December 18, 2007, we saw this face for the first time.
December 18, 2010.
We are so lucky and thankful.Saturday, December 18, 2010
Tuesday, December 14, 2010
Sassafrass
A few excellent things about today:
1. Abe's morning wake-up faces. One eye bugged out, the other squeezed shut, puffy lips pursed.
2. Drop off at preschool, about five kids yell "Hey! It's Abe! Hi, Abe!"
3. At work, there was a raffle for 20 snuggies. Three of my clients won. As they tried to figure out how to wear them, the entire room was cracking up, including the Russian and Ukrainian elders across the room who we see every week but never talk to.
4. One of my clients who won a snuggie gave it to his friend who lives alone and needed it more than he did.
5. African elders+brand new library cards=Absolute Magic. After getting their cards, I walked several of them through the check-out process with Multnomah County Library's fancy do-it-yourself machines. The look on their faces when they realized they get to keep their books for three whole weeks for free just may have made me cry.
6. I have the best job ever.
7. One of our volunteers was having a melancholy morning but was immediately smiling when one of our ladies kept hugging and literally squeezing her.
8. Abe was picked up from school by our neighbor and then got to nap in her son, "Captain Hook's," bed. This was big stuff.
9. The second book of Christmas book unwrapping.
10. "Look Mom! I made you a present!": our first hand-made Christmas ornament from our son.
11. The floors are dirty, but our house smells like chocolate chip banana bread so it doesn't matter so much.
12. A "Mom's Night Out" event this evening where I have my own personal designated driver.
13. As I write this, my wedding ring is being retrieved by the men of the house from the vent where I dropped it this morning.
14. New photo of Little Bee that is probably my favorite thus far. One friend described it as "sassafrass." She is just beyond. Super-model beauty.
Sunday, December 12, 2010
Butter-Lover
Abe and I are getting ready to mix together some sugar cookie batter. One of his jobs is to open the butter, taking off the wrapping and putting the sticks in the bowl. He takes off the paper of one stick. I turn my back for one second and, quick as lightening, he takes a huge bite of the butter, leaving a deep trail of tiny teeth marks in it.
I yell, "Abe Rooney! That's disgusting! Don't do that!"
I make him spit it out. I turn around towards the sink and smile. Then I crack up.
"Mom? What are you laughing at?"
Joyful, sneaky, butter-loving boy, I love you so.
I yell, "Abe Rooney! That's disgusting! Don't do that!"
I make him spit it out. I turn around towards the sink and smile. Then I crack up.
"Mom? What are you laughing at?"
Joyful, sneaky, butter-loving boy, I love you so.
Grouchy Rainy Cheer
Friday night. Long week is over. Abe asked me to pull down the green mail truck, which I keep out of his reach most of the time. It's got some delicate parts that little fingers could easily break. He pulls out all the little cotton-filled sacks of mail from the back and puts them in the canoe with Lewis, Clark, and Sacajawea. He also pulls out all the old stamps my friend's father had cut out from magazines and asks who each person is: Walt Whitman, Samuel L. Clemens, and Washington Irving, the writers. Then another group: Douglas MacArthur and another with a group of U.S. navy men who Abe called, "the bloody red barons." Another stamp with the White House, where Obama lives. Another stamp is Lewis and Clark worth 3 cents. The last is Stephen Foster, so we sing "Camptown Races." We used to sing that when he was little, but he'd forgotten.
Lewis and Clark deliver the mail. A group of playmobil plastic people squeeze into the back of the mail truck while one solitary brunette plastic lady drives them around. Ted sings this song, the explanation for Abe's fixation on the "bloody red baron." Abe listens to this song over and over, never ever getting tired of it, the exact same way Ted did as a boy. This was Friday night.
Saturday it's pouring down rain. It drizzles a lot this time of year but yesterday was all day pouring. Determined not to sit inside all day, we go out. By the time we arrive to the historic fire station, we're drenched. Abe makes a friend in the line, and after half an hour, we arrive to the front. One firefighter leans down and says, "What is your name?" Completely deadpan and confident, Abe says, "Charlie Brown." I didn't interject.
Charlie Brown wants me to go with him to see Firefighter Santa.
"What do you want for Christmas, Charlie Brown?"
"Just a yo-yo."
"Do you want a pony or an elephant?"
"No, just a yo-yo." Charlie Brown over and out.
More rain. We look for a biscuit from this place but it's packed to overflowing with hipsters in chunky black glasses and knit caps. We walk on the long way to the car. Why not? We're soaked already.
We end up eating peppermint shakes and fries at the table next to a Woody Allen look-a-like and his young girlfriend. They are snuggling and talking in hushed tones. Abe is that obnoxious kid who keeps saying, "Hey guys! What are you talking about?"
We try to get back in the car in the pouring rain in an awkward and cramped parking lot. Abe moves from the spot I told him to stand and falls in mud when I open the door. I snap at him, one of those loving, motherly "I told you so!"s. We drive on. I apologize for being impatient. He decides to be Schroeder and wants me to be Lucy.
"Hey Lucy! Why do you call Charlie Brown a blockhead?! Is he a blockhead?"
As long as I call him 'Schroeder', Abe is 100% compliant with anything I ask him to do. He gets a chocolate coin on our way out of the store, and I ask him to stop dropping the wrapping on the ground. It's still pouring rain. He keeps littering, so I take the candy from him. He cries. Schroeder is unhappy with having his chocolate gone, so he's just Abe.
We lug our things in the house, completely drenched, really grouchy. I say, "Hey Abe, strip to your underwear." We get in the hot tub. He's Abe. I'm Mom. It's still pouring. He looks over at me and says, "Hey, you're my favorite. Did you know you're my favorite?"
"You're my favorite too."
We dry off and put on our pajamas even though it's only 4:00 in the afternoon. It's just that sort of day. He watches The Point. I lay on the couch and read this book, which is surprisingly sad. I hear "Wherever we go, everyone knows, it's me and my arrow" from the next room. I grew up listening to this record and am so happy that our boy likes it.
Mail truck. Snoopy and the red baron flying over Germany. Lewis and Clark. Peppermint shakes. Firefighter Santa and Charlie Brown. Hot tub. Chocolate coin still on the dashboard of my car. Torrents of rain. Harry Nilsson. Our weekend thus far.
Lewis and Clark deliver the mail. A group of playmobil plastic people squeeze into the back of the mail truck while one solitary brunette plastic lady drives them around. Ted sings this song, the explanation for Abe's fixation on the "bloody red baron." Abe listens to this song over and over, never ever getting tired of it, the exact same way Ted did as a boy. This was Friday night.
Saturday it's pouring down rain. It drizzles a lot this time of year but yesterday was all day pouring. Determined not to sit inside all day, we go out. By the time we arrive to the historic fire station, we're drenched. Abe makes a friend in the line, and after half an hour, we arrive to the front. One firefighter leans down and says, "What is your name?" Completely deadpan and confident, Abe says, "Charlie Brown." I didn't interject.
Charlie Brown wants me to go with him to see Firefighter Santa.
"What do you want for Christmas, Charlie Brown?"
"Just a yo-yo."
"Do you want a pony or an elephant?"
"No, just a yo-yo." Charlie Brown over and out.
More rain. We look for a biscuit from this place but it's packed to overflowing with hipsters in chunky black glasses and knit caps. We walk on the long way to the car. Why not? We're soaked already.
We end up eating peppermint shakes and fries at the table next to a Woody Allen look-a-like and his young girlfriend. They are snuggling and talking in hushed tones. Abe is that obnoxious kid who keeps saying, "Hey guys! What are you talking about?"
We try to get back in the car in the pouring rain in an awkward and cramped parking lot. Abe moves from the spot I told him to stand and falls in mud when I open the door. I snap at him, one of those loving, motherly "I told you so!"s. We drive on. I apologize for being impatient. He decides to be Schroeder and wants me to be Lucy.
"Hey Lucy! Why do you call Charlie Brown a blockhead?! Is he a blockhead?"
As long as I call him 'Schroeder', Abe is 100% compliant with anything I ask him to do. He gets a chocolate coin on our way out of the store, and I ask him to stop dropping the wrapping on the ground. It's still pouring rain. He keeps littering, so I take the candy from him. He cries. Schroeder is unhappy with having his chocolate gone, so he's just Abe.
We lug our things in the house, completely drenched, really grouchy. I say, "Hey Abe, strip to your underwear." We get in the hot tub. He's Abe. I'm Mom. It's still pouring. He looks over at me and says, "Hey, you're my favorite. Did you know you're my favorite?"
"You're my favorite too."
We dry off and put on our pajamas even though it's only 4:00 in the afternoon. It's just that sort of day. He watches The Point. I lay on the couch and read this book, which is surprisingly sad. I hear "Wherever we go, everyone knows, it's me and my arrow" from the next room. I grew up listening to this record and am so happy that our boy likes it.
Mail truck. Snoopy and the red baron flying over Germany. Lewis and Clark. Peppermint shakes. Firefighter Santa and Charlie Brown. Hot tub. Chocolate coin still on the dashboard of my car. Torrents of rain. Harry Nilsson. Our weekend thus far.
Thursday, December 9, 2010
Book Report 2
If I'm going to be honest, it doesn't take much really to make me cry but this book certainly did the job quicker than most anything else lately. I was already weepy last night before going to bed thanks to the Christmas episode of Glee, which led to my reminiscing about the winters I spent in Slovakia meandering through the Christmas market on the main street with friends as we drank medovina and ate sausages and this wonderful thing called trdelnik.I got into bed and read this little book and then pretty much cried myself to sleep. It's a lovely story. I recommend it heartily: Star Mother's Youngest Child by Louise Moeri.
We call this photo "7th Grade Dance." All the other kids were jumping around like crazy (which Abe did eventually too), but this partly how our budding romantic spent his preschool winter festival this week. This girl's grandmother was crying during the dance and told me that her granddaughter's first question when she heard about the party was, "Will Abe be there?" Sweet, sweet, sweet.Thursday, December 2, 2010
The Rude Old Lady
Abe's new favorite show is Shaun the Sheep, which is a "watch instant" selection on Netflix. Every night for the last week, this is what he's chosen to watch after his bath. A few minutes ago, he walked in to my office and said that he didn't want to watch it anymore.
"Why, Abe?"
"Cause that old lady hits the guy with her purse."
"And you don't like that part?"
While nibbling on his cereal, he shakes his head seriously and says, "No. Cause that's rude."
I went with him into the room where he was watching and clicked ahead to the next episode. He wanted me to stay. He was worried that the rude old lady would come back. I told him I didn't think she was in this episode.
He watched for a few seconds and said, "Oh, it's okay Mom. It's just the aliens in this one."
Abe is not scared in the least of aliens (albeit claymation aliens) but is a little freaked out by how rude a little old lady with a purse can be.
Last night at dinner, he also told us that the green beans he was eating were lovely. He actually used the word "lovely." To be clear, we have never used this word to describe food or probably anything else really. Back when we were getting updates via email about our baby Abe, one that stuck out to me was the description of him as being "polite," even as a baby. Granted, he is learning the joy of loud burping as every 3-year-old should, but in general, his spirit is so gentle, so kind, so lovely. We love him so.
Thank you for all the suggestions on what a 5-year-old girl would find useful and comforting. Thank you. I read them all and will really mull over all the suggestions.
On the subject of princesses, I found today three books for little girls that I like a lot.
The first is Not All Princesses Dress in Pink by Jane Yolen and Heidi E. Y. Stemple. This is a library find.
The next is Girls Hold Up This World by Jada Pinkett Smith. I found this at Goodwill and
will add it to the growing collection of Princess Bee things.
The last is probably my favorite. It's calle
d The Red Wolf by Margaret Shannon and is based on a Czech folk tale. With my connection to Slovakia, this may be why I was so drawn to it when I first found it a year or so ago at our library. Even then, Abe would sit and listen to it, and this time, I think he understood why the princess in this story wanted to escape the tower. I love this book. This was also a library find.
"Why, Abe?"
"Cause that old lady hits the guy with her purse."
"And you don't like that part?"
While nibbling on his cereal, he shakes his head seriously and says, "No. Cause that's rude."
I went with him into the room where he was watching and clicked ahead to the next episode. He wanted me to stay. He was worried that the rude old lady would come back. I told him I didn't think she was in this episode.
He watched for a few seconds and said, "Oh, it's okay Mom. It's just the aliens in this one."
Abe is not scared in the least of aliens (albeit claymation aliens) but is a little freaked out by how rude a little old lady with a purse can be.
Last night at dinner, he also told us that the green beans he was eating were lovely. He actually used the word "lovely." To be clear, we have never used this word to describe food or probably anything else really. Back when we were getting updates via email about our baby Abe, one that stuck out to me was the description of him as being "polite," even as a baby. Granted, he is learning the joy of loud burping as every 3-year-old should, but in general, his spirit is so gentle, so kind, so lovely. We love him so.
***
Thank you for all the suggestions on what a 5-year-old girl would find useful and comforting. Thank you. I read them all and will really mull over all the suggestions.
On the subject of princesses, I found today three books for little girls that I like a lot.
The first is Not All Princesses Dress in Pink by Jane Yolen and Heidi E. Y. Stemple. This is a library find.
The next is Girls Hold Up This World by Jada Pinkett Smith. I found this at Goodwill and
will add it to the growing collection of Princess Bee things.The last is probably my favorite. It's calle
d The Red Wolf by Margaret Shannon and is based on a Czech folk tale. With my connection to Slovakia, this may be why I was so drawn to it when I first found it a year or so ago at our library. Even then, Abe would sit and listen to it, and this time, I think he understood why the princess in this story wanted to escape the tower. I love this book. This was also a library find.
5-year-old Survival Kit
Yesterday we got an update from Gladney about our Little B (can I just call her here Little Bee from now on? Is that cheesy? Probably, and I probably will change it eventually, but she is Little Bee to me for now). Part of the update mentioned that she was watching Cinderella with her friends at the care center, which got me wondering about what sorts of things she likes. I wasn't expecting Cinderella, but I can go with that.
Right after we got the call about Little Bee, this lady recommended a "survival kit" for a 5-year-old girl, the first two items being earplugs* for the tantrums and a princess dress. She, like me, resists all the "princess" stuff out there, but it seems most little girls go through a phase where they want to be frilly pink and lace tiara and wand princesses.
What are some of the things you all might put in a 5-year-old survival kit? I know that Karyn Purvis in The Connected Child recommends keeping it simple when you first get home with an internationally adopted child in this age range so as to avoid over-stimulation, so we're definitely planning on doing that. We'll have earplugs and a princess dress on hand (hopefully we'll be able to track down a Cinderella dress), but what else should we have? Those of you who have been there already or know someone who has, I'd love to hear from you.
*The earplugs suggestion was a joke, just to be clear :)
Right after we got the call about Little Bee, this lady recommended a "survival kit" for a 5-year-old girl, the first two items being earplugs* for the tantrums and a princess dress. She, like me, resists all the "princess" stuff out there, but it seems most little girls go through a phase where they want to be frilly pink and lace tiara and wand princesses.
What are some of the things you all might put in a 5-year-old survival kit? I know that Karyn Purvis in The Connected Child recommends keeping it simple when you first get home with an internationally adopted child in this age range so as to avoid over-stimulation, so we're definitely planning on doing that. We'll have earplugs and a princess dress on hand (hopefully we'll be able to track down a Cinderella dress), but what else should we have? Those of you who have been there already or know someone who has, I'd love to hear from you.
*The earplugs suggestion was a joke, just to be clear :)
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