A Shower and a Scooter

My good friend Jenny gave me a baby shower on Sunday.  Dell, Rachel, and Emily were all sweet enough to drive almost three hours (from different directions) to attend.  It was lovely...an afternoon with warm women, good food, and gifts -- what more could I ask for? 

Sarah received lots of beautiful clothes, toys, and books.  We're going to have to ramp up our social life so that she can wear all of her darling outfits.  Otherwise, the animals are going to have to get used to one gussied-up farm girl (why do visions of Eva Gabor come to mind?). 

Don watched both Sarah and her niece Sophia for the afternoon, all the while keeping track of a football game (who says he doesn't still use his management skills in retirement?).  Grandma Dell and Big Sister Rachel spent the night at our house, and Sarah had a ball entertaining them with her endearing expressions and exclamations. 

Sarah continues to learn new skills.  This week, she started scooting around on her butt.  The occupational therapist wouldn't approve, but it works for her.  She can really cover ground by pumping her legs and moving like a jellyfish across the floor.  She's also getting good at standing while holding onto something and is trying to pull herself up.

I'll close with a photo I just love....

Catching Up

The last week has been a busy one...so much to report!  Sarah has met lots of family and had more interactions with medical personnel.  She enjoyed the former and still hates the latter (maybe even moreso now).

Last Thursday, we drove to the Twin Cities to visit Grandma and Grandpa Hultman for the first time.  Sarah managed to tolerate the car seat for the nearly three-hour trip, with a lot of help from Mom.  She started out singing, but that lasted only 45 minutes.  The rest of the trip, I struggled to keep her occupied with music, her Gloworm, teething biscuits, and an apple.  She's a tough audience.

Despite running on little rest, she was a charmer.  She played on the floor with Grandma for a long time, tossing measuring spoons back and forth.  Grandma is now one of her favorite playmates!

We spent the night at a hotel and went to the International Adoption Clinic at the University of Minnesota on Friday morning.  Sarah was fairly patient with the nice doctor but still let it be known that she wasn't enjoying herself.  She was proclaimed healthy as a horse (is that a medical term?) and a big girl.  She's 23.5 lbs. and 31.5"  She's in the 97th percentile for height!  I guess she takes after the Hultman side of the family.

She played on the floor with an occupational therapist for a while to test her fine and gross motor skills.  She got extra credit for "checking in" with Mom before trying something new.  It's a good sign of attachment that she looks to me to make sure everything's okay when she's confronted with the unfamiliar.  As we knew, she is delayed a bit in her motor development (picking things up with her thumb and forefinger, crawling, standing), so we were assigned homework.  Luckily, it includes some new toys!

Then it was time for the blood-draw.  I knew it would be bad, but I had no idea.  I held her while the technician tried first one arm, then, when the needle slipped out, the other hand.  Sarah screamed for about 20 minutes straight, soaking herself in tears and sweat.  I couldn't see her face, but Don said later he thought she was going to pass out.  She continued to cry when it was over and finally fell asleep in my arms, still sobbing every few minutes.  Amazingly, she awoke about 30 minutes later fully reset -- bright-eyed and cheerful.  Talk about resilient....

After the appointment, we headed to Big Sister Rachel's apartment for lunch.  Sarah met Rachel briefly at the airport when we arrived home, but this was the first prolonged (albeit too-short) visit.  Rachel's boyfriend Matt joined us, and Sarah was back to her sweet self.  She was fascinated by Rachel's long hair, and Rachel was a good sport about all the tugging.

On the drive back, she finally gave in and slept in the car seat.  She really had no choice; she was exhausted.  When we arrived, I brought her to the sunroom, and she immediately started playing with her toys.  She seemed genuinely happy to be HOME, which, of course, touched my heart deeply. 

On Saturday, Big Sister Emily, Omar, and 16-month-old Sophia came to visit.  Sophia spent the night with us, while Omar and Emily went to a wedding in Minnesota.  We were eager to see how she and Sarah would interact.  Well, they didn't much, because Sophia has mastered walking and is on the move constantly.  She didn't have a lot of time for her younger aunt.  :)  They did enjoy sitting side-by-side in their highchairs and passing things back and forth.

Monday, I took Sarah to our local clinic to have her TB test read.  The minute the nurse touched her arm, she erupted in tears.  I can hardly wait for her 15-month shots....

Happy Belated Birthday!

Since we missed Sarah's first birthday (July 25) by a week, we decided to celebrate it last night.  We had cupcakes, and she received a little Asian baby doll.  She loved both!  She was so sweet with the doll.  As soon as she held it, she gave it a kiss and motioned for me to pat it, the way I do her.  She did this over and over, with a big smile on her face.  It warmed my heart.

This morning, we took Sarah to church for the first time.  She did great, charming everyone around us.  She even made it through the whole service (including communion).  Everyone was so happy to finally meet her.

Next Time the Works!

Sarah had her hair cut for the first time today.  My hairdresser Connie did a wonderful job.  She was so patient and low-key with Sarah, respecting her space and doing everything she could to put her at ease.  She just took some length off the back, but it looks so cute!  Sarah was skeptical about the whole thing, but she never cried.  She was rather fascinated with the decor of the salon and watching the women getting their hair done.  Next time, she'll probably ask for a shampoo and blowdry!

The Apple of My Eye

September already!  Time to pick apples.  We have two trees, McIntosh, I believe.  They were loaded this year.  Don and Sarah did most of the work, while I supervised.  She loved it!  I'm not sure how many she took bites from.  I guess we'll find out as we use them.

Since my back, and now my knee, have been bothering me, I finally conceded that I couldn't walk the neighborhood with Sarah in the carrier anymore.  So, today, we pulled out the Burley bike trailer that converts to a nifty stroller.  It's awesome!  Sarah loved it, laughing and screaming along the way.  I thought she'd fall asleep, but I guess she was having too much fun. 

Party Animals

Around 4:00, the goats start begging for grain. They act as though they haven’t eaten in weeks. I’m used to this, and I’m afraid the neighbors are, too. Wednesday afternoon, however, the wails were coming from the wrong direction. As I approached the barn, I saw four little heads stuck through the gate to the granary pen, on the opposite side of the barn from the goats’ pen. Instead of begging for food, they seemed to be crying, “Help, we’re lost, and we want to go home!”

I went to the back of the barn and found that the 40 MPH winds we’d been having had pulled up a metal panel on the lean-to. The opening was just big enough for the goats to climb through, with a little effort. They had come through but couldn’t figure out how to get back. Since Don was out of town, I propped the panel closed with a couple of rocks, opened the door to the lean-to, and led the wayward flock back to their pen. They seemed relieved.

Half an hour later, they were back in the granary pen. The rocks were no match for the wind, and the goats couldn’t resist stepping through the looking glass once again. Since they didn’t seem to be trying to get through the electric fence (they’re used to wire mesh), I decided there was no harm letting stay with the donkeys. I opened the lean-to door so that they could get back to their stall in the barn for the night and called it good. The donkeys were thrilled to have access to the lush grass in the goat pasture (the goats have a hard time keeping up in the spring).

Thursday morning, I kept checking to make sure the goats hadn’t escaped the electric fence to make a meal of the neighbors’ shrubs. All was fine. Everyone was behaving. When I returned from having lunch with some friends, I thought I’d better look one more time. As I walked to the barn, donkey Anna Belle was the only one in sight, munching contentedly on the goats’ grass.

I opened the barn door and found four donkeys and four goats partying hardy. They were running up and down the aisles and through the stanchions, knocking things off the shelves, and climbing on hay bales. This was an “E” ticket…the most fun they’d had in a long time! They were the houseguests from Hell.

The Dutch door that connects the lean-to with the back of the barn was wide open. The goats must have jumped against it until both latches flipped open. I’m sure the donkeys have new respect for their caprine cousins.

Kill-joy that I am, I coaxed the goats back into their stall (they’ll do anything for grain) and herded the donkeys out by banging the shovel on the concrete (they won’t do anything for anything, but loud noises get their attention).

Don got home Thursday afternoon and fixed the panel. Push-overs that we are, we decided to let the goats keep their freedom and hope for the best. There was always the possibility that I hadn’t latched the door tightly, and the goats are great weed-eaters. They’d clean up the donkey pasture.

Friday morning I hit the garage sale circuit and took Cadi to the vet. When we returned before lunch, I got the mail, put the eggs out for sale in the cooler, and then thought I’d better check on the hooligans. I opened the door, and, this time, all nine were ransacking the place. Someone had knocked the bag of treats off the shelf and chewed a hole through the bag. They were like kids in a candy store!

After shooing them all out once more, I closed the goats back in their pen. Enough fun. They had a good thing going, but they pushed too far. I think they were actually happy to be restricted again. Freedom brings too much temptation.

I Dig Dandelions...by the Bucketful

A strange topic for a first posting, but what the heck. It's spring on the farm, and that means our lawn is marked by bright yellow asterisks. As a proud tree-hugger, I hate to resort to chemical control. Luckily, my dear husband brought a dandelion digger to the marriage six years ago.

Now, understand that, growing up, our lawn was thick with dandelions, and we didn't care. It would have been deemed a waste of time to try to fight them. Besides, they "went away" by summer. Out of sight, out of mind. Our lawn was lucky if it got mowed once a week (and we cursed it then).

Don introduced me to a new philosophy of lawn care. The lawn is mowed multiple times a week, and dandelions aren't welcome. In fact, here in the Midwest, you can be fined for growing "noxious weeds" on your property. At least, that's what Don tells me. So I have a new appreciation for a dandelion-free landscape.

Don introduced me to the digger a few years ago, but I didn't get hooked until last year. This year, I'm downright compulsive about getting the little buggers. The digger is a two-pronged fork on a wooden handle that you use to pry the plants (tap root and all, if you're good) out of the ground. It's ultra-low-tech, environmentally responsible, and immensely satisfying.

There's nothing like spotting a lush, dinner-plate-sized dandelion and popping it out of the earth. Talk about instant gratification. The result is a clean slate for the grass to fill in, now that it's freed from the grip of the aggressive alien.

My mission is to clear the lawn all around the house of the unwelcome wildflowers (I'm not crazy enough to think I can make a dent by the barn). An overwhelming task, but I have a strategy. I go for the flowering ones every day. I figure that keeps them from multiplying, and eventually I'll get them all. So, I get a bucket or two daily, and the goats gladly destroy the evidence.

The only problem is, I've become obsessed by dandelions. I daydream about bagging the big ones. I'm tempted to bring the digger on my morning walk, to get those obnoxious ones on the side of the road. I'm constantly scanning for yellow dots on the landscape. I'm sure the neighbors are talking about me, as they twirl their index fingers beside their heads.

As obsessions go, I guess there are worse, and I don't have to worry about running out of targets soon. I just hope I'm not driven to fermenting the cursed intruders and losing myself in the dandelion wine. Admitting you have a problem is the first step toward recovery, right?