A Nearly Perfect Dinner and Less-than-perfect Parent

Don and I celebrated our eighth wedding anniversary Tuesday by going to the nicest restuarant around.  It's in an old bank, and it has a booth in what used to be the vault (and is now a cozy, private, little nook).  The last time we were there was to celebrate my birthday in 2007.  We left Sarah happily at home with her babysitter Kyla.  When we said goodbye, she barely blinked an eye and continued showing Kyla the toys she's gotten since the last time we went out.

This was our first dinner out since Sarah arrived where I really relaxed and enjoyed myself.  The setting was romantic, the company incomparable, and the food sublime.  Don and I chatted our way through the stuffed portabello appetizer, the roasted tomato soup, and the house salad (fresh spinach, blueberries, blue cheese, sugared pecans...).  As we started in on our entrees (pasta primavera for me and beef tenderloin for him), I glanced at my watch and was amazed to see that 90 minutes had already passed.  I haven't lost track of time in, well, a long time.

Then my phone rang.  It was Kyla, and I could hear Sarah screaming in the background.  Kyla said that she had been crying for a while.  I told her we would be there as soon as possible and hung up, tears streaming down my face.  While Don asked the waitress for the bill and some boxes, I called Kyla back to see if I could comfort Sarah on the phone.  She stopped crying and listened to me, and Kyla said she thought it helped.

By the time we arrived home about 20 minutes later, Sarah had stopped crying but was still heaving every few seconds.  Kyla said she had been fine after we left, and they had played outside for a while.  As they were coming back into the house, the dog barged past Sarah and knocked her down.  She started crying and couldn't stop.  She recovered quickly once we were home and was asleep in my arms an hour later.

In hindsight, it's not surprising that things didn't go smoothly.  Don had just returned that morning from two days at his parents', and Sarah had refused to nap.  Although she hadn't seemed upset by his absence or our departure, she wasn't at her best and couldn't hold it together when she got bumped. 

It's not as if I wasn't aware of the potential for trouble.  I've learned to be on the lookout for situations that are emotional triggers for Sarah.  I was a little uneasy about going out the night Don returned.  When he said he'd be home right before naptime, I thought of suggesting he wait until she was asleep to arrive, since I suspected she might have a hard time settling down.  When she missed her nap, I was afraid she'd be "on edge" by evening.

It's hard for a control freak like me to know when to let go, when to stick with my instincts and when to back off.  In June, we went out the night after I returned from my "retreat," and Sarah was fine.  I don't know whether she would have taken a nap if I had put her down, instead of waiting for Don.  I considered cancelling our dinner but thought it would be an overreaction.  I guess Tuesday was just a "perfect storm" of triggers, resulting in tears for daughter and mom.

What has surprised me most about being a mom is how often I go to bed feeling awful.  I never realized how fraught with mistakes every day would seem.  I feel bad about losing my patience when Sarah is at her most stubborn or defiant.  I regret not following my instincts when they turn out to be right.  And I hate not even knowing if I acted appropriately at times. 

I read the other day that 70% is about as perfect as you can get as a parent.  If you do the right thing seven out of 10 times, you will have a happy family and children that turn out well.  That's tough to accept for someone who never considered a C an acceptable grade, but it's comforting to hear.  I'd like to think I'm scoring at least a B, and I deserve an A for effort.  If I can maintain those grades, Sarah will be okay, even with a few tears (for daughter and mom) here and there.

Two-Year Checkup (a Little Late)

Sarah had her two-year-old checkup this week.  She was a couple of months late because the pediatrician told me months ago that we could postpone it until the seasonal flu vaccine is available in mid-September.  It turns out the vaccine won't be out until mid-October, so I figured we'd better go now.

Sarah did so much better than in the past.  She didn't want to get on the scale, but the nurse was understanding and didn't make her get undressed.  I had to hold her with my head close to hers while the nurse measured her length, but she managed to hold back tears.  She now weighs 30 lbs., 14 oz. and is 36" tall.  That's 87th percentile for weight and 91st for height -- she continues to be a big girl for her age!

She was brave during the exam and only whimpered a couple of times.  She had to get her Hepatitis A booster at the end, which of course was painful and scary, but she cried for only a few seconds then happily took her Elmo sticker and headed for the door.  I was delighted to learn that she'll be able to get the nasal mist flu vaccination this year, so no more shots for a long time!

Our First Mid-Autumn Moon Festival

This past week was the Mid-Autumn Moon Festival, a holiday celebrated in many Asian countries, including China.  It is held on the 15th day of the 8th month of the lunar calendar, which was Sept. 22 this year.  It is considered by some to be similar to our American Thanksgiving.  Families gather for picnics under the full moon, eat moon cakes (round pastries with dense, rich fillings and intricate designs on top), and send wishes up to the moon.

Sarah and I celebrated last Sunday with our local Chinese Association.  Don was visiting his parents in the Twin Cities, so he couldn't make it.  Unfortunately, Sarah awoke at 5:15 Sunday morning, so she really needed a nap before we went.  Much of the food was gone by the time we arrived at about 2:45, but we did get to eat mooncake.  Ours had a Chinese date filling and was really yummy.  Traditionally, mooncakes have a salted egg yolk in them.  I was happy to miss out on that!

Normally, I would have been quite uncomfortable walking in late to a gathering of people I don't know.  I've found Chinese people to be so friendly, though, that I wasn't uneasy at all.  Our friend Wendy, whom we met at the local Chinese restaurant on Christmas Eve, was watching for us and came right up to welcome us and introduce us to others, including her mom.  Everyone wanted to meet Sarah (of course), and they all remarked on how beautiful she is (and such big eyes!).  We were guided to the buffet table, then shown a seat and served mooncake.  Many of the local Chinese teach at the University of Wisconsin in La Cr*sse, and one nice man talked with us while we ate.

Sarah was pretty shy to begin with, but she warmed up as she ate.  We both enjoyed watching people sing Karaoke to Chinese songs (played very loudly, I might add).  There was some dancing, but things were winding down by the time we got there.  Wendy was such a gracious hostess, though, giving Sarah colored pencils and paper to draw while everyone was cleaning up.

We officially joined the group last weekend, and I was surprised to learn that we're the only China-adoptive family that are members.  There are quite a few such families in the area, but I get the sense most aren't that interested in participating in Chinese activities. 

I'm really excited to do more with the group.  Their warmth and enthusiasm is remarkable, and I hope to learn a lot from them, while Sarah gets to know people from her native country.  Next month, there is a celebration of the Double 9th Festival, which honors the elderly, combined with Wendy's mom's 70th birthday party.  Fortunately, the Vikings play late that afternoon, so Don doesn't have a scheduling conflict.  :)

And now for something totally different....

After the somber tone of my last post, how about just some fun photos....

When Don was up north fishing, Sarah and I tooled around in my old VW GTI.  It was a trick getting her into the back seat, but she thought it was fun:

I was actually able to put her hair in pigtails the other day (for about five minutes):

Sarah holding her "cell phone" (actually a pocket calculator) to Cadi's ear to talk to Grammy:

There was a time (about six months ago), when Sarah slept with a panda bear, a dog, and a bunny.  Not anymore.  Her companions now include babies, bears, dogs, a frog, two blankets, and a pillow.  The amazing thing is that she can survey the bed as I'm putting her in and immediately tell me who's missing.

Two Decades Without My Dad

Twenty years ago today, alone in my tiny garden-level apartment in Fort C*llins, Colorado, I heard my mother through the phone telling me my father had died.  I had moved from Massachusetts three weeks prior and just started my first year of graduate school.  Although he had been sick for a while, I had no idea it was so serious, and the news hit me like a freight train.

My angel that day was my new (and now very dear) friend Amanda.  She was the only person I knew in town, and I remember quite clearly her response when I called her -- "I'll be right there.  I'm going to pick up some sandwiches, and we're going to drive."  Her proper English accent gave her a comforting air of authority.  She was going to take care of things when I didn't know what to do.  Soon after, we were on the Interstate heading for Wyoming as I tried to grasp how my world had changed.  I don't recall where we ate, but I do remember how grateful I was for Amanda's generous heart.

After a week at home, I returned to Fort C*llins determined to withdraw from school and move back to Massachusetts.  When the university refused to refund my tuition, I decided to persevere and at least finish the semester.  Exercise was the only thing that took away my pain, and I was in the best shape of my life that fall.

By January, the fog of grief had lifted, and I decided to continue my studies.  My father had always loved wildlife.  One of the last things he had told me was how proud he was of me for starting a new career in wildlife biology.  In retrospect, I realize that he didn't tell me how serious his illness was when I left for Colorado because he knew I wouldn't go.  He wanted me to pursue my dream.

I wish my dad could have lived to share my new career with me; he would have been fascinated by my work.  I wish he could have met Don; I know he would have liked and respected him.  And I wish he could have seen his only granddaughter, who, although she doesn't share his genes, has his sharp mind and smiling eyes.

I miss you, Daddy, and I love you as much as ever.

The Next Susan Lucci?

It's funny how something I found so cute a few months ago can drive me crazy today.  When Sarah first asked for a "tissue," I thought it was adorable.  Now, not so much.  If she gets the least bit upset (with no visible tears or runny nose), she needs a tissue.  And, of course, she's a toddler, so she gets emotional every five minutes (or so it seems).  Whenever she doesn't get her way, before she's even mustered a good tantrum, she whimpers, "Tissue, tissue."  I think she's got a future in daytime drama....

Daily Rituals

I mentioned last time how happy we all are to be back in our routine, and you probably thought in terms of a schedule -- getting up, eating, going to bed at set times every day.  While we try to do things at the same hour each day, our routine is actually made up of daily many rituals that Sarah counts on and insists on observing.  Some are quite elaborate.

Sarah now goes to sleep on her own at naptime.  Well, that's not entirely accurate.  She counts on Don to perform a series of actions in the same order before her head hits the pillow, then she takes it from there.  Don is going fishing up north again this coming week, so this morning, he wrote down the naptime ritual:

• In living room:
• Kiss Mom "goodnight"
• Drink milk in Dad's lap
• Wipe mouth with diaper
• Go to Sarah's room:
• Arrange bedding
• Close south shade
• Turn on sound machine (Dad does)
• Turn on music (Sarah does)
• Visit and touch panda mobile
• Close west shade
• Turn on fan (Sarah does)
• Move diaper pail from in front of door
• Return to hallway:
• Look at map of Maine
• Go to thermostat -- open, push two right buttons, close (Sarah does)
• Open bathroom door, close, pat (Sarah and Dad)
• Look in the master bedroom for cat on the bed
• Look at Williams needlepoint in hallway and point out "LMS," "85," and sun
• Back to room:
• Hug, kiss, and lay in bed

I'm not joking (how could I make this up?).  A couple of days ago, he tripped over the foot stool in Sarah's room during the process, and she now has to talk about and reenact the incident every time.  Any new action can become part of the ritual, so it pays to be prudent. 

Although not as detailed, there are rituals for getting up in the morning, getting up after nap, and going to bed (and I'm sure I'm forgetting others).  The scary part is that, if for some reason the ritual is interrupted or a step is skipped, it might be necessary to start over or at least backtrack to avoid a tirade.  Sarah takes "high-maintenance" to new heights.

Don just informed me that he left out a step in the naptime ritual.  No big deal...I'm sure Sarah will keep me on the straight and narrow.