I know. I have become a blog slug. Too lazy to write about my life or even post pictures. I will blame the heat, my upcoming surgery, the heat, Ben's busy summer schedule, the heat, my general lethargy.
I have some thoughts swirling in my head - primarily about loss and how I deal with it and how I see Ben deal with it. These thoughts are not cogent enough to post yet. But I promise to work on it.
I also realize that I need to write about our last adoption trip. Maybe find some more pictures to post. By the time I get that done, I will be posting holiday card pictures. Ugh.
Please bear with me and know that I read with fascination other posts.
Tuesday, June 22, 2010
Friday, May 14, 2010
Lines
You notice that I have not posted on my blog in a month. I keep meaning to, but not really wanting to enough to do it. It's been a trying month for me. I have been tired, Ben and I both were sick for a week, and Ben is pushing all my buttons which makes me more tired. By 9:00 I am headed for bed and certainly in no shape to write some brilliant (or even half-baked) thesis on the why's and wherefore's of my life.
So, today is a little calmer and I have some time. And, even more importantly, I have something to write about. Lines. First, Ben. Later the lines between me and others.
I am speaking of the ones we draw in the sand. I am pretty good at these. Mama Bear comes out quickly to defend and advocate for Ben. In the last four weeks I have made some decisions and had some discussions about what's best for Ben. I am good at this. I am very clear in what Ben needs and how it needs to happen. I draw a complete picture with my lines.
With Ben, however, my lines have been drawn in quicksand lately. He moves them and the original lines fade away with the shift.
With transitions in Ben's life come some pushing and shoving. Ben needs to control as much about his environment as he possibly can. Almost every detail of his daily regimen is discussed, challenged and battled over. It's gotten really hard for me to keep any patience at all with him. I just end up yelling, "brush your teeth already". Not pretty. And so I have taken a few days to reestablish with myself the truisms of Ben.
1. The more changing events happen in Ben's life, the more he needs absolute control over his small part of his world. He needs more Mom-approved choices. School is ending next week, Kurt is traveling with work now every week or so, Ben's babysitter of almost three years has tacitly resigned by not returning any calls. It's a lot for him. The end of the school year has been traumatic for him each year. I was completely unprepared the first year. Then I began to realize that it takes months for him to bond to his teachers and then when he's really beginning to trust them the school year ends. Loss and change. Such hard themes and ones I only begin to comprehend from his viewpoint.
2. The more things change, the more clingy Ben becomes. I literally cannot leave the room without him calling for me within 30 seconds. The apron string is more like a bungee cord. He's also clingy to Kurt at night, but still wants us "all togedder" as he says.
3. Ben starts to exhibit more challenging behaviors the more stressed he becomes. At school he is BUSY being the Royal Boss and the Dizzy Performer. At home he does not pick his battles - every decision becomes a battle. I am working on my deep breathing techniques and have replenished the wine rack.
So, there's my most urgent set of lines. The ones I draw with Ben right now are primarily safety related. I am trying to allow him to make some of his own decisions as well. My Mom gave me some good advice this past weekend that I am working on following. It will give Ben and I both an emotional break from the stress.
More lines. I am trying to sort out my relationships with my friends. I have friends who were friends before my marriage and subsequent motherhood. I have friends who I met because we have kids in preschool together. I have friends whose children were born in Russia. I am having a really hard time keeping them, though. Unless we bump into each other, it's almost impossible to maintain these friendships without an act of Congress. Or a reliable, available babysitter. I mourn my time with my girlfriends. I need to find more time to re-braid my lines to them.
Lines. This I will call a dotted line. The line is to a family member. It's being strained. It has always been a bit tenuous and certainly not one I would depend on to hold me as I cross a chasm. For many reasons I will not (and could not) cut this line, though emotionally it would be easier. So I have to build and maintain this line with a subtly toxic personality. I guess I have to coat my line in a solution of wax (to roll easily off my back) and astringent (so I am not infected by the toxins). Sad. I feel like I have draw lines around me to protect me from emotional ambushes.
Last lines. Happy ones. The ones my sweet child uses to sign his name to my Mother's Day card. He LOVES to write out his name and I am so proud of him. He's worked really hard at his letters this year. I am thrilled and thankful every day to be his Mom.
So, today is a little calmer and I have some time. And, even more importantly, I have something to write about. Lines. First, Ben. Later the lines between me and others.
I am speaking of the ones we draw in the sand. I am pretty good at these. Mama Bear comes out quickly to defend and advocate for Ben. In the last four weeks I have made some decisions and had some discussions about what's best for Ben. I am good at this. I am very clear in what Ben needs and how it needs to happen. I draw a complete picture with my lines.
With Ben, however, my lines have been drawn in quicksand lately. He moves them and the original lines fade away with the shift.
With transitions in Ben's life come some pushing and shoving. Ben needs to control as much about his environment as he possibly can. Almost every detail of his daily regimen is discussed, challenged and battled over. It's gotten really hard for me to keep any patience at all with him. I just end up yelling, "brush your teeth already". Not pretty. And so I have taken a few days to reestablish with myself the truisms of Ben.
1. The more changing events happen in Ben's life, the more he needs absolute control over his small part of his world. He needs more Mom-approved choices. School is ending next week, Kurt is traveling with work now every week or so, Ben's babysitter of almost three years has tacitly resigned by not returning any calls. It's a lot for him. The end of the school year has been traumatic for him each year. I was completely unprepared the first year. Then I began to realize that it takes months for him to bond to his teachers and then when he's really beginning to trust them the school year ends. Loss and change. Such hard themes and ones I only begin to comprehend from his viewpoint.
2. The more things change, the more clingy Ben becomes. I literally cannot leave the room without him calling for me within 30 seconds. The apron string is more like a bungee cord. He's also clingy to Kurt at night, but still wants us "all togedder" as he says.
3. Ben starts to exhibit more challenging behaviors the more stressed he becomes. At school he is BUSY being the Royal Boss and the Dizzy Performer. At home he does not pick his battles - every decision becomes a battle. I am working on my deep breathing techniques and have replenished the wine rack.
So, there's my most urgent set of lines. The ones I draw with Ben right now are primarily safety related. I am trying to allow him to make some of his own decisions as well. My Mom gave me some good advice this past weekend that I am working on following. It will give Ben and I both an emotional break from the stress.
More lines. I am trying to sort out my relationships with my friends. I have friends who were friends before my marriage and subsequent motherhood. I have friends who I met because we have kids in preschool together. I have friends whose children were born in Russia. I am having a really hard time keeping them, though. Unless we bump into each other, it's almost impossible to maintain these friendships without an act of Congress. Or a reliable, available babysitter. I mourn my time with my girlfriends. I need to find more time to re-braid my lines to them.
Lines. This I will call a dotted line. The line is to a family member. It's being strained. It has always been a bit tenuous and certainly not one I would depend on to hold me as I cross a chasm. For many reasons I will not (and could not) cut this line, though emotionally it would be easier. So I have to build and maintain this line with a subtly toxic personality. I guess I have to coat my line in a solution of wax (to roll easily off my back) and astringent (so I am not infected by the toxins). Sad. I feel like I have draw lines around me to protect me from emotional ambushes.
Last lines. Happy ones. The ones my sweet child uses to sign his name to my Mother's Day card. He LOVES to write out his name and I am so proud of him. He's worked really hard at his letters this year. I am thrilled and thankful every day to be his Mom.
Thursday, April 15, 2010
Pictures from our adoption trips
These are in chronological order. Captions would take me weeks, so you'll have to live with just looking.
The first five pictures are of the orphanage. The baby house was originally built in 1892 as an Admiral's summer house. Notice the boat on the weather vane.
The next few pix are of us - Ben in December, Ben and me in January (right before we left the orphanage for the last time) and all of us in Red Square in Moscow in January.
Next come a few pictures of The Hermitage Museum and the Armory. The long pale yellow building with the statue in front is the State Museum of Russia.
The turquoise palace is Catherine's Palace in Tsarkoe Selo. Also in Tsarkoe Selo is Pavlovsk's Palace. Again it is a yellow building and incredibly lovely inside.
The picture of the gold domed building is Peterhof - Peter the Great's Palace. It is about 15 minutes from the Baby House. Quite a contrast.
The pink and white candy-striped church is the Chesme church in SP. Lots of people stop and take pictures, even though it's tucked back in a neighborhood. We did, tacky tourists.
The horse guards a bridge on Nevsky Prospekt. They were buried during WWII so the Germans would not take them. They are magnificent. The pink building is a business building along Nevsky that Kurt thought was beautiful.
The last pictures are of St. Isaac's Cathedral - outside and inside.
Adoption Story - This is our truth
When I left off my story (see February's posts), we had just finished our first trip to Saint Petersburg. We had met with Ben twice and had accepted him and asked for a adoption hearing court date.
We knew when we left Russia that the courts were going to try and squeeze us in before the holidays because everything shuts down for a good three weeks due to New Years and Russian Christmas. A few days after we returned home we found out that our court date would be December 21st. So we made our plans.
The second trip started off much like the first one - an overnight flight to Frankfurt, a bleary two hour layover and a nice nap-filled flight to SP. We changed hotels this time and stayed at the Petro Palace. It's a Russian hotel that is very nice, convenient, cheaper than the Radisson where we stayed on our first trip, and our travel partners (G&K) were staying there as well. We also found a really good Azari (Azerbaijani) restaurant just down the block. Grilled meats, veggies and rice - YUM. They also had hookas, but I passed on trying them.
We arrived Tuesday, December 19th, one day after Ben's first birthday. We were able to visit with him the following day and he was laughing and playing with us this time. He and Kurt made faces at each other and roared with laughter. Ben was also pulling up and trying to take a few steps. I should have paid attention to this.
Thursday at 3:00 was our court date. Kurt had a background speech prepared. Our judge was a woman, early 30's probably. She was very formal and we were nervous. We had a lot going for us and Ben had not been contacted or visited by any bio-family members, so we thought we had a good shot at finalizing our adoption. But we were halfway around the world, working in another country's jurisdiction and legal system. Nerve-wracking. The prosecutor asked us questions - primarily about our ages and how we knew we'd be good parents. We are both very close to our nieces and nephews and Kurt used to be a camp director. We brought lots of "kid experience" to the table. Then the Orphanage Director and the Social Worker stood and gave Ben's background and their reviews on our interactions with Ben.
The judge left the courtroom then for about 10 minutes. When she came back she started reading the adoption decree in English. That's when it really hit us. This child was ours forever. Kurt took my hand and we were both shaking. She read the entire document and then explained that his birth certificate in Russia would be changed to show us as his parents. His adoption record would be sealed for confidentiality and that we would need to wait the 10 day waiting period until we could leave the country. The whole proceeding took about an hour. In December in SP, the sun goes down at 4:00, so it was dark as night by the time we were back at the hotel.
The 10 day wait is not without its perils. If a family member requests it, the adoption can be cancelled. So, we were still not quite breathing easy.
We stayed a few more days and flew home on Christmas Eve. We were able to visit Ben on Friday and spent several hours with him. He was such a trooper. I know we played through a nap and a meal, but he was having fun, too. Saturday,after sleeping past noon, we visited St. Isaac's Cathedral and then went to Olive (a Greek restaurant) for dinner. I think that the trip had finally caught up to us. We were thrilled, exhausted, still anxious and had one more trip to make. We flew home through Charlotte and arrived around 8 pm Christmas Eve. Hearing the judge say that Ben was ours was the very best Christmas present I have ever received.
We knew when we left Russia that the courts were going to try and squeeze us in before the holidays because everything shuts down for a good three weeks due to New Years and Russian Christmas. A few days after we returned home we found out that our court date would be December 21st. So we made our plans.
The second trip started off much like the first one - an overnight flight to Frankfurt, a bleary two hour layover and a nice nap-filled flight to SP. We changed hotels this time and stayed at the Petro Palace. It's a Russian hotel that is very nice, convenient, cheaper than the Radisson where we stayed on our first trip, and our travel partners (G&K) were staying there as well. We also found a really good Azari (Azerbaijani) restaurant just down the block. Grilled meats, veggies and rice - YUM. They also had hookas, but I passed on trying them.
We arrived Tuesday, December 19th, one day after Ben's first birthday. We were able to visit with him the following day and he was laughing and playing with us this time. He and Kurt made faces at each other and roared with laughter. Ben was also pulling up and trying to take a few steps. I should have paid attention to this.
Thursday at 3:00 was our court date. Kurt had a background speech prepared. Our judge was a woman, early 30's probably. She was very formal and we were nervous. We had a lot going for us and Ben had not been contacted or visited by any bio-family members, so we thought we had a good shot at finalizing our adoption. But we were halfway around the world, working in another country's jurisdiction and legal system. Nerve-wracking. The prosecutor asked us questions - primarily about our ages and how we knew we'd be good parents. We are both very close to our nieces and nephews and Kurt used to be a camp director. We brought lots of "kid experience" to the table. Then the Orphanage Director and the Social Worker stood and gave Ben's background and their reviews on our interactions with Ben.
The judge left the courtroom then for about 10 minutes. When she came back she started reading the adoption decree in English. That's when it really hit us. This child was ours forever. Kurt took my hand and we were both shaking. She read the entire document and then explained that his birth certificate in Russia would be changed to show us as his parents. His adoption record would be sealed for confidentiality and that we would need to wait the 10 day waiting period until we could leave the country. The whole proceeding took about an hour. In December in SP, the sun goes down at 4:00, so it was dark as night by the time we were back at the hotel.
The 10 day wait is not without its perils. If a family member requests it, the adoption can be cancelled. So, we were still not quite breathing easy.
We stayed a few more days and flew home on Christmas Eve. We were able to visit Ben on Friday and spent several hours with him. He was such a trooper. I know we played through a nap and a meal, but he was having fun, too. Saturday,after sleeping past noon, we visited St. Isaac's Cathedral and then went to Olive (a Greek restaurant) for dinner. I think that the trip had finally caught up to us. We were thrilled, exhausted, still anxious and had one more trip to make. We flew home through Charlotte and arrived around 8 pm Christmas Eve. Hearing the judge say that Ben was ours was the very best Christmas present I have ever received.
Tuesday, April 13, 2010
Two conversations
Ben takes swimming lessons. He loves them and the pool is indoors so he can get lots of activity and exercise no matter the weather or the pollen count.
So, one of the other Moms in the class (we'll call her K), who knows that Ben was born in Russia, asked me about the news story in the post below. Well, of course, I have several opinions about what should have happened instead of what actually transpired. We stood next to the big swimming pool and spoke for a few minutes about the sad events. Ben and his class were not nearby. They were actually in a different pool at the other end of the room.
So, a few adults walk by us and get ready to swim laps in the big pool. It becomes apparent to me that one man was listening to my opinions about the state of Russian/US relations regarding intercountry adoptions. When it was time to get Ben from class, I moved to pass this group of adults. The man looked at me and said "Russia just sends us the kids from drug abusers and drunks. That's why the kids all have such problems." Really, I thought.
I did not mention during the course of my convo with K about me being an Adoptive Mom or that Ben was born in Russia. So, there was no way he would know these facts. I looked at him, I am sure, with a look on my face that was somewhere between "you are dumb/uninformed/annoying" and "have you met my drug-free, non FAS son?". I looked at this man and said, "the statistics just don't bear that out. Sixty thousand kids in the US adopted from Russia are not all suffering the after-effects of drug abuse and fetal alcohol syndrome." Not my best comeback, but hello, what a sweeping generalization.
Today, I stopped by the preschool office. While I was there, the director said that I would be calling her in a few years to tell her she was right. I said, about what? She said that in the 2nd grade, Ben would be pulled from class and tested for the gifted and talented program. She said he would also be admitted into the program. I was surprised. I have not given it much thought. I am busy working on Ben writing his "n"s correctly when he writes his name. I don't care if he is in the g/t program. I just want him to be successful and happy in his school experience.
So, here we have an educator who sees all kinds of potential and intelligence in my son and a complete stranger who sees only what he wants to see. I think I'll introduce him to Ben next week at swimming.
So, one of the other Moms in the class (we'll call her K), who knows that Ben was born in Russia, asked me about the news story in the post below. Well, of course, I have several opinions about what should have happened instead of what actually transpired. We stood next to the big swimming pool and spoke for a few minutes about the sad events. Ben and his class were not nearby. They were actually in a different pool at the other end of the room.
So, a few adults walk by us and get ready to swim laps in the big pool. It becomes apparent to me that one man was listening to my opinions about the state of Russian/US relations regarding intercountry adoptions. When it was time to get Ben from class, I moved to pass this group of adults. The man looked at me and said "Russia just sends us the kids from drug abusers and drunks. That's why the kids all have such problems." Really, I thought.
I did not mention during the course of my convo with K about me being an Adoptive Mom or that Ben was born in Russia. So, there was no way he would know these facts. I looked at him, I am sure, with a look on my face that was somewhere between "you are dumb/uninformed/annoying" and "have you met my drug-free, non FAS son?". I looked at this man and said, "the statistics just don't bear that out. Sixty thousand kids in the US adopted from Russia are not all suffering the after-effects of drug abuse and fetal alcohol syndrome." Not my best comeback, but hello, what a sweeping generalization.
Today, I stopped by the preschool office. While I was there, the director said that I would be calling her in a few years to tell her she was right. I said, about what? She said that in the 2nd grade, Ben would be pulled from class and tested for the gifted and talented program. She said he would also be admitted into the program. I was surprised. I have not given it much thought. I am busy working on Ben writing his "n"s correctly when he writes his name. I don't care if he is in the g/t program. I just want him to be successful and happy in his school experience.
So, here we have an educator who sees all kinds of potential and intelligence in my son and a complete stranger who sees only what he wants to see. I think I'll introduce him to Ben next week at swimming.
Friday, April 9, 2010
I lack the words
http://news.yahoo.com/s/ap/20100409/ap_on_re_eu/eu_russia_adopted_boy
The above is an article that appeared in the news this week. It is sad beyond belief - so many parts of it. It's not the first time that adoptions have gone disastrously wrong. There are examples of international adoptions being disrupted every year. They don't make the news by sending their seven year old several thousand miles away alone, however.
No one comes out a winner here. In fact, everyone has already lost. The agency who processed the adoption is being blocked. Russia is considering blocking all US adoptions, which is horrible news for those families already in process - between visitation and court trips or, even worse, after court and before the pickup trip to bring their child home. I shudder just thinking of it.
And so here's my soapbox.
Was the Adoptive Mom (AM) adequately prepared for adopting a six year old out of orphanage care? Where was her social worker - who is supposed to be adept an analyzing and reviewing the situation? Where was the pre-adoption counseling and professional psych/med opinions regarding what might happen?
Is there any grain of truth to the information we receive from the Russian orphanage workers/case workers/etc.? I wonder every day. It's sad that I wonder.
I would like to spew my vitriole at the AM, but since I don't know all the facts, I will reserve my judgment. I feel like we all lose when these situations happen. I am very angry at the step she took. She may feel isolated, desperate, scared. But his birth certificate now has her name on it as Mom. You can't just ship him back to Russia. Her agency should/could have helped with this.
International Adoptive Parents (AP) should never believe that the child they bring home will be without issues. It's naive and wrong. So there (I dare anyone to disagree).
I think I now have to act. Where are the advocates, the educators, the concerned and loving support of overwhelmed parents? I will again look at PEAR (Parents for Ethical Adoption Reform) and see what I can do.
Who has to work harder here? This child has needed help since he was born and relinquished. Time in an institution, even a well-run, well-funded institution (which doesn't exist in Russia), only exacerbates the problems. Six years of not being treated for possible violent tendencies or psychoses. Then, a chance comes along. And, six months later, there's still no help and he's back where he started. His options and future when he ages out of the orphanage at 16 are dismal.
The system needs changes, based on studies and facts. Prospective parents must be better educated on what could happen and where to turn. This needs to happen before the child comes home. It is not going to solve every adoption disruption. But, at this point, adoptions between the US and Russia are, once again, in terrible jeopardy.
Heartbreaking. Really heartbreaking.
The above is an article that appeared in the news this week. It is sad beyond belief - so many parts of it. It's not the first time that adoptions have gone disastrously wrong. There are examples of international adoptions being disrupted every year. They don't make the news by sending their seven year old several thousand miles away alone, however.
No one comes out a winner here. In fact, everyone has already lost. The agency who processed the adoption is being blocked. Russia is considering blocking all US adoptions, which is horrible news for those families already in process - between visitation and court trips or, even worse, after court and before the pickup trip to bring their child home. I shudder just thinking of it.
And so here's my soapbox.
Was the Adoptive Mom (AM) adequately prepared for adopting a six year old out of orphanage care? Where was her social worker - who is supposed to be adept an analyzing and reviewing the situation? Where was the pre-adoption counseling and professional psych/med opinions regarding what might happen?
Is there any grain of truth to the information we receive from the Russian orphanage workers/case workers/etc.? I wonder every day. It's sad that I wonder.
I would like to spew my vitriole at the AM, but since I don't know all the facts, I will reserve my judgment. I feel like we all lose when these situations happen. I am very angry at the step she took. She may feel isolated, desperate, scared. But his birth certificate now has her name on it as Mom. You can't just ship him back to Russia. Her agency should/could have helped with this.
International Adoptive Parents (AP) should never believe that the child they bring home will be without issues. It's naive and wrong. So there (I dare anyone to disagree).
I think I now have to act. Where are the advocates, the educators, the concerned and loving support of overwhelmed parents? I will again look at PEAR (Parents for Ethical Adoption Reform) and see what I can do.
Who has to work harder here? This child has needed help since he was born and relinquished. Time in an institution, even a well-run, well-funded institution (which doesn't exist in Russia), only exacerbates the problems. Six years of not being treated for possible violent tendencies or psychoses. Then, a chance comes along. And, six months later, there's still no help and he's back where he started. His options and future when he ages out of the orphanage at 16 are dismal.
The system needs changes, based on studies and facts. Prospective parents must be better educated on what could happen and where to turn. This needs to happen before the child comes home. It is not going to solve every adoption disruption. But, at this point, adoptions between the US and Russia are, once again, in terrible jeopardy.
Heartbreaking. Really heartbreaking.
Tuesday, April 6, 2010
The Twilight Zone and GOPJAI
Last week I had a sleepless night. Rare for me (due to some great meds), but there it was - 4:00 am and not sleepy. So I thought I'd work on my blog. My computer is located in the guest room and we've had lots of company recently (save this topic for another blog post). Anyway, I've not had enough access to my computer to get some pix posted and the next installment of the adoption story written.
So at 4:00 am, I decided to get some pix montaged together. I struggled and mumbled my way through it and then thought it had not worked. At 5:15 I cursed, went downstairs and brewed a pot of coffee. I figured that I'd deal with it later.
Today, yes, several days later, I open my blog to write about the GOPJAI and how he's moved into my house, and lo and behold, there are my pictures. They are rough - no captions or music. But they give at least a glimpse of SP. I have TONS more of my sightseeing pictures and now that I know I can get them uploaded, I'll work on a larger montage. See list below for a guide to the montage.
Okay, now on to the God of Practical Jokes and Irony (GOPJAI). I did not think up this title, but I am borrowing it for this post (thanks, L!). As some of you know, my sweet husband took a two week hiatus between his jobs. He just started the new position last week. It was a very productive time for him - projects around the house and stuff. For budgeting sake, we had determined how much we needed to keep in our account in order to make it comfortably through until his first paycheck arrives. We were on target with this, even though we had two unexpected repairs on our cars.
It has gotten warm here in the last week. We finally broke down and turned on the air conditioner on Sunday. Broke down is the correct phrase because the unit died yesterday. The temperature outside was 86 and it was 88 upstairs in my house. Thankfully, the downstairs unit is still working. And, Kurt walked outside yesterday to see that he had a super-flat tire. Yep, no more procrastinating on those new tires. We will not ask the inevitable question (you know, what next?). We will not speak it aloud. GOPJAI might be listening. I am following my friend, L's advice - make an offering of wine and hope for a better tomorrow.
Guide to the montage. Pictures in order...
1. Church of the Savior on the Spilled Blood - Saint Petersburg
2. Outside the Ministry of Education and Family Building - SP
3 and 4 Church of the Savior again
5. Clinic where our medical exams were completed
6. Door to the notary office
7 and 8. Church of Peter and Paul, near Peterhof, about 15 minutes from Lomonosov
9. St. Basil's Cathedral in Red Square, Moscow
10. The new family in front of St. Basil's
11. Me and Ben in Red Square
So at 4:00 am, I decided to get some pix montaged together. I struggled and mumbled my way through it and then thought it had not worked. At 5:15 I cursed, went downstairs and brewed a pot of coffee. I figured that I'd deal with it later.
Today, yes, several days later, I open my blog to write about the GOPJAI and how he's moved into my house, and lo and behold, there are my pictures. They are rough - no captions or music. But they give at least a glimpse of SP. I have TONS more of my sightseeing pictures and now that I know I can get them uploaded, I'll work on a larger montage. See list below for a guide to the montage.
Okay, now on to the God of Practical Jokes and Irony (GOPJAI). I did not think up this title, but I am borrowing it for this post (thanks, L!). As some of you know, my sweet husband took a two week hiatus between his jobs. He just started the new position last week. It was a very productive time for him - projects around the house and stuff. For budgeting sake, we had determined how much we needed to keep in our account in order to make it comfortably through until his first paycheck arrives. We were on target with this, even though we had two unexpected repairs on our cars.
It has gotten warm here in the last week. We finally broke down and turned on the air conditioner on Sunday. Broke down is the correct phrase because the unit died yesterday. The temperature outside was 86 and it was 88 upstairs in my house. Thankfully, the downstairs unit is still working. And, Kurt walked outside yesterday to see that he had a super-flat tire. Yep, no more procrastinating on those new tires. We will not ask the inevitable question (you know, what next?). We will not speak it aloud. GOPJAI might be listening. I am following my friend, L's advice - make an offering of wine and hope for a better tomorrow.
Guide to the montage. Pictures in order...
1. Church of the Savior on the Spilled Blood - Saint Petersburg
2. Outside the Ministry of Education and Family Building - SP
3 and 4 Church of the Savior again
5. Clinic where our medical exams were completed
6. Door to the notary office
7 and 8. Church of Peter and Paul, near Peterhof, about 15 minutes from Lomonosov
9. St. Basil's Cathedral in Red Square, Moscow
10. The new family in front of St. Basil's
11. Me and Ben in Red Square
Thursday, April 1, 2010
Sunday, March 21, 2010
Technical issues.
My computer has a cough or a headcold or something. My sweet husband is going to look it over and see if he can make the awful grinding noise stop.
My sweet husband has also been on hiatus between jobs. This is good news because we are very excited about his new opportunity. However, Kurt is a DIY-er, so he had to start a new home project. This means he's ripped apart his office to build cedar storage in the window seat of said office. Once he started this project, he realized that the room needed new paint, oh, and the ceiling could use a coat or two, too. You see where I am going with this...
So, my blog will be continued once A) Kurt figures out why my computer makes a horrible sound when it's turned on and B) he starts his new job.
Meanwhile, I will work on pulling more Russia pics together to post once I am up and going again.
Thank you for understanding.
My sweet husband has also been on hiatus between jobs. This is good news because we are very excited about his new opportunity. However, Kurt is a DIY-er, so he had to start a new home project. This means he's ripped apart his office to build cedar storage in the window seat of said office. Once he started this project, he realized that the room needed new paint, oh, and the ceiling could use a coat or two, too. You see where I am going with this...
So, my blog will be continued once A) Kurt figures out why my computer makes a horrible sound when it's turned on and B) he starts his new job.
Meanwhile, I will work on pulling more Russia pics together to post once I am up and going again.
Thank you for understanding.
Thursday, March 4, 2010
Silly things...
Sorry kids. I am taking a break from the adoption story. I'll catch back up. One friend told me I need more detail in my recount of our Russia trips. Holy cow - like this blog's not long enough...
Anyway, silly thoughts for this week.
1. Ben's current favorite dish is barbeque. Usually it's bbq chicken or even just bbq sauce on plain chicken. We've sort of been in a trend with it lately. He looked at us the other night at dinner and said, "this is great - it's so good I can barely stand it". My Dad LOVED barbecue, so I guess Dad is channeling this to Ben. Cracks us up.
2. Ben got a yellow star at school the other day. A good day gets a stamp in his folder. A yellow star means a "not good" day. A red star is the worst. So, I asked him what happened and he was confused. I read the note in his file folder. Apparently, he was disrespectful to his music teacher. After a few e-mails to find out the specifics, it seems that Ben told his music teacher (whom he ADORES) that her song was boring and he did not want to sing it. She thought he meant that he did not like her class and so she asked him to leave. Fast forward to yesterday. I am at the chiropractor's office. Usually, Dr. M plays, ya know, jazz/fusion/world music type of stuff. I don't know who was on his CD player, but it really, really sounded like Celtic Women-screeching-like-seagulls-or-imitating-dolphins-to-music. It was wretched. Of course, I said something to Dr. M about it. Then I had to laugh - at least we know where Ben gets it.
3. I am a Gleek and can't wait for the show's return in April. I am done already with American Idol, though I like Ellen as a judge.
4. I say this often and truly mean it. If my child turns out half as great as my dog, then I will be a truly great parent with an amazing kid. Bogie is in the picture with us and my MaMa, who passed away last Summer.
5. The other picture is one of my faves. It's my Dad and Ben, not long after Ben came home. Truly priceless.
Anyway, silly thoughts for this week.
1. Ben's current favorite dish is barbeque. Usually it's bbq chicken or even just bbq sauce on plain chicken. We've sort of been in a trend with it lately. He looked at us the other night at dinner and said, "this is great - it's so good I can barely stand it". My Dad LOVED barbecue, so I guess Dad is channeling this to Ben. Cracks us up.
2. Ben got a yellow star at school the other day. A good day gets a stamp in his folder. A yellow star means a "not good" day. A red star is the worst. So, I asked him what happened and he was confused. I read the note in his file folder. Apparently, he was disrespectful to his music teacher. After a few e-mails to find out the specifics, it seems that Ben told his music teacher (whom he ADORES) that her song was boring and he did not want to sing it. She thought he meant that he did not like her class and so she asked him to leave. Fast forward to yesterday. I am at the chiropractor's office. Usually, Dr. M plays, ya know, jazz/fusion/world music type of stuff. I don't know who was on his CD player, but it really, really sounded like Celtic Women-screeching-like-seagulls-or-imitating-dolphins-to-music. It was wretched. Of course, I said something to Dr. M about it. Then I had to laugh - at least we know where Ben gets it.
3. I am a Gleek and can't wait for the show's return in April. I am done already with American Idol, though I like Ellen as a judge.
4. I say this often and truly mean it. If my child turns out half as great as my dog, then I will be a truly great parent with an amazing kid. Bogie is in the picture with us and my MaMa, who passed away last Summer.
5. The other picture is one of my faves. It's my Dad and Ben, not long after Ben came home. Truly priceless.
Saturday, February 27, 2010
Ten days in Saint Petersburg
Part 2 of who knows how many.Our first full day in SP started with us registering our file with the Ministry of Education and Family office in downtown SP. That's the doorway into the office in the picture. Pretty nondescript inside, but all the buildings in and around downtown are lovely. No taller than 4 or 5 stories, painted in pastel colors with ornate trims and moldings. Most of the streets run along or over canals. Peter the Great had laborers fill in swamp land and make canals leading to the River Neva which flows into the Bay of Finland. It's called the Venice of the North. I've not been to Venice, so I don't know, but it's really a beautiful and striking downtown.
Kurt and I had been prepped by Oksana prior to this registration. We were to answer the questions and sign the log. I was amazed. We're in a city of 4.5 million, dealing with what would equate to be a regional governmental office, and we were logged in by signing longhand in a bookkeeping log book. This would not be the last time we officially signed off on a document this way. They use computers in SP - the lady (sorry, I did not catch her title) at the Ministry office used one, but our docs were all handled the old-fashioned way.
Our meeting that we were stressed over lasted less than 10 minutes. Then we sat outside the office while our travel partners (G and K) logged in their stuff. After that, we were dropped off at the hotel and given five days to wait. (There was an accreditation glitch at the time we were traveling, so we were handled like an independent adoption rather than an agency adoption - thus there was a five day wait for our paperwork to be reviewed by the Ministry). This also meant we had five days to sightsee.
Vladimir, our driver/tour guide helped us out tremendously. He arranged to take us to Tsarkoe Selo to see Catherine's Palace and Pavlovsk the next day. Catherine's Palace is turquoise on the outside with white trim and quite dazzling in the snow and sun. This palace has the famous "Amber Room" which is actually a reproduction of the original. Most of Catherine's Palace was destroyed by the Russians to keep the Germans from looting it and using it as a headquarters during WWII. (There was a lot of this done in and around SP and it's palaces). Pavlovsk was built for Catherine the Great's son, Paul, and was like walking through a giant Wedgwood box. The ceilings and walls were all pastel with white jasperware designs. Turns out that Wedgwood and Russia have been great pals since Catherine the Great. I think that Pavlovsk was my favorite palace of the five we visited.
Over the next few days we visited The Hermitage (on my bucket list) and the Russian State Museum (which was a palace of a lesser known royal - and that means he did not die a painful and early death). I loved both of these museums as much for their artwork as for the architecture of the buildings, the inlaid wood floors, the incredibly drafty windows. We were so fortunate to have mild weather for our trips. All three trips (Nov, Dec and Jan) were 25-40 degrees. This meant we could walk to the sights and not have to take a car. It's so much faster to walk up Nevsky Prospekt than to drive it. It's equivalent to 5th Avenue at rush hour, only it's 20 hours a day. Of course, all the good places to see in town and our hotels were either on Nevsky or within a block or two of it. Interspersed were McDonald's, KFC and Subway.
Vladimir was not available one day, so his father took the four of us in a very small Rabbit to Peterhof, which is Peter the Great's summer palace. This palace is about one hour outside of SP and 15 minutes in one direction from the baby house where Ben lived and 15 minutes in the other direction from Vladimir Putin's mansion. A little surreal when all is considered.
I think it will be easiest if I make a slide show of all of my sightseeing pics. They really are quite lovely (Kurt took the photos) and you'll get more of a feel for SP. Frankly, I'd go back in a heartbeat.
On the 15th of November, we were to meet Oksana in the lobby of our hotel so we could go to the medical center for our physical examinations. That morning it was snowing - big fat fluffy flakes which made traffic awful but was so pretty to see. I have included a pic of the medical center. We had had our bloodwork, chest x-ray and medical questionnaires all completed prior the leaving the states. We were supposed to be "reviewed" and given a few rudimentary exams (non-invasive) and be sent on our way. Oksana tells us as we're getting in the van that we'll be heading to the baby house after our medicals. We were so excited.
Well, not so fast. The oncologist was palpating my abdomen to check for cancer/tumors and happens upon my enormous uterine fibroids. Uh oh. She gets tense and calls for more tests. I groaned because I'd just had an ultrasound in the states to determine, yet again, that these oranges were not cancerous, just annoying. So, halfway around the world, I get to enjoy a Russian pelvic ultrasound. Thankfully, the equipment looked just like it's American counterparts and the techs were very respectful and professional. So, the halls were dark, the paint was peeling and there's no toilet paper in a medical center's bathrooms. At least they came to the same conclusion my US dr. had come to and let my medical paperwork proceed. Two hour delay, but all was okay (well, except for my nerves).
Of course, the medical center and the baby house were at two opposite points of SP. Lomonosov Baby House is about a one hour drive west and south of SP, along the Bay of Finland. We finally arrived late afternoon (no idea what time, it was almost dark, but dark comes around 4 during the winter up there). We were ushered into a playroom and the workers went to get the babies. G & K's daughter was brought in first. Then in came this chubby, sweet faced baby with a HEAD FULL OF DARK HAIR. Amazing head of hair (it's on the video, it's about all I can say). I thought I would cry or shake. I didn't. All I remember thinking is that this little human was wondrous and might be ours forever. When his caregiver put him down on the rug in front of where I was sitting he cried so I instantly picked him up. He stopped crying and just looked at us. Then he looked at himself in the mirror running along the bottom of the wall. He made no other noise that evening. He did not smile at us. I worried about his health and developmental delays but our IA ped had e-mailed us a checklist to go over with him to determine his abilities. Kurt used his watch as an enticement to see if he would crawl. He did.
The orphanage Director was not present that day. She'd had a death in the family. This was difficult for us because the Director was to share as many details as she had on his time in the baby house, his birth family, etc. We were due to go to the Notary office the next day to sign and say that this child would be ours. Kurt and I had to make this decision without the benefit of his medical/birth background. Daunting. We had a long discussion over a late dinner at the hotel. K, our travel partner, is a doctor and had helped us through anything she might be able to see (she gave him the thumbs up). We felt like this was our child. There are no guarantees and things happen. We'd deal with them. We both went to sleep that night feeling that we'd sign at the notary and feel good about it. And we did.
The picture is the doorway to the notary's office. Not glamorous. We were able to visit the Baby House again two days later. Our visit was about 3-4 hours long. Ben fell asleep in my arms. I sighed and thought if he could fall asleep in my arms then he must like me okay. Kurt and I were completely taken with him. The name we'd chosen seemed to fit him which was a relief since we had committed to it at the notary's office. It all seemed a little out of order but with the right players. Back home after 10 incredible days far far away.
Thursday, February 11, 2010
The Long and Winding Road
I now present our adoption story. Please be aware that four years has passed since we decided to adopt from Russia. I am sure that some of the details are lost forever in the blank spaces of my brain.
Kurt and I had discussed adoption prior to and during the IF treatments. He wanted to make sure that we tried everything medically available before we looked at adopting. But he was open to adoption.
We wanted to be parents. We were not concerned with shared genes and bloodlines.
Russia was our first choice to research because Kurt’s grandmother was born and raised in Russia. We felt a natural connection. So I started researching Russian adoptions and agencies on the internet. The amount of information on the internet is exhausting – so much good, a whole lot more is bad. So I read and read and read. I asked my friends and neighbors if they knew anyone who’d adopted internationally. I called my friends’ friends and talked to them about their experiences. I learned so much. I almost felt ready to jump off this cliff.
In March, 2006, Kurt and I attended a seminar hosted by European Adoption Consultants. They are a leading agency in Russian adoptions and have a great reputation. Kurt went in uncommitted. We both left convinced that this was our agency (we also met the greatest Social Worker who handled our local paperwork). We applied with on March 31, 2006. And the paperwork started. We declared that we wanted a baby (12-18 months old) and either a boy or a girl.
It’s difficult to describe the paper chase that accompanies adoption. You have your homestudy, which is the local Social Worker gathering information, referral letters, medical clearances, police clearances, and interviewing you and your spouse. Concurrently, you are also applying for federal government clearance to adopt (which is another set of fingerprints). Then there’s the dossier which took me all summer to get together. The dossier goes to Russia to be reviewed by their government. When you think you are done – you are not. There’s more after the dossier, between trips and when you get home with your child. It’s a huge amount of paperwork. It’s not hard – just amazingly all-inclusive – from your medicals, to your finances, to your mental healthy, to your family history to your employment. Even pictures of your house. No stone is left unturned. And, to be honest, if I was making an adoption plan for a child, I would want to know that my agency/governing body had thoroughly vetted and qualified the adoptive parents, too.
I finished the dossier over Labor Day weekend of 2006. It was reviewed by EAC and sent to Russia two weeks later. The wait had officially begun. We were told that it would be 3-12 months before we would get a referral, maybe less for a boy. On September 29th I received a phone call that a little boy was available. The next six weeks were soooooo slow. When would we travel? How long would we be there? When could we meet him? Would he like us? Would he be really healthy and happy in person? The questions race around your mind carried on hurricane force winds.
On October 20th, we received our travel dates for Trip 1. We would spend 11 days in St. Petersburg. During that time, we’d have medicals confirmed at the local medical center, get out to the orphanage a couple of days and have some wait time in between. It was really going to happen.
Up to this point, we had talked about names, but had decided to wait until we met “him” to make sure his name would fit. This was also a protective measure on our part – just in case it all fell apart.
We flew out on November 8th – overnight to Frankfurt and then an early morning flight from Frankfurt to SP. I don’t sleep on planes – did I mention that yet? Yeah, I watched the movies, read two books, and, even after ½ a sleeping pill, did not sleep. The ½ a pill was due to the fact that Lufthansa Airlines does a cool job with dinner service – drinks, snack, dinner, dessert, coffee, after-dinner drinks and by then four hours has passed and you finally think about sleeping. It’s only an 8 hour flight to Frankfurt. I was pretty zombie-like once in Germany. The flight to SP is four hours long and never crowded. The flight attendants served breakfast as soon as we were airborne, passed out blankets, and told everyone to pick their own row to make into a bed. We slept blissfully.
Upon arriving in SP, I realized two things. The international airport is really dated and “Stalin-esque” in architecture and they DO have toilet paper in the restrooms (at least at the airport – more on that later).
We met up with Oksana, our translator/coordinator/knower-of-all-things and Vladimir our driver/tour guide. We also met G and K, a couple from NY who were adopting their third child from Russia. I am sure we were wide-eyed and slack-jawed on the trip in from the airport. So much to see. So much ended up being familiar – Ford, KFC, Subway, Pizza Hut, Max Factor – SP is a large international city and US industries have found their way into the economy.
I end this first segment with a picture taken on either our first or second day. This is the Church of the Savior on the Spilled Blood. It’s a gorgeous church on the outside and is completely covered – walls, ceilings, and floor - with mosaic tiles inside. During the Communist Era it was used as a storage warehouse for office furniture.
Kurt and I had discussed adoption prior to and during the IF treatments. He wanted to make sure that we tried everything medically available before we looked at adopting. But he was open to adoption.
We wanted to be parents. We were not concerned with shared genes and bloodlines.
Russia was our first choice to research because Kurt’s grandmother was born and raised in Russia. We felt a natural connection. So I started researching Russian adoptions and agencies on the internet. The amount of information on the internet is exhausting – so much good, a whole lot more is bad. So I read and read and read. I asked my friends and neighbors if they knew anyone who’d adopted internationally. I called my friends’ friends and talked to them about their experiences. I learned so much. I almost felt ready to jump off this cliff.
In March, 2006, Kurt and I attended a seminar hosted by European Adoption Consultants. They are a leading agency in Russian adoptions and have a great reputation. Kurt went in uncommitted. We both left convinced that this was our agency (we also met the greatest Social Worker who handled our local paperwork). We applied with on March 31, 2006. And the paperwork started. We declared that we wanted a baby (12-18 months old) and either a boy or a girl.
It’s difficult to describe the paper chase that accompanies adoption. You have your homestudy, which is the local Social Worker gathering information, referral letters, medical clearances, police clearances, and interviewing you and your spouse. Concurrently, you are also applying for federal government clearance to adopt (which is another set of fingerprints). Then there’s the dossier which took me all summer to get together. The dossier goes to Russia to be reviewed by their government. When you think you are done – you are not. There’s more after the dossier, between trips and when you get home with your child. It’s a huge amount of paperwork. It’s not hard – just amazingly all-inclusive – from your medicals, to your finances, to your mental healthy, to your family history to your employment. Even pictures of your house. No stone is left unturned. And, to be honest, if I was making an adoption plan for a child, I would want to know that my agency/governing body had thoroughly vetted and qualified the adoptive parents, too.
I finished the dossier over Labor Day weekend of 2006. It was reviewed by EAC and sent to Russia two weeks later. The wait had officially begun. We were told that it would be 3-12 months before we would get a referral, maybe less for a boy. On September 29th I received a phone call that a little boy was available. The next six weeks were soooooo slow. When would we travel? How long would we be there? When could we meet him? Would he like us? Would he be really healthy and happy in person? The questions race around your mind carried on hurricane force winds.
On October 20th, we received our travel dates for Trip 1. We would spend 11 days in St. Petersburg. During that time, we’d have medicals confirmed at the local medical center, get out to the orphanage a couple of days and have some wait time in between. It was really going to happen.
Up to this point, we had talked about names, but had decided to wait until we met “him” to make sure his name would fit. This was also a protective measure on our part – just in case it all fell apart.
We flew out on November 8th – overnight to Frankfurt and then an early morning flight from Frankfurt to SP. I don’t sleep on planes – did I mention that yet? Yeah, I watched the movies, read two books, and, even after ½ a sleeping pill, did not sleep. The ½ a pill was due to the fact that Lufthansa Airlines does a cool job with dinner service – drinks, snack, dinner, dessert, coffee, after-dinner drinks and by then four hours has passed and you finally think about sleeping. It’s only an 8 hour flight to Frankfurt. I was pretty zombie-like once in Germany. The flight to SP is four hours long and never crowded. The flight attendants served breakfast as soon as we were airborne, passed out blankets, and told everyone to pick their own row to make into a bed. We slept blissfully.
Upon arriving in SP, I realized two things. The international airport is really dated and “Stalin-esque” in architecture and they DO have toilet paper in the restrooms (at least at the airport – more on that later).
We met up with Oksana, our translator/coordinator/knower-of-all-things and Vladimir our driver/tour guide. We also met G and K, a couple from NY who were adopting their third child from Russia. I am sure we were wide-eyed and slack-jawed on the trip in from the airport. So much to see. So much ended up being familiar – Ford, KFC, Subway, Pizza Hut, Max Factor – SP is a large international city and US industries have found their way into the economy.
I end this first segment with a picture taken on either our first or second day. This is the Church of the Savior on the Spilled Blood. It’s a gorgeous church on the outside and is completely covered – walls, ceilings, and floor - with mosaic tiles inside. During the Communist Era it was used as a storage warehouse for office furniture.
Tuesday, January 26, 2010
An aside from an "older Mom"
Ok. I understand my circumstances. I am 43 years old and the Mom of a four year old. This makes me thankful and tired. I am not whining here, just stating a fact.
Now, here's the whine. When did the parts start falling apart? This week, it's my right shoulder. I think I've strained a ligament or tendon. This is going to ruin any chances I have of being a major league starting pitcher. How will I take the Braves to a World Series if I can't lift my coffee cup without wincing?
Also, when did the print get so small I can't read it? Kurt and I went out to dinner with our friends (P&S). The restaurant was lovely, though dimly lit. Kurt and I could not read the small type on the menu - it was funny, but only a little bit. I think I have hit the threshold for readers. Do I have to buy the "old lady" chains that go with them?
I am hoping to have surgery in March to remove a broken uterus. One of my friends was shocked that I would consider this, but I feel like I am carrying a faulty and shorting toaster inside me. If it doesn't work and only adds to the problems, then why keep it?
And then there's the crows feet and neck wrinkles that magically appeared when I wasn't paying attention. Dang - should have used more moisturizer growing up. Sadly SPF did not appear on the scene until after I had cooked myself to a crisp growing up in the Florida sun.
So, getting old sucks. But getting old with a magical, surprising, amazing four year old, the best husband ever and an immortal Maltese suits me and my old parts just fine.
Now, here's the whine. When did the parts start falling apart? This week, it's my right shoulder. I think I've strained a ligament or tendon. This is going to ruin any chances I have of being a major league starting pitcher. How will I take the Braves to a World Series if I can't lift my coffee cup without wincing?
Also, when did the print get so small I can't read it? Kurt and I went out to dinner with our friends (P&S). The restaurant was lovely, though dimly lit. Kurt and I could not read the small type on the menu - it was funny, but only a little bit. I think I have hit the threshold for readers. Do I have to buy the "old lady" chains that go with them?
I am hoping to have surgery in March to remove a broken uterus. One of my friends was shocked that I would consider this, but I feel like I am carrying a faulty and shorting toaster inside me. If it doesn't work and only adds to the problems, then why keep it?
And then there's the crows feet and neck wrinkles that magically appeared when I wasn't paying attention. Dang - should have used more moisturizer growing up. Sadly SPF did not appear on the scene until after I had cooked myself to a crisp growing up in the Florida sun.
So, getting old sucks. But getting old with a magical, surprising, amazing four year old, the best husband ever and an immortal Maltese suits me and my old parts just fine.
Thursday, January 21, 2010
Working here...
I don't want you to think I am neglecting my blog. I am actually trying to pull together our adoption story to share. I have to find the pix from Russia that I want to post, resize, blah blah...
I am hoping to have it up on the blog by the weekend. It will be in parts.
On a lighter note, I had dinner with two duckies last night. One local (S) and one from CA (R). I had a blast. S and I met on the ducky adoption board and now have been friends IRL for several years. R was in town for a conference and it was our first time meeting IRL.
We spent several hours together over dinner and I could have stayed and talked some more. Delightful, funny, Moms - they are both amazing women.
Okay, back to working on my adoption story.
I am hoping to have it up on the blog by the weekend. It will be in parts.
On a lighter note, I had dinner with two duckies last night. One local (S) and one from CA (R). I had a blast. S and I met on the ducky adoption board and now have been friends IRL for several years. R was in town for a conference and it was our first time meeting IRL.
We spent several hours together over dinner and I could have stayed and talked some more. Delightful, funny, Moms - they are both amazing women.
Okay, back to working on my adoption story.
Thursday, January 14, 2010
Home Three Years
Well today is our three year anniversary home with Ben. We landed at Hartsfield Airport around 4:30 in the afternoon on January 14, 2007. It was a Sunday. It took us about three hours to get through customs and immigration once we landed. It was completely absurd. We had to wait (along with about a dozen other newly formed families) in the same line as all the adult immigrants. Hmmmm...I doubt my 13 month old son is on a watch list anywhere. I mean, come on, he doesn't talk, he poops in his pants and he has no teeth. Doubtful he's smuggling anything other than organic matter in his diaper.
We live on the other side of Atlanta from the airport. Ben was almost asleep as we finally got to our car in the park and ride lot. Just as we were getting into my car a plane took off and went directly over us. So much for a peaceful moment. Then, Ben would not, absolutely would not, get in the car seat. He was losing it. Kurt and I were so tired from being awake for 24 hours straight that we gave in. Kurt sat in the back seat with Ben on his lap and the seat belt over both of them. I drove home. I remember thinking to myself that I had never been that tired and driving at the same time.
It was a long first night. There have been many long nights since. I would not trade one of them.
We live on the other side of Atlanta from the airport. Ben was almost asleep as we finally got to our car in the park and ride lot. Just as we were getting into my car a plane took off and went directly over us. So much for a peaceful moment. Then, Ben would not, absolutely would not, get in the car seat. He was losing it. Kurt and I were so tired from being awake for 24 hours straight that we gave in. Kurt sat in the back seat with Ben on his lap and the seat belt over both of them. I drove home. I remember thinking to myself that I had never been that tired and driving at the same time.
It was a long first night. There have been many long nights since. I would not trade one of them.
Tuesday, January 12, 2010
Silly boy
On a lighter note, Ben and Abby were playing with his new camera. That's Ben, Abby and Ben's foot in one picture.
Wednesday, January 6, 2010
Lost
As a prelude to this post, I will say that Ben and I made brownies yesterday after school. He'd been asking for them so I picked up a box mix and we had a good time making them. Of course, once they were done, he wanted more than one. A small fit ensued and then blew over.
Kurt got home from work last night and updated me on some long-time acquaintances of ours. Last we spoke to them, they were expecting their first child after many years of fertility struggles. Kurt told me after dinner that our friends lost their baby.
Ben, who was in the next room, came in and asked who lost their baby and how. Of course, our euphemism was confusing to him. Kurt gently explained about the baby not living and going to be with God. Nothing more was said by Ben.
This morning, Ben pitched two HUGE fits over me not allowing him to have brownies for breakfast. I just did not get it - usually he eats his Cheerios or toast and is quite happy. I told him that we would have a brownie for snack after school. Ben got louder and started crying and hitting me. I was already tired and grumpy, so you can see how this became "not one of my best moments". Finally, I am trying to get him into his coat so we can go to school, he's still crying a little and looks up at me and quietly says "I don't want to be lost".
My heart just dropped. I sank to my knees in front of him and, through my own tears, promised him he would never be lost. I would always keep him and stay with him. Then he said "I don't want you to be lost either. I would be too sad.". Knife #2 plunges in and sticks deep. I told him that I wanted to live to be very, very old and would do everything in my power to make that happen. Oh boy.
On the way to school I asked him about being mad today. He said he is mad and afraid of me being lost.
Two things on my to-do list today. One - work out so I can stay healthy for my child. Two - read Orchid Children article from start to finish.
Kurt got home from work last night and updated me on some long-time acquaintances of ours. Last we spoke to them, they were expecting their first child after many years of fertility struggles. Kurt told me after dinner that our friends lost their baby.
Ben, who was in the next room, came in and asked who lost their baby and how. Of course, our euphemism was confusing to him. Kurt gently explained about the baby not living and going to be with God. Nothing more was said by Ben.
This morning, Ben pitched two HUGE fits over me not allowing him to have brownies for breakfast. I just did not get it - usually he eats his Cheerios or toast and is quite happy. I told him that we would have a brownie for snack after school. Ben got louder and started crying and hitting me. I was already tired and grumpy, so you can see how this became "not one of my best moments". Finally, I am trying to get him into his coat so we can go to school, he's still crying a little and looks up at me and quietly says "I don't want to be lost".
My heart just dropped. I sank to my knees in front of him and, through my own tears, promised him he would never be lost. I would always keep him and stay with him. Then he said "I don't want you to be lost either. I would be too sad.". Knife #2 plunges in and sticks deep. I told him that I wanted to live to be very, very old and would do everything in my power to make that happen. Oh boy.
On the way to school I asked him about being mad today. He said he is mad and afraid of me being lost.
Two things on my to-do list today. One - work out so I can stay healthy for my child. Two - read Orchid Children article from start to finish.
Monday, January 4, 2010
Doctor Visits
This afternoon was Ben's four year old checkup.
Our pediatrician, Dr. W., is an international adoption specialist. She has given us sound advice since our very first visit. She has been as valuable and informative as the books I so highly recommend. She's also the Mom to three cuties from Guatemala.
So, Ben knew that he was going to get shots today. You can't surprise him with this info - he needs several days to mentally adjust to the facts. Kurt went with us because it's too hard physically for me to restrain Ben enough for the nurse to get the shots done. I felt awful for him - three shots. He's downstairs sacked out in the big red chair right now.
Results. Ben is 53 pounds and 42 inches tall. He's in the 80th percentile for height and 95+ percentile for weight. Dr. W. is thrilled. When Ben came home at 13 months old, he was in the 10th percentile for height and 20th percentile for weight. He's a stocky, solid kid. She has no worries about his current, off-the-chart-trend. He passed his first vision and hearing screening as well. Whew.
Dr. W. also understands and supports us with Ben's sensory and sleep issues. It's always a relief to hear someone agree with me. There are days I feel like Don Quixote tilting at windmills trying to get buy in on this issue. The reality is that only Kurt and I need to agree on how to raise Ben. No one else gets a vote. Some days even Kurt does not get a vote (don't tell him I said that, ok?)
So, a new year has started off right and Ben is ready to face 2010 - deemed healthy, happy, and vaccinated.
Tomorrow is my annual mammogram visit. Should have results in a week or so. Just letting you know that I am doing my part to keep my girls in order.
Our pediatrician, Dr. W., is an international adoption specialist. She has given us sound advice since our very first visit. She has been as valuable and informative as the books I so highly recommend. She's also the Mom to three cuties from Guatemala.
So, Ben knew that he was going to get shots today. You can't surprise him with this info - he needs several days to mentally adjust to the facts. Kurt went with us because it's too hard physically for me to restrain Ben enough for the nurse to get the shots done. I felt awful for him - three shots. He's downstairs sacked out in the big red chair right now.
Results. Ben is 53 pounds and 42 inches tall. He's in the 80th percentile for height and 95+ percentile for weight. Dr. W. is thrilled. When Ben came home at 13 months old, he was in the 10th percentile for height and 20th percentile for weight. He's a stocky, solid kid. She has no worries about his current, off-the-chart-trend. He passed his first vision and hearing screening as well. Whew.
Dr. W. also understands and supports us with Ben's sensory and sleep issues. It's always a relief to hear someone agree with me. There are days I feel like Don Quixote tilting at windmills trying to get buy in on this issue. The reality is that only Kurt and I need to agree on how to raise Ben. No one else gets a vote. Some days even Kurt does not get a vote (don't tell him I said that, ok?)
So, a new year has started off right and Ben is ready to face 2010 - deemed healthy, happy, and vaccinated.
Tomorrow is my annual mammogram visit. Should have results in a week or so. Just letting you know that I am doing my part to keep my girls in order.
Sunday, January 3, 2010
Getting Through
The holidays were actually pretty nice this year. Ben had a fabulous time with his birthday and Christmas. We spent time with my family and with Kurt's, too. It was much less stressful than I imagined it would be.
But still. This is the first year without my grandmother. She died unexpectedly in June. This is the second set of holidays without Dad and in 2007 he underwent his stem cell transplant on December 20th, so he was not with us then either. Experts say that the first round of holidays is the toughest. Once you get through that first year, it gets easier.
I don't know if easier is really an accurate term. What I have found is that nothing is ever the same. Not only is there an empty chair to match the empty place inside of you, but the traditions change. My Mom's family used to go every Christmas Day to my grandparents' house for a huge lunch. My Grandmother made a very dry turkey and we all supplemented with sides and desserts. If all were in town, there were at least 30 of us. Now, my Mom's brother and sister are hosting their own families in Florida and we are up here in Georgia. Together - but different.
I know that time passes and everyone passes on. I really do know it. But, at the holidays it just seems so glaring.
My Great-Uncle Fred died on Christmas Day. He lived a great life full of love and serving those around him. He will be missed and I regret that I did not take more opportunities to spend time with him. His step-granddaughter sang at his funeral. She was amazing. Of course, she sang a song that rings in my heart, The Lord's Prayer. Now, understanding that I have a ton of music in my background, almost majored in piano/voice, blah, blah, blah...I take complete ownership of being a music snob. When I say a person has a great voice - I really mean it. Susan has an angel voice - pure, easy to watch and listen. And to her it's all about the music, not about her. I spoke to her after the funeral and she mentioned she worked for Emory. I assumed the University (in music, of course). She laughed and said that she worked for Emory Hospital as an Infectious Disease Doctor working with the indigent population in the city hospital. Ok - so she's an angel working in two areas.
To those who have passed on this year and those I will miss forever, may I always remember your legacies - unconditional love, unshakable faith, unwavering truth and two hands to help others.
But still. This is the first year without my grandmother. She died unexpectedly in June. This is the second set of holidays without Dad and in 2007 he underwent his stem cell transplant on December 20th, so he was not with us then either. Experts say that the first round of holidays is the toughest. Once you get through that first year, it gets easier.
I don't know if easier is really an accurate term. What I have found is that nothing is ever the same. Not only is there an empty chair to match the empty place inside of you, but the traditions change. My Mom's family used to go every Christmas Day to my grandparents' house for a huge lunch. My Grandmother made a very dry turkey and we all supplemented with sides and desserts. If all were in town, there were at least 30 of us. Now, my Mom's brother and sister are hosting their own families in Florida and we are up here in Georgia. Together - but different.
I know that time passes and everyone passes on. I really do know it. But, at the holidays it just seems so glaring.
My Great-Uncle Fred died on Christmas Day. He lived a great life full of love and serving those around him. He will be missed and I regret that I did not take more opportunities to spend time with him. His step-granddaughter sang at his funeral. She was amazing. Of course, she sang a song that rings in my heart, The Lord's Prayer. Now, understanding that I have a ton of music in my background, almost majored in piano/voice, blah, blah, blah...I take complete ownership of being a music snob. When I say a person has a great voice - I really mean it. Susan has an angel voice - pure, easy to watch and listen. And to her it's all about the music, not about her. I spoke to her after the funeral and she mentioned she worked for Emory. I assumed the University (in music, of course). She laughed and said that she worked for Emory Hospital as an Infectious Disease Doctor working with the indigent population in the city hospital. Ok - so she's an angel working in two areas.
To those who have passed on this year and those I will miss forever, may I always remember your legacies - unconditional love, unshakable faith, unwavering truth and two hands to help others.
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