My Two Envelope Enthusiasts

One of Sarah's favorite activities is "doing envelopes."  She spends some time each day writing little notes, putting them in envelopes, and decorating the envelopes with crayons and stickers.  She then presents them to Don and me so we can open them.  When asked what the notes say, she usually responds with something like, "Dear God, Mommy loves Sarah. Love, Grammy."

She has her "desk" (a shoebox), where she keeps the paper, stickers, envelopes, and a few odds and ends.  I save the return envelopes we get in junk mail to feed her habit.  The other night at dinner, her prayer was  "Thank you for giving us food, and thank you for taking care of us, and thank you for giving us envelopes."

The interesting thing is that "doing envelopes" runs in the family.  Don is known for the pretty flowers and flourishes he adds to the addresses of greeting cards.  In fact, when he was in the Service almost forty years ago, his fellow Marines would ask him to embellish the envelopes they were sending to their girlfriends.  A Leatherneck with heart, he was -- Ooh Rah!

Y4K?

W*sconsin offers Kindergarten for four-year-olds (4K), and last Monday was the open house at Sarah's school.  All of sudden, it seems like just around the corner that she'll be getting on the bus and heading off to school.  A couple of months ago, I never could have pictured it, but she's gained a lot of confidence since Christmas, and I think she'll be ready when the time comes.

After staying with her in Sunday School since September, I'm finally able to leave after a few minutes and wait for her in the community room.  I tried it a couple of weeks ago, and afterwards, she proclaimed, "Let's do it again next week!"  Okay!  The irony is that, now I have to overcome my own discomfort with walking into the near-empty community room and sitting down to chat with people I don't know well (Don heads home after coffee time and comes back to get us after Sunday School).  So, we're both growing.

After talking excitedly about school for the last year or so, as we pulled into the parking lot Monday, Sarah asked doubtfully, "Mom, why I want to go to school?"  When we got to the classroom, she shyly said "Hello" to her teacher, gripping my finger.  I walked her around the room.  When we came to the carpet where the kids sit for story time, I pointed out the different colored shapes on the floor and asked her, "Which one do you think you'll like to sit on?"  Big mistake.  She plopped herself down on the purple oval and wouldn't budge. 

Pretty soon, she got Dad to sit beside her and wouldn't let him get up (I've played this game before and wouldn't get drawn in).  I explored the play stations scattered around the room and tried to entice her to check them out.  She refused for a while but finally could resist the hamster no longer.  She gradually moved on to other things, and it was tough to pull her away an hour later. 

4K is half-day, Monday through Thursday.  We'll find out in June whether Sarah will be in the morning or afternoon session.  While I had thought morning would work better for us, I'm now hoping for afternoon.  I knew that one bus comes into our neighborhood for all the kids from 4K through high school in the morning, then the 4K kids have their own little bus bring them home before lunch.  I thought the situation was reversed in the afternoon, but we learned that the 4Kers have their own bus both ways then.  I don't like the idea of Sarah getting on the bus with teenagers.  That just seems too intimidating.  I think she (and I) would do better with a little bus.

Either way, morning or afternoon, I think Sarah will be ready to spread her wings and go off to do her own thing for a few hours a day by the end of summer.  I think she's somewhat outgrown staying home with Mom and Dad all day.  In the past month, she has blossomed, sharing more complex thoughts (and sentences) and becoming much more physical -- dancing, jumping, kicking, etc.  She's quite a character and actually talks with other adults when we're out.

I will be ready for her to fly, also.  Having a few hours a day to focus on getting things done will be a welcome change.  Right now, even though I'm fortunate to have Don home all the time and I get a mostly uninterrupted hour of quiet time after lunch, I feel as though I'm always trying to squeeze in a few more to-dos while Sarah wants my attention.  I look forward to focusing more on her while she's home and hearing about all the things she's learning when she gets back from school.  Half a day seems perfect.

I'm not expecting the transition to be easy, however.  I know there will be tears.  I hope they will be only mine, but I'm prepared for them to be hers, too.  I asked the teacher if I'd be allowed to sit in the back of the classroom for a few days if necessary, and she assured me I would, although she's never had a child who needed it.  I'm sure she thinks I'm a helicopter mom, but I know Sarah, and new situations are tough for her.  I don't want to push her and have to spend weeks working our way back to her comfort zone.  Been there; done that; don't care to repeat it.

There's a case in the school lobby with adorable little live finches.

Glued to the purple oval

Sarah and her teacher

Checking out the hamster with her teacher

Dad finally pursuaded Sarah to let him sit in a (tiny) chair instead of on the carpet.

Making a chain

Relaxing some (just when it's time to leave)

Fun Photos

Not much more than that...just some cute shots to brighten your day.



Sarah and her sleeping companions stuffed into her rocking chair while I strip the bed to wash the sheets



Some crafty fun at a local art museum

A bunch of little kids armed with paint brushes -- the mural wasn't the only thing decorated

Another Family Wedding

Last Wednesday, we made the trek to the Tw*n Cities for Don's oldest daughter Rachel's wedding to Matt.  They were married by a judge at the family justice center downtown, with only immediate family present.  We all celebrated at the restaurant where they had their first date.  They're taking a cruise for their honeymoon later this month, then having a reception in March, so we'll celebrate some more then!

On the way to dinner, obviously drawing upon her experience when my brother was married in October, Sarah asked, "Is Rachel Auntie Rachel now?"  Oh, what a confusing family tree she has!

Sarah loved the adventure of it all.  She was especially excited to stay in a hotel.  The next morning, we met Don's good friend Jim, who happened to be in town from M*ntana visiting his parents, for breakfast.  He hadn't met Sarah before, and I think he was suitably charmed. 

We then headed to the C*mo Park Zoo and were treated to some wonderful wildlife watching.  It seemed as though many of the animals were being treated to extra stimulation.  The orangutans had a chid's pool filled with bubbles, and the baby was just a riot.  We also got to watch the polar bear wrestle in the pool with a plastic barrel for a long time.  There's nothing like seeing one of the world's largest predators open its mouth within a foot of your daughter!

The happy couple!

Grandma (doesn't she look great, given her recent health issues?), Sarah, and Rachel before the ceremony

The beautiful bride and proud dad

The ceremony

Rachel saying her vows

The new combined family

Rachel at her favorite restaurant

Sarah playing after dinner...

...and then posing.

Sarah and her rainbow breakfast, complete with whipped cream and sprinkles

The giant cookie that came with her breakfast (!!!)

The orangutan couple

The baby pushing his luck

The busy family

Close encounters of the Arctic kind

 

Happy Year of the Dragon!

Gong Xi Fa Cai!  Saturday night was our local Chinese association's New Year celebration.  Sarah was shy to begin with, as usual, but she warmed up after dinner and played a fishing game to win a prize (one of those toys that you blow in and the end unfurls).  This year, she eagerly anticipated the distribution of the red envelopes, which contain dollar bills, to the kids.  By the time the music and dancing started, she was ready to stay all night. 

We look forward to this event each year, as there's always lots of yummy food and fun activities.  Mostly, though, we love the warmth of the people.  It always reminds me of the tender attention we received in China whenever we were in public.  The women, in particular, fawn over Sarah.  We are so fortunate to have this "China family" close to home.

New Year, New Plan

It's the first week of the new semester, and I'm not in class.  I'm afraid my return to college was short-lived.  Although I had the best intentions and thoroughly enjoyed my new course of study, the timing just wasn't right.

Being gone one afternoon and two evenings a week and squeezing in two-to-three hours of schoolwork a day just wasn't working. On paper, it looked like a great idea, especially when Don is home all the time, but I was stressed out and missed the lifestyle, as they say, "to which I'd become accustomed." Sarah still needs a lot of attention, and I want to be here to give it.

I was reconsidering my plan by the end of October.  Then Don's 84-year-old mom had emergency brain surgery (acute subdural hematoma). With his traveling to the Twin Cities weekly to care for her and his father, I needed to be home with Sarah, and there was little room for school. Although I had hoped to finish the semester, I withdrew from my classes.

So, I'm back to being "just" a stay-at-home mom for the time being, and I'm glad. My new plan is to try to go back to work for the N*tional W*ldlife R*fuge System. I hope to get a position in New England in a couple of years so that we can move closer to my family.  At this point, it makes sense to use the degree and experience that I already have and enjoy more time with Sarah.  In case you haven't heard, it goes by fast.  :)

Her Story

We were standing in the long line leading from the sanctuary to the community room after church one Sunday in November, when the woman behind us asked, "What's her story?"

It's been more than six years since Don and I entered the world of adoption, and I've spent hundreds of hours studying how to be a good adoptive parent.  And, still, the question caught me off-guard.  I know the importance of handling intrusive inquiries with the proper balance of civility and succinctness, especially when Sarah is present.  I don't want to give the impression that her adoption is a tense subject, but I also need to guard her privacy and keep prying people at bay.

Perhaps it's a function of how little we get out, but we haven't had many instances where people have asked inappropriate questions.  I've read about some unbelievably stupid, rude things people have said ("How much did she cost?" "Couldn't you have children of your own?" "They kill girls in China, don't they?"), but I haven't been subjected to them myself.  I consider myself fortunate, but also inexperienced.  No matter how much I've read, until I've put my knowledge into practice, I will make mistakes.  And, I did.

The conversation went something like this:
L: Sarah was adopted from China.
PW (Prying Woman): Oh, how old was she?
L: 12 months
PW:  Do you know who her parents are?
L:  Her biological parents?  No, she was abandoned.
PW:  Oh, my gosh, I just can't imagine giving up my children.
L:  I'm sure it was a very hard decision for her mother; she probably felt she had no choice.  The one-child law in China makes things difficult.

I don't remember what happened at this point, but, fortunately, the conversation was interrupted, and we moved on to enjoying cookies and coffee with other acquaintances.  Sarah, who was standing in front of me the whole time, seemed not to notice any of it, but I know how good her hearing is, and I know how smart she is.  She was probably taking it all in.

I analyzed that episode for days, ridden with guilt.  I felt as though I'd betrayed Sarah's trust by divulging her personal information.  Even though I knew better, once I'd started down the road of politely answering the woman's questions, I didn't know how to stop.  I didn't want to be rude, and I didn't want Sarah to sense I was uneasy, so I tried to politely educate.  That might have been okay, if Sarah hadn't been there, but to discuss the details of her early life in front of her, with a virtual stranger, was not.

It's not that Sarah doesn't know her story, because she does.  She can tell it quite accurately.  "I was a baby in my birth mother's womb, then I was born.  My birth mother couldn't take care of me, so she took me to a place where she knew someone would take care of me.  My foster mom took care of me when I was a little baby, then Mommy and Daddy came to China and adopted me.  Now, we're a family at home." 

I have avoided using the term "abandoned" with Sarah because, first, it's a pretty big word for a three-year-old, and, second, I don't think it accurately describes what happened to her, even though she has a "Certificate of Abandonment" from the Chinese government.  It is a cold word that implies a lack of responsibility and caring.  Sarah was placed where whoever left her knew she would be found right away and cared for.  It may have been a desperate act, but it was not an irresponsible or uncaring one.  There will come a time when she'll need to understand the term and all of its connotations, but not yet, and I shouldn't have used it.

This incident reminded me that I need to be prepared at all times to handle intrusive and inappropriate questions.  It's far too hard for my middle-aged brain to finesse an answer on the spot, taking the circumstances into consideration (Is Sarah with me?  How well do I know the person?  Why do they want to know?).  I've decided that it's best to politely shut down the conversation as soon as possible.

After much brainstorming and wordsmithing, I think I've devised a reply that I can deliver quickly and kindly, and that will end the conversation comfortably for all parties.  After I've shared that Sarah was adopted from China, if someone asks any further questions, my response will be: "We keep that information private.  I'm sure you understand."  I've practiced it like a mantra, hoping that, the next time the situation arises, I can walk away feeling that I protected my daughter's privacy while setting a good example for her.

Given the emotional energy I've spent on this over the last couple of months, Friday's dustup between Presidential candidates Ron P*ul and Jon H*ntsman hit close to home.  In case you missed it, there is an Internet ad that accuses H*ntsman of being "the M*nchurian candidate."  It shows him speaking Chinese (he was ambassador to China) and with his daughters, adopted from China and India.  It is a disgusting ad, no question, but it was H*ntsman's response that really disturbed me.

He began by objecting to the use of his daughters and the implication that "there is some sinister motive there."  I wish he had stopped at that point.  Instead, he went on to share that one was abandoned in a vegetable garden when she was two months old and the other was left to die on the side of a road the day she was born ("Luckily, she was picked up before the animals got her," he continued.).  My stomach flipped as I heard this on the radio.  To me, disclosing this personal information painted his daughters as victims and himself as the hero who rescued them.  His statement didn't respect their dignity and privacy and appeared to be politically motivated.

The episode reminded me that Sarah's story is hers alone.  I need to safeguard it until she is old enough to decide when and with whom to share it.  I've discussed parts of it on this blog, as I've felt my way along as an adoptive mom, and I think that's okay.  I like to believe that I do so in a respectful, nongratuitous way that may benefit others, without harming her.  My posts will likely change as she ages, however, and perhaps I'll make the blog private, as a fellow adoptive mom did recently.  At any rate, I will do my best to remember that, although we are part of each other's life stories, we each have our own to tell, or not, as we choose.