tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-84063545508963158132024-03-13T17:21:27.147-07:00Our Little Corner of the WorldKristen, Mark, Miranda, and Phoebehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02565339224353238009noreply@blogger.comBlogger82125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8406354550896315813.post-31044601897204860612015-03-23T13:01:00.003-07:002015-03-23T13:02:08.600-07:00The Most Famous of PlacesFor the last stop of the trip, we headed to Beijing. Finally, a nice hotel-- no raucous parties of smoking Chinese business men outside our room, no smell of mold or smoke. Our hotel was in the heart of downtown, with Starbucks and Pizza Hut within walking distance. The air was clear and the skies were blue. The city felt clean and organized and modern. The urge to get home suddenly melted away, and both girls were feeling sad that vacation had to ever come to an end.<br />
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One thing we learned traveling with seven years olds is to take the chair lift up and the toboggan down, and that is indeed how we visited the Great Wall. In Phoebe's words, "The toboggan was awesome! . . .And the Great Wall was pretty great, too."</div>
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The next day was our very last, but since the flight didn't leave until evening was had the day to explore on our own. As it ends up, our hotel was just a few blocks from the Forbidden City, so we checked out, left our bags at the desk, grabbed a map, and made our way through the city. Beijing is about a month ahead of us in Spring, so the forsythia was in bloom on one of the first 70 degree days. Really beautiful. We got the audio sets to self-guide our tour and navigated our way through thousands of Chinese tourists around us. There is an element of huge-plaza-after huge-plaza to the Forbidden City, and being with kids makes that sensation a bit worse, but the kids really did a good job. About halfway through Phoebe said, "Look, that's where Big Bird was!" Ends up we retraced a lot of Big Bird's steps from Big Bird in China.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ah, the Forbidden City-- Here we are!</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is where Big Bird was, apparently.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Taking a break. Lots of walking!</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I love this dragon in the Imperial Garden. </td></tr>
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And then, homeward bound. A great trip. Phoebe lost two teeth in China, met her foster mom, and declared that she is going to return to China again someday. Miranda, whom I always feared would feel a little left out, embraced this trip as if China were her own from the start. I hope they remember this trip when they are older, but even if they don't, it was well worth it. Even if the details fade, they will have a sense that China is part of who we are as a family, together.</div>
Kristen, Mark, Miranda, and Phoebehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02565339224353238009noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8406354550896315813.post-24114927531321497052015-03-18T06:14:00.001-07:002015-03-18T06:14:51.523-07:00 Wuyuan/Rapeseed. . . by Miranda (even typed by her this time)<br />
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okay, first of all, people are taking pictures of me/ my hair like MAD!!!!!!!!! (even a photographer)<br />
Right now we are in Wuyuan(WOO-you-awn),which is very beautiful.also,there is a lot of rapeseed( oh, the rapeseed is <u>very beautiful</u>.Also, I got a very pretty fan that is purple and has flowers on it.<br />
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well,I think thats enough for my part.<br />
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MIRANDA<br />
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Kristen, Mark, Miranda, and Phoebehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02565339224353238009noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8406354550896315813.post-33809567860642664272015-03-18T06:07:00.001-07:002015-03-18T06:07:52.646-07:00Sanqingsan MountainJust an hour or two outside of the city of Shangrao the city falls away and the mountain rise up. We took an enclosed gondola-- a rather high tech one that I imagine would be right at home in Switzerland-- far up into the peaks where the clouds are. An elaborate system of paved walking trails clings to the cliffs on the mountain sides, going on for miles and miles. Pictures can only hardly do it justice. It was really striking. Like living inside a Chinese water color painting!<br />
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Kristen, Mark, Miranda, and Phoebehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02565339224353238009noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8406354550896315813.post-2838503647943531712015-03-18T05:55:00.000-07:002015-03-18T05:55:29.523-07:00Homecoming: The Shangrao Orphanage visit<div id="yui_3_16_0_1_1426545712055_8386" style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', 'Segoe UI', Helvetica, Arial, 'Lucida Grande', sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">
At long last, here it is-- our day at the orphanage. It was full of warm welcomes, smiles, surprises, and questions. Lots of unanswered questions, too, but that is to be expected. Longer letters coming soon to some of you (our Travel Group and the families whose photos I carried, in particular), but here is a summary of the day in pictures:</div>
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M and P outside the entrance of the big, new, clean, bright Shangrao Orphanage, built just a few years ago:<br />
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Our family with the director of the orphanage, with a banner that says, "Welcome to the family of Ling Qian Yang." (Yes, the Christmas tree is still up.)</div>
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Phoebe and Miranda's shocked faces after spotting a framed photo on the orphanage wall of us-- yes, our family, back home, eating ice cream on one of our May 25th Family Day celebrations. Pictures of happily adopted kids with their forever families line the orphanage walls, taken from updates that families have sent over the years, blown up and framed.<br />
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Miranda and Phoebe got very busy playing with the babies. This one, like many children in the orphanage, has Down Syndrome. <br />
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In a surprise that really threw me for an emotional loop, mid-conversation with us the director received a phone call that a baby had just been found and would soon be arriving at the orphanage. Here is the baby minutes after she arrived, with M and P pondering what it all means. That black blanket you see is actually a man's winter coat that someone had wrapped her in.<br />
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Here is a foster family who lives in the apartments that make up the heart and soul of the orphanage. This husband-wife team live with and take care of several children and glow with fabulous energy. They pointed out these two babies with pride as "healthy babies" (we would say "non-special needs") whose paperwork is in process and will be adopted soon.</div>
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And this is Phoebe's foster mom. She's 69 years old and has a smile that shines like the sun. She has been foster mom to 20 children-- including to one of the other families whose pictures I carried-- all whom she reports as being adopted. She served us tea that she picked and roasted herself, and graciously accepted our thanks for the excellent care she gave to Phoebe.</div>
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It was a long and wonderful day! Lots of thoughts about it, really, but I'll save the insights and reflections for conversations when we get home. </div>
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Kristen, Mark, Miranda, and Phoebehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02565339224353238009noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8406354550896315813.post-76379080826157116512015-03-18T05:22:00.000-07:002015-03-18T05:22:04.117-07:00Sleeper Train. . . by Miranda<br />
<br />
In our last day in Guilin we took a train to Shangrao. It was a sleeper train and we slept overnight. The train station was very crowded and there were a lot of people smoking. It was really really really unpleasant, and not very happy. Everybody seemed to be wearing grey or black, and most of the suitcases were black. Me on the other hand, I was wearing purple.<br />
<br />
While we were waiting for the train to move, we went into our cabin. Our cabin was very very small and there was hardly any room to climb around the bed. Mom says the beds were hard but I thought they were very comfortable. (But one of the beds in our room right now, which is in Wuyuan, is, under the covers, made of wood. It's completely wood. No wonder it's so hard. And there is no mattress.) . . .But, back to the sleeper train.<br />
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-JRqoa4YwIKk/VQlpBSoHvBI/AAAAAAAAAns/UAnAxbaVZs0/s1600/train.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-JRqoa4YwIKk/VQlpBSoHvBI/AAAAAAAAAns/UAnAxbaVZs0/s1600/train.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
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<br />
I slept pretty well on the sleeper train. I woke up a couple of times but other than that it was really fun. Mom wouldn't let me read on the train because it was 9:00, but that's the time I usually do lights-out with my reading. The sleeper train was really fun.Kristen, Mark, Miranda, and Phoebehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02565339224353238009noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8406354550896315813.post-62483837132881613722015-03-14T05:30:00.001-07:002015-03-14T14:43:53.939-07:00Saturday, March 14, Guilin<div class="MsoNormal">
Yesterday we ventured out for the first time without a
guide.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>To get our feet wet we walked to
the mall a few blocks away, and discovered a whole floor of kids-fun
stuff.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Since tempers and temperaments
weren’t the steadiest, this turned out to be quite a blessing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>With some gestures and smiles we managed to
exchange a few Yuan for tokens, and the girls rode little cars around the
floor.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Right next to the unprotected
stairwell heading down.</div>
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Next up, the girls strapped into belay harnesses and clipped
into ropes hanging from a steel track overhead.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They then clambered around a course consisting of obstacles of various
difficulty suspended about waist-height above the ground.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Some were easy, some required bailouts from
Papa.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Then, indoor boats.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Probably 45 minutes of close attention to
gathering up all the little balls, throwing them back out, repeating.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Mom and Dad finally declared lunchtime.</div>
<o:p></o:p><br />
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Then, Walmart!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Enough
said.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-4ijUDEfpzyg/VQQloFUppvI/AAAAAAAAAnE/e4j2fUpMEaI/s1600/fish.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-4ijUDEfpzyg/VQQloFUppvI/AAAAAAAAAnE/e4j2fUpMEaI/s1600/fish.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a>After lunch at the apartment we caught a cab to Seven Star Park.
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The driver was formal and polite and
charged us exactly what the meter said, which was exactly what we expected.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We paid four admissions but then the
ticket-checker measured Phoebe as less than 1.2 meters tall, and so with much
gesturing and incomprehension, sent me back for one refund.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The park is a few hundred acres of flat areas
and karsts.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The first bright spot was
feeding the goldfish from baby bottles on the ends of short poles.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This was a huge hit, as was the adjacent troop of monkeys.<br />
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The fun park was closed up due to rain and no customers, and tempers frayed again as we wandered trying to find the zoo. Two Giant Pandas and a handful of Red Pandas
perked things up again.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The rest of the
zoo consisted of large animals in small pens, at which the girls became quite
indignant.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s amusing how difficult it
can be to catch a cab at rush hour in a foreign place.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They pass you by and you ask yourself “Wrong
place to stand?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Wrong type of wave?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Wrong time of day?”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Eventually we perched at the upstream side of
a bus stop and a cab picked us up despite having another passenger.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We took an interesting tour of industrial
side streets as we dropped him off.<br />
<o:p></o:p><br />
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Overnight Kristen and Miranda both got sick, probably food
poisoning of some kind.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Oddly Phoebe and
I were fine, but we can’t identify anything they ate and we didn’t.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’ll spare you the specifics.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>About 10:00 Phoebe and I cut out for Elephant
Hill Park, a site of some renown to our girls due to its appearance in Big Bird
in China.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Our specific target was “Sun
and Moon Pavilion, South Gate”, which is the center of a tourist area that
contains the park.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Our guide had written
out this phrase in Mandarin for us, which worked perfectly when going to Seven Star
Park the day before.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Today, with a
different destination, four consecutive cab drivers looked and the paper and
then refused us for some reason I could not puzzle out.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s not plausible that they didn’t know the
area, so I can only guess it had something to do with the destination not being
clear enough from the written phrase.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>When the fifth cab stopped I pointed to Seven Star Park again, knowing
that it wasn’t all that far from Elephant Hill.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>This again worked fine, although we ended up at a different gate to the
park despite pointing the driver to exactly the same Mandarin text.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-HvLARAWj3ZU/VQQp6MP85iI/AAAAAAAAAnY/3i7NU_mfb7k/s1600/elephant.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-HvLARAWj3ZU/VQQp6MP85iI/AAAAAAAAAnY/3i7NU_mfb7k/s1600/elephant.jpg" height="213" width="320" /></a>The plan was to cut across the north edge of the park to a
bridge over the Li River, but nature called so we bought another admission to
Seven Star and hiked through it instead.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Emerging at a southern gate, iPhone maps in hand and Phoebe on
piggyback, we trudged over to the river, hitched north to the bridge, then
walked along the quay down to the park itself.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>It was much farther than I anticipated.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span></div>
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We spent a few hours wandering around and over Elephant Hill, then
headed back to avoid the rush-hour-cab-hailing difficulties of the previous
day.<o:p></o:p><br />
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Mom and Miranda spent the day mostly in bed. They seem to be
stabilizing but not well.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Kristen, Mark, Miranda, and Phoebehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02565339224353238009noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8406354550896315813.post-86524026715985061212015-03-12T09:35:00.001-07:002015-03-23T14:03:06.071-07:00Guilin<div>
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-FMpdsN13x50/VQG6G9Fb4-I/AAAAAAAAAlE/dGBKHS-rLcQ/s1600/IMG_6669%2Bmisty%2Bmountains.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-FMpdsN13x50/VQG6G9Fb4-I/AAAAAAAAAlE/dGBKHS-rLcQ/s1600/IMG_6669%2Bmisty%2Bmountains.jpg" height="212" width="320" /></a>Guilin! Picture
paintings of China with the steep karst rock formations jetting up out of the
otherwise flat land, with fog at their peaks above and bamboo rafts moved
by long poles below. That’s Guilin. We are here.</div>
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Truth is we are still trying to convince our bodies to catch
up with the time zone, but we forge on.
Rather than a hotel, we are in an apartment—on the 13<sup>th</sup>
floor, surrounded by Chinese families and ordinary life. The courtyard had exercise equipment and a big
boxwood maze—for taking walks for good health, our guide says, and probably for
contemplation, but it seems pretty good for running wild in and chasing your
sister too.</div>
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-fF9tzIBVWsA/VQG6VZFVMnI/AAAAAAAAAlM/Rxb90arN9ww/s1600/IMG_7544%2Briver%2Bmtns.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-fF9tzIBVWsA/VQG6VZFVMnI/AAAAAAAAAlM/Rxb90arN9ww/s1600/IMG_7544%2Briver%2Bmtns.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-GUCkgFqgB5k/VQG6VhiP5WI/AAAAAAAAAlQ/eYKNP1Imv1A/s1600/IMG_7553%2BM%26M%2Bon%2Braft.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-GUCkgFqgB5k/VQG6VhiP5WI/AAAAAAAAAlQ/eYKNP1Imv1A/s1600/IMG_7553%2BM%26M%2Bon%2Braft.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a>We drove about two hours to a tranquil place called Yansou
where we rode bamboo rafts slowly up the river with the rocky karst formations
jetting up into the midst around us. The
great excitement of the ride was when the raft charged down a little three foot
waterfall, plunging the front part of the long raft under water and splashing
it’s squealing riders. We spotted a
painter with his easel on the bank, painting what Chinese artists have painted
for hundreds of years. It was one of
those hours of life to be held onto forever.
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-O30RQ6SOjk8/VQG7HyF6tGI/AAAAAAAAAlg/-csSXE9eIvo/s1600/IMG_7585%2BM%26P%2Bcooking.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-O30RQ6SOjk8/VQG7HyF6tGI/AAAAAAAAAlg/-csSXE9eIvo/s1600/IMG_7585%2BM%26P%2Bcooking.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a>We had a cooking class, with all of us dressed up in hats
and aprons. We didn’t let our seven year
olds wield the vegetable clever, but we did let them each control their own
flaming wok. They were amazing. Our dumplings had creative shapes and our
vegetable noodles were a little bland, but we were proud of our efforts!</div>
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-SgJMzmWfeeE/VQG9YxP5sLI/AAAAAAAAAmQ/y9acfQoql-Q/s1600/IMG_6641%2Bold%2Bhouse%2Bbedroom.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-SgJMzmWfeeE/VQG9YxP5sLI/AAAAAAAAAmQ/y9acfQoql-Q/s1600/IMG_6641%2Bold%2Bhouse%2Bbedroom.jpg" height="212" width="320" /></a>In an ancient Chinese village with a thousand years of
history, a wrinkled man with hands deformed from arthritis waved us into his
dirt-floor home from his wheel chair.
He lives in just two tiny rooms,
poorly lit and cluttered with clothes and life, but he proudly showed us his
old carved bed, an ancient treasure of time long past.</div>
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-EMps74Jg4Rc/VQG9XTNKMeI/AAAAAAAAAl0/9nT2XHKCqEA/s1600/IMG_6627%2Bfarmers%2Bmkt.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-EMps74Jg4Rc/VQG9XTNKMeI/AAAAAAAAAl0/9nT2XHKCqEA/s1600/IMG_6627%2Bfarmers%2Bmkt.jpg" height="212" width="320" /></a>We’ve seen silk larvae in their cocoons and touched the silk
they spin. We watched children no older
than ours doing anatomy-defying stunts in an acrobat show full of laser lights,
parasols, rock music, and ballet. We
walked on mud walls between fields where the farmers were hoeing. We saw a baby buffalo with its mother walk up
and over an old stone bridge. We
strolled by a Buddhist temple with incense burning. We walked through town with venders selling
live fish in plastic tubs, chicken feet, and pig heads. We learned how tea is grown and harvested, then
had a tea ceremony where we learned to tap our fingers three times to say thank
you for being served, and to hold our cups with polite and complicated
fingers. </div>
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-0lrM7cyf8_M/VQG-qpsis1I/AAAAAAAAAmk/TwYpYQcRnc8/s1600/IMG_7610%2BM%26P%2Bat%2Bschool.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-0lrM7cyf8_M/VQG-qpsis1I/AAAAAAAAAmk/TwYpYQcRnc8/s1600/IMG_7610%2BM%26P%2Bat%2Bschool.jpg" height="225" width="320" /></a>To the kids, I think the best of has not been
any of these
adventures, but has been playing in the courtyard of our apartment
building. This afternoon when the sun came
out, so too did the little children and babies.
Language is no barrier for Miranda and Phoebe. They had the babies
counting with them in
Chinese, chasing them in the maze, and playing on the seesaw. There is
much confusion over Phoebe. We mostly just ignore it and once in a
while
explain it. Our life back home is full
of international adoption, so we blend in.
Here, not so. </div>
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And now for some voices from the children. First, from Miranda, on our scenic visit up
Yaoshan Mountain and the Reed Flute Caves:</div>
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-9SMqdabA8W0/VQG9DCThBqI/AAAAAAAAAls/CUV6yfRgzCE/s1600/IMG_6671%2BMk%26P%2Bin%2Bchairlift.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-9SMqdabA8W0/VQG9DCThBqI/AAAAAAAAAls/CUV6yfRgzCE/s1600/IMG_6671%2BMk%26P%2Bin%2Bchairlift.jpg" height="212" width="320" /></a>Part 1: Going
up. On the way up, it was very fun. For a while in front of us I could see an
almost straight up cable wire to the top of the mountain, which is the highest
point in all of Guilin. After a while we were going up on that
straight up wire. It was very, very,
very, very fun! Near the end of the ride
up it got so misty and so beautiful.
When I looked to my right I saw beautiful mountains and some of
Guilin. When I looked to my left, I saw
plants and bushes. When I looked up, I saw
the sky. When I looked down, I saw
plants and a few lost items—like a hat, a water bottle, and an ACCORDION! Phoebe kept telling mom not to lose her phone
when she took pictures. P.S.—Our cable
car number was 113.<br />
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At the top of the mountain we got off and we walked around a
little. We saw a little bit of dancing
from some Chinese women, a.k.a. a minority group. We also went all the way to the highest point
of the platform and saw most of Guilin.
We saw Buddhas and two white RABBITS with leashes on. The mountains were so beautiful. They were rocky and smooth at the same
time. Each one had its own unique shape. Mama noticed that the mountains look like
they are layered. The front ones look
the darkest, and as you go back Mama says they look lighter and lighter. </div>
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Part 2: Going halfway
down. We got back on the cable cars, and
this time our number was 78. We said
Nihao to some of the people who were going up on the other side. People
loved my hair! (Well, you don’t see very curly hair in China
every day.) We were watching for our old
number, and as we got close to the half-point where we would get off, we
found
our old number, 113! There was a young
woman (not one of the dancers) and a little boy. We said Nihao to them
and they said hello
back, in English!</div>
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-xTWJY3j7jrQ/VQG-qXw7L2I/AAAAAAAAAmg/e2irCS99x34/s1600/IMG_7606%2BM%26M%2Btobaggan.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-xTWJY3j7jrQ/VQG-qXw7L2I/AAAAAAAAAmg/e2irCS99x34/s1600/IMG_7606%2BM%26M%2Btobaggan.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
Part 3: Toboggan
time!! Next stop, toboggans! At the halfway point, we got off the cable
car. The toboggans were black with a
steering lever – you pushed it and you went faster, you pulled it and it went
slower. Dad and I went on one toboggan
and mom and Phoebe went on another. It
took about five minutes to get to the bottom.
It was very fun! And I got to
steer without Dad holding the steering lever!
(And he had to say “Hurry up, Mama!” because she was in front and was
going way too slow!!)<br />
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Reed Flute Caves:
Really amazing! Actually, it was
just a cave with lights, but it made it look amazing. Inside the cave there are stalagmites and
stalactites that thousands and thousands of years old. They even went back to the age of the
dinosaurs, and the age of the Qin (pronounced “Chin”) Dynasty. There were beautiful little ponds of water
that weren’t very big. The water was so
still that you could see amazing reflections that made them look like they were
growing out of the water. One of my favorite parts is when my guide Judy
found a hollow part of the stalagmite. I
knocked on it and it almost sounded like tom-tom drums. One of the shapes I saw was a frog, a lion,
and a big patch of snow (which they called a waterfall but I think looked like
snow).</div>
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Phoebe would like to share her journal: “I landed in China. So far, I’ve been in two places, Chengdu and
Guilin. I went to the panda reserve. I got a big panda. When I got here I got a little panda
too. Now they are baby and mom. And I got my little panda March 8<sup>th</sup>. And I got my big panda on March 9<sup>th</sup>. Now I am at the apartment. See you tomorrow!</div>
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Good morning! Time to
tell you something. I woke up at
something like 9:22 a.m. Then I had
breakfast and went to the tea farm. I
had tea at the tea farm. Then I drove
home and got out my friendship bracelet and did a little bit. Then I wrote a little bit in my
notebook. Then I went to bed.”</div>
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For the next few days, we are on our own, without a
guide. The pace should slow down. I’m thankful for the Mandarin lessons I’ve
listened to the last few months, but it isn’t nearly enough! Here’s to adventure!</div>
</div>
Kristen, Mark, Miranda, and Phoebehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02565339224353238009noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8406354550896315813.post-50803944112360967382015-03-11T19:15:00.000-07:002015-03-23T13:03:24.321-07:00Nihao from China! <div>
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Nihao from China! </div>
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-08R3F3ne1VE/VQDzdims08I/AAAAAAAAAkE/jpKb56GlvmY/s1600/IMG_7457%2BM%26P%2BChengdu%2Bairport.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-08R3F3ne1VE/VQDzdims08I/AAAAAAAAAkE/jpKb56GlvmY/s1600/IMG_7457%2BM%26P%2BChengdu%2Bairport.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a>We made through our flights—first 7 hours, then another
14—with the usual sore necks and cries of “how much longer?” The kids gorged on movies, an unprecedented
move for our household. The first delight of China for the kids was
in the Chengdu airport, where we found
multiple displays of stuffed pandas roaming among plastic flower and
grass. (“Look, pandas!”) It made for lots of squealing and jumping
around while we waited for our luggage. </div>
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The Chengdu Conservation Panda base is a remarkable
place. Three hundred pandas live here,
where they are aggressively bred to increase their numbers and preserve their
genetic diversity. The pandas are rather
picky about their mates, which leads to more babies being born through
reproductive technology than traditional mating. There is a film in the visitor center that
discusses their breeding in rather explicit terms, so that we had to define
some new reproductive vocabulary for Miranda.
We watched pandas making pandas, and some extraordinary footage of baby
pandas being born. The obstetrician in
me is quite perplexed. First, the
gestational age varies from 84 to 320 days—what?? How on earth is that, a variable gestational
age? And second, how could nature
approved of delivering these premature weaklings that weigh just 1/1000 of
their mother’s weight? Why not develop
for another month or two before emerging into the world? There was a clip of a mother without motherly
instinct who just batted the squealing baby around on the cement floor until
the keepers rescued it, and another mother who grasped the just born pink naked
thing between her teeth and delivered in into her cradled arms. The mothers who grasp their maternal role
parent until four months, and when all the babies of the same age are grouped
other. They stick together as
adolescents until about five years of age, at which time they enter into
solitude as they would if they lived in the wild—with their own territory,
their own enclosure.</div>
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-1trUQVLVERs/VQD0WYXm0hI/AAAAAAAAAkM/6Y88W8_G6RE/s1600/IMG_6539%2BM%26P%2Bwith%2Bpanda.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-1trUQVLVERs/VQD0WYXm0hI/AAAAAAAAAkM/6Y88W8_G6RE/s1600/IMG_6539%2BM%26P%2Bwith%2Bpanda.jpg" height="212" width="320" /></a></div>
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-UuwRePlXQuU/VQD0W0jHE3I/AAAAAAAAAkU/FCzdNInA7tI/s1600/IMG_6556%2Blazy%2Bpandas.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-UuwRePlXQuU/VQD0W0jHE3I/AAAAAAAAAkU/FCzdNInA7tI/s1600/IMG_6556%2Blazy%2Bpandas.jpg" height="212" width="320" /></a><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-PTdI80rCoO0/VQD0ktuKUNI/AAAAAAAAAkc/onpBVIoYac4/s1600/IMG_6513%2BBig%2BPanda.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-PTdI80rCoO0/VQD0ktuKUNI/AAAAAAAAAkc/onpBVIoYac4/s1600/IMG_6513%2BBig%2BPanda.jpg" height="212" width="320" /></a>We strolled through acres and acres of bamboo and trees on
walkways that weave through the enclosures.
There is no glass, but rather just waist-high fences and a small moat
between the visitors and the pandas. The
joy of a March visit is the lack of crowds.
We had the place nearly to ourselves, scoring direct views over and over
again in front of the pandas as the munched, scratched, and wandered. The babies were adorable, snuggling together
and batting each other in play. They nap
up in the tree, wedged into the most awkward forks in the branches where they
pass out in total relaxation. Miranda
and Phoebe declared the pandas, “Great!
Fluffy and furry and cuddly. So
cute!” </div>
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Phoebe donated her birthday money from her “5 & 5 party”
(where each guest brings $10, $5 for Phoebe to shop for herself and $5 to
donate to a good cause). In exchange,
the Panda Base gave her and her sister two huge stuffed pandas, in complete disregard
for their mother’s careful international packing job. So be it.
The girls were delighted.</div>
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-gm3EOFfINuY/VQD1iJdW1AI/AAAAAAAAAko/JgMGhOI3h2A/s1600/IMG_7487%2Bold%2Btown%2Bchengdu.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-gm3EOFfINuY/VQD1iJdW1AI/AAAAAAAAAko/JgMGhOI3h2A/s1600/IMG_7487%2Bold%2Btown%2Bchengdu.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-HTk40Wb4baI/VQD1ihym9PI/AAAAAAAAAkw/aNiR4MBwHyM/s1600/IMG_7510%2Bwish%2Btree.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-HTk40Wb4baI/VQD1ihym9PI/AAAAAAAAAkw/aNiR4MBwHyM/s1600/IMG_7510%2Bwish%2Btree.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a>Then we explored old town Chengdu, through tiny narrow
passageways made hundreds of years ago, classily restored. We saw cooks making the rope-like noodle for
“one noodle soup” and a bare-handed man stirring tea leaves in a hot wok with
his. An old tree was decorated with thousands
and thousands of little red silk bags, each one filled with a wish of the
person who hung it. A man with a
cigarette hanging out of his mouth was doing a photoshoot of a woman in
traditional Chinese dress with a parasol near a flowering tree. There were ponds and bridges, and Chinese
roof lines. It was a beautiful place
full of crowds. </div>
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By the end, Phoebe was near collapse. We headed to the airport on the early side,
where this jetlagged family enjoyed some deep sleep while waiting for boarding
time. And then off to Guilin! </div>
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Kristen, Mark, Miranda, and Phoebehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02565339224353238009noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8406354550896315813.post-14787661293026724772015-02-15T18:02:00.000-08:002015-02-15T18:02:09.336-08:00Getting ready for China!<br />
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<u>From Kristen:</u><br />
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And so, the blog is open again. It has been three years since we left it. Miranda is now in second grade, a dedicated bookworm. Phoebe is in first grade and just this month gave up sucking her thumb ("yay!" she says as I write this, a major accomplishment). On March 7th, we are leaving for two weeks in China, our first trip back since we adopted Phoebe. We will be traveling on our own, with the help of Lotus Travel who will make sure that each time we get off an airplane or train there is someone there to meet us and get us where we need to go. We wanted a bit of slow travel, so will be staying in Guilin ("the most beautiful place on Earth," according to our Chinese au pair) for almost a week, in a Chinese apartment rather than a hotel. Then we'll visit Phoebe's orphanage and spent a few days touring her province, Jiangxi. Those longer stays are sandwiched between one day in Chengdu to see the pandas in the beginning of the trip and one day in Beijing to see the Great Wall at the end. And that's the trip. Some day we'll do a big trip to visit every major tourist attraction we can, but not this time. For now, we are more interested in strolling.<br />
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The excitement around here is tremendous. The girls have come home with library books on China and have made countdown charts. We've watched Big Bird in China and A Day in Pingwei. We made a huge poster board map of our trip, and a slide show as a preview of what to expect. Our biggest project now is putting together the photographs from families I have met online who also have children from Shangrao orphanage-- so far from Canada, Spain, Italy, and the U.S.-- into a book that we can present to the director the orphanage. We've fill prescriptions for traveler's diarrhea, found someone to shovel our snow, and scored a foster home for our cat. We are about ready!<br />
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And now, I'll hand it over to the girls for the perspective from an almost 7 year old about to visit the country of her birth and her 7 year old sister.<br />
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<u>From Phoebe:</u><br />
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We are going to China on March 7. We are going to China to visit my foster family because I really miss them and I really want to see them again. I haven't seen them since I was a baby. I want to say "Thank you for taking care of me when I was a baby." I do not remember them.<br />
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We are going on one flight that takes 14 hours to get to China, and that one is after we take a 6 hour airplane. We have to take many airplanes, but I like riding on airplanes because I can see the clouds below me from the window. We are going to watch movies on the airplanes.<br />
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I've been studying Chinese for four or five years. When I was in kindergarten my teachers Yen and Sandra helped me to learn Chinese. Now I'm a little better and I can speak a little more than Nihao and Zaijan. I am a little nervous to speak Chinese to other people because I am shy to other people that I don't know very well and I just met. I know how to say a lot of words. This year I'm going to go to Chinese class and learn more!<br />
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We have done everything to get ready. My mom did the work when I was asleep. She is preparing to go to China. My mom ordered a new big map for us to follow through China because we don't know a lot about China, but we are going to learn about the Chinese people who live there. And we made a slide show. The airplane rides are on the slide show. If you want to see it, you can come to our house and we can show it to you. We are just thinking about how it's probably going to be but we are not sure what it's really going to be like in the end.<br />
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I'm a little scared about new people, so I'm going to wear a tag that says "I only know a little Chinese" and the tag is going to say the words in Chinese instead of English. When Chinese people think I know a lot of Chinese so they try to talk to me, I'll show my tag and then they'll say "Oh, sorry!" Then they'll understand that I do not speak a lot of Chinese.<br />
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I'm not really sure about squatter toilets, but I am excited to see my foster family for sure! And also I'm going to see pandas. Isn't that awesome?<br />
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<u>From Miranda:</u><br />
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We going to China because it's Phoebe's birth country. We get to see the pandas, and hopefully hold the pandas. But we heard that the little pandas are a little sick right now and we can't hold them until further notice.<br />
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We have gone to the mall and we got shoes and a suitcase. Shoes for me, shoes for Phoebe, and shoes for Dad. We are making a Ling babies book, and we asked people who have adopted Ling Babies from China to send us pictures of their kids and how they've grown. We are putting them into one book so we can give it to the foster families and the nannies at the orphanage. I think they will feel happy and sad to see it-- happy because they get to see pictures of their babies again, and sad because their babies have grown up into kids and don't look familiar anymore.<br />
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On the airplane I will read, watch movies, and listen to the airplane.<br />
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The map is very detailed. We pinpointed every place we are going. I had the idea of using colored string to represent transportation methods. We picked yellow string for the airplane, red string for the train, and white string for the car.From here to San Francisco, then to Chengdu. After that, we fly to Guilin and stay there for a week. Then we go to Shangrao, because that's where Phoebe was born. At the end of our trip we will visit the Great Wall and maybe climb it. <br />
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The first day of pre-K I felt tiny because compared to the kindergartners I WAS tiny. I didn't really have friends in that class. It reminds me of going China because besides my family I won't know anybody there. By the time I was in kindergarten I had a lot more friends. I think what I'm trying to say is that new experiences can be scary but I'm ready for it. This trip to China is going to be great!<br />
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Kristen, Mark, Miranda, and Phoebehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02565339224353238009noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8406354550896315813.post-89298668401811795912012-01-30T06:25:00.000-08:002012-01-30T19:29:29.020-08:00The Blog's Last Chapter<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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This blog started in the weeks before our referral from China, and it was my first attempt at a blog. There was some experimenting going on. Many times I wondered, who is my audience? Is it Phoebe, who will read this years down the road? My family, following us from afar? Other parents who have adopted and navigating this sometimes complicated path? Or is it nothing more than my own diary, a place to dump my thoughts and sort it out? I'm not sure, but as things evolved, I watched the blog follow our family's tranformation into a family of four, as we turned two little girls into sister, and turned people born on different sides of the world into parent and child. I thought it would be about both girls, but it ended up being more about Phoebe. It followed her as she grew into her new life with her "Forever Family," with my ponderings on the effects of her cross-cultural toddler adoption on her personality and outlook on the world. <br />
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I feel like the story of her transition is now over, and we are deep into regular post-adoption life. She's getting older now, too. Now that she's learning to talk, we are discussing adoption in a new way, since she has questions and emotions about it now. It is time for her story to turn more private. And so, this posting is my last one for the blog-- my final thoughts on adoption and our journey as a family.<br />
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I should tell you what happened after the first day of school. The teacher called me the next evening and said, "I know there are no parents allowed in Children's House, but I believe this child needs an exception. When you leave, she feels it in a very deep way. The reaction is quite strong." In a world where adoptive parents often have to explain and educate, Phoebe's teachers understood immediately. Since I couldn't be there every day, we opted to have our new au pair, Laura, do a "phase-in". She sat in the classroom for about two weeks, until Phoebe agreed that she was ready to be there alone. Drop-offs with Laura went well for a few weeks before Phoebe was finally well-established enough in the routine to bravely try drop-off with me. We had a failed attempt in November, but tried again in December with success. So finally, just before Christmas, I started dropping my kids off at school. <br />
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Meanwhile, drop-offs aside, she's done beautifully. She has many friends and does her Montessori "work" with great focus. Last summer we had reached a point in our family where Miranda and Phoebe's ages seemed to have almost evened out developmentally, but since fall Miranda has leeped way ahead of Phoebe-- reading, doing multiplication, using an expansive vocabulary, and generally talking circles around poor Phoebe. We are trying to remember to keep Phoebe involved in our advanced conversations. I'm expecting a developmental leep from Phoebe soon, and I imagine it will be like this as the years go on and our "artificial twins" have their growth spurts independently.<br />
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I am aware every day of how lucky we are that Miranda and Phoebe are as close as they are. Now, please-- there is plenty of bickering and tattling. In fact, after I scolded Miranda for tattling the other day Phoebe immediately reported, "Miranda's tattling on me." I wasn't sure if I should laugh or cry. But they clearly love each other deeply. There are frequent deals about switching one shoe so that they each are wearing a mismatched pair that matches each other. Even on the playground or at swim class, when they could chose to be with anyone, they often are side-by-side. Lately they have even taken to sleeping together in Phoebe's bed.<br />
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I recently made Phoebe a tiny "Life Book" and told her the story of her life as I know about it. We have always told the story of the day we met Phoebe, of how she waited in the good care of her foster family until her Forever Family came, of how long we waited to meet our baby from China, of how her birth parents must be smart and funny like she is. I had always left out, however, that little detail of how she came to be an orphan. I think she was starting to get confused about just who this foster family was and how they got involved-- especially when I talk about how we'll visit them one day and thank them. It doesn't really all make sense unless you tell the truth-- that for reasons we will likely never fully know, Phoebe was left by her birth family at one week of age. So, on the advice of an adoptive mom who has taught me many things, I made a book with just four pictures-- Phoebe in a tattered wicker baby chair in her foster home at four months old, Phoebe in my arms looking confused and overwelmed during her first minutes with her tearful new mother at age 15 months, Phoebe on her papa's one knee looking at Miranda on his other knee as she meets her sister for the first time, and a family portrait of all four of us deeply happy in the post-transition life. With the help of the pictures, I started at the beginning, and told Phoebe all I know about her first 15 months of life, with nothing left out. My adult self thought Phoebe would be shocked. Appalled. Upset. But no. Her response? She listened, then told me something about what dress someone was wearing at school, I think, or something about swim class. But on some level, it seemed like for the first time she understand how it all flowed-- from her birth mother, to the orphanage, to the foster family, and finally to us, the last stop. She carried her book around with great enthusiasm for a day or so, and since then hasn't asked to see it again. I feel at peace. It's all out there now, and Phoebe is okay with her story. It's the only one she has.<br />
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Miranda, too, is thinking about adoption more. A few days ago she announced she wanted to "play adoption." I watched her line up 10 dolls and stuffed animals side by side on a long strip of papertowels on the floor, and then she started shouting out like a street vendor, "Babies! Get your babies!" Yikes, is this what she thought adoption was like?! Some quick intervention was in order. With Phoebe watching, I acted like the official in they mysterious placed known as the Matching Room in the China Center for Adoption Affairs. "Hm, the baby here looks interesting. I have so many folders here of families who are waiting. How should we decide which baby will go with which family? Let's see now. This is pretty important business, you know. We are about to make a family. Ah, yes, I've got it. This looks like a perfect match." I then took the role of the waiting mother, going about my day unsuspectingly, then answering the phone to hear the words that would change my life forever. Finally, I acted out the moment when my baby was placed in my arms. And then Miranda and Phoebe, thrilled with this new version of "Play Adoption," took on the roles. When Phoebe answered the referral phone call and acted out the amazing joy-- with huge eyes, a dropped jaw, a dramatic gasp, and then a shiver and squeal-- I couldn't help filling up with tears. Then she held her new baby for the first time and said to her with great tenderness, "I am your mama. ForEVER." Oh, my. I have to say, it was a great day to be a mother home with her children. <br />
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Clearly the story doesn't end here. Only the blog does. Thank you for journeying with me through this great adventure of motherhood.<br />
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<br />Kristen, Mark, Miranda, and Phoebehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02565339224353238009noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8406354550896315813.post-29131172848428289382011-09-08T07:07:00.000-07:002011-09-08T17:49:57.836-07:00Back to School<br />
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Ah, back to school, back to issues. </div>
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Not big issues, just the usual ones with separation & change, and the forever pondering what effect early transition and the trauma of separation has had on Phoebe. Miranda this morning-- barely said goodbye to me, she was so excited to be back in her classroom. Phoebe? Well, yesterday was a one hour gentle introduction to her new classroom & her teachers, with no other students there. I was supposed to give a cheery goodbye and then get some coffee in the lobby, but Phoebe started on her "I'm scared" routine, with arms wrapped around my legs. The teacher is from Taiwan, and we requested that Phoebe be in her class where they will learn songs & traditions from China (not too mention how lovely it will be to have a positive Asian role model in her life). But when I introduced Sandra to Phoebe, Phoebe looked right at her, paused, then gave her the Phoebe scowl. Trouble with the Chinese face & accent? Or just with the threat of a teacher who will displace her mother?</div>
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So, instead, I was invited to explore the classroom with Phoebe yesterday. She did get out of my arms and explore a bit, but certainly didn't smile or relax, and didn't let me slip out "to the bathroom for a minute or two," no. Then today, half of her classmates were coming, ages 3 to 5. Phoebe started the morning at home by curling up in a chair and saying, "I don't want to go to the school." She refused her rainboots, and when I told her, "Phoebe, you can make your own decisions, but you cannot make your sister late for her first day of school," Phoebe said, "You hurt my feelings!" I carried her into school (a big Montessori no-no) with bare feet & her boots in my hand. After dropping Miranda at her classroom (easy), we ended up sitting outside Phoebe's classroom on the bench while all the other kids arrived. One kindergartner asked Phoebe, "Why are you out here?" Phoebe said, "I'm scared." As if she was paid to do it, the girl said, "It's fun! I used to be scared too, but not anymore!" </div>
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The teacher gave us a full 30 minutes on the bench, with kind invitations every few minutes. Phoebe buried her head in my chest. Finally, at the teacher's request, after promises that I would return right after storytime, I started in on the ritual goodbye kiss that Phoebe dreamed up & practiced at home: nose kiss, one cheek, other cheek-- then with great effort, she raised her hand in a reluctant but brave high-five. Sandra took her in her arms and entered the classroom. I stood in the hallway out of sight and listened to her slow, mournful, sad cry. Then had a good cry myself.</div>
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This is always the trouble, isn't it? Phoebe, who finally has stability in her life, would like it if nothing ever changed. If she could do the same thing every single day for the rest of her life, and wear the same clothes and the same shoe size, she would really be happy about that. But her feet keep growing, it seems. And I know it will be just days before she is loving Children's House and her new friends. It's just the forcing her into the new beginning that hurts this mama's heart. </div>
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Kristen, Mark, Miranda, and Phoebehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02565339224353238009noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8406354550896315813.post-76650645151851597142011-05-30T18:17:00.000-07:002011-05-30T19:30:22.665-07:00Hello, Summer! (And Magic!)<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ltS1Y-xRr2E/TeRR1N6maAI/AAAAAAAAAUo/auItD5TWluI/s1600/IMG_3628.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ltS1Y-xRr2E/TeRR1N6maAI/AAAAAAAAAUo/auItD5TWluI/s320/IMG_3628.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5612701010320844802" /></a><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/--GK3sEr96DE/TeRRw5Sx42I/AAAAAAAAAUg/1pwBYPIDTN0/s1600/IMG_3604.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/--GK3sEr96DE/TeRRw5Sx42I/AAAAAAAAAUg/1pwBYPIDTN0/s320/IMG_3604.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5612700936065639266" /></a><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-3MAHjeMf-W4/TeRRsZ7YXjI/AAAAAAAAAUY/TOCQoeAbM_M/s1600/IMG_3551.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-3MAHjeMf-W4/TeRRsZ7YXjI/AAAAAAAAAUY/TOCQoeAbM_M/s320/IMG_3551.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5612700858926521906" /></a><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-VNuNV5sskYw/TeRRnT-JQcI/AAAAAAAAAUQ/gy9fx7QdanI/s1600/IMG_3539.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-VNuNV5sskYw/TeRRnT-JQcI/AAAAAAAAAUQ/gy9fx7QdanI/s320/IMG_3539.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5612700771428155842" /></a><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-n0_JOxit3rU/TeRRikdNPvI/AAAAAAAAAUI/3dDIX6l97nI/s1600/IMG_3481.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-n0_JOxit3rU/TeRRikdNPvI/AAAAAAAAAUI/3dDIX6l97nI/s320/IMG_3481.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5612700689954062066" /></a><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-RM6fwUznA3Q/TeRRd_YSbsI/AAAAAAAAAUA/x23ZyXiEpng/s1600/IMG_3441.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-RM6fwUznA3Q/TeRRd_YSbsI/AAAAAAAAAUA/x23ZyXiEpng/s320/IMG_3441.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5612700611281841858" /></a><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-kjk-3oxg_Ug/TeRRZu0s9vI/AAAAAAAAAT4/YI4NBsSP0aw/s1600/IMG_3424.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-kjk-3oxg_Ug/TeRRZu0s9vI/AAAAAAAAAT4/YI4NBsSP0aw/s320/IMG_3424.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5612700538118141682" /></a><br /><div>Ah, Memorial Day weekend as it should be. It was a miserable spring, with nothing but chilly grey days, until this weekend. Suddenly, it was hot. Toes breathed in sandals, white legs poked out of shorts, the window breathed open all night long, and dinner moved to the back porch under the umbrella. We've been on the beach every day for the last three days, where the girls now dig and collect and build with little parental interference. It's going to be the summer of fairy houses and beach combing, I believe. This Pennsylvania girl still can't believe the beach is a few short blocks away, and it makes me very, very happy.</div><div></div><br /><br /><div>May was a big month for us. Miranda turned four, with a little yoga birthday party this year, complete with a zebra doing tree pose (her idea) on the cake. On Mother's Day, all of us donned beaks and marched in the Make Way for Ducklings Parade. We celebrated Family Day with our annual ice cream outing, marking the two year anniversary of Phoebe's life merging with ours. And yesterday, with a fabulous date that started with--what else?-- a long walk on a white sand beach without the kids, Mark and I celebrated our 7th anniversary. In between all the celebrations, we had visits from Mark's mom, my parents, and our au pair's parents from Germany. Busy, busy! </div><br /><br /><div></div><br /><br /><div>There has been a little magic in the this house lately. About three weeks ago-- sometime in the middle of Mark's mother's visit-- I suddenly thought, when did my two angels turn into whining, arguing, negotiating, entitled little brats? It wasn't good. I was spending all day giving lectures about kindness and respect, and even the classic "give 2 choices" approach was resulting in 5 minutes of questions and indecision and protests. One night when I was on-call, Mark reported that bedtime took over an hour due to prolonged requests and elaborate procrastination techniques. Our happy home didn't seem so happy. </div><br /><br /><div></div><br /><br /><div>So-- thanks to a Facebook cry for help, I ended up reading "1, 2, 3 Magic." First, I'll say that my father should have written this book, because he "counted us" all the way back then, before the book was published. Oddly, I can't remember what happened when he hit three, but I think that's because I never really got that far; the threat was enough. I had a little meeting with Miranda and Phoebe, and explained the new rules. We role-played an argument and the warnings-- "That's one. . .that's two. . .that's three, take five"-- and the time-out. They got it. A few minutes later, Miranda shoved her feet into Librarian Phoebe's book, and Phoebe shrieked. Calmly, I said, "That's one." Miranda whipped her feet back to herself and silence decended onto the room. Later that day, Phoebe earned herself the first time-out. Without anger or emotion, I carried her to her room, set the timer to 3 minutes, and walked out. She cried for a minute or so, then played quietly, and when the timer went off, she got a hug and a kiss, and a resumption of the usual activities. After that, we had a fabulous day.</div><br /><br /><div></div><br /><br /><div>I'm telling you, peace decended onto our house like you can't imagine. My kids, thank goodness, were "early adapters." On the second day, I said with mild sterness, "Phoebe, sit in your carseat," and she did, asking, "Mama, is that One?" Miranda always pushes it to Two, and sometimes complies with a resigned pout of "You aren't being fair," but she stops the action, and more and more now is just letting it go. There are several effects-- one, when conflict arises, I win the argument quickly and restore the peace, elimating the long negotiations and arguments that used to be the norm. But more interesting is that suddenly there are very few arguments to begin with. We only have to "count the kids" about three or four times per day. We've been doing this for 10 days now, and I have gone back to completely enjoying my pleasant kids.</div><br /><br /><div></div><br /><br /><div>There's another part of the book that talks about "start behaviors"-- getting kids to do things you want them to (as opposed to "stop behaviors", for which we count). So we have instituted a 20 minute timer for bedtime. They have 20 minutes to get it all done-- put on pajamas, brush teeth, wash faces, do all the things they use as procastination tecniques AND read books before the timer goes off. The quicker they do it, the more books they get to read. The first night the timer went off and Miranda immediately said, "But we forgot to feed the fish!" and Phoebe said, "Where's my teddy?" I assured them that I was quite sure they would remember those things tomorrow before the timer went off, and turned out the light. This has worked like a charm. No matter how early or late we are for bedtime, once we get out of the tub or get up the stairs, the timer starts, and I know the lights will be out in 20 minutes. Tonight with 8 minutes left on the timer, Phoebe said she was hungry, so downstairs she went-- and missed story time that Miranda got, but made her own decision and took the consequences gracefully.</div><br /><br /><div></div><br /><br /><div>Why do I go on and on? Because a few weeks ago, I was so frustrated with the kids, and right now (could it be the weather, not the book??) I am blissfully in love with these two. We are at a great stage, where there are constant learning moments, hillarious observations, and charming expressions of love. May this be the beginning of a whole new phase in our lives!</div>Kristen, Mark, Miranda, and Phoebehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02565339224353238009noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8406354550896315813.post-75983729600322100512011-04-03T11:44:00.000-07:002011-04-10T19:23:54.965-07:00Closing Out Winter<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-wzKddskzqD4/TaJlgSYLkoI/AAAAAAAAATw/bfBjtVhehI0/s1600/IMG_3317.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-wzKddskzqD4/TaJlgSYLkoI/AAAAAAAAATw/bfBjtVhehI0/s320/IMG_3317.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5594145292511056514" /></a><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-EW0kN_LK8f8/TaJlZVOI95I/AAAAAAAAATo/VGJnjghZhI8/s1600/IMG_3308.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-EW0kN_LK8f8/TaJlZVOI95I/AAAAAAAAATo/VGJnjghZhI8/s320/IMG_3308.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5594145173015164818" /></a><br />That was fun, after a few months, to glance back at the last post, when I dreamed that sleep trouble was over. Not so. Enthusiasm over toddler camp-out waned after a few days, and Phoebe is famous for saying things like "I don't want a sticker, I want you to stay in my room." After a few weeks of resolutely avoiding parents in Phoebe's bed or Phoebe in ours, we were completely blurry-eyed, like parents of a newborn. We caved. Bedtimes now almost always have tears, with some nights worse than others. Miranda usually gets excused from her bed and allowed to climb into the quiet of the master bedroom while Phoebe cries herself to sleep with parent sitting quietly nearby in the dark. When all is quiet, we carry Miranda back to her own bed. Then when Phoebe wakes up for the first time, we carry her into our bed. It's a big game of Musical Beds. And back to co-sleeping. Somehow it seems that this current plan-- in place for about two months now-- maximizes the family sleep and minimizes the pain. We figure that before she goes to the senior prom, she'll come around. In the meantime, we'll do what works.<div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>Phoebe was quite proud to turn three years old. While I thought the girls would be thrilled to be the same age for a few months, Miranda quickly moved into saying she is "three and a half" while Phoebe announces that she is "just three" when she is asked her age. We tried instituting some rules about being three-- for example, that three year olds don't sit on their parents' laps at mealtime, but Phoebe was so upset by this that we let it slide. In the last few months, I've started to see Phoebe as more needy than I thought she was. In the mornings, she wakes up grouchy, except for the rare days when she says with a smile, "I woke up happy today!" Often she asks for the Ergo while I putter around the kitchen and make coffee in my bathrobe. She often whines and cries, and requires constant instruction to ask again in with kindness, respect, and good manners." Was she always like this? Is it me who has become more sensitive to the negative things? Or it this just a phase, age 3.1? Maybe some of it is that for many months, I considered Phoebe's mood swings part of the normal adoption adjustment that she would grow out of once she was securely attached. Now I know that Phoebe is securely attached. It's just personality. She's moody. She pouts and whines, and then, in an instant, she decides that she's happy again (and charming!) and carries on like nothing happened. I just hope that as she gets older she notices that the world enjoys the happy Phoebe, but does not respond so well to the grouchy Phoebe. (In the meantime, I welcome advice and suggestions, friends!) </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>When I griped recently to Mark about "When can we just be normal?" he reminded me, wisely, that "We signed up for this. And really, we signed up for a lot worse than this." He's right. Phoebe, in her delightful moments, really is delightful. She has only recently started to look into my eyes when she is in feeling playful and cuddly to say spontaneously, "I love you soooo much." We recently went ot the doctor for her three year old check-up, and she charmed the whole place. The nurse called her name and Phoebe pranced right through the door independently and confidently, announced "I don't want any shots" instead of saying hello, and blew right by her. She peppered the doctor with questions and observations. "I don't have that kind of computer at home. Why do you have a small computer?" My favorite moment was when the doctor washed his hands and Phoebe warned him, "Be careful-- don't get your sleeves wet." Then when he took 3 paper towels she said, "Why did you take 3? I only take one." I was glad she didn't add her usual, "It's not good for the Earth!" He reasoned, good naturedly, "My hands are bigger than yours," to which Phoebe replied with a smile and a wrinkled nose, "Oh, yeah." She really got a kick out of knee reflexes (pardon the pun), and talked for days about how he made her knee jump with a hammer. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>Phoebe now lags half an inch behind Miranda in height and half a pound in weight, and their shoe size is exactly the same. My "artificial twins." Still, the age difference has not yet dissolved. Miranda plays all sorts of word games with us that Phoebe can't keep up with at all. (Say, "Doghouse." "Doghouse!" "Now say it again without the house." "Dog!") At playdates, Phoebe plays if the little friend is from Toddler House in school, but if it is a big four year old from Children's House, she still hides in my arms. Miranda is working on maps of Africa, sounding out words, and planning for being the snack girl "next Thursday, the day after tomorrow." Miranda plays the Mystery Game with us at home, putting an object under a blanket and giving us clues to help us guess. Phoebe hides the object and, with a twinkle in her eye, gives us a clue like "It's a purple notebook!" The nine month different is really delightful, in one way, because it is a constant reminder of how quickly children grow up, and how much they learn. At the same time, I feel a bit sad for Phoebe, since part of me always wants her to catch up to her sister instead of staying little. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>Miranda continues to be incredibly generous. One day Miranda asked me, "Where does Phoebe sleep?" I braced myself, sure that Miranda would want into our bed too once she realized that's where Phoebe gets to sleep. I explained that Phoebe gets scared in the middle of the night, so we let her sleep with us. Miranda's response? "Maybe when we get a little bit older so we don't bonk heads we can push our beds together, and then when Phoebe wakes up scared in the middle of the night I can just reach out my hand and touch her and say 'Sh, sh, sh.'" Sometimes we have to be very firm with Miranda to tell her, "You absolutely do not have to give that up. It's yours and you are playing with it right now. Phoebe can have it when you are done." And too often Miranda, with complete sincerity, says "That's okay. I'm done with it now." Should be interesting to see how this plays out when the girls are older. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>After a long winter of snow, bring on the spring!</div>Kristen, Mark, Miranda, and Phoebehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02565339224353238009noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8406354550896315813.post-37521839873591932362011-01-15T14:37:00.000-08:002011-01-16T10:31:12.780-08:00Graduation<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_PVJWWZDRAOI/TTIlyD9J5oI/AAAAAAAAATU/drXNsAq33iI/s1600/IMG_1402.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_PVJWWZDRAOI/TTIlyD9J5oI/AAAAAAAAATU/drXNsAq33iI/s320/IMG_1402.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5562550031741478530" /></a><br />Overnight, I feel like Phoebe has become a "big girl." Yesterday I brought her for her first haircut, to trim off the loose baby ends that have been with her since China. She now has a clean straight line of black hair, big girl. To celebrate, I brought her to the coffee shop for a cup of hot chocolate, served up in an <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">expresso</span> cup with a dollop of whipped cream on top. <div><br /></div><div>Then last night was our first experiment with "toddler camp-out" in the master bedroom. Our sleep issues with Phoebe have waxed and waned over the last year and a half, but have never disappeared. After the nightmares of last October and November disappeared, we <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">reinitiated</span> "sleep training," and have finally returned to being able to say goodnight and walk out of the room, at least on most nights. But somewhere along the line Phoebe learned that when she awakens in the middle of the night she needs to shout out for us and cry a little. On a bad night, it is four or five times, and she'll cry hard if we leave the room before she is back asleep. While we've sworn off climbing in bed with her, I often end up curled up at the foot of her bed, or Mark on the floor next to her. This last week has been exhausting, and I'm thankful that Mark and I take turns so at least ever other night is something close to restful.</div><div><br /></div><div>At the international adoption clinic back in the fall, they suggested this idea of a "camp-out"-- a mattress on the floor in the master bedroom where Phoebe can come to be close to us and feel safe, while still giving us our space. I borrowed a toddler mattress from a friend and set up a cozy space with blankets and a pillow. I walked Phoebe through a role-play of waking up and feeling like she needed to be close, then walking into our room and cuddling up in "toddler camp-out." She snuggled in a declared, "I like it."</div><div><br /></div><div>Around 3:00 a.m., I heard <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">pitter</span>-patter of feet in our room. It was Miranda, who tested out the mattress for about a minute before deciding that her own bed was a warmer better place. Perfect. Around 5:00 a.m. (a remarkably late first awakening), I heard Phoebe's cry. I went to her room, and she readily accepted my suggestion to climb out of bed herself and get settled in toddler camp-out. No fuss, no crying. She snuggled in, and the whole family of four slept in this Saturday morning until a remarkable 7:00. Could this be the beginning of a whole new well-slept phase of life? Dare to dream!</div><div><br /></div><div>And then yet another milestone today. . .Phoebe's ballet teacher invited her to step-up to the three year old class that Miranda is in. Up until now, Phoebe has taken the bring-your-adult class, and occasionally has a bad day when she does nothing more than scowl with her fingers in her mouth in her <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">adult's</span> arms. But after some discussion, Phoebe agreed to join the big girl class. She got into line and walked in on her tip-toes, then followed every instruction with joy. In a class of ten children, Miranda and Phoebe sat next to each other every time they formed a circle. When the other children danced across the room one at a time in line, Two Girls took their turn side-by-side; the teacher told us later that Miranda had asked if they could do so. Mark and I stood outside the glass window and marveled at what seemed like a graduation of sorts. There was Phoebe, secure and independent, without us. And those two sisters-- such good friends they are to each other. I hope they stay that way in the years to come!</div>Kristen, Mark, Miranda, and Phoebehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02565339224353238009noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8406354550896315813.post-2845348934997520412010-12-07T11:11:00.000-08:002011-01-01T17:29:15.763-08:00Ponytails<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_PVJWWZDRAOI/TR_U1lRJ2dI/AAAAAAAAATM/ox-bxv0nLrA/s1600/IMG_1122.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5557394482200697298" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_PVJWWZDRAOI/TR_U1lRJ2dI/AAAAAAAAATM/ox-bxv0nLrA/s320/IMG_1122.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><div>From Phoebe's earliest days with us, we witnessed an incredible determination to complete whatever she set out to do. I remember at her very first Early Intervention assessment, just two weeks after arriving, her focused concentration as she tried to get a peg into a board with holes. Most recently, Phoebe started working on doing her own hair. We first marveled when she put a hairband on her wrist, smoothed her hair back into a ponytail, then pulled the hairband from her wrist and around her hair. We watched her work, work, work to get the next step. I remember Mark, two weeks ago, saying, "If she twists it, I'm calling Mensa." And then-- she twisted it! At age 2, Phoebe can now make her own ponytail, with most of her hair pulled back, with up to four twists for a total of five loops. I can't believe it. Ends up, her teacher reveals that this ponytail making has been a big part of her "work" at Montessori school. This e-mail from her teacher Pam is classic, and worth quoting in full. Enjoy!</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>"I have been watching Phoebe's progress in the art of pony tail making. I have been amazed from the start. She also does great with assorted barrettes. She practices with great focus and determination. With her pony tails, she doesn't want help, and exerts such effort. In the past she would work on it over time, with breaks in between. During these breaks she would work with classroom materials with her hair down, ignoring it. Eventually, perhaps an hour or two later, she would ask Paulette or I to put a new pony tail in for her. But, until she was ready to have help, she did not want us to help her in any way. With the barrettes, she has brought them to me to help her to put them in the first couple of times and then has done them on her own. Her success with the pony tails has gone from one loose band holding her hair in somewhat of a loop last week to your observation of the three twists with the band today. But, she has been building up to this for perhaps two weeks. Here's a photo of her working as she walks which is actually how she does it. Or actually one day she worked repeatedly to make one while sitting in an assembly. I watch her in awe. During the assembly I tapped the teacher next to me and pointed to be sure she saw . It was Diane. I think my jaw has fallen open more than once as I have watched her. I remember the first few times that she took out her hair band. She spent a great deal of time with her head slightly tipped back, giving an occasional shake, and her two hands combing through her hair on each side as one does in preparation for making a pony tail. She was so adorable. . ."</div>Kristen, Mark, Miranda, and Phoebehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02565339224353238009noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8406354550896315813.post-58459725570346057242010-11-09T18:31:00.000-08:002010-11-10T18:37:53.608-08:00The Tough Part<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_PVJWWZDRAOI/TNtWni0q6RI/AAAAAAAAATA/ZtgSBLSXCIs/s1600/IMG_1252.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_PVJWWZDRAOI/TNtWni0q6RI/AAAAAAAAATA/ZtgSBLSXCIs/s320/IMG_1252.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5538115404144765202" /></a><br />For a while, things were really getting worse rather than better. Phoebe had been a securely attached kid, and then we spiralled down in the month of October. Suddenly she was wrapping her arms around mylegs and wailing "Don't go work! Stay with me!" complete with bigtears down the cheeks. Once she even said, as I tried to leave the house, "I scared." Bedtimes turned into disaster, and Phoebe was rejecting any comfort from Mark if I was in the house. There were up to six awakings in the night where the peaceful child suddenly shrieked in fear until I woke her up by gently shaking her shoulders. Twice she verbalized to me the contents of her nightmares, "I don't like that fish" and "I don't like those people scare me"-- what goes through her little head in the middle of the night? One night I heldthe exhausted Phoebe in my arms as she fought sleep with closed eyes and her fingers in her mouth, protested "I don't want go sleep" every few minutes. When I finally got a blessed day off of work when I wasn't post-call, Phoebe couldn't even enjoy the time together. She instead spent the day whining and clinging and generally beingmiserable. By the time Mark came home, I was pretty much just as miserable as she was.<br /><br />So back to the old ways-- I read a book, the Connected Child, which reminded me not to get frustrated, but to meet her with kindness and respect as I teach her what she needs to know. I activated my support squad of friends we traveled with in China, and they offered an outpouring of suggestions. We gave up on the Big Girl bedtime routine, and pulled Phoebe back into bed with us, where she hadn'tbeen since last Spring. The Ergo came back. There was an intense weekend of playing on the floor, looking into Phoebe's eyes, and going nowhere. I let the girls visit me at work, where they got to see pregnant bellies and weigh themselves. I let Phoebe sit on my lap for dinner, and snuggle as much as we could. Back to giving her whatever she needed to feel safe and secure.<br /><br />What I couldn't figure out is this: How much of this should I attribute to Phoebe's personality, how much to typical toddlerhood, and how much to adoption? And second, is this a bump in the road, or a major turning point towards a longterm attachment issue? My pediatrician told me, essentially, that I'm reading too many books. He said that children's memories are short and that at this point all Phoebe can remember is our family, so I should forget about adoption as an issue. I felt like I was walking this tightrope, not wanting to over-diagnose my child, but at the same time, not wanting to miss something important.<br /><br />She responded really well to our efforts, and in less than a week after we hit bottom, we had a bedtime without crying. Admittedly, that was because I was in bed with her as she fell asleep, but at least the nightmares disappeared and the fear factor started to resolve. Last week I said goodbye and Phoebe barely looked up from her puzzle to say "bye" while I kissed her forehead-- like old times, when parting was just part of the routine instead of a traumatic event.<br /><br />By the time we got to our appointment with our international adoption specialist, I think we knew that we had just hit a bump in the road,and that Phoebe was going to pull through just fine. Phoebe hadn't been there in a full year. They gave her a full developmental assessment, which delighted Phoebe. She kept asking, "More games, please, can we do more?" My goodness, she's learned a lot in a year. Last year the challenge was to lift up a hankerchef to find a little toy hidden under it. This year I watched her thread little beads onto a shoelace and point to pairs of associated objects picked out of aline-up. Rather amazing. At one point the doctor said something that registered in my mind as "Do you know how lucky you are?" My eyes filled up with tears. Yes. Yes, yes, yes. She closed the two hour visit by saying, "I don't think she has an attachment disorder. Come back if you need us."<br /><br />So now, we are in recovery mode. Phoebe went to bed for Mark with no tears last week while I was on-call, and last night let Mark put her to bed while I was in the house-- the first time in weeks. We have back-tracked in many of the areas where we had previously worked really hard for progress. While I'm happy we don't have tears or fearat bedtime this week, we are now laying in bed with Phoebe until she falls asleep, even if that takes an hour or two, and the rest of the night is a game of Musical Beds. Last night I made Phoebe follow the old rule of "You don't sit my lap at the dinner table until my plate is empty," which meant that we enjoyed our pasta while Phoebe howledat my side. While it didn't make for a very peaceful meal, it did feel good to be returning to firm rules. A few weeks ago, Phoebe reacted to that kind of rule with a real fear of rejection and abandoment. Now she is back to being a normal toddler again. The next step is to start "sleep training" again, just like we did last spring, with the slow movement of the parental chair further and further from her bed each day. We graduated from co-sleeping once, and now we'll have to graduate again.<br /><br />What happened? At the international adoption clinic they seem to think it was just too much change-- moving, losing our old nanny,adding our au pair to the house, starting preschool, changing the season (Phoebe hated the new fall shoes, fall pajamas, fall jackets),and having mama boldly go away for a weekend with friends. "She was letting you know that she's vulnerable," they said. "It won't be the last time. But each time it will be a little shorter than the last." At this point, we are pretty happy with that.Kristen, Mark, Miranda, and Phoebehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02565339224353238009noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8406354550896315813.post-11175623475249451012010-10-10T18:07:00.000-07:002010-10-11T11:10:48.823-07:00Deep Into the Fall<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PVJWWZDRAOI/TLNS3AMRBHI/AAAAAAAAAS4/Ip9DSWfasiI/s1600/IMG_2624.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PVJWWZDRAOI/TLNS3AMRBHI/AAAAAAAAAS4/Ip9DSWfasiI/s320/IMG_2624.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5526852272611460210" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_PVJWWZDRAOI/TLNSyJ_gFfI/AAAAAAAAASw/V7ldw0WhmAo/s1600/IMG_2661.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_PVJWWZDRAOI/TLNSyJ_gFfI/AAAAAAAAASw/V7ldw0WhmAo/s320/IMG_2661.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5526852189342930418" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_PVJWWZDRAOI/TLNStoPhjWI/AAAAAAAAASo/KKWonox6Dwc/s1600/IMG_2694.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_PVJWWZDRAOI/TLNStoPhjWI/AAAAAAAAASo/KKWonox6Dwc/s320/IMG_2694.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5526852111563853154" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_PVJWWZDRAOI/TLNSoiptADI/AAAAAAAAASg/egP_3fJa2VU/s1600/IMG_2708.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_PVJWWZDRAOI/TLNSoiptADI/AAAAAAAAASg/egP_3fJa2VU/s320/IMG_2708.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5526852024163696690" /></a><br />The leaves are changing in New England, and my dragon and bumble bee are ready for Halloween. Long gone are the lazy days of summer where the girls could shout out ideas of what they wanted to do each day. Miranda and Phoebe are now full-fledge school girls, five days per week.<br /><br />Phoebe officially "phased in" after about 7 days of having Sonja in the toddler room at school. A few days later, I had the brilliant idea of bringing the kids to school on my post-call day off. I wanted to be a "good mom"-- you know, the type who actually gets to hold her kids' hands as they walk into school together, greet their teachers, say hi to the other parents, and kiss their kids goodbye. Miranda-- no problem. Phoebe-- wrapped her little arms around my neck and said "I want to go home. With you." Reasonable, for a child who hasn't seen her mother in 24 hours. I think my sleep deprivation had clouded my judgement. The teacher pulled a chair into the Toddler House, and Phoebe cowered in my arms for an hour until she suddenly decided she was ready to engage in the activity of class. I spent the rest of the morning trying to keep my eye open in the school lobby. I learned my lesson. Children-- especially Phoebe-- love routine. Don't rock the boat. I'm not sure how long it will take before I'll be able to drop Phoebe off at school, but certainly not now.<br /><br />I do, however, pick the girls up from school occasionally. Some day I'll have to get Miranda on video tape. I stand on the sidewalk with the other moms, and when she comes out the door of school in the single file line she calmly scans the crowd. When she spots me (and I hear Sonja gets the same reception), she waves with two arms, smiles, and jumps as high as she can. "You're a rock star!" one of the other parents said to me.<br /><br />For the first time, my children really seem to have a life of their own beyond me. True, I've been a working mother all along, but I always have had a nanny who gives me the full run-down at the end of the day. When I got stuck on the details of a Miranda story, Keri always filled me. Now, there are many mysteries. Somehow the girls got the idea that "I'll tell you later" is a good way to answer the question of "What did you do in school today?" Sometimes I get a report like "We played the Silence Game" or "I used the Love Light," but Miranda can't quite explain these experiences that are still new to her. Or maybe it's that she wants to guard the information, to keep it as her own, in this new and independent life of hers. And Phoebe-- well, her storytelling skills are still evolving. She always answers our questions, but the answers aren't always so reliable. So, the girls go off to school without us and have become their own people, learning and growing and changing where we can't even see them.<br /><br />You learn a lot about your children when they go to school. I'm learning that Miranda is a bit shy and self-conscious about making friends. During the first week I asked if there was a playhouse on the playground, and she told me, "Yes, but there were kids inside, and they didn't let me in." Oh, the lessons of the playground. I just wanted to rewind that day and mediate the moment for her, telling her little classmates, "We share, friends"-- but I wasn't there, and it is Miranda's playground to navigate. I can just take a breath as she learns to guard her heart and stand up for herself on her own. Early on, when I asked if she had any new friends in her classroom, she told me she didn't know their names. But on Day #4, she told me "Evie was playing and I walked up to her and she smiled at me!" Now she tells me daily about her which friends she played with, and I know she has settled into comfort. That initial transition, though. . .I could feel her discomfort as she felt the pressure to make friends but wasn't quite sure how to do it without someone walking her through the process.<br /><br />Phoebe's teacher (Pam, the baby-whisperer, you remember from the previous post) sent us a wonderful e-mail full of Phoebe stories. What a gift for these parents who hardly ever get to see the teacher in person! It is great fun to hear her analyze Phoebe's personality. It seems that Phoebe is very eager to help. When Pam says she's going to turn off the light, Phoebe says "I'll do it," jumps up, fetches the stool, carries it across the room, puts it down, climbs up, turns off the light, brings the stool back to its place, returns to the group, and sits down. When someone is hurt or crying, Phoebe is very concerned, getting the comforting "blue towel" or a favorite toy. Once when Pam mentioned to some children that they might slow down their rushed pace, Phoebe jumped up and said "Like this" and demonstrated an exaggerated slow walk. As Pam said, "Phoebe brings joy to the classroom."<br /><br />Our challenges right now? Well, it pretty much resolves around two issues-- sleep, and working too much. We had a blissful month or two when we had actually settled into a bedtime routine where we could put both girls down for bed in their shared bedroom, kiss them goodnight, and walk out. So wonderful! But starting a week or two ago, Phoebe has started to cry again, and now she is verbal enough to insist with a sharp finger "I want you to sit right here" while she wails. She is inconsolable if we leave the room, and takes, oh, up to 2 hours to really fall asleep. Maybe worse, she has started waking up in the middle of the night again, too. More often than not one of us ends up in her twin bed with her at some point in the night. Not going in the right direction.<br /><br />I think much of it has to do with issue #2-- that Phoebe doesn't see me enough. Lately, call seems impossibly frequent. Last weekend I left town for a wonderful reunion with two of my closest friends (my 2/3 of my life friends-- since age 12). While the time of renewing my spirit was fabulous, my Sunday night return meant starting a new crazy week without having replenished the mommy-time-pool over the weekend. Mark is being very kind when he gently says "Phoebe is missing her mom." I think the bedtimes have been dreadful when I'm not there. Phoebe has started to ask with a sad voice, "Do you have to go to work today?" There have been many times when I've thought that my schedule allows enough time for my kids and my work but just nothing else. Lately I don't feel that. It's not enough for my kids. Especially Phoebe. And so, we are working on solutions. I think I am getting close to one, and I am dreaming about balance.<br /><br />More to say-- ballet class, Phoebe withdrawals, Halloween parades, my attempts at celebrating the Mid-Autumn Moon Festival, ponderings on adoption. . .but I'll stop here for the night. I think I should blog more often (in my spare time).Kristen, Mark, Miranda, and Phoebehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02565339224353238009noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8406354550896315813.post-46229835800409215742010-09-05T11:46:00.000-07:002010-10-11T11:03:04.329-07:00School Girls<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_PVJWWZDRAOI/TLNRP2BQqsI/AAAAAAAAASY/K5TESGtAvdo/s1600/IMG_1282.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_PVJWWZDRAOI/TLNRP2BQqsI/AAAAAAAAASY/K5TESGtAvdo/s320/IMG_1282.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5526850500354419394" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PVJWWZDRAOI/TLNREGQVcpI/AAAAAAAAASQ/oJm68PNaxHE/s1600/IMG_2493.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PVJWWZDRAOI/TLNREGQVcpI/AAAAAAAAASQ/oJm68PNaxHE/s320/IMG_2493.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5526850298554184338" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_PVJWWZDRAOI/TLNQ8LmTpgI/AAAAAAAAASI/5XmkaaGskSA/s1600/IMG_2497.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 238px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_PVJWWZDRAOI/TLNQ8LmTpgI/AAAAAAAAASI/5XmkaaGskSA/s320/IMG_2497.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5526850162549564930" /></a><br />(This posting I started back in early September-- It never got finished, so I'll leave it in it's raw form. )<br /><br />Back-to-school festivities began last week with a home visit from Phoebe's teacher. People call Pam "The Toddler Whisperer," and there really is some other-wordly manner to how she meets children. She said a brief hello to me, then quickly focused on Phoebe, and big sister Miranda, too. The kids were rapt. They showed her their puzzles, and explored with total engagement the two "works" that she brought from the classroom: a seashell in a basket and a ball-in-a-box. The kids pointed out the three apples sewn on her dress, and Phoebe was particuarly impressed with the braid down her back. After Pam left, there was a little meltdown of "I want to go to school RIGHT NOW."<br /><br />Right now came on Wednesday morning, with unusual cooperation in the brushing teeth and fixing hair category. The girls were ready 30 minutes early, leading to an agonizing wait and a little photoshoot on the front porch. (See above.)<div><br /></div><div>Phoebe is in the Toddler House with the two-year olds, and there is an elaborate three week "Phase In" process that requires a parent or care provider-- preferable the same one every day-- to be present in the classroom until the teacher decides the child is ready. Now, there's no way I personally could pull that off, so Sonja has taken up the task. On that first day, we drove to school in separate cars so that Phoebe could wave a smiley goodbye to me from the house, so as not to risk a tearful goodbye at the door of the classroom. Phoebe was delighted to meet Pam at the door, and Sonja picked a chair in the middle of the room. Phoebe hung by her side for just two or three minutes, then got busy with her "work". Sonja proudly reported later that Phoebe was the only child in the mini-sized kitchen who was able to pour her own water from the faucet. There were a few check-in moments through the session when Phoebe wandered back to Sonja-- who was busy with her own quiet "work" of reading, or pretending to-- but she was overall happy to explore. There have been three days of this, so far, with Sonja still in the room. Next week, as I understand it, the teacher will tap Sonja quietly on the shoulder when Phoebe is engaged, and Sonja will say a brief goodbye as she slips out to the Lobby. There will likely be some back-and-forth if Phoebe looks concerned, until, a few days later, or maybe two weeks later, depending on the child, the teacher will give the word that Sonja can venture off of school grounds. And then we'll be rolling-- a regular school routine. It's a long process, but I am grateful that Phoebe will have the time to adjust and be comfortable, without tearful goodbye and toddler protests. When those things happen (as it did at the babysitting at the gym this week), I never know if this is just toddler behavior, or adoption issues-- and at least with this school and this long approach, I don't have to wonder. Phoebe can phase-in when she is ready.<br /><br />Miranda is upstairs in the Children's House with 3-, 4-, and 5- year olds, many who are in their second or third year in the same room with the same teacher. In great contrast to the Toddler House, upstairs we were instructed just to give a cheerful "Goodbye! Have fun! See you in a little bit!" Miranda found her cubby in the hallway, put on her slippers by herself, and walked right up to the room. She was so curious about what was inside that classroom doorway that she didn't say goodbye to me, but just slowly walked in, eyes wide, a little overwhelmed, very excited. Class was only 30 minutes the first day-- just enough to explore the mini-size bathroom and a puzzle of the world. I arrived maybe 2 minutes early to pick her up, and was amazed how how these four children-- only the new children-- were already hard at work. . .<br /><br />(Thoughts end here. To be continued.)</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>Kristen, Mark, Miranda, and Phoebehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02565339224353238009noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8406354550896315813.post-40521266969000684492010-08-20T16:52:00.000-07:002010-08-22T15:33:45.293-07:00The Tail End of Summer<div>There's a lot of catching up to do, if we are going to keep this blog rolling. . .</div><div><div><br />So, we packed our boxes, loaded the moving van, and moved across the bridge to the next town over. The girls' bedroom was the last thing to be packed up and the first to be unloaded, so that they could get settled in their new shared bedroom. Remember, Phoebe had still been in our bedroom, sleeping in a big girl bed but only falling asleep with a parent sitting in the room. Miranda had been falling asleep on her own. The first few weeks of two-girls-one-room were painful. Mark and I took turns, toughing it out through two hours each night from lights off until sleep. Phoebe screamed if we left the room, and Miranda would get wound up by our presence. Someone inevitably got a second wind, and then there was nothing to do but be consistent and wait it out. Until 10:00 pm. Every night. It worked. With time we started sitting in the hallway instead of the bedroom, then in the office, and finally, recently, we can tiptoe downstairs after kissing them goodnight. Major victory. (Picture is moving day, playing in our new backyard.)</div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><br /></span></div><img src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_PVJWWZDRAOI/THGhfH-2JpI/AAAAAAAAARQ/Hx4Iq-0J5SA/s320/IMG_1099.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5508361375341487762" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></span><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_PVJWWZDRAOI/THGgPvG8omI/AAAAAAAAAQQ/xAH7rZsYLa4/s1600/IMG_1173.jpg"><img src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_PVJWWZDRAOI/THGgPvG8omI/AAAAAAAAAQQ/xAH7rZsYLa4/s320/IMG_1173.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5508360011454915170" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px; " /></a></div><div><div>In June we camped in the Berkshires with a great group of families who have a 30 year history together. The girls were quick to pick up the new vocabulary-- salamander, kayak, tent, costumes, marshmallows. A great perk at camp is the babysitting-- 6 hours a day, with fun attentive college kids on kid-duty. They were remarkably clever at drawing out the kids so their parents could slip away to hike the Appalachian trail for a few hours. At night, the four of us slept on an inflatable double mattress in the tent. Mama & Papa were a little sore by the end of the week, but it was so nice to go back to co-sleeping for just a week, with my not-so-little girls wrapped in my arms (and kicking me in the ribs) all night long. We hiked, we canoed, we turned off the cell phones. Miranda learned to sit on a mediation pillow in half-lotus at the pond's edge and breathe, and Phoebe was brave enough to go kayaking on the lake with a babysitter. Miranda even entered the Physical Feats Talent Show with an impressive Tip & Flip maneuver. (That's putting on a zip-up jacket by laying it on the floor in front of you, putting your arms in, and tossing it over your head so it lands in perfect wearable position-- for anyone not familiar with the stunt.) We came home sun-kissed and relaxed.</div></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_PVJWWZDRAOI/THGhN2VSF-I/AAAAAAAAARA/H6ZcDcXshZ4/s1600/CCAP7.jpg"></a></div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_PVJWWZDRAOI/THGg_g9gMmI/AAAAAAAAAQw/-ZoFZTQTRUc/s1600/IMG_2314.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_PVJWWZDRAOI/THGg_g9gMmI/AAAAAAAAAQw/-ZoFZTQTRUc/s320/IMG_2314.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5508360832290927202" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_PVJWWZDRAOI/THGgp2nSOxI/AAAAAAAAAQY/9_3W5ZBLjzA/s1600/IMG_2258.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_PVJWWZDRAOI/THGgp2nSOxI/AAAAAAAAAQY/9_3W5ZBLjzA/s320/IMG_2258.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5508360460146195218" /></a><div><br /></div><div>In July we did another week on a pond in the woods, this time in Maine at my parents' house. All seven of the kids-- my sister's three and my brother's two, plus ours-- were there. It is just delightful that Miranda and Phoebe are old enough to run laps around the porch under the direction of their big cousins while Mark and I sip gin and tonics. A loon visited us one day, right in the little cove of our beach, while were were all playing in the water. It popped right up in the middle of the chaos, stayed for a moment or two, then dove under the water and swam away. Phoebe started requesting "I want more loon!" One night Miranda asked to help cook dinner, and proudly announced as she dried the lettuce, "If I'm helping to cook dinner, then that means I'm part of the Dinner Team!" One day we went hiking in Acadia, and the girls tolerated-- dare I say enjoyed?-- two hours in the backpacks, cheering "Go, Mama, Go!" on the tough inclines. My mom and dad thought of everything, and did a beautiful job of hosting such a loud and rowdy crowd. We ended the week with homemade blueberry ice cream-- for breakfast. "That's pretty silly," Miranda said.</div><div><div><br /></div><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_PVJWWZDRAOI/THGkkXB51rI/AAAAAAAAAR4/RSE5wEEuGJI/s1600/IMG_2378.jpg"><img src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_PVJWWZDRAOI/THGkkXB51rI/AAAAAAAAAR4/RSE5wEEuGJI/s320/IMG_2378.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5508364763815073458" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px; " /></a><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PVJWWZDRAOI/THGkfGG_2EI/AAAAAAAAARw/WKqcuMn-MTA/s1600/IMG_2372.jpg"><img src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PVJWWZDRAOI/THGkfGG_2EI/AAAAAAAAARw/WKqcuMn-MTA/s320/IMG_2372.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5508364673373689922" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px; " /></a><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_PVJWWZDRAOI/THGkYujjS9I/AAAAAAAAARo/PtELARkafWo/s1600/IMG_2469.jpg"><img src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_PVJWWZDRAOI/THGkYujjS9I/AAAAAAAAARo/PtELARkafWo/s320/IMG_2469.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5508364563971787730" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px; " /></a><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_PVJWWZDRAOI/THGkN-OpQuI/AAAAAAAAARg/7ePiwUEFZEo/s1600/IMG_2445.jpg"><img src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_PVJWWZDRAOI/THGkN-OpQuI/AAAAAAAAARg/7ePiwUEFZEo/s320/IMG_2445.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5508364379200504546" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px; " /></a><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PVJWWZDRAOI/THGkHWxCDZI/AAAAAAAAARY/qubUfB13e-U/s1600/IMG_2400.jpg"><img src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PVJWWZDRAOI/THGkHWxCDZI/AAAAAAAAARY/qubUfB13e-U/s320/IMG_2400.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5508364265528102290" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px; " /></a></div><div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#0000EE;"><u><br /></u></span></div>So where are we now? Well, this week makes 15 months since Phoebe arrived in our life. That means that in a few days she will have lived more time with us than without us. She's a master of 5-word sentences --"I want you change clothes"-- and is working on giving us the daily report at dinner (with details filled in my her big sister, who recently used a 17-word sentence that was so impressive I had to count it). I recently bought a few 20-piece cardboard puzzles for Miranda, and it took Phoebe about a week to figure out how to do them herself. She's been going to a class at the Early Intervention school once a week, and last week for the first time she waved at me and said "Bye, Mom" instead of fussing. I always get full-speed running hug that knocks me over when I pick her up. In the moon bounce, she bounces and cackles with laughter. At the last weigh in, Phoebe weighed 29 lbs 2 oz-- and surpassed her big sister by a whopping 2 oz. When our new au pair arrived to the house, Phoebe welcomed her warmly and sat down to play. No trouble, no resistance. We now have a kid who rolls with punches. Well, except when she's in a Phoebe funk. That happens about once every other day. Wow, that kid can scowl. Her eyebrows furrow and she growls "No" to every suggestion you have until she comes out of it. But if that's the biggest issue we have these days, I think we are doing pretty well.</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PVJWWZDRAOI/THGhS6HIpqI/AAAAAAAAARI/XX3OYQQYIbI/s1600/CCAP3.jpg"><img src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PVJWWZDRAOI/THGhS6HIpqI/AAAAAAAAARI/XX3OYQQYIbI/s320/CCAP3.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5508361165459728034" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px; " /></a><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_PVJWWZDRAOI/THGhN2VSF-I/AAAAAAAAARA/H6ZcDcXshZ4/s1600/CCAP7.jpg"></a><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_PVJWWZDRAOI/THGhN2VSF-I/AAAAAAAAARA/H6ZcDcXshZ4/s1600/CCAP7.jpg"></a><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_PVJWWZDRAOI/THGhN2VSF-I/AAAAAAAAARA/H6ZcDcXshZ4/s1600/CCAP7.jpg"></a><br />Miranda, who was good as gold until about two years old-- oh! that's when Phoebe came home-- has become the more challenging of the two girls. She's deep into three years old, with resistance to anything that is not her idea. Bedtime is a tremendously long ordeal, with so many requests and rationalizations. She blessed us with her loudest and most extreme EVER temper tantrum the evening of Sonja's first working day. I recently declared a moratorium on brushing her hair, except once a week when it is wet and soaked with condition; that decision has significantly improved the household peace in the morning. At least she's good for other people-- usually the really difficult moments are with her parents, who will love her through it all.<br /><br />Oh, yes, the au pair! Sonja, from Germany, arrived a week ago to spent a year with us. She's great-- easy to have around, so willing to help, excited to be starting this year of discovery abroad. The kids are so enthralled that they are tracking her every move-- "Where's Sonja? Is Sonja awake? Is Sonja home yet?" There was one beautiful moment on Sonja's second night when she came into the bedroom during post-bath time rituals and gave the kids each a quiet scalp massage. Phoebe hung her head into her chest and let out the most content little sighs of bliss while Sonja worked on her scalp. At that moment I knew that this is going to work out just fine.</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_PVJWWZDRAOI/THGg5DuguPI/AAAAAAAAAQo/iB3RIqEiH1U/s1600/IMG_1208.jpg"><img src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_PVJWWZDRAOI/THGg5DuguPI/AAAAAAAAAQo/iB3RIqEiH1U/s320/IMG_1208.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5508360721364203762" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_PVJWWZDRAOI/THGgxHo5xDI/AAAAAAAAAQg/MJdWNVHVti0/s1600/IMG_1220.jpg"><img src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_PVJWWZDRAOI/THGgxHo5xDI/AAAAAAAAAQg/MJdWNVHVti0/s320/IMG_1220.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5508360584975467570" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_PVJWWZDRAOI/THGgp2nSOxI/AAAAAAAAAQY/9_3W5ZBLjzA/s1600/IMG_2258.jpg"></a><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_PVJWWZDRAOI/THGgp2nSOxI/AAAAAAAAAQY/9_3W5ZBLjzA/s1600/IMG_2258.jpg"></a><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_PVJWWZDRAOI/THGgp2nSOxI/AAAAAAAAAQY/9_3W5ZBLjzA/s1600/IMG_2258.jpg"></a>I notice a lot of blogs are quiet for the summer-- everyone is busy eating watermelon on the porch and taking their bikes to the beach, I suppose. I also feel like we've become sort of a stabilized family this summer-- with fewer interesting changes and things to say. And I'm pretty happy about. I could do a little commentary on how I work too much and don't have time for anything other than work, kids, and marriage-- and how I long for books, friendship, and exercise-- but this is the life we have right now, and those three things that I do a lot of are good. Very, very good.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>Kristen, Mark, Miranda, and Phoebehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02565339224353238009noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8406354550896315813.post-84183296401817212622010-05-23T18:29:00.001-07:002010-05-24T19:19:38.635-07:00One Year<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_PVJWWZDRAOI/S_sy8c4fFrI/AAAAAAAAAQI/5vGIx7VRMZI/s1600/Family+Day.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 206px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_PVJWWZDRAOI/S_sy8c4fFrI/AAAAAAAAAQI/5vGIx7VRMZI/s320/Family+Day.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5475025786125620914" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_PVJWWZDRAOI/S_sylleM8ZI/AAAAAAAAAQA/3BNQFhnWQW4/s1600/ice+cream.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_PVJWWZDRAOI/S_sylleM8ZI/AAAAAAAAAQA/3BNQFhnWQW4/s320/ice+cream.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5475025393294307730" /></a><br />One year ago today, Mark and I walked into a conference room in the Gloria Hotel in Nanchang, China, and found little Phoebe looking very alone in the lap of a nanny who was a stranger to her. I lifted her into my arms, and took her into my life forever. <div><br /></div><div>I think of those early weeks and months, when we thought that Miranda's Laurie Berkner DVD of kids music was just too much stimulation for this overwhelmed child to handle. If we were out of the house for an hour or two, I was eager to get home. We hunkered down. We refused to let anyone hold her but us. I snuggled with Phoebe in the Ergo while Miranda jumped away in the moon bounce on the Common. Phoebe cried herself to sleep, awoke from naps with shrieks, and slept between us at night. Visitors came to us, and all the usual summer trips and travels were off. We were busy doing much of nothing-- just being close, learning to trust each, and becoming family. </div><div><br /></div><div>Gradually we added more action, and Phoebe now says "no home" when we call an end to hours of outdoor play. Today, she shouted in that very loud Phoebe voice "Hi, Steve!" to the neighbor as we headed for ice cream, and loudly declared, "I LIKE Captain Dusty ice cream." I-- her mother-- still sees hints scars from too many transitions in her early years, but overall she is a healthy, happy kid who trusts her parents and adores her sister. Yesterday we gathered with about ten of the families who shared our trip to China with us. One year is a tremendous time in the life of any small child, but these children demonstrate more than normal development changes. Whereas one year ago they had fear, doubt, and uncertainty, now they have confidence, trust, and love. Not to mention shiny hair, smooth skin, and chubby thighs. </div><div><br /></div><div>Today we celebrate one year together, and just two days after that we will call an end to our year of laying low. We are moving-- just two miles away, but still, a move it is. We'll pack all that we call ours into boxes and unload it in our new home. We'll find new neighbors, new playgrounds, new story hours at the new library, a new YMCA, and new little friends. I think of how distressed Phoebe was months ago when we disassembled the cribs to make room for big girl beds, and I worry a little bit about how she will take it. But at the same time, I feel like it is time. I hope that through this transition Phoebe will learn that while many things around her change, her family does not. We go with her. Always.</div>Kristen, Mark, Miranda, and Phoebehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02565339224353238009noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8406354550896315813.post-61294550704584493982010-04-07T10:52:00.000-07:002010-04-07T11:11:20.428-07:00Finally Final<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PVJWWZDRAOI/S7zKnavPPbI/AAAAAAAAAP4/oEGA0Lu3ZSE/s1600/IMG_2072.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PVJWWZDRAOI/S7zKnavPPbI/AAAAAAAAAP4/oEGA0Lu3ZSE/s320/IMG_2072.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5457459627007360434" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_PVJWWZDRAOI/S7zJ7wAIaYI/AAAAAAAAAPw/EK31AMqo_Yg/s1600/IMG_2052.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_PVJWWZDRAOI/S7zJ7wAIaYI/AAAAAAAAAPw/EK31AMqo_Yg/s320/IMG_2052.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5457458876801116546" /></a><br />We arrived at the Probate Courthouse this morning dressed up and smiling. At the security gate we passed our camera through the metal detector and the guard said, "Adoption?" On the way through the court house guards everywhere offered congratulations as we passed. Judge Blake invited us into her chambers with great fanfare. She let the kids bang her gavel and sort through her treasure drawer. Then she sat at her desk, did her best to pronounce Phoebe's full name, signed the official document, and declared our adoption final. Final, finally. Yippeeee!!<div><br /></div><div>We started paperwork four and a half years ago now. It was one year ago this week when held Phoebe's photograph in our hands and saw her face for the first time. What a long journey it has been. What a beautifully happy journey!</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>Kristen, Mark, Miranda, and Phoebehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02565339224353238009noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8406354550896315813.post-449586225108894262010-03-24T11:00:00.000-07:002010-03-24T11:11:49.818-07:00Making PeaceIn the excitement of Phoebe's party, Miranda refused a nap. Her grandparents were visiting and there was just too much going on, so we let us stay up for "Quiet Time" with the adults. She did fine through the party until she had a major meltdown in the bathtub later that evening. After a bath long enough to make prunes of her fingers, Mark insisted that it was time to get out. Some protests later, he resorted to our usual technique of "I'll count to three, and you can either do it yourself, or I'll do it for you on three." Miranda opted to dig in her heels, and what followed was one of the top 5 ever Miranda Meltdowns, with her poor grandparents in the house to witness it. <div><br /></div><div>After about 20 minutes of sobbing and screaming, Mark took Phoebe to bed and I took Miranda. She finally stopped crying and settled into bed for nighttime reading. We snuggled and I wiped her nose. Three books later, when I tucked her in and kissed her on the cheek, she looked up and quietly said, "I want Papa."</div><div><br /></div><div>I fetched Mark from Phoebe's room and told him Miranda wanted to talk. Sure enough, that's exactly what she wanted to do. In quiet clear words, she recounted the events. "I wanted to stay in the tub. . . I cried and cried." Mark explained why he did what he did and told her he loved her. He kissed her goodnight, and that was the end of that. He came downstairs looking a little perplexed and very touched.</div><div><br /></div><div>If the rest of us would insist on making peace and talking it out before we turn out the lights, I think the world would be a different place. Two years old. Quite amazing.</div>Kristen, Mark, Miranda, and Phoebehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02565339224353238009noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8406354550896315813.post-16321248309322600502010-03-17T10:21:00.000-07:002010-03-19T07:19:12.541-07:00Dedication<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_PVJWWZDRAOI/S6FLI_xz67I/AAAAAAAAAPo/eIBb4MfKGFI/s1600-h/IMG_1982.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5449719642026404786" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 214px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_PVJWWZDRAOI/S6FLI_xz67I/AAAAAAAAAPo/eIBb4MfKGFI/s320/IMG_1982.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_PVJWWZDRAOI/S6FKy1xxyHI/AAAAAAAAAPg/CaGbGgU4FLY/s1600-h/IMG_1990.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5449719261384788082" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 214px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_PVJWWZDRAOI/S6FKy1xxyHI/AAAAAAAAAPg/CaGbGgU4FLY/s320/IMG_1990.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PVJWWZDRAOI/S6FKb8Hs2KI/AAAAAAAAAPY/SlGJ_U5j930/s1600-h/IMG_2005.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5449718867950360738" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 214px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PVJWWZDRAOI/S6FKb8Hs2KI/AAAAAAAAAPY/SlGJ_U5j930/s320/IMG_2005.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_PVJWWZDRAOI/S6FKB9qS6eI/AAAAAAAAAPQ/m-DqZOao4UY/s1600-h/IMG_2013.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5449718421687298530" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 226px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_PVJWWZDRAOI/S6FKB9qS6eI/AAAAAAAAAPQ/m-DqZOao4UY/s320/IMG_2013.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PVJWWZDRAOI/S6FJvDp3VII/AAAAAAAAAPI/Lz8oHmke_qQ/s1600-h/IMG_2020.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5449718096878589058" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PVJWWZDRAOI/S6FJvDp3VII/AAAAAAAAAPI/Lz8oHmke_qQ/s320/IMG_2020.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div>At long last, we had a party for Phoebe. In the words of the invitation:</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>"This party is for Phoebe-- to say Happy 2nd Birthday, and Welcome Home. Party day will be just around the time of our one year anniversary of getting Phoebe's referral-- the day when we finally saw her picture at the end of our long wait. It will also be almost 10 months since the day she was placed in our arms. So much has happened since then! She has learned to walk and talk, to laugh ("funny!") and sing-- and to love and trust. We want to celebrate the person she is and how blessed we are to have her as our daughter."</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>We dedicated her that morning at the unitarian church, surrounded by my parent, my sister and her family, and a congregation that has become our home over the last year. Mark and I made these promises to our daughter:</div><div><br /></div><div>"We are your parents and we will care for you.</div><div>We promise to reveal the adventure of life.</div><div>We promise to learn from your challenges and inspirations.</div><div>We promise to tell you the simple truth.</div><div>We promise to pay attention to your small moments.</div><div>We promise to open our hearts fully to your love.</div><div>We promise to hold your birth parents in a special place in our hearts with deep gratitude for bringing you life.</div><div>We promise to teach you about our sisters and brothers around the world.</div><div>We love you with all our hearts, and dedicate ourselves to do all that we can to share with you the beauty and goodness of life."</div><div><br /></div><div>When the white rose touched Phoebe, she gave a perplexed cockeyed look and promptly wiped off its wetness. Little Miranda, with her hand in her mouth for comfort in front of the crowd, managed to whisper "yes" when asked if she would do her best to be a good big sister to Phoebe. My parents promised to share their stories with her as they guide her on her path. And our family and congregation offered their support and encouragement. </div><div> </div><div>We had great Open House party that lasted all day long on Sunday, with a brief intermission for naptime. We have been in Salem for just a year and a half now, and I am so happy to have a great network of friends who make this a wonderful place to be. My sister Lauren and her famil drove all the way from Pennsylvania to join us, which meant the world to me. Phoebe was able to be part of her party in a way she couldn't possibly have done last summer. She ambled about with her little friends-- neighbors, church friends, the twins who met their parents on our same trip to China, companions from storytime and Book Buddies-- thoroughly tearing about the playroom with nothing but glee. She looked a bit shocked and overwhelmed when 45 people surrounded her in song as the cake came out, but held it together in a chair by herself until we blew out the candles together. Boy does this kiddo have a sweet tooth! After 2 pieces of cake and a few cookies, I caught her standing on a chair in the kitchen swiping frosting off the leftover cake. When I interrupted her adventures she just said in the most polite voice possible, "More cake, please." </div><div> </div><div>I am completely in love with this child. Oh, Phoebe Ling, I hope by the day you read this blog yourself, printed in book that you can keep forever, you will be able to say, yes, my parents kept those promises to me. We will do our best. </div><div><br /></div><div><!--EndFragment--></div>Kristen, Mark, Miranda, and Phoebehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02565339224353238009noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8406354550896315813.post-50902171236810317462010-03-07T19:25:00.000-08:002010-03-10T18:27:17.787-08:00Signs of Spring<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_PVJWWZDRAOI/S5Ruid9kxEI/AAAAAAAAAPA/RSyojW-9fbE/s1600-h/IMG_0963.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 206px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_PVJWWZDRAOI/S5Ruid9kxEI/AAAAAAAAAPA/RSyojW-9fbE/s320/IMG_0963.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5446099387835270210" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_PVJWWZDRAOI/S5Ruanf3puI/AAAAAAAAAO4/jmTWvHPDkdA/s1600-h/beach.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_PVJWWZDRAOI/S5Ruanf3puI/AAAAAAAAAO4/jmTWvHPDkdA/s320/beach.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5446099252956079842" /></a>Winter in New England, not an easy thing. But this past weekend was a gift-- 56 degrees, not a cloud in the sky. By the end of the weekend, there were hints of flowers peeking up from the ground, and at long last the piles of dirty snow had mostly disappeared. The town came to life, with the playground crawling with kids burning off months of pent-up energy. I'm not naive enough to think that Spring has come-- this is early March, I know. I imagine there will still be another snow storm or two, and some very cold days. But it won't last. The worst is over. Soon we'll be walking in sandals and hanging laundry out on the line again.<div><br /></div><div>The girls were giddy with excitement. First we got out the tricycles. Last Spring Miranda got hers, but by the end of the summer she still hadn't figured it out. This weekend she discovered that her legs are long enough to reach the pedals and she has enough power to propel forward. The Common has long straight paved paths through the middle, and after a few minutes of false starts and pedaling backwards, she figured it out. "Look! I can do it!" She was off, and so happy to be independently moving. Phoebe needs a little more help from behind to keep moving in the right direction, and some guidance with the handlebars to stay on track, but I promise if you give her another month or two she'll be on her way. So there we were, riding trikes to the Common. No stroller, no Ergo. Big girls on trikes.</div><div><br /></div><div>And then on Sunday we took a bike ride to the beach about a mile from our house. Last year we tried this, but Phoebe was scared and intimidated and really didn't enjoy the outing at all. This time, it was great fun, with Phoebe narrating the whole way: "Motorcycle!! Bike!! Truck!! Water!!" We parked the bikes and had the beach to ourselves. The girls grabbed their shovels and buckets, and took off on their own little beach adventures. Mark and I, parents of girls who grew up over the winter, stood back with the sun on our faces and the quiet waves of the harbor before us. We talked about where we are now, and were we are going in the next few years. Spring does this sort of thing to people.</div><div><br /></div><div>It's like coming out of the dark. When added Phoebe to the family, we spent a good deal of time hunkering down and being, well, a family of four. We walked on eggshells last summer, constantly wondering if Phoebe was overstimulated, insecure, scared, overwhelmed. I remember avoiding the Laurie Berkner music video-- Miranda's favorite-- because it was just too action-packed for Phoebe to handle. We kept outings short, our body contact maximized, and our separations minimal. And now, Spring comes, and suddenly, Phoebe is a well-adjusted kid. </div><div><br /></div><div>It's a funny thing about adopting a toddler. Last year at this time, we were expecting a baby. I had saved all of Miranda's baby clothes from sizes 3-6 months up, and all the baby paraphernalia. Phoebe was older than we expected, and bigger and sturdier than we imagined. So here we are, less than a year later, with a kid who wears underpants, speaks in sentences, sleeps in a big girl bed, and rides a tricycle. Our baby days are over. There's great celebration as we hit each milestone. I love to hear Phoebe shout "I did it!" But when Miranda curls up in my arms and says, "I'm your little teeny tiny baby" when she wants to cuddle, I can't help but miss those early days. </div><div><br /></div><div>Hurry, hurry Spring! I think we are in for one very fun summer around here.</div>Kristen, Mark, Miranda, and Phoebehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02565339224353238009noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8406354550896315813.post-14391418245774124002010-02-27T10:01:00.001-08:002010-02-28T07:44:37.128-08:00Happy Birthday, Phoebe!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_PVJWWZDRAOI/S4mnXC6yjHI/AAAAAAAAAOw/-vZCvaxpMnI/s1600-h/IMG_1938.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5443065639016238194" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 214px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_PVJWWZDRAOI/S4mnXC6yjHI/AAAAAAAAAOw/-vZCvaxpMnI/s320/IMG_1938.jpg" border="0" /></a>Birthday tricycle. . .<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_PVJWWZDRAOI/S4mnFVyAu0I/AAAAAAAAAOo/UYSzD3KvJBE/s1600-h/IMG_1930.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5443065334842047298" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 214px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_PVJWWZDRAOI/S4mnFVyAu0I/AAAAAAAAAOo/UYSzD3KvJBE/s320/IMG_1930.jpg" border="0" /></a>Sisters!<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PVJWWZDRAOI/S4mmys5VzkI/AAAAAAAAAOg/fnyZZ97zcvk/s1600-h/IMG_1924.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5443065014629289538" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 214px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PVJWWZDRAOI/S4mmys5VzkI/AAAAAAAAAOg/fnyZZ97zcvk/s320/IMG_1924.jpg" border="0" /></a>The official Phoebe at Two portrait on the red chair.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PVJWWZDRAOI/S4mmNcuqlBI/AAAAAAAAAOY/H8DBGd9W5Zw/s1600-h/IMG_1901.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5443064374634386450" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 214px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PVJWWZDRAOI/S4mmNcuqlBI/AAAAAAAAAOY/H8DBGd9W5Zw/s320/IMG_1901.jpg" border="0" /></a>Yum, birthday ice cream!<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PVJWWZDRAOI/S4mlu0Csz0I/AAAAAAAAAOQ/kGnLGt5eqAI/s1600-h/IMG_1896.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5443063848316489538" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 214px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PVJWWZDRAOI/S4mlu0Csz0I/AAAAAAAAAOQ/kGnLGt5eqAI/s320/IMG_1896.jpg" border="0" /></a>Blow! <div><br /><div>Phoebe is now two years old, which she will tell you with a very curt and definitive "tu" with her fingers held up. Miranda is quite pleased with the idea that they are both two now, and told me "I don't want to be three."</div><div></div><br /><div>I think every parent of an adopted child knows about the extra layer of emotions that underlies their child's birthday. We sing and blow candles and Skype with grandparents and open gifts and celebrate. But at night, after our child is down, now one year older, we think about the day she was born. Oh, Phoebe. I so wish I had information to give her. We have books called "The Night You Were Born" and "The Day You Were Born"-- written independently, by completely different authors-- both which depict nature singing in celebration for the birth of a child. We read these, and I do think the great world sang when Phoebe was born. But clearly there was pain and sadness there, whatever her story was. I thank her birth parents for giving her life, and her birth mother for carrying her and birthing her. While I am so thankful to have Phoebe as my daughter, I can't help but to sting a bit at the injustice of the world that her birth mother can't experience the joy of this child. I don't know what happened-- maybe she didn't want to parent, who knows. But if it was poverty and politics that forced her to leave her child to be found-- in a country where putting a child up for adoption is illegal, so leaving identifying information for "open adoption" is never an option-- my heart breaks for her.</div><div></div><br /><div>But on the celebrating front-- Phoebe's doing beautifully well. I was away all last weekend in Pennsylania celebrating my niece Claire's last dose of chemotherapy, and Phoebe did fine with my absence and return. She needed some extra snuggling the next day, but nothing more, and Miranda needed it, too. We did a third try at babysitting at the gym this week. The first time, Phoebe willingly stayed with no tears after I spent 30 minutes or so with her in transition. The second time, she cried when I left with a beeper and strict instructions to call me for more than 2 minutes of tears-- I never got paged, she did fine. This time, after much verbal preparation, Phoebe joined her sister in an excited dance at the gate to Kid's Club, saying "Bye-bye Mama" before I could kiss her goodbye. I spied a bit when I returned, and found Miranda and Phoebe in the company of a six year old who was leading them in Ring-a-Round-the-Rosy and Follow the Leader, crawling in a line on the floor. I watched Phoebe join both hands with her new friend and jump up and down laughing. When I called their names, my Two Girls came tumbling into my arms, happy to see me and ready to go. I nearly cried.</div><div></div><br /><div>There are moments like that when I think, we've done it! Attached! Secure! And then. . .just two nights later, while Mark was working late, my cell phone rang during bathtime. There was massive obstetric disaster at the hospital, with one doc operating alone and the on-call back-up 35 minutes away. I live 6 minutes away. I whipped the kids out of the bathtub, threw on diapers and pajamas, tossed them in the car, and sped away. Miranda got it, saying from her carseat as we pull into the ambulance bay, "Mama, a baby needs your help right now? You have to help someone?" But poor Phoebe. I tried telling her all the things that worked at Kid's Club, "Mama is going to kiss you goodbye and then I'll come back in a little while. Your mama always comes back." But when we ran in to the hospital and I plunked her in the lap of the secretary at the nurse's station and kissed her goodbye, her scared little face melted in panic. Now, I knew there was someone potentially dying in the OR, and the nurses were pleading with me, "Don't worry, we'll take care of her, GO!" I paused, kissed her, looked her in the face, and told her I loved her. We've been so careful never to do this to her, never to leave when she isn't ready for it. I think it was the most painful moment I've had with Phoebe since I became her mother. Leaving Phoebe is not like leaving Miranda. </div><br /><div>I left her. She cried, and then hunkered down in a stranger's lap with her fingers in her mouth while Miranda had great adventures with stickers, temporary tatoos, and snacks. The patient survived-- a miracle, given the situation. I came to find Phoebe an hour later, just before Mark showed up. She came into my arms, but in that quiet, finger-sucking, tear-streaked, withdrawn way. As we buckled the kids into their carseats, Miranda boasted "Mama, I did not cry!" and Phoebe perked up to her usual self. But the whole thing was a reminder, again, that Phoebe-- who has fewer issues than I ever dreamed a kid adopted as a 15 month old toddler could-- is broken. Our work is not done.</div><div></div><br /><div>But on her birthday, I celebrate her! Her progress is amazing. I love to hear the conversations. After a sneeze: "Bless you, Miranda." "Thank you, Phoebe." "Welcome, Miranda." Phoebe is in big girl panties all day now, and falls to sleep happily in her own bed after I tuck her in. She sings the ABCs (with some mumbling around LMNOP), and counts to 9. She moved up to the big girl classroom (parents leave rather than stay) at Early Intervention school this week, where she is officially "a community kid" since she placed out of services. She can do one good Hokey Pokey dance. She's strong and healthy and bright. How on earth did we get so lucky?</div><br /><div>Happy 2nd Birthday, Phoebe!</div><div></div></div>Kristen, Mark, Miranda, and Phoebehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02565339224353238009noreply@blogger.com0