Undercurrents and Rip Tides

Adoption begins with a loss...

It doesn't matter how an adoptive family is created. The story begins with a loss. In preparation for the adoption, we learn our child's sense of grief and loss can ebb and flow. This ebb and flow reminds me of an ocean's undercurrent. It's always present, sometimes gently moving the grains of sand gently to and fro. Other times, the grief and loss can become a voracious rip tide or tsunami wave.

Tonight, C experienced his first rip current...

Earlier in the evening, the family (including Oma and Opa) were playing croquet. All seemed well. C was enjoying himself. Toward the end of the second game, C became upset with a play that he thought had not occurred. Being C (and drawing close to bedtime), he made choices that indicated an increasing level of frustration. As E and I worked to help him get ready for bed (and to de-escalate), he began hyperventilating.

With him being placed on my lap, I began trying to help him slow his breathing and calm down. As his breathing slowed, the sobs began increasing. So, I asked what he was thinking about. "Dinah," he replied.

Dinah was one of our two cats we had been placed with last September (after the death of our 16 yr old cat Bella). Recently, my asthma exacerbated, so my allergist suggested I undergo allergy testing. Among my multiple allergies, I discovered I was allergic to cats. Therefore, we had to relinquish the cats. This, as you can imagine, was tough for C. However, Mommy needs to breathe, since my lungs are only functioning at 70% of their capacity.

Back to tonight...

As we sat together, C worked through his sobs and asked if Dinah and Felicia were going to another family. I looked at him and said, "Since they can't be with us, I hope they can be placed with another family who will love them just as much as we do." With tears in his eyes, he asked if that's what happened to him.

(Insert Mommy inhale and exhale)

Since we know some information about C's birth mother, I answered as honestly as I could. I told him that, yes, his birth mommy was unable to care for him. Yes, she wanted him to be with a family who would care for him and give him the love he deserved.

After a few more words, I continued sitting by his side. I held his hand as he sobbed, slowed to a cry, and began slowly falling asleep. Before he fell asleep, I laid my head on his and whispered, "You're my favorite C in the whole world and I'll never stop loving you. I love you forever and ever and always."

My heart is heavy. I will never truly and fully replace the love my children would experience had life circumstances given them the opportunity to remain with their birth parent(s). Since this journey we call life gave us the opportunity to be united as a family, I will do my best to love my children fully and unconditionally, giving them the love they need, in the way that love is needed. I will be there for their laughter and happiness, when their faces beam more brightly than the sun. I will be there for their undercurrent moments. And, most importantly, I will be there when the rip tide or tsunami wave threatens to pull them under.

Cats in exile

T had allergy tests last week and modern medical technology has determined that she is allergic to planet Earth.  Despite Krypton's willingness to let earthlings adopt their young, they refuse reciprocity (or maybe their planet blew up...) so T is stuck on Mother Earth.  And due to the meddling of morally superior, Latte sipping, Birkenstock wearing, granola eating environmentalists, we can't cut down all the trees and burn the grass.  So we are stuck changing our diets to avoid anything made with wheat, soy, milk, nuts, or eggs.  Brown rice is ok but white rice isn't (this is when I start to suspect they make up this stuff).  And Felicia and Dinah are exiled--nay, banished!--because of their refusal to keep their dander AND saliva to themselves. For the record, I can't recall any slobbering cat episodes but they do shed hair and presumably dander prolifically as the cylinder of our vacuum consistently demonstrates. 

C took the news well all things considered.  (Of course, when T gave him the choice of cats or mommy, it does put the boy in an awkward position.  Fortunately he had the savvy to choose mommy to stay.)  He loved having Dinah lay with him as he went to sleep.  M will miss roughly picking them up and carrying them around or flopping on top of them as they slept peacefully in the sun.  E will miss poking them and bellowing "No Kitty" before chasing them around the house--"For no reason" as C would say.

Everyone came along this evening to return the cats to the adoption center where we got them.  They were rather aggravated about being penned in the carrying cases and moved to the new environment and were hissing and bellowing when moved into their room.  We opened their cases but they stayed in them until after we left.  The kids had a grand time playing with all the other cats and moving from room to room to see the cats. 

When we got home, C drew a picture of Dinah to keep to remember her. 

Don't want to grow up

Last week was very exciting for C.  So exciting, in fact, that he went outside to wait for the bus early several days--standing in the driveway to make sure he would see it if it came early.  One day, it was the school's field day.  Another was the class pizza party.  And finally, Friday was the last of 2nd grade.  He really liked his teacher and his class this year.  He made a card for his teacher and bought her some books and a large cache of supplies for next year.  For the summer, he has a math and social studies work books to work on and should continue to read 20 minutes a day to get ready for the big exams in 3rd grade.  C checked out a big pile of books at the library on Monday and is reading them w/o being forced to do so.

On Saturday and Sunday, he had his dance performance.  He had told us his group had the "worst" music:  it was "French."  When we arrived on Saturday and got the program, we saw the boys would dance a polka.  Hmm... not so French.  The boys were dressed in sailor's hats and scarves.  The music was upbeat and the boys did an energetic dance.  They got the loudest cheers and most applause of any of the performances. 

Last night, C confided that he didn't want to grow up:  "My wife will ask me what I'm doing on the computer and tell me to stop playing with Legos."  Yup, that's a pretty good prediction. 

M and Lil E had good years in preschool.  Their year ended two weeks ago. M was a great helper to the teachers and helped two new girls fit into the class. Lil E still asks in the mornings, "Go to preschool?"  No more preschool.  "Go to church?"  No, it's not Sunday.  "Saturday?"  Good process of deduction but now every day is Saturday...

The kids like going to the pool.  C always finds someone he knows to play with.  He enjoys diving for objects on the bottom of the pool and squirt guns (of course).  M gets a noodle and swims around the kid's end, making friends with kids and adults alike, mostly (I think) so she can borrow their toys and floatation devices.  Lil E prefers to stay out of the water (she must have some Oma in her).  She'll sit up on one of the chase lounges and pull a towel over her legs.  She also likes to inspect the toys others have brought to the pool and to get into the snacks in our bag.

Lucy

A few days ago, I arrived at preschool to pick up the girls.  Miss Lucy met me at the door and told me that Lil E had listening problems that day.  When told not to do something, she'd give the big smile and then do it. And then would hit when someone would try to stop her.  When I got to the playground, Lil E was being held by Miss April.  I took Lil E and told her what Miss Lucy had reported.  Lil E scowled, looked at April, and said (disgustedly):  "Lucy."  She knew exactly who busted her. 

A few days before that, C and M were jawing about something in the car.  C claimed M "was a big baby.  You should crawl back in Mommy's tummy."  M retorted, "I can't craw back in Mommy's tummy, I grew in another woman's tummy."  Take that, Colin!  Who knew adoption would come in so handy.  M has been asking lots of questions about adoption.  Interestingly, she asks them to Tracy not to me.  C needed some photos of himself as a baby for school so T went thru photos of Vietnam and Ethiopia with C and M.  It was the first time that M had seemed interested in her baby pictures.  T and I got a kick out of watching videos of M as a baby.  Expressions and noises she was making at the time we had interpreted to be just random baby noises.  As she still makes those facial expressions and similar noises, we were laughing as we recognized that she was sassing us as an infant--we just didn't yet recognize it!  T has instituted a rule that M can ask questions for two minutes when she goes to bed.  Otherwise, she just keeps talking to whoever is sitting with her.  M has taken this as a challenge to get in the most difficult questions she can think of in two minutes.  Lil E has recently switched from "Me-Me" to Mena.  Ya gotta admit, that the more mature name isn't as cute. 

C is still "Ba-Ba" for a little while longer.  He's been making progress in school this year, doing very well in math and making progress in reading and writing.  He made a poster on the Wright Brothers and presented it to his class.  He got to dress up as a Wright Brother.  It was good to see him excited about doing the presentation, and, his calling out as he approached the car the day of the presentation, "It went excellent!"

Last Sunday, T and C went to see the Charlotte ballet's Peter Pan.  They had roles for child dancers as baby pirates and baby crocodiles.  C got a big kick of that.  C came home to show M and Lil E some of the moves.  In the week since, we've been assigned parts as pirates or crocodiles.  Arrh!

A Twofer for the Tooth Fairy

Typically, the loss of a tooth--particularly the first one--comes with weeks of wiggling and giggling.  There is much planning about how to evict the tooth:  the string and doorknob, one big tug, the twist and tug, the secret methods that grandpas use that are entirely painless.  Often the tooth practically removes itself as its owner contemplates the method of removing it--while attempting to avoid the pain of actually removing it.  Or, the other common alternative is to lose the first tooth by accidently smashing your face into a door, a bike, a sibling's fist, etc.  Yet again, we do things differently.

We'd been waiting for some time for C to get a loose tooth.  Last week he went to the dentist, who discovered that C's front bottom teeth were coming in behind his baby teeth.  One of them was through the gum, the other was "bulging."  Since the new teeth were not pressing on the baby teeth, the roots of the baby teeth had not dissolved, so the dentist would have to extract the baby teeth.  And then hope that the adult teeth would move forward into the vacated space.  Today was the day.  C was brave and did very well.  Last night, he was worried about it and didn't eat much for dinner.  He'll be on a liquid diet for a few days.  Since his teeth have the full root, I'm told it will cost extra for the tooth fairy to haul them off.  Apparently, unlike most Southern tooth fairies, ours is unionized and has a wage scale based on the size of the job.

We had an odd, extended discussion this evening of whether there are male and female tooth fairies, and why Tinker Belle is different than the tooth fairy.  I think T started it with her insistence that we name our Tooth Fairy.  "Pearl" it is.  I preferred M's "Sparkelina."

M has been doing very well at preschool.  She is very proud of the fact that she has been earning special jobs helping the class because of her good behavior.  Ellie's new favorite song is "Happy Birthday."  She likes to sing it often and will include the name of each person in the family and sometimes will sing Happy Birthday to "cat."  When you ask her, "Is it my birthday today?", she'll smile, shake her head, and reply "no."  And then sing it again anyway.  Her variation today was to sing Happy Birthday to "nobody."

Happy Birthday to C's new teeth!

The Lion Sleeps Tonight

C and I had a different sort of adventure last night.  We spent the night at a sleepover at the Riverbank Zoo (Columbia, SC) with his Cub Scout Pack.  Fortunately, being mid-January, we slept in the education bldg rather than outside.  With 78 in the group, including parents and some siblings, many with large air matresses, we pretty well maxed out the floor space in the bldg.  They had pads we could use so we were comfortable enough.  Even with be treated to a symphony of snoring all night long...  Most likely from the male homo sapiens rather than the more exotic creatures of the wild.

We were treated to 4 tours and a night hike.  The first tour was of the commissary where we were shown where the food is prepared for the all the animals.  Each animal has a card describing what food they eat each day of the week.  We saw the refrigerators and freezers where it is all kept.  Interestingly, the most difficult animals to prepare for are the birds.  There are so many species with varying diets and they must mix the foods together for them in minute amounts as birds don't eat much.  In contrast, the delivery chart showed that elephant food is delivered daily because the 5 or so elephants eat so much. 

The second stop was the hyenas.  We went through the staff enterance to see them in their cages.  The keeper had a brush to rub them so they acted like dogs or cats getting a scratch.  The keeper got them to "laugh."  It was a strange, deep sound that really didn't sound like a laugh (though it had a rhythm like a laugh) but it made us laugh.  Then we went back for a snack:  a small bowl of popcorn and probably the worst hot chocolate I've ever had.  Those who got the lemonaide said it wasn't any better.  Perhaps we should have snacked at the animal commissary...

The third and fourth tours were of the reptile and bird bldgs.  We stayed in the public areas of these bldgs and saw only parts of the bldg.  And the night lights were on so you couldn't see much in many of the exhibits.  Most of what we got out of those tours was the info from the guides.

The highlight of the evening for me was the night hike.  We walked around to many of the large animal enclosures to see which ones were out.  The guides had spotlights.  We got to see ostriches, zebras, several of the small monkeys and cats, the tiger was out prancing around, the lions were sleeping outside and seemed slightly perturbed at having spotlights on them.  But then, lions usually look slightly perturbed.  And I would be perturbed if my sleep were interrupted by a spotlight and dozens of chattering Cub Scouts.  The guide said that more animals were out than on a usual night.  It was a good night for a walk; it was cold but not frigid.  I brought our knit hats but we didn't need them and our hands were fine in our pockets w/o gloves.

In the morning, we all went to see the tiger, who again was strutting around, showing off.  Because the tiger always seemed to appear on cue, we thought we might be at Disney.  But he didn't sing.  The monkeys were very active and two birds (the kukaberra and something else) we screeching at each other and everyone was amused by them.  We had breakfast and then most of C's den walked around the zoo together, seeing many of the animals we hadn't seen the night before.  C would get very excited, running on the next exhibit and then calling for us to come on to see what he found.  He also like to feed the giraffes.  We got to see the penguins being fed.

I had never thought of a sleepover at the zoo and thought it was a cool idea when we got the email invting us to go.  It was as much fun as we had hoped. 

On the Quest for a Milkshake

C and I had tickets for the Nutcracker on Sunday afternoon.  We stopped to get lunch at McD's drive thru.  C instructed me to order an 8 peice chicken nuggets and a milkshake.  THE VOICE from THE BOX informed me that the milkshake machine was down. I expected C express displeasure (ahem), but he took it in stride. 

During the opening Act of the Nutcracker, C literally sat on the edge of his seat and uttered "awesome" from time to time.  At one point, he asked when the "Rat King" would appear and I assured him that it would be soon.  After the dual and death of the Mouse King and Clara's arrival in the winter fairy land of many ballerinas, C shifted to the back of his seat.  45 minutes on the edge is quite good.  So when intermission occurred, I expected to hear his excitement about the first Act:

C: "Can we go home?"
E: "No, this is intermission.  There is a second half."
C: "I'm bored.  I want to go home.  I'm hungry and need a snack. I want a milkshake." 
E:  "You ate a good lunch.  They don't have milkshakes here.  But if you go to the bathroom we can see what snacks they have in the lobby." 
(After a few back and forths, C takes off his shoes and socks, puts in his big toe in his mouth.) 
E:  "We're in the theater!  Get your toe out of your mouth!  It's bad enough you do that at home." 
C:  "You won't get me a snack so I'm having one here!"

Egads! 

As the second half begins, C is sitting facing the back of his seat.  As the music and dancing start, he turns to look over his shoulder to see the action.  But eventually, he lays over on the arm rest and falls asleep.  The show, by the way, was fantastic--costumes, scenery, music, dancing, everything. 

Afterwards, as a student in the dance theater, C could get a poster signed by the cast members.  While we waited in line, I coached him on what he could say to the dancers.  The first dancer asked him what he liked best.  Unfortunately, we hadn't discussed an answer to this one, so I had to jump in to say that he liked the Mouse King.  But C was flummoxed so therefore would more or less throw the poster at the dancers and refuse to talk to them.  The next to last dancer was also using the "What part did you like best?" question.  The girl in front of  C in line answered that she liked it all; so, C repeated her response when he faced the query again.

Finished at the theater, our quest for the milkshake resumed.  Given that uptown has few fast food places at all, and fewer places open on weekends, I knew it would be a challenge.  The Panthers game was letting out at the same time and the streets were gridlocked with traffic, so we walked around awhile, but not even burger joints had the lucious elixir.  We were going straight to his Scout meeting, nestled safely in the 'burbs where there are more fast food chains than...well, anything. Fortunately, we were saved by Wendy and her Frosty. 

The next morning, C awoke, ran to our bathroom, saw Mommy and exclaimed "Mommy. I saw the Nutcracker. It was great!  The Mouse King and Nutcracker guy fought each other with swords. Then, they shot a mouse out of a canon. That was really cool!" 

To borrow from another giant of the stage:  All's well that ends well...

Linguistics of Love

Usually E has been the creative talent behind our posts. His brain seems to have a natural gift for taking our lives and spinning a well-crafted, humorous tale.

This semester has been both interesting and challenging, from a parenting perspective. Both E and I are working as full-time faculty at our respective universities. E finds himself blessed with a more flexible schedule. Although flexible, we find ourselves becoming that busy family that arrives home, just in time to prepare dinner, do homework, find a few moments for play, and get the kids ready for bed.

Of course, when three children (and two assertive kittens) all clammor simultaneously for Mommy's attention, someone usually ends up on the short end of the stick. So, the challenge is finding how to better balance the time spent with C, M, and Lil E. It isn't easy. Mommy guilt sets in. Each child would like completely undivided attention. No matter how much one stays with each child, it never seems enough - their emotional tanks are running on fumes and the time spent barely keeps the engine from locking down.

I feel as though my children's "check engine lights" are glowing more brightly than halogen headlights on a dark, country road...

I've been thinking how to more equitably balance the emotional needs of my children. This season, our Sunday School class at church has been discussing The Five Love Languages of Children. Over the past few weeks, I've begun to more clearly see that each of our children have very different primary love languages (...now, I know technically the book says that primarly languages don't fully develop until school-age; however, the girls seem to transmit their languages LOUD and clear).

C's love languages are: quality time (primary) and gifts (secondary)
M's love language is most likely: service
Lil E's love language is most likely:  physical touch

C craves Mommy time. He wants me to play Wii, read books, build Legos (for hours on end, if it were up to him), and sit with him at night.

M wants to be a helper - she wants to do things for me, to have me read her new Children's bible (particularly focusing on the story of Adam and Eve - to be more exact, the Snake...asking why the snake wanted the man and woman to eat the food, why the snake could talk, why it was bad for them to eat the fruit, and more about the snake, the snake, and the snake...), do whatever she can to show that she's a big girl (oh, and watch the iPad, of course), and have me sit with her at night.

Notice any similarities? Both C and M want Mommy to sit with them at night...at the same time. E does what he can. He and I alternate sitting with our children (ex:  Mommy sits with C. Daddy sits with M - then we switch). The challenge comes when I leave one child's room to spend time with the other. Leaving (particularly with M) usually triggers a saddened emotional response (i.e., crying and protesting "Don't go, Mommy. Stay with me!").There have been occasions when I leave M's room and enter C's room, there have been times C looks at me, downtrodden, and says "Go ahead Mommy, go stay with M." - Breaks my heart that, at times like this (no matter the decision I make), one child will always have to lose (so, I try and make the "wins" and "losses" equitable, as much as possible).

I've discovered that I am "fluent" in my primary love languate, Physical Touch. Since Lil E and I "speak" the same language, It's been very easy to connect with her needs. She loves running to me when I arrive home, saying "MOMMY" with jubilance, and embracing me with the warmest hugs a parent could ever hope to receive. She loves having her "milkies" in the morning and at night, just before bedtime. Apparently, two people who speak the same "native language" find it easier to share and receive love.

E's primary love language is quality time - something I know isn't easy for us to achieve as well as we'd like. But, I will say I know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, I have the most incredible, loving, patient, and understanding husband in the world. He's taken on a greater percentage of parenting duties, responsibilities, and household tasks...being with the children during late afternoons and evenings, when I'm swamped with work-related grading, class prep, etc. (and giving me the opportunity to participate on Wednesday nights with choir practices - a much needed way to enrich my soul and fill my heart with the jubilance of song). I suppose that's why the kids are clammering for so much Mommy time. Their tanks are being filled with enough Daddy Love.

One thing to keep in mind - just because one language is primary, as parents, each of us need to be multilingual - that is to say, we need to engage in activities that fill each part of our children's (and loved ones) emotional tank. These needs (physical touch, words of affirmation, service, gifts, and quality time) - suppose you could call them the 5 cylinders to keep your inner vehicle running - need to be both expressed and received. So, the question remains: how can we, as parents, find the necessary balance to meet our children's needs?

For me, it's time to embark on a new journey - to balance the off-center, centrifugal forces I feel within my parenting heart, mind, and soul. What can I do, as a mom, to be a better parent? To be multilingual?

I don't have answers - at least none that are "easy breezy, lemon peezy" fixes. But, what I can do is find those moments and connections. To keep my eyes and ears open. To make a conscious choice to be more engaged (even if it means I'm up after midnight blogging!)...To work on continued patience.

I love my husband and my children. They are the gravitational center of my world. I can only hope to do what I can to give them the love and support they need, to reach the pinnacle where I can more effectively fill their emotional tanks with "high octane" multilingual love, and keep their engines running at top performance.

Thanks for digressing with me - into a bit of the darker side of parenting. I now hand the keyboard back to my husband for your regularly scheduled Heberlig programming...

The Year Without a Santa Claus?

At the bus stop on Thurs morning, C declared that everyday should be Christmas, Halloween or Easter so that they could have a school holiday.  One of the other boys started spouting ABSOLUTE NONSENSE about an alledged alternative identity of Santa.  C at first seemed to agreed, but then relayed the following tale:  "One night I got up and went to mom and dad's room.  They were sleeping.  I woke up Dad, but he fell back asleep.  I woke up Mom, but she fell back asleep.  So I went downstairs and there was Santa unpacking toys.  He didn't see me."  I was just glad C was there to straighten out that poor, delusional boy!  I have a feeling that this conversation will come up again at some really inopportune moment.  Hopefully, not in the next three months... 

C has received a scholarship for a boy's class at the NC Dance Theatre and is now in his second week.  He enjoyed the dance lessons he took over the summer, but, like with many things, as soon as he's done it a few times, wants to move on to the next thing.  He now wants to take a gymnastics class with M.  One thing at a time--and we'll see how the dance develops.  He's also in a new Cub Scout Pack.  We have a camp out next weekend.  We'll see how that goes.  He's doing well in school, but as the above conversation indicates, is in the 2nd grade mindset of not wanting to go.  They have homework every night and it often is threading the needle to get it done since we get home shortly after 5.  Do homework, then dinner, then bath, then bed.  No wonder he misses play time.

M started to "get" adoption a couple of weeks ago.  She's been asking T and I to recount our geneological histories for months, but lately, will sometimes ask us who our "real" mommy is.  We've also told her that her given name was Mentamir (and that C's was Nhan).  So she'll ask T and I to tell her the other name our mommies gave us.  For now, we can tell her that Ellie's other name is Eleanor.  She's doing really well at preschool.

Ellie is taken with the alphabet song... at least the first two phrases and the ending.  We'll get the rest in eventually.  Lately, she's loved climbing up and down the ladders of the playset.  She likes to go across the monkey bars too, though I obviously have to hold her.  She's started to become more independent and will pout or throw a mini-fit if she doesn't get want she wants.  She especially likes to climb into her car seat on her own and then resists being buckled in.  Similarly, she wants to climb around inside the car when we arrive home and resists being extracted.  She's still not eating much.  T's not feeding her at night, but she still wakes up once or twice, but goes back to sleep quickly after I comfort her for 30 seconds or so. 

Requiem for Bella

Her name meant beautiful and she was in every way.  She always stayed away from the kids but let them pet her today.  She wouldn't have anything to do with me either when T and I started dating.  I didn't really get to see her at all the first month, though occassionally I'd hear her meowing loudly at me--persumably objecting into my intrusion into her domain.  One day, she was behind the entertainment center and scared the bejeebers out of me as she bolted out.  For whatever reason, she strode right up to me one day and let me pet her and from then on, we were best buddies.  T joked that she had become my cat.  Being a dog person as a kid, I thought that was quite an accomplishment.

We knew this day was coming but you always think and hope that it will be a bit further off into the future.  She had increasing problems with spitting up her food over the last year; we'd changed food several times (and feeding routines) and each new one would help for a little while.  Lately, she'd been spitting up many hours after eating and the food would/should have been digested.  Plus, it didn't really look like food; T diagnosed it as bile.  Last night, T heard her giving some painful cries and she spit up twice this morning.  The vet had told us previously that there wouldn't be much more they could do w/o invasive surgery and we didn't want to put her through that, not at 16 years old.  So we knew the choice that was to be made when we took her in today. 

Only C was old enough to understand what was happening.  Lil E, though, made the sign for cat and meowed as T and the kids left the vet.  C had a sad day and got frustrated more easily than normal, but all things considered took it well.  When I returned T's phone message, he answered and told me the news; and when I arrived home, he relayed the news in a kid's overly direct way:  "Bella's dead already."  He usually doesn't add his own prayer at bedtime; tonight he added one for Bella.  Amen.