how does one believe

We've had an issue here at our little house. The Little Man seems to be able to memorize anything, particularly if it is set to a tune. The Big Boy was starting to learn his ABCs. But once the Little Man heard the song twice and could sing it by himself, the Big Boy stopped singing along. Then the Little Man started singing the song ALL THE TIME.

How do you teach one child to believe in themselves when they know others can do something that they themselves are clearly struggling with? The Big Boy is physically gifted. He runs like a Greek God. He's been on two wheels without training wheels since he was four. We've been out this Spring with the skate board, and he is clearly figuring out and starting to chat up the 8 year olds out practicing on their boards. I can take him to the board shops and he's willing to show the guys - often young 20-something kids - what he can do. And then to my amazement, they show him the next things to try. He has decided he wants to take a serious gymnastic class this summer. And this all started with ballet at the age of 2 which he insisted on taking 2x a week for almost 2 years.

But, the ABCs have him down. He can not say them. He doesn't know the names of all the letters, he doesn't know what sound they make. But yet he IS interested. He wants to write. He asks me to write things and then he copies it. He asks me to tell him what letters/numbers look like: i.e, a 9 is a balloon escaping and an M is like two mountains, yes, B is for Boobies - he is a boy after all!

So I bought a really cool ball and told him it was his when he could say his ABCs. But he still doesn't want to practice around his brother. And honestly, does a 5 year old need to have memorization skills when they have a bigger vocabulary than many of my friends and greater physical skills than their daddy? In my opinion, no. But the public school system doesn't see it that way.

So after tears, and lots of repeat after me. He was close enough to get the ball. He is not fully saying his ABCs, but he's soooooo close. And he so wants the ball. And he is so frustrated.

It is unlike me to bend the rules. But I gave it to him. He's going to practice with me tomorrow. He is happy and proud. But this is a beaten down proud. It's not like the physical stuff where I see the light bulb go off when I'm shouting keep your knees bent and lean forward and he's suddenly riding the board. When I see that spark, then we can stay in the park for another hour and he is happy to just keep trying. This is different. He knows others are doing it and he is not. He gets beaten down and I have to bring him back up to the level of keep trying.

How do I get him to believe in himself? I just keep telling him, yes, you can do it. You can do anything. We just have to practice. He believes in me, I just wish he believed a bit more in himself on this issue.

Any suggestions?

Photo of Five - ramblings

Tonight The Little Man pulled out a calendar a dear friend made for us. It starts with the individual pictures of five Chinese children. Then the second page shows them all sitting together in the orphanage looking bewildered at a birthday cake that one of the adoption moms sent for the second birthday of her soon to be daughter.

It is obvious these are not American children. The candles on the cake are burning and there is not move to blow them by any of the children, just bewilderment at what in the world is going on here. It is also winter. The children are bundled up to the point of having difficulty moving their knees and elbows. And they bundled this heavily although they are inside. But the orphanage didn't have heat at the time our children where there. The children are on tiny chairs and looking at whom ever was taking the photo.

Flipping back to the first page, four of the five children are wearing the same pants. Did they have a lot of this particular pair of pants? or did one pair get around a lot? I happen to believe they had a lot of this pant, as I have picture of our Little Man with his roommate in matching dresses. Yes, people should donate more boys clothing, but don't go crazy as I'm not sure the donations actually make it to the children until the day of adoption - When the Little Man came to us, it was in an European cartoon matching set, with the tags still in it.

How in the world did the five mommies of these children find each other. And then I found the roommate to the mom of Little Man's roommate in the matching dress. Times are different than a century ago, different then 20 years ago. The kids are finding homes. The moms are cyberly-connected.

And when I start to wonder what in the world did I do? Why did I disrupt our lives with this defiant angry little man? Why did I think I could handle this? Why did I think I could parent another child? Why did I think I could provide? - which are obviously depressing thought, but yes, thoughts that I go through so much more often than even I am comfortable admitting.

Then I continue to wonder: why did we all do this? How are we all surviving? Of the five in the birthday photo; one is a single mom; one was on the second adoption after two biologic children; one has returned to china for the second adoption following the first two biologic; one is a family of two kids - one biologic one adoptive, both girls; and us, family of tow boys, one biologic and one adoptive. Of the roommate, after struggles with infertility and an adoption, she is now a first time expecting biological mom.

We are all surviving. Sometimes flourishing, sometimes surviving, but all getting on in life. When I'm overwhelmed, these are people who understand. When I'm happy, these are the people that know how hard it is to reach happiness.

But there are another six moms out there. These moms I do not know, yet we are connected with them. Moms that new their children had medical issues that needed to be addressed. I presume they have good days and bad days. I presume they wonder about their children. I presume they pray/hope that their children are being treated as well as they are, but also that their hopes are being met, to which I'm not sure I meet.

I struggle with loving a defiant child. But if I had to abandon mine, I would pray and hope that someone would love them, care for them, and set them on their own feet in the world. I don't imagine it is easy to abandon your child. Yet, tens of thousands of women fell that is their best choice each year. And then there is a matching tens of thousand women who believe they can love/handle the new addition to their lives.

In the end, I think we both underestimate the pain of the process, the weight of the undertaking, and the uncertainty of the outcome. And that is about the kids and the family structure change, let alone the medical issues that need addressing. But we entered with hope. We continue day to day with hope. And there is really no choice but to believe in our collective hope having some positive long term power.

Easter Bunny recycling

So now, a week or two after Easter, I'm seriously going into recycle mode on the Easter candy.

Yesterday we had pancakes with fresh strawberries and Easter bunny chips.
This morning we had muffins with Easter bunny chips.
I promised hot chocolate this afternoon if the day stays cool.

And I was cleaning my closet last night and found the peeps I forgot to put out. Not sure what we'll do with those!

simplicity of conversation with a 5 year old

During the day today I had mentioned to the Big Boy that there are bats in the park. He wants to see them so I promised to take him for a walk.

After dinner, and a late one at that, we went for a walk about 7:30pm tonight. The park was empty of the usual family hordes, but it wasn't empty, there were still joggers, bikers, and people getting in the last walk of the evening with their dogs. We walked and walked. We did not see bats. But there was so much more than I would have expected.

We got to talking about soldiers as we passed the soldier monument. Then there were the cannons. Which lead to talking about pirates which lead to the conversation that the pirates no longer attack NYC, but they are still on the seas, in Somalia, which is in Africa. And why are there pirates? Because there are people who want and need more. Which lead to a conversation about poor countries, including Africa and China. Which lead to a conversation about having money is good, but when you have enough you need to share. Which lead to why people work. Which lead to the conversation that most people work for a pay check, but mommy had to invest money to manufacture Normans and start our company and I only make money when we then sell them. Which lead to why we donate to Smile Train and Half the Sky. Which lead to why it is good to help others and good to have a home.

Sound like the typical conversation with a five year old? I don't know, but it surprised me. And honestly, having to break down my company, Fierce Fun Toys, into the simplest of terms for the Big Boy not only added clarity to me in my pursuit, but reminds me again why I started.

Who knew a walk looking for bats on a beautiful evening along the Hudson river, which was almost glowing blue with the last bits of light, is a good business plan review initiative.

word exchanges

This morning the Little Man asked for the "estimator", which is awesome because he meant the "calculator"!

We were going to a street fair and the Big Boy asked if they would have "explode-ables" we were dumb founded. But what he meant was "inflatables".

checking in

Sorry I haven't posted in a while. I've been depressed and busy. I'm going to need a bit more time before I share all my thoughts. But I will be back.

In the mean time... I went in for a physical and the blood screens came back that I was significantly low on vitamin D. The doctor put me on mega doses of vit D. I have to tell you I'm feeling much better! They say everyone north of Atlanta, Georgia doesn't have enough daylight to not be deficient, but I guess I went well beyond that. My energy is back up and I'm generally feeling better. Amazingly, although Puerto Rican, with the mega doses of Vit D make you more sensitive to the sun and in our beautiful 92 degree day, I managed to sunburn unlike I ever have before. But that's ok, it is tanning and I look like I'm back from an exotic vacation.

New Math for a New Economy

I’m a creative soul. I’m not a penny pincher and don’t live by a strict budget. However, I have regained an understanding of the value of a dollar, which I like to call down economy math.

It’s simple, less money coming in means less money to spend. So I began creatively examining expenses. Am I paying for things that I don’t need, don’t like or could do myself? Yes!

First, I decided my boys are so handsome that no one is really looking at their haircuts. No, I’m not a skilled or trained hairdresser, and I do not want to minimize the talent a good hairdresser offers, but my boys are 3 and 5. The boys have expressed no opinions about their hair whatsoever, and truth be told, I figured if I did a really bad job I would tell people, “never leave the room when your child is holding scissors.” The result, the hair is out of their eyes, no one jumped up to compliment my work, but more importantly no one has said, “Wow, that’s a bad haircut, let me recommend the person we use for my son’s hair.” Bottom line, over $30 in my pocket, no harm done, and I hope to improve with more experience.

Which lead me to my hair. Before you start to pray for me, no I did not cut my own hair, but I did start to question the >$100 spend for chemically treating my hair. I was picking up a prescription at the pharmacy and while waiting noticed there was a wide selection of products designed to use on little girl’s hair, everything imaginable: products to straighten hair, to curl hair, to color hair and then to deep condition! With my new found confidence I bought one, I took it home. I used it for the minimally recommended time, and YES, it worked fantastic. My hair dresser chastised me for using a home product, yet proceeded to give me a great hair cut. I saved >$100! Not only am I happy with my hair, I’m shocked at how much I saved.

On things I don’t like, clothing is the biggest offender. This means no blazers for a single school photo or family event where the jacket is worn for 5 minutes because the kids don’t like it. One five-minute wear of a $45 blazer is just bad value. However, a $20 ‘cool’ t-shirt that is worn a thousand times, equating to pennies per wear. Applying this to my own clothes. The nice stuff in my closet is now being worn more often to also bring down its cost per wear ration. Yes, this means I’m looking a bit nicer for preschool pickup. But, I don’t like not having somewhere nice to go, so I might as well enjoy dressing in the nice stuff before it comes completely dated. I’ve come to value cost per wear.

And our groceries have also been scrutinized. Is organic worth 2x the price if it was flown in from Tasmania? Not if I can wait till the weekend farmers’ market and support local producers, organic or not. What about packaged food? If I can’t pronounce the ingredients on the label, we probably shouldn’t eat it. Cooking from scratch is not only lowering our food bill, it is lowering our entertainment budget as the boys spend more time in the kitchen.

Staying on entertainment, we are doing more arts and crafts. Now at least when something breaks it is because it is “delicate,” not because it is another example of a “shoddy made product that cost too much for what it was.” With books and videos, I’ve started visiting our neighbors with children and enacting trades for a week. We’ve seen some fun movies and read some great books we hadn’t previously known about. And in this economy, none of the neighbors have said “no.” But unlike ‘borrowing’ a cup of sugar, we are actually trading back the books at the end of a week.

I have changed the way I look at spending. Maybe the whole family is thinking about it differently. But I am spending less on things that I don’t need, don’t like or could do myself. And, I hope to bring more income in over time, I’m not sure our spending habits will ever return.

fit in or not?

I've noticed recently my eldest loves me for what I do that "the other mom's don't do that".

At first it was pride in that I have my own company, Fierce Fun Toys, LLC. Today he was excited that I went roller blading in the gorgeous 60 degree false spring weather and happened to run into my son with a posse of other 5 year olds on scooters. Let that sink in. A posse of 5 year olds on scooters, I was nervous, would they knock me over? will I trip and they'll laugh? Nope the leader rode up and grabbed my knees and the others wanted to know how I could stand on the skates.

Later the Big Boy told me that he was proud of me, "none of the other mom's skate".

I'm glad he's proud of me. But because I'm different? That I'm not so sure about.

Pirates and Mommies

So I came home from the gym, with a bandanna holding back my hair. The Little Man and I jumped in the shower, he took the bandanna from my hair. Told me it was like what pirates wear. I said yes, like mommies and pirates. Then he asked, "Do pirates have mommies?"

We have books on kid pirates, boy pirates and girl pirates. But none on mommy pirates? I guess it is a legitimate question.

Money

So the Big Boy knows how stressed I am about money. He doesn't totally get the concept but he knows I'm trying to save money. After 10 days of both the boys with colds, not really seeming to get better I took them to the doctor - which of course was for nothing as its just colds.

But we were in the waiting room and the nurse called me up to pay the co-pay. Big Boy asked what I was doing. I said, "paying so we can see the doctor." He said, "Don't give them too much money".

Bodegas

I don't know a good literal translation for this word, but it is tiny little shops run by one person (typically a very old person) which carries a little bit of everything food-wise, but not really everything as the shop may only be 10 feet by 5 feet. May be just one of lots of very specific food stuff.

We have a bodega in our life that I love. I think the old guy that runs it is Cuban. He speaks Spanish and loves my boys and I. They carry all the little food items I know from my childhood - the pastry to make pastillos (the fired version of an empanadas which we stuff with cheese, meat or guava jelly), Turron (hard nougat candy with nuts), all the canned Goya products, and plantains (green bananas to make tostones). I go in and find something new on the shelves every visit; this week I found a "tomato paste with seasoning (cilantro, etc) for cooking".

I'm pretty sure this little bodega that I love is one of two things; either a front for something, or a relic from when my neighborhood was the old West Side Story. But I go in and find new stuff on the shelves all the time. I hardly ever see another woman in the shop. It is always a bunch of old Cuban guys watching sports on a tiny TV on the top shelf and talking. So it is hard to tell, is it really a bodega or a front?

In the summer they play dominos on the side walk outside the shop. They all acknowledge me now when I walk by or stop in (the shop is on the way to the post office, so I'm by about everyday). But they only speak in Spanish, and I use my terrible Spanish grammar to chat with them, but they don't care.

They've introduced the boys to homemade coconut macaroons, pressed coconut candies, guava jelly, and pastillos. They are the only place I know where I can get the pastries for pastillos. And yeah, I buy a frozen stack of 10 about every week. Recently, with family visits and friends over, I've gone to buying two packs at a time (Special note a pack of 10 sells for $1! Where else can you buy a real food ingredient for only a $1?!).

I know this doesn't sound sexy or exciting. But the fact that this tiny shop exists. That this amazing group of old guys has accepted me and the kids and smile at us, even though I'm still not convinced they are not running numbers, makes me happy every time I visit. They are the old soul of this city. They seem in tune with my soul. And they have never questioned why me, the whitest looking Puerto Rican on the planet visits with a blond child and Asian child. Instead, one guy heads to the freezer for my pastries and the other shows the boys the latest candy in.

I love these old men. They have no idea.

Little Man = Big Boy

I know I've been using "Big Boy" as the moniker for my older son but that might have to change after today.

Today we went to a birthday part for a friend of the Big Boy (5yo) and they were all bigger boys than my Little Man (3&1/2yo). They were playing together and the group of big boys told the Little Man that he was a "baby" and couldn't join in.

What they didn't know is in the last 10 days the Little Man had moved into underpants from pull ups.

The Little Man stunned us all by pulling down his pants, pointing to his underwear and saying "I'm not baby. I'm big boy in underpants!"

Gotta love that!

Toy Fair

Sorry for not writing. I'm EXHAUSTED. I've been at Toy Fair 2010 this week/weekend, selling Normans.

It has been an awesome experience, but wow, am I wiped. There were months of planning going into this. A lot of labor, running errands, getting everything assembled in the weeks before the show. The stress of, "I invested in this, and hope and pray it will work" stress. Then my parents came in to watch the boys because, I really don't have the spare cash for a sitter, the hubby needs to help me at the show, and then he's also directing a play so he has rehearsals at night.

My parents came and helped. A complete stranger from the gym who is lovely worked the booth with me for two days, just because she could and she was awesome. The booth came together well and all the materials arrived. And yes, I can stand on my feet from 8 am set up through the 9 am to 6 pm show and then walk the 20 minutes to the subway, etc. And yes, I come home tired, not wanting to talk to a soul. But the boys want hugs and kisses and they ground me. Tonight they said they would clean up while I watched.

And, yes, the buyers showed up and it was awesome! Best sales of any show to date. Some of my friends at more established companies racked up sales in the tens, and hundreds of thousands. I think of it and hope. But for those buyers willing to buy $100 of my products, I salute you and am so grateful. My tiny little company may be tiny, our sales may be small, but I see glimmers of a greater future! And what really makes me smile at the end of the day, is I know my company can fund another cleft surgery: hopefully the first of many to come this year!

Chinatown

So a week ago I told the boys they could play hoockie today and we'd go down to Chinatown before the Chinese New Year (CNY) to pick up decorations.

So what if it snowed inches last night and the city is closed down, damn it, we can take the subway. We needed to get out, its snowing but not terribly cold, they didn't want to sled and I was close to killing the hubby. So yes, to Chinatown we went.

There was NO ONE on the street. most of the tacky tourist shops were closed. It was WEIRD.
But the boys love dumplings, so we went to the Dumpling House. Not usually our stop as it is straight up from city hall and usual has a line. Well, now I know why, the dumplings were unbelievably good! We ate three orders, and order of pancakes and the requisite order of noodles. The staff was plentiful, the diners few, so my boys enjoyed the attention. When they brought the food I told the boys to say 'thank you' in Chinese say 'Shi shi'. To which the little man responded; I only say 'ne how' (which is hello).

We went to a couple different shops to get our gear; wall hangings, Chinese lanterns, stuff for our hall, their room, my desk, around the house. The shop loved having the boys and kept explaining everything was for CNY. I was really trying to make sure we bought the right signs, you know, 'love, happiness, health, money', but they told me 'all good'. Which in turn told me their teenage son who speaks English decided to sleep in or go sledding.

We made our annual pilgrimage to the Buddhist Temple. I like to go before the new year. We got there just as a 'service' was starting. chanting, bell ringing, gongs, etc. pretty engrossing even if we didn't understand what they were saying. we lit incense, donated a few bucks, and said a nice thought to Buddha which the Big Boy said "he looks like a girl".

The snow is now thick! I'm not sure we'll have school tomorrow, but at least we end the day right with Buddha.

Skinned knees, bruises, band aids and Corage

Skinned knees, bruises, band aids, you'd think I'm talking about my boys. Alas no. It's me.

I have boys, which means from the moment they came in my life I knew I'd get to know the emergency room staff, that our couch would eventually catch fire and a few broken windows were fated. I knew there would bicycles, skateboards, and scooters. I just didn't realize how much courage would be involved, or that I would be I who needed to have courage. You see, the bruises, the band aids, the bumps are on me. As well as the boys.

Our choice of wheeled power has evolved over time. The first mode of summer transportation was the boys ride in a wagon behind my bicycle. I viewed the extra wagon weight as a much needed improvement to my work out. But, they got bigger (and heavier) and the eldest started to feel the call of the road, the desire to ride on his own wheels, steer his own ride.

Suddenly after enjoying long rides to anywhere, we became chained to the neighborhood. Lessons in balance ensued. After months on training wheels we had a chat. I explained he already knew how to ride the bike. The only thing he really needed to learn was how to stop and put his feet down. From the first training-wheel-less push, he road without stopping almost forever! Interestingly, I had never seen a child ride a bike so slow. He really didn't want to risk a fall, so stopping was avoided. It took months, but eventually stopping was mastered after he achieved the ability of balancing at a stand still. The dare devil in him did not emerge. This was an easy time for me, limited risk.

Next due to an older "big boy" neighbor, a skateboard entered our lives. Cycling is traveling lite, just a helmet. However make space when the skateboard moves in, as it brings with it wrist guards, knee pads as well as the helmet and board. And skate boarding is more adventurous, not everyone does it. Shockingly, he assumed I would teach him to skate, given my knowledge of all things wheeled. I can testify, the ground is hard, and bruises can last weeks and it is really difficult not to cry when you fall! I learned a lot about courage. And this is even as we were just doing simple stuff, learning to go forward and push. Thankfully, the cautious side of my child held him back and while he liked the gear, skating was not really going anywhere.

Next step, the scooter. With the scooter, knee and wrist are free, only helmet required. There is an intimacy with the road, but a freedom in being unencumbered by lots of gear. Speed suddenly came roaring into the picture because it is so easy to jump off the scooter and run (if you are into running). Where my son could lose a race to ants on the bike, he mowed down anyone who dares step in his way with the scooter. Suddenly the dare devil in him emerged and doing “tricks” became the target.

With his rising abilities, came the need for me to have more courage. I had to let him go, let him fall. He would squat low on the scooter for stealth attacks. He could jump and while holding the handle bar take both wheels off the ground with him. Amazing myself, I was the one to encourage him to jump off/on the curb. Walking down the side walk with him on the scooter is like being with a kid whose scooter has the hiccups. Special note here, when a kid does bite their tongue, the tongue is one of the fastest healing parts of the body. Unless you’ve separated the tip, the emergency room staff really don’t want you to visit for a bleeding tongue. Instead eat ice and ice cream.

Rather than cringe with each new attempt, or fight the force of boyhood which now had him in its grasps, I fought my inner mommy and went with the flow. I figured if he can jump, then we can then jump and twist 180 degrees (half turn). Which got him thinking, if he can jump and twist, then he can jump twist and land in a squat. Which got us both working on jumping a 360 (full circle) twist. So far not on the scooter, but in the living room.

My eldest has taught me courage as he found his own. I look forward to the return to the skateboard this summer. And my youngest son; the little dare devil is ready, it’s the courage to go slow which I’ll be looking to inspire.