Ode to flight attendents

I've been on the road, at the Atlanta Mart, selling Normans. He was well received. I spent all day billing and shipping orders, but it wasn't my best show yet. However, you never know. It seems to me that the orders continue to flow for several weeks post a show.

I missed the kids and the hubby. But wow I needed the time. I needed to vent with people who don't know me, aren't vested in the situation and were supportive. I also met amazing people who are just a few years ahead of me on starting their own businesses. Tons of experience to absorb.

I also need to focus on consulting, so it is good to be home. The show was basically a 9 am opening with an 8 pm closing, then networking. yeah, exhausting.

Sometimes you wonder what you would do in a situation. On the plane there was a guy right behind me really, like REALLY drunk! He was generally talking nicely with the kids behind me (kids like 25 years old). But then he turned ugly. I turned to look and the gal looked uncomfortable, so I was about to hit the bell for the flight attendant not knowing what she could do. but she turned the corner before I hit the bell, smelled the guy and engaged him. She then called and had the pilot turn the plane around (we were on the run way, 3rd in line) and we took an extra 45 minutes to unload the guy. Wow.

But also, totally the right choice. This guy was on the edge of turning mean. He was REALLY drunk. And I wouldn't have wanted to sit beside him, let alone within ear shot for two hours. What a choice, what a great choice, yet other passengers were upset about being late. This is a guy that could have been totally disruptive. Maybe violent with the folks sitting beside him.

We need to do what we think is appropriate. We need to change situations when necessary. And we don't have to wait until a situation is horrible, we should be proactive.

Kudos to my flight attendants on this flight.

more later.

revisit on Foster parents

Tonight at dinner we started taking down all the holiday cards that are on the wall by the kitchen table. Most have photographs of the families, and some are of photographs of the children that shared the orphanage with the Little Man.

It was interesting to see who he would pick out of the family photos, but there is still a "chinese" connection. I asked him if he remember the orphanage or his foster family, and he looked at me like I was from another planet. Honesttly, the kids give me that look often and I presume it is about me, not them. I reminded him that he lived with another mommy until he could come join me. When I pulled out the photo, he studied it. I asked who is that, which he pointed out himself and then said "I don't know" and "a man" to the people whom he first called 'mama' and 'baba'.

Amazingly, this shocked me as much as the first time when he saw the photo and immediately pointed out mama and baba. Is he forgetting? Is it that he's been socialized into accepting us and not them? We'll never know. And it comes at an interesting time.

This week for the first time he asked me "what's that" about the scare on his lip. I explained he was born with a hole in his mouth, but the doctors fixed it and that's the scar. (check out the book special smile at http://www.aspecialsmile.com/ if you need fodder for conversation with your children, feel free to tell her I sent you). Tonight I showed him a photo pre surgery with his foster mom. He pointed to his lip and siad "no more hole". Amazing. But while I've brought cleft lip/palette up on occasion with the boys, this was the first time The Little Man brought it up, and he brought it up when it was just me and him. Tonight we all talked about it.

This was also a week when his biological mom flashed through my mind on occasion. Not staying heavily, I always dismiss the thoughts of her saying to myself, "I'll send her all the energy I can muster on her big holiday" which is Chinese New Year. Interestingly this year, Chinese New Year falls on Valentine's Day. I don't think the Chinese observe Valentine's day (any one who knows better than I is most welcome to educate me on this subject). But this week I thought more about his foster family. They were in it to help kids, and likely the income as well. But they knew they were a transit stop, not home. I'm not sure I'm a big enough person to do that. If I had to, if a child fell into my lap, and needed the transit stop, I would be there. But would I willingly raise my hand for that role? Wow, not right now. I'm just not the person ready for that role at the moment. So the foster family had been on my thoughts although I said nothing to anyone about it.

The shock of his not recognizing them is weird. Has he moved on? He left them before he was two, so how much should he remember? But leaving them couldn't have been easy. I guess I won't know until he is much, much older if even then. again no great conclusion. Just sharing the moment, the thoughts.

Privacy - Theirs this time

The boys get very dry skin in the winter. I've tried everything, but the bottom line is they hate moisturizers. In search of a solution, I've convinced them that the Greek God used olive oil so they should too. Yes, after a bath, they get slopped all over with olive oil. They are cool with the routine, and overall, it does really help the dry skin issue.

So tonight we had a new twist. The Big Boy told me I couldn't put it on his "penis". First of all, I'm not sure I ever have. Second, he seems a little penis consumed at the moment. For example, tonight he laid back in the bath and informed me that his penis was the 'light house' on his island. I thought it was creative, but hey, there are some things I'm just not sure how I should respond.

Anyway, the discussion went like this,

"I won't put oil on your penis."

"I bet you do!"

"No. really I won't. You know, your penis is a private part and no one but you and the doctor really have a need to touch it."

"Really?"

"Yep, really."

Somehow I just know this conversation is going to make it to preschool. Oh, well. I try.

New Year's resolutions

I've not been a fan of Resolutions, and haven't made them in the past. But the last couple years have been a roller coaster and leaving this year (2009) where I started taking a greater control of my time and destiny, I choose to take it even farther in 2010.

So the resolutions:

• Get the finances in order - complete the tax filings for all business, refinance a loan or two, have the quick books running on all accounts (including the hubby's business and hour household spend). Sort out the school priorities and costs.
• Get the photos in order - I still haven't printed our 2008 photo album or our trip to China album. Let alone getting on with the now due one for 2009.
• Get the businesses in order - which means finding a balance in working both jobs, delegating and staying organized. It is not that I'm inefficient, it is that I'm trying to accomplish huge task, and it simply takes time.
• Teach the eldest to wipe his own butt. Do I really need to continue to wipe every time he poops? Like who does it when he's at school.
• Lose/maintain weight. I eat healthy for the most part and cook well. But I'm not looking for a lot here, really just 8-10 lbs.
• Increase my income. I want to triple consulting income in 2010, I want to join 2 more public boards and meet the consulting income with board income. I want Fierce Fun Toys, to launch 2 new toys, 11 more books, and see profitability.

No resolutions regarding the kids. They need to grow and do things at their own pace. I just stick along for the ride. The Big Boy is changing schools this Fall, so I hope to be supportive and there for that. The Little Man has to qualify for therapy each year. While it is great he is getting therapy, I look forward to the time when he doesn't qualify. It doesn't seem fair to put pressure on them to perform, when I already have enough pressure on me.

To 2010!

Ownership and responsibilities.

I'd been thinking about writing about this particular topic for a while and to be frank, I've hesitated as I really didn't want to offend anyone.  But it crept up again this week, and today, so I'm going to come out with it.

The only thing I have found different about having a biological child and an adoptive child, is that when "issues" creep up with the adoptive child, I tackle them straight on without hesitation or embarrassment, but with full ownership of suppling a correction.  

I first noticed this when I started seeking Early Intervention help for the Little Man.  I went into the process seeking help with speech and anything else they saw that I might have missed or not known about.  When we started therapy, I met with all the therapist and wanted to understand what they were going to do and how it all worked.  When they gave progress reports, I also gave them progress reports from my end of what had changed in his abilities/behaviours, and what I thought was not where it should be.  They were always a bit paused when they I told them what I still didn't think was moving along as much as I hoped.

Recently, with the state funded therapy, one of our therapist, the physical therapist, left the agency we are working with and the new therapist wanted to give me her assessment.  She did hesitantly, and when I agreed that the Little Man is still lacking significantly in stomach and upper body muscle tone, she commented that often parents became offended when she raised this particular issue.  I told her everything I see and what I want to concur with him.  She is on board.

I also saw this when my sitter had to take the Little Man to therapy for the first time.  She didn't tell the other sitters, although I'm totally open about the amount of therapy he's undergoing.  None of the therapy is life-long stuff in my opinion.  It all is about catching him up to the 'Norm' and giving him any tools he need that he may have missed at the appropriate age/development stage.  She came back from that first session telling me that there were three other sitters there with kids she knew but didn't know any of them were receiving therapy.

So, I go for what he needs.  I talk about it and I don't hide it at all.  In fact I've suggested therapy to others that hadn't even wanted to consider the need.  But since I blame it on lack of stimulation/opportunity to explore the appropriate development milestones at the age most kids hit, I take little ownership to the cause of his delays.  I take full ownership of finding the tools to correct the delays.

The outcome of this, is the surprise for me.  The Big Boy, although 5, and now wanting to write his name, which he mostly does really well, does not memorize as quickly/well.  He knows the difference between numbers and letters, but he doesn't recognize all the letters 1-9, and cannot recite the alphabet.  I wish he could.  I work with him to try and make numbers and letters fun.  But I have felt bad on occasion that I'm not doing enough.  But with the issues with the Little Man, I have no personal concerns about whether I'm doing enough, I just do what I can.

So far, this is the one difference I find.  Ownership of the shortfalls.  And you know what, the reality of the adoption, is teaching me that I shouldn't take ownership of the cause of any disappointments I have with the Big Boy, but that I should just continue to find the tools to help them grow, not focus on the delay itself.

borrowing from the Internet

You may have seen this going around, but I thought this was well worthy of sharing!  Because I do a ton and sometimes get wrapped in my own crap.  It is great to know another way of looking at the work.  So this is totally not my words, but something that is going around.

______________

Invisible Mother......

 
It all began to make sense, the blank stares, the lack of response, the way one of the kids will walk into the room while I'm on the phone and ask to be taken to the store. 
 
Inside I'm thinking, 'Can't you see I'm on the phone?' 
 
Obviously, not. 
 
No one can see if I'm on the phone, or cooking, or sweeping the floor, or even standing on my head in the corner, because no one can see me at all. 
 
I'm invisible. The invisible Mom . Some days I am only a pair of hands, nothing more: Can you fix this? Can you tie this? Can you open this? 
 
Some days I'm not a pair of hands; I'm not even a human being. I'm a clock to ask, 'What time is it?' I'm a satellite guide to answer, 'What number is the Disney Channel?' I'm a car to order, 'Right around 5:30, please.' 
 
I was certain that these were the hands that once held books and the eyes that studied history and the mind that graduated sum a cum laude - but now they had disappeared into the peanut butter, never to be seen again. She's going; she's going; she is gone! 
 
One night, a group of us were having dinner, celebrating the return of a friend from England .. 
 
Janice had just gotten back from a fabulous trip, and she was going on and on about the hotel she stayed in. 
 
I was sitting there, looking around at the others all put together so well. It was hard not to compare and feel sorry for myself. 
 
I was feeling pretty pathetic, when Janice turned to me with a beautifully wrapped package, and said, 'I brought you this.' 
 
It was a book on the great cathedrals of Europe .. 
 
I wasn't exactly sure why she'd given it to me until I read her inscription: 
 
'To My Dear Friend, with admiration for the greatness of what you are building when no one sees.' 
 
In the days ahead I would read - no, devour - the book. And I would discover what would become for me, four life-changing truths, after which I could pattern my work: 
 
No one can say who built the great cathedrals - we have no record of their names. 
 
These builders gave their whole lives for a work they would never see finished. 
 
They made great sacrifices and expected no credit. 
 
The passion of their building was fueled by their faith that the eyes of God saw everything. 
 
A legendary story in the book told of a rich man who came to visit the cathedral while it was being built, and he saw a workman carving a tiny bird on the inside of a beam. He was puzzled and asked the man, 'Why are you spending so much time carving that bird into a beam that will be covered by the roof? No one will ever see it.' And the workman replied, 'Because God sees' 
 
I closed the book, feeling the missing piece fall into place. 
 
It was almost as if I heard God whispering to me, 'I see you. I see the sacrifices you make every day, even when no one around you does. No act of kindness you've done, no sequin you've sewn on, no cupcake you've baked, is too small for me to notice and smile over. You are building a great cathedral, but you can't see right now what it will become.' 
 
At times, my invisibility feels like an affliction. But it is not a disease that is erasing my life. 
 
It is the cure for the disease of my own self-centeredness. It is the antidote to my strong, stubborn pride. 
 
I keep the right perspective when I see myself as a great builder. As one of the people who show up at a job that they will never see finished, to work on something that their name will never be on. 
 
The writer of the book went so far as to say that no cathedrals could ever be built in our lifetime because there are so few people willing to sacrifice to that degree. 
 
When I really think about it, I don't want my son to tell the friend he's bringing home from college for Thanksgiving, 'My Mom gets up at 4 in the morning and bakes homemade pies, and then she hand bastes a turkey for three hours and presses all the linens for the table.' That would mean I'd built a shrine or a monument to myself. I just want him to want to come home. And then, if there is anything more to say to his friend, to add, 'you're going to love it there.'
 
As mothers, we are building great cathedrals. We cannot be seen if we're doing it right. 
 
And one day, it is very possible that the world will marvel, not only at what we have built, but at the beauty that has been added to the world by the sacrifices of invisible women.

privacy

Ok.  If there is one thing a mother to two little men lacks, I would guess high on the list is privacy.  I'm not even talking "personal space" like time to relax or unwind, to pursue a hobby I used to have, or to pursue a hobby I'd like to have.  I'm talking traditional privacy such as going pee without someone insisting on handing me the toilet paper.  Privacy to poop without someone asking what sound it makes.  I'm talking the opportunity to place a panty liner in my underwear without explaining why mommy wears 'little diapers'.

So on a holiday week, that really feels like a holiday year of the kids in my face 24-7, there are times when I just wanted a moment.  I was trying the dreaded triple move, to shower, wash my hair and shave my legs, when I was joined by a toddler who could get off his diaper and pants, but not his shirt, who mistook shaving cream for shampoo.  Let's not even talk about tampons;  it just is too surreal.  How about enough space to blow my nose without 'breathing' on anyone coupled with the lack-of-privacy which included a request to show the 'snots'.  

Then there is also the issues of space that to me is included in privacy.  It is underrated.  I'm just talking about personal space to stand on one's own feet without someone on your toes.  To fart without explaining it.   The space to have a child sit in your lap but not 'squeeze boobie'.  Enough space to open a stuck jar without accidentally elbowing a child that believes he's just 'standing behind' you.  

So after preparing dinner with four extra sets of helpful hands that takes twice as long as usual leading to ''I'm hungry' melt downs, after washing almost all the plates less one which was dropped on the way to the sink because "I wanna help", after bed time preparation included wiping bottoms and snotty noses, I chose to run out to the store for eggs for breakfast.  In mommy speak, it was a 'privacy, space, breathing deep"  run! Even the check out clerk who knows my kids commented on my way out, "enjoy the moment of privacy".

Dear Santa

Dear Santa,

The carrots are for the reindeer.  The clementines and juice box are for you.  I guess we are out of chocolate chip cookies.   Thank you for visiting. 

Big Boy, Little Man, Daddy and Mommy.

Couldn't have written it better.

Ronald McDonald House

I have a secret.  When I first started my company and knew I wanted to donate a portion of the proceeds to charities, I had several charities in mind.  Several just were not established enough to have confidence that the funds were going where they advertised.  A few did not respond to my call.  But to my secret,  one, and only one organization, actually got back to me and said that they wouldn't be interested in me until I was bigger.  Until then I could buzz off.  

It was a bummer.  It was a charity that I thought for sure would take whatever I had to offer. But no, it wasn't interested and replied, "if I'm really interested I could volunteer at the local level".  However, they didn't get back to me for about 3 months after my first out reach.  By then I already had to produce my marketing materials for the toy company (Fierce Fun Toys).   I already had a few other charities fall of the list for more my reasons than theirs.  So I was stuck with people thinking I supported a charity, that frankly didn't want me. Awkward.

But I'm bigger than any organization, that is the joy of being an individual!  I can contribute where I want and organizations rarely say no to free product or money.  And even though they didn't believe in me, I still believe in the work they do.....it was the Ronald McDonald House Charities.  

The Ronald McDonald House charities focus on providing housing when families have to travel for medical treatment.  It may be a stay of a few days to months. But what resonates for me is that they try to keep someone from the family with the kid.  

Little Man had two hospital stays of about 10 days each without family.  Frankly, I have no more information.  For the first surgery, he may or may not have been assigned to a foster family.  But I know from the hospital he went to a foster family.  The second time, I'm not sure if the foster family could afford to travel with him for the surgery.  Either way, he was out there, in a hospital for at least 10 days, and I don't know if family could stay with him or not.  I don't know if the hospital had real evening staff or if they sedated him, strapped his hands down and walked away (a real likelihood given most kids going through cleft surgeries have their hands strapped down to keep them from pulling on stitches), or what?  

So today, without an appointment I showed up at the NYC Ronald McDonald house with 90 Normans, 90 coloring books, 90 sets of crayons and 90 bags.  I had no appointment, but the local staff didn't care.  I was welcomed.  We (the Big Boy and I) package the sets, and all the families staying in NYC house this week will get one - this week they are housing about 84 families.  

I didn't get to see the kids, or the families, but I didn't need to.  This is about reaching out and showing love to someone who might not have all the family they need/want with them.  This was about offering a smile where I could.  This was about making a small contribution even if corporate wasn't interested. This was about the ethical side of advertising and following through.  

But really, it was transference of the love I would offer to that unnamed, yet un-familied orphan in a room by himself.

Reading in the Bronx

Yesterday I spent the day in the South Bronx at a really cool public elementary school.  Note this is a poor area, even for the Bronx, and the students live in a challenging environment.  But it was cool, because the kids were interested in meeting me, hearing a new story and chatting about book writing/making.

My journey started with a subway ride, actually three different trains as the second train I jumped on was the wrong one.  Then a short walk of just a few blocks (5-6) when the shops were starting to open.  While things were on a lower income scale, I did love that the stores were your more traditional single type vendor; the butcher, veggie guy, hair salon, underwear store, etc.

The guard at the front door, checked my identification, signed me in and sent me to the main office.  At the main office there was a repair man fixing the photocopy machine that had been broken for four days.  They called up to the librarian, who picked me up and gave a tour of the school.  The school was a magnificent old building that had huge rooms and 25 ft ceilings on each floor of the 6 floor building.  There were only stairs, which means with 25 ft ceilings everyone gets a work out. The wrought iron around the stairs was beautiful, but clearly meant to keep kids from sliding down the banisters and safe.  

The library was actually lovely.  Rather full of books as one would expect, a bit bare of decoration, no artwork like the classrooms.  Two rugged areas for readings and five tables for six kids each.  I liked the book collection.  Frankly I hadn't been in an elementary school library in YEARS!  There was a reference section of dictionaries and encyclopedias.  Lots of non-fiction from basic science to Vikings.  Then a great selection of fiction, spanning a very wide reading ability, as the kids in the school range from kindergarten to 5th graders.  

Each class period was 50 minutes.  I was to meet with one class of each grade, 5-K. Some classes were bi-lingual and some included students with learning disabilities.

The Librarian introduced me as an "author" to the kids when they first sat came in and sat at the tables.  We discussed what is an "author" and with the older kids, what is "famous" because I'm not a "famous author" as they had so greatly wanted to presume.  But they were thrilled that I was there at all.  I told them it was a story about a farting elephant, that makes friends at a zoo, and they were more then happy to hear the story.  They were ready for story time.  

We moved to the rugged area.  I read.  They helped with sound effects.  At the end we had Q&A.  For the younger classes, K & first graders, this was enough.  We talked about all the animals that live at the zoo, which is their favorite, what they would name it if they could, and what would be its "secret power" if it had one.  Then they had the opportunity to draw a picture of it and write a sentence below the picture.  Lots of "elefants" in the room!

With 2nd graders and older, I could read them the second story without pictures.  They enjoyed it. But I also had the pencil sketch of the book with me so we could pick out sections, reread that section, talk about how they would illustrate it if they were making the book.  Then I would show them what the artist came up with and sometimes even the final full color graphic.  

IT WAS AWESOME!  

Amazingly, they stayed with it for the most part.  Of course they were wiggly, as all kids are.  They loved the concept and in the older classes asked some great question.  But it was also a new concept, meeting an author.  These generally were kids from homes where there aren't a lot of books, they don't frequent book stores and the local library is not as welcoming as the one at the school.  At lunch and after school, fifth grade girls showed up just to hang out.  They were totally into the "American Girl" historical series.

It was fun to interact with the kids.  I've noticed across readings I've done that the kids love when an adult is willing to say "fart" let alone encourage everyone to make a fart sound.  The librarian did admit to me it was a problem as the kids on occasion fart, and then the giggling and accusations start.  She say she typically says it was her fart just to get the kids to quiet down, but now she can blame it on Norman.

It was a good experience.  I hope they also get the greater bit of Norman's story, that of acceptance, cultural differences are interesting and embraceable, and that silly can go anywhere.

Advent Calendar

Yes, Today, I realized we have an advent calendar.  Guess I'm a little late.  Guess I'm going to throw it out so I don't feel this stupid again next year!  

I live with a Believer!

I live with a Believer and I'd admit it is making the holidays for me. One believe out of the four of us is all it takes.  But frankly, I believe a bit too.

Let's back up, I lost my job over a year ago.  I embraced the change with open arms. In the last year I've started two businesses, pulled my hair out, sang 1990's pop songs at the top of my voice, but essentially tightened the financial belt on the family. Last year holidays came and passed in no great fan fair, I prepped before losing the job.  Then I got really sick and wasn't able to get out much for pretty much the entire month of December. With out me doing the festivities, we just didn't do a lot.

In the last year I've been avoiding stores.  Just not going inside at all, even my groceries are ordered on-line.  But in the last 2 weeks a wide variety of errands and meetings have sent me into the center of tourist and shopping Meccas.  All things holiday have been in my face.

I will say in my defence that avoiding stores has generally  abated any general "want" for things.  But with the holidays upon us I have wanted to show the great holiday displays to the boys.  And the displays all lead to 'sales', sales of rather cool things to have, which are rather cool things that I don't need, which in turn reminds me how I'm not spending money.  

Bottom line, I didn't really feel that poor until the holidays hit.

So.... Given I was sick last year and the boys didn't see Santa, I was determined to have it happen this year.  My lovely hubby is not one for lines, so I sought out a NYC Santa known to have a very short line; a trip to ABC Home & Carpet downtown.  And guess what, this Santa didn't disappoint.  

He really was an old guy with a great real beard.  He sat in a beautiful chair in a small private corner of the building.  He was friendly and gentle.  The whole store is magical at this time of the year and it wasn't lost on the boys.  I didn't tell the boys we were there to see Santa until I had assessed the line wait time, but it looked good and they were willing. We happen to be the last two kids before he took the 2 pm break to feed the reindeer.   When he was done with us, we watched as he left, and frankly he could barely walk when he stood up. 

The Little Man (reminder, he's 3 years old) was suspicious and standoffish.  He got into the act only at the end of the visit when he saw that big brother was getting a lollie.  Lollies have long ruled supreme in our household.  But the Big Boy (reminder, he's 5 years old) was into it; amazingly reverent and respectful.  Rather in awe of the big guy.  It was beautiful.  

And the Big Boy, he kept telling me how this was the "best day ever" as he got ride the bus all the way down town and to meet the real Santa Clause.  His enthusiasm continued until the next day at school he told all the other kids how he met the real Santa Claus at "ABC" which created a commotion of kids asking to go and kids claiming he's also at Macy's.  One little boy was crying that he wanted to go, but was informed he was Jewish.  Later the mom told me she'd take him to Santa, but there will be no Christmas tree.  Which just reminds me of why I love New York, we all just make it work here.

Since the visit there have been numerous discussions about what type of carrots Santa's reindeer prefer, which of course is the type with the green stems still attached.  What type of cookies is optimal, which is a debate between chocolate chip or peanut butter with chocolate kisses in the center.  And whether we should leave milk or beer for Santa - a helpful doorman didn't understand how much of a believer we have on our hands.  But we are prepping for the visit already.

To me it is magical.  The Big Boy is not asking for anything, he believes Santa will bring him something, but isn't asking for any specific toy, he just wants the man to show up.  He understands Santa won't come until 'a creature isn't stirring', so he wants to go to sleep as soon as the sun sets on Christmas Eve (which is actually like 4 pm in the afternoon)!  He wants to be good, so Santa comes.  He wants his brother to be good so they both get something.  

The Little Man, however, is a bit perplexed by the Big Boy's fervor. He's along for the ride, but he's not really a believer.  The Little Man is up for the idea of receiving presents and seems to be cool with the fact that we have a tree in the corner of the living room.  But, he is unclear about the Santa in the middle of the night bit.  Frankly, this is about where our Big Boy was two years ago, I just didn't know it would shift so quickly.  

I've been taking the boys to places to see decorated store windows, great Christmas lights, and all sorts of random holiday stuff - yes they are NYers so they have learned the dradle song, they know Kwanzaa is coming, and they made latkes at school today.  But the man in red rules.  

In a tough year, where frankly I need to keep believing in magic, it is a really cool that the Big Boy can remind me how to believe. It should be Thanksgiving really, I've been learning so much from this soon to be 5 year old.

Nice people

So... the people who answer the phone at Poison Control are really the nicest people!

But let me back up.  There are things I care about which my husband doesn't.  I typically try to present an argument for my reasoning, which he typically ignores.  I then try to just cover his end of the issue with my own action.  Then I start to redirect the entire family to avoid the emergency I for see. For the most part, I'm just "a worry wort".

So the battle over items on his dresser top started when the Big Boy was born. I thought the loose change could just as easily go in a piggy bank as on the top of the dresser.  So, I informed, explained what a chocking hazard it could be and bought an attractive piggy bank.  The piggy bank was ignored.  Every day, multiple time a day, if I noticed loose change I would grab it and put it in the piggy bank.  After a couple weeks, I "cashed it in" in front of him and bought something for me. As soon as the Big Boy was big enough to pick up a coin, I taught him the thrill of putting it in the piggy bank.  This lowered the risk if I missed a penny.

Then came the discussion that while I understand his quest for perfect health and desire to live forever, the daily multi-vitamin regime, and I mean over 10 pills a day, needed to be out of the reach of little hands.  These moved from the kitchen counter to his bedroom closet.  But then occasionally there would be a pill on the dresser top and I would go ballistic; or "Over React".

So, when the Little Man came walking to me with a funny look on his face, from Daddy's dresser, I asked what was wrong to which he stuck out a red tainted tongue made a sick face and asked for water, I FREAKED!  I stuck my fingers in his mouth found chewed bits of pill, which when I licked my finger tasted horrible.  

A quick review of the dresser top produced a used blister pack that said "ant" and 30 mg.  I immediately called the hubby and asked what was on his dresser.  He didn't know.  I informed him he was a complete @#$&*&(&, needed to get home immediately,  as he was taking Little Man to the emergency room and hung up.  

Next I called the lovely folks at Poison Control.

The lady was cool and calm.  She never seemed alarmed or passed judgement.  She really just tried to help.  First we had to identify what he took.  We knew it was tiny, red, 30 mg and ended in "ant".  I guessed the most likely word was "decongestant".  She identified it as a Sudafed.  Good news, the Little Man can handle it, but would be hyper for a while.  Scary news, if it had been something else we could have been pumping his stomach.  

And the Little Man, he was a trooper.  He knew I was upset, mad, working fast, but he was right there staying calm but wanting water.  Once I relaxed, he did too.

So I choose to focus on the positive.  First, he's fine.  Second, the poison control people are really lovely. Third, he's very unlikely to go through that again.  Finally, with the reorganization of our lives and some furniture arranging in our future, I think the dresser is going!

 

Bartender?

So the Big Boy, Little Man were in the bedroom playing while I was prepping dinner when I heard the Big Boy say, "Let's play soccer!"
Daddy, "OK"
Big Boy, "I get to be the Bartender!"
Daddy, "Bartender?"
Big Boy, "Yeah, the bartender that keeps the ball out of the goal!"
Daddy, " You mean Goal Tender."

Maybe I drink to much?

Love without sight

Today I needed to pick up batteries and while I was at the store, which was not busy, the four cashiers were discussing another cashier (which I hope was on break) who had fallen "in love" via a pen pal relationship. They were trying to decide if it was actually possible to fall in love with someone you have never met face to face.

It was a fascinating debate, but they were confusing some issues. I think it is totally possible to fall in love with someone you have never met. In "olden days" courtship was often via the written word. And when you think about the adoption community, we bond and totally fall in love with a photos or an idea of a child.

The real issue is in my opinion, that the cashiers were trying to work out is - if can you fall in love with someone you haven't met, can you meet and still carve out a life together? Furthermore, I amazingly kept my mouth shut and didn't jump into the conversation.

Arranged marriages happen in many parts of the world, and even in NY (I've known a few). These are people that often only know the 'family' of but don't know the individual. How would out adoption 'adjustments' gone differently if our kids where articulate enough to tell us what they were thinking before they joined us via a pen pal relationship. Imagine their ability to tell us about their culture and what parts of it was important to them; to tell us what they aim for in life; to tell us what happened in their past from their point of view. Well, that just didn't happen.

But my Little Man is of such size I can pick him up and move him when needed. I can make him wear the close I choose. I take him where I think he should go. So comparing a romantic relationship to that of one we have with a child is not fair. But it did make me think if the couple could correspond honestly, then yes, I think they have a chance. I'm in an arranged marriage with this kid, without any 'family' knowledge, and yes, we make it work, sometimes - on an odd number Tuesday when I'm swinging a chicken by one leg in a circle around my head - flourish!