and Mom in the kitchen (I think Sarah can cook as well as I can!)

Dad and Sarah checking the turkey

 

We have so  much to be thankful for!



Sarah with her Tiffany plate and cup (thanks, Uncle Bill and Jane!) and special silver (thanks, Grammy!)

It looks as though she had a well-rounded meal, but she ate only the turkey and biscuit.

Dad had the great idea to go for a walk after dinner.  It was 18 degrees and windy!

On the Road

Last week, we drove to the Tw*n Cities to visit Grandma, Grandpa, Big Sister Rachel and her fiance Matt, and the zoo for the first time!  It was a busy two days, and we all had a great time.  Sarah loved the C*mo Park Zoo; it's a nice little "starter" zoo.  I can't imagine how amazing it must be to see the real animals after looking at pictures in books for so long.  I think she liked the giraffes the best -- there were two mamas with babies (aged three months and six weeks).

Two days later, we drove to W*unakee to visit Big Sister Emily, Omar, and Sophia.  It was great fun watching Sarah and Sophia interact (not a whole lot of cooperative play yet, but they did well overall).  The cutest moment was when Sophia was crying about some injustice and Sarah offered her a tissue.  I found it relaxing to be in a childproof environment with four adults supervising, although it is a little tricky refereeing toddler disagreements.  Then there was Emily's cooking, which is always a treat!  Unfortunately, we took only one photo -- too relaxed, I guess.

 

So Much for Childproofing

Under the new, relaxed, nap regime, if Sarah won't go to sleep, I put the childgate in her doorway and tell her she has to play quietly for a while.  At least I get a bit of a break.  I, of course, was sure that her room was safe for unsupervised activity.

I just released her from confinement and went over to turn off the floor lamp by her rocking chair, only to find a bare screw where the knob had been.  She's fascinated with screwing and unscrewing the tops of containers these days and obviously practiced a little on the lamp. 

With unwelcome thoughts of finding the errant piece in her diaper tomorrow, I turned and asked her where the knob was.  She proudly reached into her jeans pocket (also a relatively new habit) and produced her prize.  Whew!  Guess I'll have to take it with me from now on.

Adopted, The Movie

Don and I watched Adopted, The Movie the other night.  It's a documentary with two tracks:  1) a Korean adoptee in her early 30s who is struggling with her identity, and 2) an American couple who is adopting a baby from China. 

The Korean woman's story was heart-wrenching.  Jenny was adopted by her white parents in the 1970s.  South Korea was one of the first countries to establish an international adoption program.  Most adoptive parents of that era listened to their hearts -- treating their children as if they were biological, avoiding the topic of adoption, and downplaying any differences.  Unfortunately, it produced some adult adoptees, including Jenny, who feel resentful, insecure, and out-of-place, even in their own families.

Jenny is a successful college graduate (the first in her family) who, in all outward appearance, has her life together.  Inside, though, she tries to come to grips with her story.  She recounts the pain of growing up in a community where she was the only person of color and the victim of racist jokes.  Wanting to be a good daughter, she held her feelings inside and took on a sunny, life-of-the-party, "pleaser" personality, masking her confusion and hurt.  Even now, she speaks to her parents in baby talk.

Jenny finally reaches out to her adoptive parents for help and receives only defensiveness and anger.  Although they did the best they knew how and she is only looking for some compassion and understanding, they can't seem to give it.  To complicate matters, her mother is dying of brain cancer.  It's painful to watch the story unfold, and the ending is anything but happy, although there is a glimmer of hope.

The film left me feeling somewhat selfish for adopting Sarah, which is ironic since many people think Don and I are some kind of saints for what we did. I'm not saying it was wrong to bring Sarah to the U.S. and give her a better life than she probably would have had in China; I'm just saying that it was not a selfless act and it will affect her both positively and negatively in years to come.  Because of our actions, she may never feel as though she completely belongs to any cultural group. It's our responsibility to do what we can to help her come to peace with her mixed identity.

I can understand how easy it would be to raise Sarah as if she were white, because when I look at her, I see only my daughter.  Most of the time, it doesn't cross my mind that she is of a different race.  I've heard that it isn't until kids reach preschool age that they become aware of racial differences.  Sarah already realizes that we have different colored eyes and hair, though.  When we look at the ABC book I made her, she now pauses at "F," points to her foster mom, then points to me and says, "Mama."  It's confusing for her, but I know she's starting to put together the pieces of her story.

I'm thankful for the Korean adoptees like Jenny who are speaking out about their experiences and what they wish their adoptive parents had done to help them feel more at home in their own skin.  I can learn from them and try to do better by Sarah.  We need to celebrate our differences and incorporate Sarah's native culture into our lives.  She may be the only one who's Chinese, but we are a transracial family, and we all need to embrace her birth culture.

Thankfully, we live in an area with a substantial Asian population (mostly Hmong), so Sarah doesn't stand out as much as she might elsewhere.  She certainly tends to draw attention, though, which, although it's been only positive so far, is not necessarily comfortable for her or me.  Believe it or not, sometimes I'd rather people didn't make such a big deal of how cute she is, and I think she might feel the same way at some point (if she doesn't already).  As any celebrity will tell you, going unnoticed has its merits.  I'm thankful for the local Chinese association that has welcomed us so warmly.  I think it's good for all three of us to spend time in situations where Caucasians are the minority.

The scenes of the couple adopting from China were mostly fun to watch, since they brought back happy memories of our journey to Sarah.  I found a few comments concerning, though, especially when juxtaposed with the Korean adoptee's feelings. For example, "She attached to [my husband] within the first three days, but it took more than a week for her to attach to me." Attachment is a long process, requiring a year or more.  She likely meant "bonded," which is a much weaker connection.  Perhaps she's unclear on the distinction because she "got a few books on attachment -- read most of one and skimmed the others." It's alarming to see someone so unprepared in this day and age, when the importance of attachment is well-understood.

Seeing this film would be a great way to celebrate National Adoption Month (which happens to be November).  It will open your eyes to the challenges transracial families face and the effects on the adoptee.  I'm not saying the bad outweighs the good, just that it is there and should be acknowledged and addressed.

Meow...I Mean, Trick or Treat!

Sarah was a kitty this year, because I found an adorable cat costume at a garage sale (I'm going to savor this simple time, when I can choose her outfit based on expediency and she doesn't complain).  She loves it and has been wearing it around the house for weeks.  Sometimes she just drags it around, rubbing the fuzzy tail against her cheek. 

She got to wear it to storytime at the library on Wednesday and again last night.  I thought she might be uncooperative once Trick or Treat time arrived, but she was excited to put it on.  We visited three neighbors' houses, and though she was shy at the doors, she obviously thought the payoff was worth it and kept asking for "more" each time we left a house.  When we returned home, she excitedly showed Daddy her haul. 

Of course, Mom restricted her to sharing a snack-size Nestle Crunch bar last night, and some of her loot went to Montana with Daddy this morning.  That's right, Sarah and I are on our own again for a week while Don and Cadi hunt pheasants.  We've got a lot of social events planned, so I hope that will minimize the degree to which we get on each other's nerves.  So far, Sarah behaves very well in public.  I'm sure the clock is ticking on that....

(I can't seem to upload any more photos right now.  I'll try to add more later.)

Just Try to Make Me!

Sarah is a sweet, brilliant, happy child, but she's also extremely strong-willed and can be, well, difficult. Don has always jokingly called me a "thoroughbred" because I'm intense and high-strung (but, apparently, worth the effort).  I'm afraid Sarah surpasses even me in the high-maintenance department, though. 

Since she turned two, I am constantly trying to figure out how to make her do what I want without confrontation.  Most requests are met with a defiant stare.  A couple of months ago, I started telling her that if she didn't do what I told her by the time I counted to three, I'd do it.  Since she wants to do everything herself, that gets her moving.  Now, she doesn't even consider doing anything unless I count to three.  To get her to wash her hands, I have to do it no fewer than six times (push up your sleeves...1,2,3...get your hands wet...1,2,3...get soap...1,2,3...make bubbles...1,2,3...rinse...1,2,3...dry...1,2,3). Getting her into her highchair, onto the changing table, up the stairs...it all takes enumeration.  And it's driving me crazy.

A couple of days ago, I tried asking her to "show me how to do it." She still does just a step at a time, then I have to say "then what?" but I hope it's a move toward her just doing what I ask (a foreign concept to her at the moment).

She is also a control-freak.  I know that's a common trait of toddlers, but I think she takes it to new heights.  If anything is out of place (in her mind), it must be tended to, now.  And don't even think of moving something she has left in your way.  It belongs there!  Never mind that you're cooking dinner and it's right in front of the stove -- work around it.

She notices every detail.  The other day, she was walking through the kitchen when she saw one of the cabinet doors was ajar.  She exclaimed, "Oh, oh!" and ran over to close it.  Dad left his coffee mug on the counter instead of taking it into the bathroom to shave one morning, and she had a fit.  If her bedroom door isn't closed just right at bedtime, she'll take a few moments to adjust it (not all the way closed, but the latch has to touch the door frame).

While I'm relating this in a humorous way, it concerned me so much that I spoke with the attachment specialist at the International Adoption Clinic about it.  She said it's common for children who were in foster care before they were adopted to feel an exaggerated need to control their surroundings.  It stems from her being taken from the home and people she loved and handed over against her will to strangers (albeit kind strangers).  She feels she has to keep tabs on everything to prevent that from  happening again.  That makes me so sad. 

I'm doing my best to reassure her and convince her it's okay that things get moved or aren't exactly the way they should be.  I give her some say in where things go ("it can go here or there, but not where it is").  I'm also trying to temper my own controlling nature.  I'm not exactly a model of letting go.  I think we're making some progress, though.  She is gradually lightening up and allowing some things to slide.

And then there's sleep....  After a couple of months of fairly smooth sailing, we hit rough waters again in early September.  Sarah started crying hysterically when I put her in her crib at bedtime and again during the night most nights.  I went back to sitting oustide her door while she fell asleep and lying on the twin bed next to her crib during the night.  It was frustrating and exhausting.

Knowing that it was about time to move her out of the crib anyway, I came up with a plan to go to a full-size bed on the floor instead of a toddler bed.  The twin bed in her room was killing my back, and I thought she might enjoy having me sleep with her.  I could lie with her while she fell asleep and return if she cried in the night. 

We made the switch a couple of weeks ago.  I was right about one thing -- she likes having me in bed with her -- but she isn't too interested in sleeping.  Unless she's skipped her nap (which is happening more often now), she can take up to two hours to go to sleep with me lying there.  It's very hard to maintain my patience for that long.  The killer is that about three hours after she finally goes to sleep, she's awake crying for me to come back to bed with her, which I do.  The only improvement in our sleep routine from a year ago is that I get to go to sleep in my own bed.  I certainly don't stay there.

As for naps, she's usually tired enough after lunch that, if I'm stern with her, I can get her to lie still and fall asleep in 10-15 minutes.  At least I could for a while.  Did I mention she's strong-willed?  She seems to have decided now that there will be no napping.  And guess what -- I can't MAKE her sleep! 

If there was any question at all that my new plan was failing, it was clear by naptime on Friday.  I'd decided that lying with her was actually making things worse, so I put her in bed and sat in the rocking chair in her room.  She proceeded to climb around the bed, then out of bed.  I put her back, and she was down again instantly.  After a few more times, I was at the end of my rope.  I put the child safety gate up in her doorway and left. 

So, now we have quiet time instead of nap time.  Fortunately, she doesn't complain much about it.  Today, she was in her room for an hour and sat in the chair reading books for most of it.  Thank goodness she's an introvert (I think).  For the last couple of nights (no nap, remember), I've put her in bed and sat in the chair.  She's been asleep in about five minutes.

Although I hate to see her give up naps, I think I'm ready to let go.  I am so tired of trying to make her sleep.  I hope that I can gradually move my way out the door again at bedtime and we can get back to her going to sleep alone.  Once she can do that, I think she'll stop crying for me when she wakes at night.  Oh, how I hope so.

My friend Amanda reminds me that this, too, shall pass, and I know she's right.  Soon, we'll be on to new challenges, and today's struggles will be forgotten (really????).   I never realized how mentally exhausting parenthood is. I guess no one does until they've done it.  I can certainly see the advantage of taking it on when your brain is young and nimble.  I'm afraid my muddled perimenopausal mind is stretched to its limits trying to stay one step ahead of Sarah.

I've kept a daily journal ever since we brought Sarah home. I'm just about through volume 2 and need to pick up a new blank book soon. Most of it is about sleep (surprise!) -- the scientist in me recording what I did when and what the results were, determined to solve the mystery.  I write down every novel thing she does, too, though. Maybe someday it will just be about the new developments....

Random Acts of Cuteness

Thought I'd take a few minutes to catch up on the latest developments in the World of Sarah:

• She knows just about all of the letters of the alphabet and takes great pride in pointing them out as she sees them.  At storytime today, she pointed excitedly to the lit "EXIT" sign over the door and spelled it out.  She also loves STOP signs.  We have to spell out the titles of books before we read them now.
• She's learned all of her colors (including silver and gold) and her shapes (including octagon and pentagon) from a set of flashcards that her friend Allie gave her this summer.  She's a serious student and insists we practice at least once a day.
• I've been feeling a little guilty about not teaching her some Chinese (or helping her retain what she may have known).  I've been so focused on her speaking at all that I didn't think it was a priority right now.  The other night, while we were reading I Love You Like Crazy Cakes, I pointed to the Chinese character for "love" on the inside cover and said, "Wo ai ni" (I love you).  She whipped her head around and smiled at me.  I repeated it, and she was soon saying "ai ni."   On our way to a gathering of our local Chinese association on Sunday, I taught her "Ni hao" (hello).  She says it very carefully and clearly.  When she says the Chinese phrases, she uses the sweetest little voice.
• She can now make the ASL sign for "I love you" without having to hold her little finger up with the other hand. 
• We were greeters at church on Sunday.  Don and I stood her on a chair between us, and she was shy at first, but after a few minutes, she was shaking people's hands.  Soon, she was looking out the door saying "More!"  She even got offended when a little boy passed by her without offering his hand.  She gave me a look like, "Hey, he's not following the rules!" 
• She's gotten really bossy with Cadi the Lab lately.  She yells "Cay-ji da!" (Cadi-dog) to call her and attempts to whistle like Daddy does by putting her fingers in her mouth and shrieking.  When Cadi ignores her, she marches over to her, gets right in her face, and "whistles."  Of course, Cadi continues about her business, just as she does when I call her.
• She sets the table every night, putting out forks and (butter) knives for Mama and Dada and a spoon and fork for herself.
• She screws the tops on and off shampoo bottles in the tub and goes potty on the toilet after bath every night.
• She has started really dancing in the last couple of days.  After dinner the other night, she repeatedly (about 20 times) played When the Saints Come Marching In on her laptop and danced in the dining room.  She'd push the button, then run to get into place and wait for the music to start.

Of course, interspersed with all the cuteness are various displays of her strong will, but we won't get into that right now.  :)

Ruminating on Rummaging

Today's our church's annual rummage sale, sponsored by the Women's Fellowship.  I've helped out all but one of the last six years, and I wrote this little piece a few years ago:

Fair Trade at the Rummage Sale

Each fall, I volunteer for my church’s rummage sale, sorting clothes the day before. While my actions appear altruistic, I receive much in return. For one thing, I get first crack at the goods. No less meaningful, however, are the precious interactions with other volunteers.

I am a relative newcomer to the sale, and, at 44, among the youngest there. Most of the others are well into their golden years and have been doing this for decades.

Each woman has her domain, which she guards as resolutely as a dog defends its yard. One measures men’s pants and marks them with the correct sizes. Another sorts glassware and cookware, assigning value. Still another, who is blessed with impeccable taste, scrutinizes the better-quality attire, setting prices that are a tad higher than the usual 50¢ or $1.  I spend my time unobtrusively organizing the women's clothing by size, a job that apparently doesn't have as much cachet as the others and hasn't been staked out.

Because I'm on the petite side, the women enjoy finding nice, smaller-sized clothes for me to try on and model for them. Last year, they insisted I buy a gold and black, beaded dress, that I will probably never wear, because it “looked fabulous.” This year, I barely escaped without a bright green wool jacket that was definitely not my taste.

I’ll admit that I enjoy the attention, despite feeling a bit self-conscious. This year, a woman drew me aside and said, "I just have to tell you, you're as cute as a bug's ear!" A little over the top, maybe, but flattering nonetheless, when you're my age.

When lunch is served, I sit quietly, as the others catch up on gossip and grandchildren and reminisce about the colorful characters who are no longer there. This year, one of them turned to me and said, "Someday, you'll be talking about all the crazy old ladies who used to work the rummage sale!" Little does she know I already am.

Inevitably, someone will ask if I have children. In years past, my negative response has brought an awkward pause, as minds frantically search for another course of conversation. This year, however, I eagerly offered that Don and I are adopting a baby from China. At this, everyone beamed and spouted well wishes. There’s nothing like the prospect of a new life to rejuvenate those who have lived much of theirs.

Most people go to rummage sales looking for bargains and maybe a treasure or two, and I'm no exception. I find more at our sale, though -- a priceless exchange between generations. I soak up encouragement from women who are well beyond me in years and wisdom. In return, I offer a reminder of what their lives were like a few decades ago, when perhaps their dress sizes were smaller and their houses fuller. It’s a transaction that I believe leaves us all enriched.

Yesterday's experience was much the same, except for the conversations about children. This year, many of the women asked about Sarah, and I was ready with my new keychain of her latest photos.  It strikes me as more humorous each year when one of the grande-dames of the event tells me how nice it is to see young faces there volunteering, but I'm not complaining.

I did pretty well resisting the pressure to buy clothing that really isn't me, but I did score a few nice pieces.  The "trophy," though, was a window seat toy box for Sarah's room.  I've wanted one for years, and it's been on Don's to-do list to build one, but this one works perfectly!