Language Acquisition

I know it is a strange place, but I love living in NYC. There are days when I find the crowds in mid-town intimidating. There are times I go to a great restaurant and recognize everyone is in suits, or, its not a "neighborhood" joint, and you can only afford to eat there on the "company account". then there are days when I hit our local favorite like, Quest, where 70% of the crowd is from a 10 block radius.. There are days when I walk and extra mile, or 20 blocks, because I don't feel like battling the rush hour subway crowd with the stroller. But I LOVE Riverside park beside our house. I love the opportunities for our kids, emotionally, musically, generally overall.

But there are days when I wonder, how is living here going to affect the kids? I grew up in Boise, Idaho. Not exactly a "city" when I was growing up. I know how to "tip" a cow. I have both milked and branded a goat. And yes, I know how to shoot a rifle and a pistol - I'm a good shot - although I've never and intend to never own a gun. Let me divert for the $40 stuffed animal my husband bought me. Our second date, our first good date, we went to the San Gennaro festival, an annual Little Italy celebration where they close the streets and have carnival games, restaurant tables on the sidewalk, and raise money for the local churches. There was a shooting game, I played once and won a small stuffed bear. My date, the now lovely husband, wanted to show his manly skills and put down $5 to win me a larger bear. $40 later we continued walking!

Anyway, I grew up in a town where everything I attempted post high school was a new thought/experience. I didn't try Opera or pate until I was almost 30. I heard Spanish being spoken between my mother and grandmother (not typical Idaho), but I did not become fluent in the language. This is my biggest regret.But in my. and my parental defense, at school there was one uniform language. I did not hear any other languages out and about on the street.

I bring this up as both my boys, yes both of them, now have solid receptive language skills in Spanish. My big boy, DS1 has a fair vocabulary, but doesn't like to use it. I didn't realize how strong their receptive language skills were until I overheard them having dinner with a couple friends from down the street and the accompanying nanny. The friends are 4 and 2 years old and their mother is Asian. Both children look Asian, but I'm inclined to think Korean or Japanese. They know my little man is Chinese, but haven't volunteered any family history, which makes me think they are not Chinese. When their daytime sitter, or nanny, is over, she talks to the kids in Spanish. I had mistakenly assumed this was "baby" Spanish, that she was teaching them key words. However, whenever they are over, I talk to the sitter in my terrible Spanish. She is great, correcting my mistakes.

Last week my sitter mentioned there was a play date confusion because their sitter had not understood that my guys were out of school for Spring break. She went on to say that while she really enjoyed the other sitter, and the kids, the language was a difficulty. Apparently her English really is limited, and she ONLY talks to the kids in Spanish. While I totally don't mind, it makes me wonder, how confusing is all of this for my little Chinese man? At this point, 9 months here in this new life, he obviously knows there is two languages going on. He doesn't hear me speak Spanish too often. However, tonight I sang wheels on the bus in Spanish, he was right there with me!

I've also noticed that he has picked up a bunch of phrases from our toys with sound. He says "back up" like this gangster car we have. He says, "can we dig it" like the Scoop digger we have from Bob the Builder. He can make the sound of all the fire truck toys. Most amazingly we have a book where you press buttons to hear "hello" in 10 different languages, and yes, he can approximate the sound of "hello" in 10 different languages.

So I wonder, if he was growing up in Idaho, and only hear one language, would he be speaking already? Does the influence of multiple languages help or hurt in the long run? And these are the languages in our house, in our friends, our world. When he's at the bookstore, he hears German, French, and Hebrew regularly. With a few of my friends he hears Hindu. Is this good? Is this bad? I don't know. And if it is bad, how in the world would I change it?

The good news is that although my little Chinese man has rejected the speech therapist for the last week, but still loves the play therapist, I think in the last two weeks his language skills have accelerated. He is trying harder. He has had success of people understanding a few words, and here clearly wants more of this being understood. This is the motivation he needed to find.
English at home, Spanish with friends, everything in between on the street. Our sitter with a heart of gold and friends that speak Spanish.

Footnote: please don't read this thinking he is speaking tons in all languages, we are really still at one word sentences that I understand 80% of the time, but that a stranger would understand 10-15% of the time. But hey, this is progress and I will take joy in it!

DeJaVu

Photo: Another recent box creation that DH will be removing tonight. Only the boys could make it through the tunnel.

Sometimes I feel dejavu when seeing our little man revisit "stages" that our bigger boy has passed. The timing is off, sometimes he is well behind what I would expect for a almost three year old, but it makes sense given his family/orphanage history.

I forgot what it was like to try to cook, clean, walk, dance, etc with someone trying to stand on your feet or hold your knees together. DS2 has just learned to open the refrigerator door. So now exploration of "cold" has started including turning the fridge light on and off a thousand times until the buzzer to start sound. And yes, all glass items have moved to a hirer shelf in the fridge (a broken jar of relish looks pretty bizarre when mixed with mustard. It smells weird too. for about three days!)

Peek-a-boo is back in. It is more along the lines of "Where's my man?, Oh, THERE HE IS!!", to variations of "Where's the tissue? Oh, THERE IT IS!" and my personal favorite, "where is mommy's cell? Oh, THERE IT IS!, Now give it back." We are also starting to see the very beginning of hiding, like behind a door, box, wall, etc and jumping out and surprising me. Love that. Also along these lines, I think is the pretending to be asleep, and the great giggles as I wake him up.

Another favorite, is the I want to be like mommy routine. The sudden desire to try lip gloss, powder if I'm putting that on and the wearing of hear clips. This passed quickly with DS1 and I'm sure it will with DS2 as he has the older brother there to tell him "boys don't wear......" But I like seeing my boys in a necklace sporting lip gloss. Along these lines a funny thing happened a couple weeks ago at preschool. For two weeks, each day was assigned a color. Red, Blue, Green Yellow, Black, White, Brown, Orange, Pink and Rainbow. Each day I dressed DS1 in the appropriate color. But on Pink day, he had nothing. I tried to talk him into taking along one of my sweaters and just rolling up the sleeves, but no. Then my husband who takes him to school in the morning reported back that Pink day did not go as well as the others, none of the boys were wearing pink.

Last but least, I'm back to "The wheels on the bus" forty times a day. It is good as I think he likes it because he is finally able to say, or closely say, some of the words. He loves the horn goes "beep, beep, beep" but there is fondness for the babies go "wa, wa, wa" and the windows, "up and down" and the doors "open and close". However on this one, the older boy is clearly passed this stage so sometimes he suggests new actions, such as "the bears on the bus go Ra, Ra, Ra" or the "the wings on the bus take it high, high, high". Yeah, not sure where the imagination comes from, but I love to run with it.

Generally, it is heart warming to see the "repeats", to see the path again. It means he is on it, he is moving forward, he is taking strides everyday. I don't see the daily strides, I'm too close. I worry so much about his lack of language. But I see these steps toward growth, the path I'm more familiar with and I get a bit calmer, I know more growth is coming. He's on his path!

From my heart

In the last few weeks I've gotten a few emails regarding this blog. I write because it is cathartic for me. It releases my demons. I find once I've written a thought out, and let it loose, it no longer bounces around in my brain.

I'm so thankful to hear from you that I'm not the only one thinking about these things; life, kids, aging, love, etc. I really appreciate your comments, and I appreciate your perspective. Going boldly, where I probably shouldn't, but here is a small sample of what you've said, in anonymous terms, and why I'm so glad you wrote!

"....I have to say I was reading some back posts, one in August or September had me laughing because I could have written it. Thank you for being so honest and saying what most people only wish they could say (especially for those of us too afraid of offending family members by speaking bluntly about them)...... it is so nice to see people lay it out for real so we know we aren't the only ones that struggle; Yes, I'm the type of mom that gets really excited when I see a mom ready to pull her hair out because her kids are driving her nuts at the zoo- makes me feel so normal!"

First, I wasn't sure I was normal when I started writing, so thank you for letting me in on the secret that I am! Second, I have on many occasions written late in the evening, or with slightly elevated blood alcohol levels and then thought, "hmm, lets see if my mom calls tomorrow to talk about that one?" And thankfully, my husband read the blog once and then quit. But he thinks it is all "girl talk". To which I say, "SO NOT!"

"I read your blog about the ebb and flow - and can really relate both to that, and also the relief/risk of sharing all those feelings."

That's what I'm talking about. Your share your thoughts with some people and they look at you like you are the worst mother on the planet; you share with others and the get it, they've been there too! I promise to listen better to everyone! And I'm so grateful to those that understand!

"I wish our child would have had the benefit of foster care. She never left the orphanage. I guess without any kind of medical intervention until we adopted her, foster care wasn't an option."

It is so helpful to have another perspective. Sometimes we go through the same events, but from different sides. Sometimes we go through different events but all sharing a common love for what's best for the kids. And sometimes I get so stuck in my rut, that I need to be reminded of alternative realities. Our kids have us now, I just can't believe how awesome that is!

"Just had to drop you a note to say I'm so glad I found your blog. I love your honesty. I have two kids from China (daughter 4, son 2.5) and can relate to a lot of what you write."

I think at times adoptive parents are afraid to talk adoption talk with non-adoptive parents. I think at times non-adoptive parents are afraid to ask adoption questions to adoptive parents. Straddling both worlds, I talk about it all with everyone and find we all just love our kids and there is commonality it that.

"Your mother sent me your thoughts on.... Your boys are beautiful and regards to your husband."
Mom, I love you, but I really hope you are editing what you copy and paste! Otherwise the rest of the family may think you raised a real wacko!

And last, but not least, a message that took my breath away:

"Yes, I know how you feel. I remember many times in my children's teen age years
how much I wonder if I loved them, or was I willing to let them go with no regrets.
I remember when they finally moved out and how I felt about it. In both cases love
was just behind my frustrations. I didn't feel this way again until I had
grandchildren, two adopted and four biological, and I started to wonder the same;
Can I have love for all of them, can I love the adopted as much as the others. But they
do things, different things that make you think different.  It amaze me how
my heart have such a deep love for each grandchildren and all the loves are different."
 
First, this is awesome because I'm not sure I'm confident enough
to broach the "love question" with grandparents. It is great to
know, the love comes.  And I'm not sure if  they even remember
how tough raising kids can be at times (or is it like child birth, a
pain that is soon forgotten?).  I also like knowing that this
experience, raising kids, is mine to carry and cherish for a long
time to come.  Finally, I'm not too excited to hear that teenage
years make you question the choice again!

Thank you all for let me vent.  Thank you for your support. 
Good Karma is being sent out to everyone!

Pajamas to college

When the kids are doing something that drives me nuts, I remind myself, "they will grow out of it before they get to college". Frankly, its a technique I picked up from my favorite parenting book, Dr. Spock. And, yes, as I tell my husband, I know he's dead (Dr. Spock that is)!

So this morning, as I was making breakfast, the sitter decided my little man should not go to his gym class in his pajamas. Of course I had let him wear his beloved pajamas all of the early morning. He threw a FIT. He ran into the kitchen naked, clutching his pajamas, with tears streaming down his face. I told the sitter, "I really don't mind if he goes to gym class in his pajamas, just throw a coat on him. This is not a worthy battle."

She gave me a variation of the evil eye that you can use when your boss is in the room and can see you. Clearly I was breaking, "I have the cleanest charge in tow code". DS1 was helping mix the eggs and he heard me say, "No worries, I'm sure he'll grow out of it before he goes to college." Then DS1 asked, "mommie, why are you still in your pajamas if the rest of us are dressed?"

There is no good answer to that. Sometimes it is hard to work from home. The joy is I do my morning email and news checks in the comfort of my pajamas, with a cup of tea in hand. However, I tend to easily get wrapped up in working and it is not uncommon for me to still be in my pajamas when the boys come in for lunch. I like to eat lunch with the boys, so I'm not going to use that time to shower! Then its a real personal debate, if I'm going to the gym in the late afternoon, there is no reason to shower now. But if not, yes, I'm showering after lunch on most days.

Yeah, it feels a bit lazy, but it really is a good use of my morning time; jumping straight into the work while I'm the most alert. And the after lunch shower helps block out the after lunch sugar low. But am I really setting a good example? I have to think on this one. And yeah, when I was in college, I showered every morning.

Expectation havic

Over the course of the weekend, it seemed like one theme kept creeping up on me although, it was hard to put it all together at first. The theme was, expectations vs. reality = life. I've been examining my life a lot lately; recent big changes and my birthday have sparked that fire. Frankly, I haven't been a planner, I haven't had a direction. I have lacked a "clear" expectations of what I wanted from life, I've lacked long term goals. I know what I find unacceptable, but the rest has been pretty loose.

Over the weekend, hanging with different groups of moms, at different events/gatherings, there was discussion on "what we expected family-wise"; i.e., to grow up and have a kid, a couple kids, or a big family. Having money to pay the bills, a big house with a yard, or even a school system we could afford. I've had fantasies of running a cafe in Europe, but generally I assumed I would have children, a couple, but my "visions" or "daydreams" about that life were pretty limited to vignettes of me running around doing things with a couple school-aged kids, not babies. Pictures of us on the move.

Some of my friends had much more specific expectations; having a large family in the countryside, having beautiful baby girls with rolling curls, of not having children. None of us were planning for kids with behavioural, physical, or emotional issues. We didn't think our kids would need therapy - for anything. We didn't expect surgical interventions would be required. We didn't expect it would be so hard to parent (this is such a dirty little secret!! but Parenting, staying active in your child's life and being a good example, is not easy!)

What really struck me though was those with the clearest visions of their futures, seemed to me to be having the hardest time with the reality they were handed. And I'm not saying my friends with plans had the kids with the biggest issues, not by a long shot. It just seems the expectations were so ingrained that the failure of meeting them now appears to be a heavy burden. I also add "at this moment" because I do get that our kids, and our relationship to them, changes greatly over time.

I love my boys, I love that they are their own persons. I see DH struggle when the boys don't meet his expectations, I see me loose my mind when they are so emotional fluid that tears appear for a folded piece of paper "that should be flat!" I obviously thought parenting would be easier, maybe that is my bad expectation.

Having not carried specific/clear thoughts about what the future would bring, which I have long thought was one of my big personal weakness, may have actually brought me a decent level of happiness. Nonetheless I'm always hoping and assuming the best, still shooting for it. I don't think having a vision of a desired future is bad, it might even be the motivation needed for change. But a clear vision of reality, not bogged by disappointment vs. the expectations, is of value as well. I guess it might be healthiest if we let both reality and expectations of the future evolve over time.

Hello Cupcake!

As I squatted, with both hand holding dumbbells, looking into the mirror, I thought, "Fuck you, cupcake!" Maybe I ate just one too many this weekend?

The spaghetti and meatball cupcakes were for my family birthday celebration. The boys loved the concept and told daddy we were having "dinner". The butterflies were for a friend's birthday party on Sunday morning. DS1 helped me with the wings, although for sake of my sanity, the actual assembly was after he was in bed.

Trying to make designer cupcakes is interesting. Like so many things in life (including the gym), I loose my rhythm/skill when I don't practice regularly. For instance, the green bodies on the butterflies. Yeah, that was supposed to be brown, but my food coloring skills were off; way, way off.

I'm back at the gym for the first time since November. Yeah, I'm sore, four months off is plenty of time for the muscles to lose their tone. But it feels good to get back, and mentally/emotionally, it needs to happen. I missed it.

However, I forgot, when you walk in the class and everyone looks awesome = you are in for a wicked work out! There is a pregnant lady in the first row that I find motivating. She is due in May, and she's still doing more than me. To defend myself, I'm not totally terrible, its just the people in this class are clearly in their groove!

Today in the midst of 30 knee lifts for each leg, I started hyperventilating. At first I thought maybe the lights are dimming. Then I realized it was me. I sat on my bench and kept up with the arm work for a few minutes. I felt pathetic, I looked red. The teacher smiled at me, but didn't come over or say anything. After a song, that is how I measure the torture of working out - can I make it through one more song? - I felt better and got back to my feet. Tell you what, it was worth it. I'm feeling motivated. I want to run with the boys on the playground this summer.

P.S. The cupcake designs are from a book, "Hello, Cupcake!" but also just search for ideas on the internet and you'll find thousands.

On turning 41

Photo thought: "Watch out, Mommie is on a RANT!!!"

Today is my birthday. I'm 41. I'm finally my own person in my own age.

I've always felt like I was born a 40 year old woman. I was cautious as a child, frankly too serious at way too young of an age. Then I followed that by taking life very seriously along the way. My husband tells me his motto is, "take life serious, but not yourself." Not me, I've always done both, taken life and myself too serious. The result; I feel I haven't laughed enough, I don't have enough fun.

I've also felt for the last few years that I was coming into myself. In the last few years I've learned to not be so serious all the time, or recognize when I'm a bit too serious. Over the last 40 years, I have loved every job I've had; starting with my first job doing dishes in a restaurant, to my last job on Wall Street. But I have also out grown all the jobs before I left them. That would be a BIG sign, like a billboard on my forehead, announcing my risk adverse nature. I have always taken pride in my work, or worked so hard that I could take pride in the product I produced. However, I have "happened" into all my jobs. They were there, they were to be had, there wasn't a ton of strategic thought going into the choices I made.

I've always loved my alone time. I like the idea of no responsibilities. I love my husband, but I have never though marriage is forever. I love my children, but I full heartily embrace the idea that the kids should grow up and lead their own lives. I have always love and cared for others, but I've wanted to do more than take care of just me and mine, but contribute more to the world as a whole.

In the last year, I turned 40. I celebrated my 10 year marriage anniversary, my eldest became 4, my youngest entered my life. A year ago I was frustrated at work, frustrated with the Chinese government (suck in the adoption "wait" = purgatory). I was wondering what was next.

In the last year, I've learned I'm human. I've cried more than I thought possible. But I have pushed beyond my comfort zone, physically, emotionally, responsibilities, and personal goals. I have found my own voice in what tickles me and makes me laugh, laugh out loud! In the last year I came to hate my life, wondering what in the world was I doing, why am I here? But in the last year I found that I love life, it is meant to be lived. In the last 365 days I have felt extravagantly rich and I've felt poor. Over the course of the year, I pushed every hurdle to make an adoption occur, then come to question why I ever chose to adopt and cause such chaos in my life. I have since found a grove with having two little men, and one big man, in my life. For the first time, I said no to the job opportunities handed to me, and chose to strike out on a new path, the unknown, unproven and start not one, but two new businesses!

Today, turning 41, I'm terrified. I have a new life in front of me. A life I chose. Not one that was handed to me, not one that just happened. A life I worked very hard to get. A life path that turned all my assumptions about me upside down. This new life is a discovery process, a gift, even if it is hard. I'm still figuring out how it fits, how to live it. I have found a way to blend thinking about business (money) and strategy (brain food) and farting (humor) into income. I have two boys that I chose to have. One that I worked incredibly hard for and am still struggling to understand. Yet, I'm a good mom. Not the best, but squarely in the good category. I have an amazingly supportive husband. I have friends that applaud my efforts, and are rooting for success. I have family that may on occasion think I'm crazy, but are also rooting for me. I have boys that think I have super powers.

It is time to get it done. I can be a mom, consultant, president of a toy company, wife, friend, and contributor. I'm not doing any of it as I "expected", I'm just hanging on by the seat of my pants. But there are high stakes, but I want to give it a go. I want to be an example for the boys that you can create your dreams. But I will remember, the path is not straight forward, and maybe I would never have gotten to this point if it was all easy. I've learned so much about myself this year. There are even things I've learned that I still don't know where it will lead (i.e., writing, parenting, business). But now is time for me to own it my life. I promise myself to try and find a few laughs along the way. Yeah, I'm terrified, and it is easy to get scared about the businesses, our expenses, the economy, future for the boys, the world coming to an end, etc. But if I'm going to tell the boys to pursue their dreams, it is time for me to pursue mine!

On starting a business

There are great aspects to starting a business;
- I feel empowered about making a personal change,
- I feel empowered by the idea of helping others in creating my businesses
- I feel excited about the work that needs to be done,
- I gained independence, etc.

There are silly bits that I enjoy:
- picking out stationary, business cards
- set up my accounts/accounting
- thinking about the marketing plans, ways to get attention,
- arranging the office, albeit on a budget, etc.

Then there are the things that boggle my mind:

• For my stationary/business cards I wanted a PO Box.
• To get a PO Box the post office requires you to show your letterhead to them.
• Did they think I was showing the real thing?

also;

• To protect the personal from business liabilities, I became an LLC.
• The forms from various tax agencies (state, federal) keep appearing in the mail.
• This is silly, but the forms are pre-folded in a manner that doesn't fit the accompanying envelopes. Does the government not know how to make a letter fit in an envelop?

Then there are the fears:
- Can I do this?
- Will anyone buy?
- I get more time with the boys, but at what income cost?
- What are realistic goals, am I setting my goals ridiculously high, or are them possible?

Finally there is reality:
- I know my budget.
- I know my lack of patience.
- I have phase 1, phase 2 and phase 3 plans, but I want to do it ALL NOW! I hate starting at phase 1.
- I have fantasies of phenomenal success! I keep these in check, and to myself. However, I also keep them alive in my mind to motivate myself.
- I know I'm new at running my own business(es) and I will make mistakes, but I don't want to make super big mistakes. UGH!
- I'm one person, doing it all; There lies the power, there lies the limitation, and there lies the risk.

I know I try to blog on the boys, and does all this relate to them? I want them to understand taking pride in your work, following your dreams. Yes, they know I "work" from home. They know when I'm on the phone they have to stay out of the "office". They know I talk to important people that supply drugs to make us better. But, they also know I'm trying to create a toy company, and I'm not sure if they see the work that goes into it. However, when my shipment finally gets here, they will know, because I'm sure they can fold and seal a box.

Trust

You really don't know how much trust there is in a relationship until you have to rely on each other.

Today I took DS1 ice skating. It was 63 glorious degrees and I had promised him that I would take him skating before the end of winter (which is Friday), if the weather gave us a day in which we wouldn't freeze. Today was the day.

I had never been skating on ice that was covered by a half inch of water before, but that is where I learned to trust myself. To show him it wasn't bad, I did a few laps with him just watching. Did he have any problem picking me out of the crowd, you might wonder? No. We were the ONLY ones there! I guess all the other mommies got the skating out of their system much earlier in the winter and chose to hit the playground on such a glorious day. But we were also at the unknown skating rink in NYC.

I write this knowing I will offend some, maybe many. First we all tend to gather with our own kind - moms with moms, dads with dads, hippies with hippies, old people with old people, and yes, frankly it would be naive to think that we don't gather by ethnic commonality. NYC is classic in that; there is the Russian enclave in Brighton beach, there is Spanish Harlem separate for "just" Harlem, there is Chinatown, and there is the artsy Upper West Side vs. the old money Upper East Side. All this preamble to tell you I'm not a racist pig, I just know the hoods. I also like mixing it up and not staying only in my hood.

And the unknown ice skating rink in NYC is in Central Park. No not Wollman Rink, down at 60th street, where one adult plus one child, with skate rental costs almost $30, and then you get suckered into the $5/cup hot chocolate, etc. We went uptown. Up to 108th street, where the two of us and our skates only cost $20. Where there is not hot chocolate choice. Up where I heard a grandma shout at her kid, "If you keep doing that your going to get a butt whipping!" And you know why I love this city, because I can go there.

Well, with no one on the ice, we could do anything. Yes, he trusted me enough to hold my hand and try. With no one to stop us, although he did tell me he thought I would get in trouble, I took a great big orange warning cone onto the ice, had him hold on and pushed him around at a good speed. We sat and took off our skate as a hip looking Latino kid (male, 20 something) took the ice and amazed us with spins and a few jumps. Frankly I think a great male role model with which to end the day!

When we went to leave he was glowing with pride of having gave it a go, even if he wasn't "skating". He wants us to go again, liking us having "mommie alone time". I was glowing for another reason. I knew he was scared, but he trusted me, held my hand and gave it a go!

Farts

Farts a a great subject. If someone really doesn't want to discuss farting, then they are a little tight - you know what I mean. You simply can't say (or read) the word with out smiling a little.

My toy, which I really hope to launch before the end of April and I promise to tell you all about it when it happens, farts. So frankly, farting is on my brain a lot lately. Right now I feel like the toy company is a compressed fart waiting to explode. Amazingly, the toy is stuck in the purgatory of Chinese Bureaucracy at the moment. For those who have adopted from China, you know the hell I'm talking about. The toy is undergoing safety inspection, for lead, although it has no paint or lead. Got to love it!

I've been reaching out to a few charities that I would like to donate a portion of the toys' profit to; making sure they are cool with me listing them on the business site and such. It is an interesting conversation. They love the toy, they love any hope of getting more money. They are a bit suspicious of being associated with farting. However, they get the rest of the toy/company concept so are going along with it. Three of four I approached have said yes. Just waiting on the last one.

I now talk about farting daily. Pretty much think about it every hour. I hope to make a business that uses farts as a personal growth tool. How sick is that!

My eldest, DS1, loves a good fart. He enjoys making jokes about it, blaming it on someone else, and just giggling. The first time my eldest tried to deny he farted, he blamed it on a glass fish we had in the living room. I tried to explain there was no way the inanimate object farted. Then he blamed it on me and I assured him, I would know if I had farted. Finally, he owned it.

Last week the toy went to preschool - my first unit off the production run, as you know the rest are lonely in China, or else the inspection group is laughing their heads off - and it almost started a riot. I had a hard time getting it back from the kids. I also read the kids a story I had written about the toy; the "back story" if you will, and they loved it. They even helped me make fart sounds in the appropriate places. Again, I must say my son has the best preschool teacher ever to let me do this. So I am hopeful about this new adventure.

Amazingly the little guy has just put 2 + 2 together in understand that it is his body creating the eruption. He is surprised when it occurs, but happy and amazingly proud of the accomplishment. The little guy didn't put it all together until he farted in the bathtub recently. He felt the bubbles, saw the bubbles, giggled, then looked to me for an explanation. Although they share the tub, they don't mind if the other farts. Boys!

Some days I just need the hope and giggle of farts with the rest of the crap I deal with; starting two business, trying to figure out what to cook for dinner, facing the gym (right! facing the hope of going again some day1), finding things to do with the boys, trying anything to stimulate the little man's speech. Today, I'm frustrated; I just wasn't expecting to be back in Chinese bureaucratic purgatory. I know, this too shall pass. And then I will be all happy farts again.

Bad Santa

Unexpectedly, I've made Santa into the fall guy. You know the person who gets the blame. Ouch! Yeah, I felt that way at first, but now I think it has advantages.

As I've noted before, with the cold weather, with me starting up a new business, I've been re-purposing boxes in our house. They are transformed from useful for shipping into 30 minutes of creative time with no fighting, followed by 30-45 minutes of focused play with the new creation. Really, I have discovered the miracle of boxes for bigger kids and something fun for all of us to do together before bath time.

Typically, the first day is assemble; sticking our new shape together with tape and cutting windows, doors peep holes. The second day is color; paint, markers, crayons, what ever mess I'm up for. The third day is collage, or various stuff stuck on; tissue paper, stickers, cut out shapes of paper, or tissues. Then two days of free play. Then the house, rocket ship, boat, or our current creation - rolling cotton candy cart - disappears in the middle of the night.

A year ago, with only one child, and a three year old at that, the middle of the night disappearance would sometimes go unnoticed for a few days. Then when it came up I'd just say, "oh, that's been gone for ages, we played with it until it fell apart." No major questions, generally no fights.

Well, now with two kids, and the oldest four years old, the middle of the night disappearance leads to questions in the morning. The household is in unison on answers, "Gosh, I don't know where it went?" One day I said out loud "the Boogie Man got it," and I immediately regretted introducing any such terrifying idea. Luckily my eldest didn't quit catch it, so when he said "what?" I just replied I had no idea where it went. Sometimes the little guy in the morning will show me a small piece of paper/box that was left behind from the latest creation and look at me suspiciously.

So here's how the mind of a four year old works. Two days ago he asked me when does Santa come? In the middle of the night. No, when? Oh, in December, not for several more months. nothing further was forthcoming, so I didn't ask what he was thinking about. The next day he had a chat with daddy; "I've asked everyone, you, mommie, the sitter, Mira (our cleaning lady), and Anthony (the doorman/porter he loves) where the boxes are going, and nobody knows." This morning he was showing our newest box creation to the play therapist for the little guy when I heard him explaining, "We have a Bad Santa that comes and takes my boxes in the middle of the night, no one sees him. I'm trying to stay up to catch him, but I haven't. It is not the Good Santa that comes in December."

Okay, this is going to bite me in the butt someday, but for now, I'm letting Bad Santa take the blame.

The Reward Chart

Ok. I wrote about our "calendar" which is basically a reward chart; stickers for good behavior in certain categories. Tonight, part two; either I psycho or are the industry is.

Let me explain, I have ran out of stickers for like the hundredth time, so I started accepting the idea that maybe I should move from our home made version to one of the prefab ones available. There is a nice one by Melissa & Doug, and then one by Kenson Parenting. I happen to be visiting a toy store that carried one and not the other, so that is why I picked the one I did.

First, the boys couldn't have been more excited to see the new "calendar". It has magnets on the back which means instead of sitting as a book on the book shelf, it is now out in the hall stuck to our one door that is metal in the house. This means the boys see it all day, and show it to everyone who comes; to explain how fabulous they are for earning stars - a plus.

This is where I wonder, am I nuts or are the manufactures a bit off. The main hanger has room for 6 behaviours, I had been using 10. Yeah, I expect more. The kit came with 20 behaviours, and yet I was stretching to find six to use! I am psycho!

We are using:

• Brush your teeth
• Good manners at the table
• Share your toys, which I changed to "sharing"
  
• Good manners when Mommy is on the phone, which I have changed to "let Mommy work"
• Clean your mess, which I changed to "Clean your room"
• No mean words, which I changed to "talk nicely"
  

The others are:

• Get dressed
• Make bed
• Go Potty
• No whining
• Get along with others
• Eat your veggies
• No harming others
• Feed pets
• Water the plants
• Set the table
• Help with dishes
• Go to bed and stay in bed
• Say please and thank you
• No yelling

Seems like a good and exhaustive list, right? Not for my household. Here is what is missing;

• Use a tissue vs. your clothes
• Wipe your butt or call for help
• Waiting Nicely
• Follow instructions
• no toys in the kitchen
• no sticks in the house
• no toys in your mouth
• keep your tongue to yourself
• hand out of pants

And these are just the ones missing for the boys! Think of all the ones missing for my lovely husband!

A sacred relationship

The relationship between mother and son is simple. Mother. Son. But it is also complex. Mother. Son.

DS1 asked, "Who will grow to be as big as daddy first; me or my brother?" I said, "You will."

His response floored me, "You know why? Because I came first and I came from your belly." Hello! Guess we are there. He understands that his brother did not come from my belly. Yet he is still his brother. I believe we are now understanding the adoption story. WOW.

I love both my boys. But with my man that came from China, I love him, love (if that is the right word, maybe recognize with a certain level of respect and compassion) his biological parents and I love the serendipity that exists between us to bring us together. I don't love the circumstances that existed to allow us to come together. I look forward to sharing the adoption story with him and I equally dread sharing the story with him. I'm thankful for the practice I get in explaining it to others, to his big brother.

Stroller vs. walker

I've always been amazed at how few people will hold the door open for me when I have the stroller. Sometimes I will have the door open with my foot and people will sneak through saying thank you to me without noticing I have a stroller with me and am angling to get it through the door.

This weekend I went to a party as an old woman with a walker, which was a different experience. People held doors open, when they accidentally kick or bump the walker, they apologize quickly. But, they do not look you in the eye. Getting around a crowded room was awkward as I had to say excuse me a lot, but then people move back away and are not necessarily friendly, and again not necessarily looking at me. Those that did bother to actually look at me, got that I was in costume and laughed. I noticed that to get to the lady's toilet, was upstairs and no easy alternative was close.

This last week being out with DS2 I've noticed more looks. Many more looks from the Asian communities than the non-Asian communities. Mostly friendly, few willing to approach and do anything more than smile and "high five" the boys. But as I was walking around as an old lady, frankly walking upright and quickly with the walker, but still leaning on it, I was aware that the last time I felt so out of water was when I first started walking around with both the boys at once at home.

So, I will hold more doors open, I will smile at more strangers, and occasionally I might kick a walker.

The ebb and flow of love

Sometimes it is just too hard to admit to where I am. Then I realize I need to admit it. I tell someone. And then very quickly my world changes.

I'd been thinking about writing on the flow of love for a couple weeks. It, the flow of feelings, is not consistent. When you think and examine your love for another human being, it scary to recognize that it ebbs and flows. There may be a base, or a belief that love is always there, but there are moments when you are heavily in love, not romantic love, and other moments where you need a flashlight to find the warm spots.

In the last few weeks I've had fewer comments about the littlest man in my life. Frankly, he was just riding a nerve for me and love, to be polite, was not immense. This was a significant disappointment to me. In just the weeks prior, I had been feeling immense love and deep conection with him. Then all of a sudden, out of the blue, with no sparking moment, the warmth dried up.

At a birthday party two weekends ago, I ran into an adoption mom, and she asked, "How's it going?" I hesitated, but then I honestly told her, "A few weeks ago I was on cloud nine after a not so great adjustment period. I thought the self-questioning was behind me. Now I'm rather down as I'm back to not feeling as great of love, back to questioning why we are together." Without a hesitation, without a blink, she responded, "Yeah, it goes that way. It will return."

What simple words, yet it freed me. COMPLETELY. I was worried that I'm the worst adoption mom on the planet. I love the kid, but it ebbs and flows. When it ebbs I worry that it is gone forever; our closest moments have passed. This is when I can't seem to bring myself to write about it. But then I find myself giggling with him again, the love/warmth just starts to perk up again. And I know, things are better; not that they were ever truly terrible, its just the stuff the mind wanders through. It is good to know there is no singular path to loving a child. It is good to know I'm not the only one who questions whether they love their child or not.

I often wonder what is an "adoption" issue vs. just a "mother/parenting" issue. Before we adopted I never questioned whether I loved my biological son. Frankly, I still very seldom do. With him there is just a bond, unbreakable, that whether I love him or not, he is mine and we move forward. Accordingly there has been no imputes to stop and think, "do I love him? Is he ok with me, or would he have been better off with another family?" However, when you add someone to your life by choice, i.e., marriage or adoption, I think I'm more prone to examine my choice in the matter, and frankly I regularly question is this a choice I should keep, or do I need to alter my perspective.

My husband is a beautiful, somewhat tolerant man, that makes me laugh. Is that enough? After 10 years you'd think I'd know by now. What I do know is that the love in our relationship ebbs and flows. It depends on what I'm going through, what he is going through, how we are handling it together or not. But we've thrown our lot in together and keep thinking forward on those lines, and we conquer. There is always love, its just where on the pendulum swing are we? I should learn from this first lesson and apply it to the adoption. I'm just realizing that now, nine months in.

With my beautiful little China man, there is love. And yes it ebbs and flows. Because I made a choice to seek him out, I think about how things would be without him. And what would life like look like for him without me. Depending where I am on the pendulum swing of love colors my view of these parallel fantasy lives that never happened and are never going to be uncovered. But he is mine, I am his. We are in this together and there is no breaking the bond. But it is different than the relationship I have with my biological son. It is not different love, just different circumstances.

I will thank that adoption mom at the next birthday party. Being willing to put my fears in words and share was hard. Having someone to tell was a God send. Her offering support and reality was grace.

Liquid Emotions; Theirs, not mine!

I wonder, how in the world can they survive with such liquid and passionate emotions!

Today was a mess of tears and snot. First monkey one and I had been building a boat/house out of Fresh Direct boxes, paint, and tissue paper. Monkey two was happy to help with the painting. My groom watched from afar and was rather terrified of what he saw. Well painting was day one; they went straight to the bath. Day two was adding tissue paper which I explained is fragile and eventually some one is going to break it. DO NOT EXPECT IT TO LAST. I was clear. For some reason the little guy was content with gluing and didn't really play in the boat, that had now become a house that day.

Day 3 was adding cut out colored paper shapes. So far so good. Everyone working on the outside reaching in. Very little action inside.

Today was Day 4 when my little monkey made a hole in the tissue paper, which created tears in my big monkey. I promised to by more tissue paper. "Stronger one if you can find it". The two were at odds for the rest of the night. I had to separate them for bed time which the little guy would have none of. He must sleep with his big brother (yeah I see hell occurring when college comes into the scene). Then I finally get them in bed and the little guy has his flashlight, the big guy doesn't, can't find his, which leads to more tears. I can't find the other flash light, so we compromise with a dolphin "back" massager which we picked up in China which I frankly think is a thinly disguised vibrator, but yeah, he picked it out, not me!

By the time they are in bed, DH and I have already had cocktails! That bad. It wasn't that they were misbehaving, or really doing anything majorly wrong. Just an emotional onslaught of tears, which is followed by snot. It is so hard to make things "right" when you are dealing with an irrational being that has liquid emotions. Yeah, I Love them, but wow! Being four and two is just tough some days.

Birthday Party Thoughts

In the last 10 days we have been to 3 birthday parties for four year olds. These are not necessarily the parties I love, but hey, I'm working from home so I'll take the opportunity to interact with adults.

The parties this week have been the spectrum you see in NYC. One was at home in a tiny apartment with the right number of kids (~8), but too many parents. No structure (other than the mandatory pizza delivery and cake at the end of the allotted time). The kids just played with toys while helium balloons floated about. The second was the "all in" at a local gym with a crew of 6-8 people to herd a group of 30 kids through the gym; tumbling, trampoline, rock climbing wall, dancing, etc. Then we were escorted to the "food room" where the mandatory pizza and cake was served, along with rhythmic chanting singing about the b.day celebrity. These official places never allow alcohol. Finally, the last was the in between; at a home, but they had just bought the apartment next door which was empty and it was in that space. Kids could draw on the walls, play with toys or do the activities offered (games and story time) before sitting down on the floor for pizza and cup cakes. At all the parties, my boys left with a goody bag of toys they broke in 10 minutes and candy they devoured in 5, but most importantly without all the energy with which they arrived, which helps bed time.

Tonight I offer a list of things I enjoy most at kids b.day parties:
- there should be alcohol for the adults. It should be obvious and refilled regularly.
- there should be extra people there to watch the babies vs. the herd of trampling kids.
- I don't mind dancing/running with the kids, if I don't have to take my shoes off.
- If I have to take my shoes off, so should the host.
- If activities for the kids aren't offered, then helmets should be.
- I would like to ban big pizza slices. If the kids can't hold them on their own, then expect the floor to get messy.
- cupcakes rule; if you don't bake, ask someone who does (i.e., I made the ones in the photo and I was thrilled to help out!) the store ones suck - they are all frosting and food coloring that oddly stains little faces.
- if Daddies attend, they should be in charge of watching the kids because the mommies really are desperate to chat with one another about things other than sports.
- if a child is standing on anything other than the floor, it should be reminded that it should be on the floor
- expect tears, from the kids, maybe mommies.
- ditch the "group " photo idea
- ban all games that involve sticks or ropes
- obvious tissues and garbage cans in every room
- departure gift bags should not include sticky or hard candy
- I don't mind bringing gifts, but I also don't mind when the request is to only bring books, but the kids get angry if they can't bring/receive a present.
- whomever is closest to the kid with snot, wipes.
- juice boxes rule.

I've not followed all my suggestions, but I continue to hope to do better.

Classical Music; Love it or Leave it

I don't know how many households have debates on what music to listen to, but our does. In the end its all classical and jazz. I same my stuff for when DH is out of earshot. My husband is a former classical trombonist, yes, there is such a thing. Unfortunately in addition to having a much larger vocabulary than me, he also knows all things musical. Hum three notes and he'll name the symphony, who was the director when it first debuted and whether it offers an interesting horn line or not.

I on the other hand know all the words to very few songs (twinkle, twinkle, ABCs and Silent Night first verse) let alone the extended tunes for several movements that span an hour's time. So I am submissive, I let him play his "vinyl" which consist mostly of classical and jazz.

The boys don't mind, and honestly I don't really mind. Frankly some of the modern stuff is just annoying, some of the older stuff is beautiful. However, no matter the musical genre, I just don't like loud music in the morning, when I'm busy or when I'm trying to get the kids out of the house. I don't like shouting, "Do you have your shoes on?" in silence or over Mahler, so why not keep it to silence.

This weekend was classical, classical, classical. And for the first time in ages, it made me think, inspired me and overall offered just lovely opportunities. Saturday morning we had tickets (yes, I bought the season months ago, and even unemployed am likely to sign up again next season) for the Little Orchestra Society. I don't mind plugging for them. This is an amazing orchestra that does a series of Lollie Pop concerts (designed for 3-5 year olds, but frankly I think 3-8 year olds and unpretentious music lovers like myself), the Little Persons series (designed for 6-10 year olds, but in our household these are really for the 8 and up as well as my lovely husband) that has existed for like a hundred years. This weekend we were going to a tribute to Abe Lincoln with the Little People's series (Lincoln Center).

O.k., I admit, as does DH, a tribute to Abe Lincoln seemed as lame as you could get by title, and we had no idea what to expect. But going to Lincoln Center with the kids is always a treat. They love being able to go up by the stage, see the lights etc. And the performance is at 11 am and everyone is not expected to be quiet. The performances are 60 minutes on the dot, but tend to be more sophisticated than the Lollie Pop series which has dancing characters involved.

The four year old was with it. Watching and listening. Our little man was along but focused mostly on the stickers, crayons (which roll way down the isle into oblivion) and paper we had with us. There was the orchestra (35 pieces) and conductor, who talks to the kids. But unbelievable they did an orchestration by Copland (one of the few composers who I know by name, modern, did things that sound like western movie sound tracks, and I like him) of several of Lincoln's most famous speeches. While I think it was totally lost on the kids, they had James Earl Jones (yeah, the movie star!) read the Gettysburg Address with the orchestra in the background. AMAZING! DS1 just like that Mr. Jones was on a pedestal why higher than the rest.

They also had this classical violinist, whom my husband says is the biggest thing on the scene, Mark O'Conner, play "fiddling" style music to which DS2 stood up and danced. Again, wow. This is why I love NYC. I'm sure there is music everywhere, but I really got to hear great stuff once I was here.

What annoys me about the music scene in NYC is that people really know everything and I'm a moron. Now, I play a couple instruments, but nothing at a manner that should ever go public. I still play for the boys on occasion. They like it.

Well, we have season tickets for Carnegie (again, bought before I lost my job, but these I'm likely to not renew this year) for the international symphony series, about 6 concerts a season. I have my favorites, Berlin is amazing, Vienna always teaches me something about music, the Bavarian Radio Symphony I think is the greatest orchestra ever. We share a box with six other people, all old, old people. So old that each season I'm curious to see if all the people make it back. There are four old and oddly short folks in our box that have written DH and I off as youngsters, as we are not fully gray. We've been sharing a box with them for six years yet they don't really recognize us. These are the kind of men who call their wives, "their bride". Maybe I'll start calling DH the groom. The other two is a great old "preacher/father" and he always has a friend of family member with him. He's a sweet heart and always asks about the kids. He always discusses the composer and presentation with my husband.

So Saturday, pre-concert we are crossing the street of Seventh Avenue and 57th street, following a group of old people to Carnegie. One of them drops her scarf, and a man bends down to pick it up, and slowly tips over. Like all the way to the ground. While being stunned watching this unfold, DH and I helped him back to his feet before the traffic came up. This is really what I mean by I wonder each concert if our box mates will be there or not.

Well, often DH closes his eyes through the concert. Sometimes I think he nods off, but he denies this. Typically after the first 30-60 minutes I typically get a bit bored. However, Saturday was a bit different, Schubert's Ninth. It was great. It is like he wrote it for the horns and winds then added the strings to accompany. It was also Vienna, which is a great, great orchestra. I was so inspired by the weekend's music I just wanted to write about it.

However, don't think me a snob. I got us season tickets to the Opera, at the Met a few years ago. I thought it would be fun, romantic and educational for me. DH again being an orchestral musician knows all the music and has played in the pit many times. However, I really hated it. I liked two out of like eight performances. I will not be routing for an evening to the opera again, clearly I'm not sophisticated enough.