The kids were cleaning up the playroom the other day. (Well, de facto playroom. It used to be a sunroom.) It had gotten quite messy and previous attempts at getting them to clean it up had been interrupted by life. This time, however, there was time, we were holding them to it, and they were really working at it.
Well, the hard work they were doing — like many "real life" experiences — really got them thinking and talking.
Gong Zhu took a break from the rigorous toil, came up to me and said, "Gohgo [big brother] and I talking, we not have any room for all presents."
"Huh?"
She repeated herself.
"What presents?"
As if I were quite dense, she explained, "All presents we going get from Santa."
"Ahhh, ... right!"
Indeed! This is a problem we have oft considered in the past and one which daunts us again and again with each approaching gift-producing holiday.
Monday, September 22, 2008
Thursday, July 31, 2008
Remediating Cat-astrophe
The comment on the last post brings up a good topic to reflect back on: Gong Zhu and cats, pets and other animals. Ms. Bratt mentioned that (in her experience) most children from China don't like cats. Gong Zhu likes cats now, but that wasn't always the case. She kind of had to adapt: we have three cats.
After we were united with Gong Zhu in Guangzhou and we would walk around the neighborhood of the hotel to go eat, etc., occasionally we would see someone out with a dog. She would point excitedly and say 狗 狗 "gáu gáu" [doggy]. There was also a statue of a person walking a dog that we saw almost every day; she was very interested in that dog, too. We were encouraged: perhaps she liked furry critters and would enjoy our cats. Not so much. When we got home pretty much terrified of our cats.
So how was it that, a month later, one of our biggest concerns was how to deal with Gong Zhu going to a family Christmas celebration at which a "dog cousin" would be present? She had made clear in a number of ways that she did not want to be in the house with this dog, including simply saying, "我唔中意 狗;我中意 貓!" "Ngóh `mh jung yi gáu; ngóh jung yi maau!" [I don't like dogs; I like cats!"] And she said it with an expression that seemed to imply that it was the most ridiculous thing in the world for me to not understand that she liked cats and that therefore it was absurd that she would even think about liking dogs.
The first sign that her affinity for animals was different that ours was during our travel group's trip to the Guangzhou Zoo. She was not at all afraid of the animals in the regular habitats and enclosures. We came upon a small, but still fenced area, where several ostensibly tame animals were (sadly) tethered with short chains. There were goats, monkeys, even domestic dogs. We stopped to look. One of the small monkeys climbed off of a pedestal on which it was sitting and started to approach us. Even though it was several feet from the fence and quite obviously chained, Gong Zhu cried out and clung to Mama like ... well, like a cat you're about to drop in a bath. Although I reassured her (in my poor, simple [but previously effective] Cantonese) that the monkey couldn't come out, she wanted to get far away from there, fast!
Fast forward to the day, here at home, when she first met one of our cats: the very same reaction. OK, we have a little bit of work to do.
And we did. Whenever the cats came near she wanted to be picked up and/or held. We did that, but also comforted her repeatedly saying the the cats were nice, wouldn't hurt her, etc. Gradually, she would allow the cats to walk by on the other side of the room with out needing to be airlifted out; then halfway across the room, and so on. It was gradual and yet fairly quick progress.
But as to actually liking the cats? The interest in befriending them came with surprising suddenness after just a few weeks. One day she saw the cat nearby and wanted me to pick her (Gong Zhu) up. She looked at the cat then told me she wanted to touch him. I was shocked, but calmly let her try. She did and didn't freak out. But after a few seconds that cat turned his head toward her hand and she yanked it back. Over the next three days, she did the same thing a few more times. After that, she seemed genuinely fond of the cats, though she retained a wariness that also wore away gradually.
As the previous post illustrated, she is quite comfortable with the cats now, and once in a while she will "manhandle" them in a way that I am reluctant to do.
Ironically, one of the holdout pet fears is that of the only animals in which she seemed interested when we first met her: dogs. A friend of ours who is originally from China told us many children in China are taught to stay away from dogs for safety. Makes sense. I don't know if this was the case with Gong Zhu. Certainly, dogs are much more active and "in-your-face" than other animals she has met. Her apprehension of dogs is not as intense as her first fears. Not surprisingly, it depends on the situation and mainly only occurs with larger dogs.
Nevertheless, Gong Zhu has come a long way with animals in just a short time. In the last couple of months she has gotten close to horses, pet rabbits, touched chicks, played with a small (chewing) puppy, gone into a petting zoo (no fence) with over a dozen goats and pet a number of them, and rode (with Mama & the Bünj') on a camel at the zoo.
Without enumerating the plethora of immense changes she has undergone in the last eight months, this is just one way Gong Zhu has amazed us.
After we were united with Gong Zhu in Guangzhou and we would walk around the neighborhood of the hotel to go eat, etc., occasionally we would see someone out with a dog. She would point excitedly and say 狗 狗 "gáu gáu" [doggy]. There was also a statue of a person walking a dog that we saw almost every day; she was very interested in that dog, too. We were encouraged: perhaps she liked furry critters and would enjoy our cats. Not so much. When we got home pretty much terrified of our cats.
So how was it that, a month later, one of our biggest concerns was how to deal with Gong Zhu going to a family Christmas celebration at which a "dog cousin" would be present? She had made clear in a number of ways that she did not want to be in the house with this dog, including simply saying, "我唔中意 狗;我中意 貓!" "Ngóh `mh jung yi gáu; ngóh jung yi maau!" [I don't like dogs; I like cats!"] And she said it with an expression that seemed to imply that it was the most ridiculous thing in the world for me to not understand that she liked cats and that therefore it was absurd that she would even think about liking dogs.
The first sign that her affinity for animals was different that ours was during our travel group's trip to the Guangzhou Zoo. She was not at all afraid of the animals in the regular habitats and enclosures. We came upon a small, but still fenced area, where several ostensibly tame animals were (sadly) tethered with short chains. There were goats, monkeys, even domestic dogs. We stopped to look. One of the small monkeys climbed off of a pedestal on which it was sitting and started to approach us. Even though it was several feet from the fence and quite obviously chained, Gong Zhu cried out and clung to Mama like ... well, like a cat you're about to drop in a bath. Although I reassured her (in my poor, simple [but previously effective] Cantonese) that the monkey couldn't come out, she wanted to get far away from there, fast!
Fast forward to the day, here at home, when she first met one of our cats: the very same reaction. OK, we have a little bit of work to do.
And we did. Whenever the cats came near she wanted to be picked up and/or held. We did that, but also comforted her repeatedly saying the the cats were nice, wouldn't hurt her, etc. Gradually, she would allow the cats to walk by on the other side of the room with out needing to be airlifted out; then halfway across the room, and so on. It was gradual and yet fairly quick progress.
But as to actually liking the cats? The interest in befriending them came with surprising suddenness after just a few weeks. One day she saw the cat nearby and wanted me to pick her (Gong Zhu) up. She looked at the cat then told me she wanted to touch him. I was shocked, but calmly let her try. She did and didn't freak out. But after a few seconds that cat turned his head toward her hand and she yanked it back. Over the next three days, she did the same thing a few more times. After that, she seemed genuinely fond of the cats, though she retained a wariness that also wore away gradually.
As the previous post illustrated, she is quite comfortable with the cats now, and once in a while she will "manhandle" them in a way that I am reluctant to do.
Ironically, one of the holdout pet fears is that of the only animals in which she seemed interested when we first met her: dogs. A friend of ours who is originally from China told us many children in China are taught to stay away from dogs for safety. Makes sense. I don't know if this was the case with Gong Zhu. Certainly, dogs are much more active and "in-your-face" than other animals she has met. Her apprehension of dogs is not as intense as her first fears. Not surprisingly, it depends on the situation and mainly only occurs with larger dogs.
Nevertheless, Gong Zhu has come a long way with animals in just a short time. In the last couple of months she has gotten close to horses, pet rabbits, touched chicks, played with a small (chewing) puppy, gone into a petting zoo (no fence) with over a dozen goats and pet a number of them, and rode (with Mama & the Bünj') on a camel at the zoo.
Without enumerating the plethora of immense changes she has undergone in the last eight months, this is just one way Gong Zhu has amazed us.
Tuesday, July 29, 2008
Superhero
(But first . . . I must record some stories from the present. Well, this bit, anyway.)
Today the sprinkler was on and the cat was outside. Mei Mei, logically, decided it would be a good idea to wet the cat. So she took — what else — a toy sword and repeatedly applied small amounts of water to the cat's fur. She also experimented with other applicators: a toy plastic hockey puck and a pop can. (I'm not kidding.) She used the outside of the can, like a roller; she didn't pour water on the cat. In this, she is wise.
Once or twice she told me or Mrs. OccupationDad that she was putting water on the cat. When asked why, she said, "I giving her bathtub."
"You're giving him a bath?" I clarified.
"Yes."
OK, purpose; that's good.
Soon it was time to dry the cat with kitchen towels. She didn't have to say this: "Y' know, this kitchen towel would make a darn good cat dress."
Before you know it, I was an accomplice, helping her tie it on. Well, then it was ON. (Not the towel, the comedy.)
I asked Mei Mei, "Is Tigger your buddy? You like to dress him?"
She smiled, "Yeah, now her pretty!"
Soon Tigger got up and began to walk, his regalia looking more like a cape. Mei Mei noticed, "He a superhero."
It's about 77 degrees, and the cat has the built-in fur coat under the dress/cape; he's a good cat.
When Mei Mei charmed me into trying to put towel number two on the cat (who, incidentally has all of claws) as a "skirt," I should have known even this saintly cat would draw the line somewhere. Fortunately, he didn't draw that line in blood on one of our arms. No one was injured in the momentary, but quite clear, resistance. Once the skirt plan was scrapped, peace was restored.
I have no big finish for this one ... except pictures ... 1000 words; you do the math.
Well, ... maybe a superhero on vacation.
Today the sprinkler was on and the cat was outside. Mei Mei, logically, decided it would be a good idea to wet the cat. So she took — what else — a toy sword and repeatedly applied small amounts of water to the cat's fur. She also experimented with other applicators: a toy plastic hockey puck and a pop can. (I'm not kidding.) She used the outside of the can, like a roller; she didn't pour water on the cat. In this, she is wise.
Once or twice she told me or Mrs. OccupationDad that she was putting water on the cat. When asked why, she said, "I giving her bathtub."
"You're giving him a bath?" I clarified.
"Yes."
OK, purpose; that's good.
Soon it was time to dry the cat with kitchen towels. She didn't have to say this: "Y' know, this kitchen towel would make a darn good cat dress."
Before you know it, I was an accomplice, helping her tie it on. Well, then it was ON. (Not the towel, the comedy.)
I asked Mei Mei, "Is Tigger your buddy? You like to dress him?"
She smiled, "Yeah, now her pretty!"
Soon Tigger got up and began to walk, his regalia looking more like a cape. Mei Mei noticed, "He a superhero."
It's about 77 degrees, and the cat has the built-in fur coat under the dress/cape; he's a good cat.
When Mei Mei charmed me into trying to put towel number two on the cat (who, incidentally has all of claws) as a "skirt," I should have known even this saintly cat would draw the line somewhere. Fortunately, he didn't draw that line in blood on one of our arms. No one was injured in the momentary, but quite clear, resistance. Once the skirt plan was scrapped, peace was restored.
I have no big finish for this one ... except pictures ... 1000 words; you do the math.
Long Time No See
OK, so ... OK, so here's what happened. We packed and packed, and got ready, and got nervous, and went over our important documents 5 more times, and then about 20 hours before we had to leave our laptop's hard drive failed, and then it got fixed in the nick of time (thank you Apple Store) and we got up at 4am and left for China.
We went to Beijing, acclimated, de-jet-lagged, learned about our daughter's homeland, then flew to Guangzhou to be united with her.
She met us, obediently did as her escort (the orphanage director) told her — called us Mama, Baba & Goh-go (Mommy, Daddy & big brother) and then burst into tears. Each day that followed held some tears and grief but also the wonders of smiles, fun together, and beginning to get to know and love each other.
This new turn in all of our lives took place last November. Now Mei Mei is fully, wonderfully a part of our lives. Things that happened three days ago, let alone events of 9 months ago, she describes — in English, a language she'd probably never heard back then — as "long time ago." (Nevertheless, we try to keep that past alive, and find out about her life before we were united with her.)
It's about time I put some of the stories from the adoption, China travels, etc. up here. (Yeah, we wrote some of that stuff down elsewhere.)
OK, ALL RIGHT I admit it, we kept a personal China blog for family, friends, etc. and didn't write a damn thing on this blog. But I'll make it up to you . . . somehow . . .
We went to Beijing, acclimated, de-jet-lagged, learned about our daughter's homeland, then flew to Guangzhou to be united with her.
She met us, obediently did as her escort (the orphanage director) told her — called us Mama, Baba & Goh-go (Mommy, Daddy & big brother) and then burst into tears. Each day that followed held some tears and grief but also the wonders of smiles, fun together, and beginning to get to know and love each other.
This new turn in all of our lives took place last November. Now Mei Mei is fully, wonderfully a part of our lives. Things that happened three days ago, let alone events of 9 months ago, she describes — in English, a language she'd probably never heard back then — as "long time ago." (Nevertheless, we try to keep that past alive, and find out about her life before we were united with her.)
It's about time I put some of the stories from the adoption, China travels, etc. up here. (Yeah, we wrote some of that stuff down elsewhere.)
OK, ALL RIGHT I admit it, we kept a personal China blog for family, friends, etc. and didn't write a damn thing on this blog. But I'll make it up to you . . . somehow . . .
Tuesday, October 23, 2007
Need Cheering Up? Remember: Things Fall Apart
Today's excitement is very common among the Kindergarten set, but it's a little weird when you think about it for a while, at least from a grown-up perspective.
Let me back up, though. The Bünj' was eating a sandwich but all of a sudden he started whimpering and sobbing to himself and saying, "ouuuuch." I comforted him, and asked him if he hurt himself, where, etc. He said he bit his teeth down too hard; he must've bit his lip. I tried not to make too much of it and let him get over it. Then the whining ramped up a little more. Something about him biting down too hard again and it not going away. I wasn't getting what he was saying (any more than he knew what the problem was). He kept talking about his teeth, not his tongue or lips. So I asked him what he meant and looked. Was his tooth moving?
"Is your tooth moving?"
"Yeahhh," he whined.
"Do you have a loose tooth?"
The whining stopped on the instant. First was the moment of comprehension, then the wonder spread across his eyes.
I looked closer, "Sure enough, you have a loose baby tooth. I see your new tooth coming in right behind it!"
This observation elicited a huge grin. He started wiggling around excitedly. "So that must've been why my teeth kept hurting when I bit down. I was biting down on my loose tooth! he said, as if the incident about which he was just sobbing was his most cherished memory.
I've never seen pain turn to cheer so quickly. And all because his body is getting ready to shed a piece of itself.
At my age, if stuff is falling out or off, it's nothing to celebrate. (Well, expect maybe a particularly nasty scab; but that's just really the relief of being slightly less bestial again.) I guess the loose tooth days (heck, even the pimple-popping era) are now the subject of wistful memories.
Anyway, the Bünj' continued his excitement and he thought right away to call the Müms at work to tell her all about it.
Even hours later when his friend called on the phone, the Bünj' immediately told him he had "very exciting news." His friend — 5 year old friend, that is, and a first baby tooth veteran — needed no clues whatsoever.
"Did you lose a tooth?" he asked instantly. They all think alike sometimes (especially these two).
The ensuing brief flurry of conversation was plenty to convince anyone — even those who couldn't appreciate how darn cute it was — that this was truly a landmark event.
Let me back up, though. The Bünj' was eating a sandwich but all of a sudden he started whimpering and sobbing to himself and saying, "ouuuuch." I comforted him, and asked him if he hurt himself, where, etc. He said he bit his teeth down too hard; he must've bit his lip. I tried not to make too much of it and let him get over it. Then the whining ramped up a little more. Something about him biting down too hard again and it not going away. I wasn't getting what he was saying (any more than he knew what the problem was). He kept talking about his teeth, not his tongue or lips. So I asked him what he meant and looked. Was his tooth moving?
"Is your tooth moving?"
"Yeahhh," he whined.
"Do you have a loose tooth?"
The whining stopped on the instant. First was the moment of comprehension, then the wonder spread across his eyes.
I looked closer, "Sure enough, you have a loose baby tooth. I see your new tooth coming in right behind it!"
This observation elicited a huge grin. He started wiggling around excitedly. "So that must've been why my teeth kept hurting when I bit down. I was biting down on my loose tooth! he said, as if the incident about which he was just sobbing was his most cherished memory.
I've never seen pain turn to cheer so quickly. And all because his body is getting ready to shed a piece of itself.
At my age, if stuff is falling out or off, it's nothing to celebrate. (Well, expect maybe a particularly nasty scab; but that's just really the relief of being slightly less bestial again.) I guess the loose tooth days (heck, even the pimple-popping era) are now the subject of wistful memories.
Anyway, the Bünj' continued his excitement and he thought right away to call the Müms at work to tell her all about it.
Even hours later when his friend called on the phone, the Bünj' immediately told him he had "very exciting news." His friend — 5 year old friend, that is, and a first baby tooth veteran — needed no clues whatsoever.
"Did you lose a tooth?" he asked instantly. They all think alike sometimes (especially these two).
The ensuing brief flurry of conversation was plenty to convince anyone — even those who couldn't appreciate how darn cute it was — that this was truly a landmark event.
Saturday, October 20, 2007
Quotable
"Ughhh. It's hard to have boxes as feet!" That's what I heard Bünj' say a couple of minutes ago. I turned around, and he was walking with each foot in a cardboard box (about 10" X 10" X 12").
I think he's probably right.
I think he's probably right.
Friday, October 19, 2007
Rats: Still Not Popular
I was searching for something else on the Internet and I stumbled on something . . . well, here is the headline: "Rat adoptions static despite Disney movie 'Ratatouille'".
And a quote from the article: "In our seven stores, I doubt if we sell a rat a week," says Burton Patrick, who owns Pet Supplies . . . ." Apparently he "had anticipated "Ratatouille"-related sale increases . . . ."
Rats: still not popular. Go figure.
Mr. Patrick's sales numbers are being topped about twelve-fold by another pet seller quoted in the article. He admitted, however, the reason was probably that his was the only pet store in town that sold live rats for feeding to snakes.
It's a tad ironic that I'm amused by this story, since I actually think most furry creatures are pretty cute, including rats — at least the ones in pet stores. The other day, however, I had a conversation with a friend who painted a pretty clear picture of how and why she found rats so creepy and disgusting. Most people are probably with her. And I'll wager it's going to take more than an animated Disney rat — a feral rat traipsing around a restaurant kitchen, no less — to polish the image of these overgrown rodents known primarily for their infestation and disease-spreading skills. The Bubonic Plague is just one of those skeletons-in-the-closet that will severely challenge even the slickest imagemakers.
So, rats and rat-sellers, go ahead and hope for the best, . . . but I wouldn't put a downpayment on that house on the coast just yet.
Tuesday, October 09, 2007
Do They Trick-or-Treat in China? OR We're Going to China!
We're going to China!
We now have our travel dates and have even begun a little bit of the packing. We will leave at the end of October and return in mid-Novemeber with Mei Mei!
As we have all along, we plan to go as a whole family — the Bünj' included!
The typical China adoption trip involves:
(1) An optional stop in Beijing to get used to the time change and to learn about China — see the Great Wall, the Forbidden City, etc.
(2) A stay in your child's home province to be united with her or him and do some of the legal paperwork
(3) A stay in Guangzhou to do final paperwork — the adopted child's U.S. Visa & immigration forms — at the U.S. Consulate there.
In our case, we will do the optional Beijing tour. We believe this will be especially good for getting the Bünj' used to being in China and night being day and day being night. Then we fly to Guangzhou, since Mei Mei lives there. Our flight home leaves from Guangzhou. So we only have the two China destinations.
We booked our flights to China and back. We won't get our in-China itinerary (hotel reservations, flights) for a week or two.
I'm pretty anxious about getting everything ready, making sure we don't forget any of the irreplaceable important documents, keeping our luggage under the weight limit, etc., etc. And of course, I'm nervous but very hopeful about Mei Mei making a good transition in her first days, as well as the coming weeks, months and years.
But, of course, we are so very excited. We can't wait to meet and be united with our sweet, little Mei Mei.
Matched: Mei Mei
By way of continuing the recap of our recent adoption news, here is the announcement letter we sent out in July when we were matched with Mei Mei.
It is with overwhelming joy and gratitude that we announce the referral of our daughter! The picture was taken in December, 2006.
Here's what we know so far:
Her birthday is in April, so she is three years old — just two years younger than the Bünj'. She is living with a foster family in Guangzhou, China, and has lived with them since she was 11 months old. Guangzhou (sometimes called Canton) is in southern China and has a very tropical climate.
She is described as "active," with a ready smile. She is not timid. She likes music. She gets along well with others, but is "sometimes obstinate." (What three year old isn't?) She is "talkative," just like her daddy and big brother-to-be. Her favorite activity is going down slides.
We think she is perfect!
The normal wait to travel is between 3-6 months. The average is 110 days. That means, with any luck, we'd travel in early November and have her home by Thanksgiving. We will not know our exact travel dates until about 1 month before we go.
Given the increasing wait times to adopt from China, we were not expecting to be matched with a child for many more months. However, the Chinese Center for Adoption Affairs periodically sends a list of special needs and waiting ("older") children to our adoption agency. Our agency circulates the list to all of their clients in the country who are adopting from China. We saw her on the most recent list, and we both just fell in love with her. We applied to be matched with her and were thrilled when our family was chosen. Her special need is thalassemia minor or thalassemia trait. Thalassemia is a type of anemia. Our pediatrician has looked at her lab results. Her type of thalassemia is not likely to have any effect on her. However, if she has biological children with a man who has the same trait, her children could be very ill. Therefore, she will need to have genetic counseling before she has children.
We would appreciate your prayers for as smooth a transition as possible for her. We can't imagine telling the Bünj' when we was three, or at any age, that he was going to go live with strangers on the other side of the world who looked different, and spoke differently and ate different foods. We have been taking Mandarin Chinese lessons for a couple of months and our Chinese teacher is also teaching us how to make some southern Chinese food. We hope those things will make her new life with us easier for her.
We want to thank all of you for supporting our decision to adopt. We can't wait to meet Mei Mei and for our family and friends to meet her as well. As we learn more, we will keep you updated.
Waiting, a Change and a Match
I can't go completely in reverse chronological order, or you won't know what's going on.
So to quickly summarize: we were in the "regular" adoption-from-China process. That is, we submitted information on our family along with a request for a child, including the sex (girl) and age range (as young as possible) we hoped for. From that point, we waited for the Chinese government's adoption office (China Center for Adoption Affairs or CCAA) to match us with a child.
Our adoption agency periodically sends out lists of waiting and special needs children. During the time we've been waiting, we have expressed interest of varying degrees in some of these children. A few months ago we were strongly drawn to one of these children, a three year old — Mei Mei. (Names have been changed to protect the innocent.) We requested that she and our family be matched. The agency chose us to be Mei Mei's family!
So to quickly summarize: we were in the "regular" adoption-from-China process. That is, we submitted information on our family along with a request for a child, including the sex (girl) and age range (as young as possible) we hoped for. From that point, we waited for the Chinese government's adoption office (China Center for Adoption Affairs or CCAA) to match us with a child.
Our adoption agency periodically sends out lists of waiting and special needs children. During the time we've been waiting, we have expressed interest of varying degrees in some of these children. A few months ago we were strongly drawn to one of these children, a three year old — Mei Mei. (Names have been changed to protect the innocent.) We requested that she and our family be matched. The agency chose us to be Mei Mei's family!
Sunday, October 07, 2007
Filling In Gaps Starts . . . NOW
Ironically, Mrs. OccupationDad encouraged me to start a blog because of blogs she had encountered in the international adoption realm; yet I stopped blogging during some of the biggest moments of our adoption process.
So I had better recap, in reverse chronological order perhaps.
So I had better recap, in reverse chronological order perhaps.
Back
Why haven't I written a blog entry in so very long? Letting everything else (high priority things, low priority stuff, and outright putzing) crowd writing out of my "schedule," I guess.
Well, in the words of veteran Korean war army cook Frank Costanza, "I'm back, baby!"
(Of course, with a hackneyed but bold [literally: note the font] statement like that, I'll have to follow through. Oh crap)
Well, in the words of veteran Korean war army cook Frank Costanza, "I'm back, baby!"
(Of course, with a hackneyed but bold [literally: note the font] statement like that, I'll have to follow through. Oh crap)
Tuesday, May 29, 2007
Searching
We want to get a bicycle basket for the Bünj's bike. Somehow, though, in the process of shopping for a basket, the Bünj' scored a horn — the classic sort with the squeezy bulb. (In fairness, he's paying for part of it with some of his "gift money.") Honk, honk, honk, honk, honk honk, starting right in the store … I'm thinkin', how is this a good idea? Anyway, that day in the store, Mrs. OccupationDad went off with the Bünj' and I shopped in some other departments. No luck with the bike basket. I had no problem finding them (my wife and the Bünj'), though. In this age of "supercenters" and "Greatlands," maybe the boy is on to something. Each couple could carry a differently pitched horn so in case they separate, they could beep to each other. OK, maybe not.
Anyway, either we put the horn on his bike posthaste, or I'll have to start calling him "Harpo."
Meanwhile, all we have found around here is baskets for girls' bikes. Now we're going to look for a boys' (or unisex) bike basket on-line. Benjamin just suggested that we should first "check boysbikebaskets.com".
Wish us luck.
Sunday, May 27, 2007
Rubber Tires Can Save Your Life?
It is storm season in the Midwest. So I was wondering, are people really safe from lightning in a car … because of the insulating or grounding effect of the rubber tires? Yes . . . and no, as it turns out — at least according to this "lightning safety quiz" (from the Museum of Science, Boston). (I got most of them right.) It's pretty interesting.
Monday, May 21, 2007
Omen
Perhaps being 40 won't be bad at all. A few days ago I opened up a new jar of jam. The lid looked like this:
Is it a sign?
Is it a sign?
Wednesday, May 09, 2007
40
I turned 40 today. Call me a poor sport, but I specifically hoped for no kind of party this year. Those black "Over the Hill" balloons and "You're really old" jokes thoroughly annoy the crap out of me.
Further — cliché of clichés — I don't want to be reminded that I am both way "older than I feel" and (unfortunately for grown-up's around me, especially Mrs. OccupationDad) way older than I act (i.e., about 12 years old).
Moreover, I ought to have got way more done by the time I'm forty, but I am slow and inefficient.
It's all summarized and symbolized by my anxiety dream the night before last. Many odd things occurred, as happens in dreams. I was on a trip, so was Mrs. OccupationDad, but we were in separate cars. I took a "detour" just for a change of scenery, but forgot to tell her. Then I was all worried I wouldn't catch up with her at the right juncture …blah blah … The road went through a town and then through a courthouse. Then I was on foot going through the courthouse. Then somehow I was in this long public meeting. Soon it was almost over and everyone wanted to get it over with, but then I had something to say and did. But I was all stressed about getting it said while not pissing everyone off because they wanted to go. And the sidetracks when on and on. Delay, inefficiency, stress.
The kicker was when I was waiting around downtown for … something …I was just relieving "it" wasn't waiting for me, for once. I became contemplative and just began thinking, "I just can't believe I'm forty years old and I'm just now finally graduating from high school. I've really squandered my time." (Pathetic existential sigh.)
Yeah, well, that should make me feel good right? It could be that bad. Or worse.
Well, a new era dawns today. It's the first day of the rest of …yatta, yatta, yatta …
Everything is about to change. S-t-a-r-t-i-n-g . . . . . . . . . . . now !
Further — cliché of clichés — I don't want to be reminded that I am both way "older than I feel" and (unfortunately for grown-up's around me, especially Mrs. OccupationDad) way older than I act (i.e., about 12 years old).
Moreover, I ought to have got way more done by the time I'm forty, but I am slow and inefficient.
It's all summarized and symbolized by my anxiety dream the night before last. Many odd things occurred, as happens in dreams. I was on a trip, so was Mrs. OccupationDad, but we were in separate cars. I took a "detour" just for a change of scenery, but forgot to tell her. Then I was all worried I wouldn't catch up with her at the right juncture …blah blah … The road went through a town and then through a courthouse. Then I was on foot going through the courthouse. Then somehow I was in this long public meeting. Soon it was almost over and everyone wanted to get it over with, but then I had something to say and did. But I was all stressed about getting it said while not pissing everyone off because they wanted to go. And the sidetracks when on and on. Delay, inefficiency, stress.
The kicker was when I was waiting around downtown for … something …I was just relieving "it" wasn't waiting for me, for once. I became contemplative and just began thinking, "I just can't believe I'm forty years old and I'm just now finally graduating from high school. I've really squandered my time." (Pathetic existential sigh.)
Yeah, well, that should make me feel good right? It could be that bad. Or worse.
Well, a new era dawns today. It's the first day of the rest of …yatta, yatta, yatta …
Everything is about to change. S-t-a-r-t-i-n-g . . . . . . . . . . . now !
Tuesday, May 08, 2007
Adoption Is Not Just for the Infertile
A recent blog entry at the "On Parenting" blog (The Washington Post) was about adoption. As another person who commented on the blog noted, the blogger and the commenters seemed unduly focused on adoption as something for infertile couples.
I hope it's not too obvious to say that it is not only infertile couples who adopt. Adoption doesn't have to be a last resort. We are in the midst of an adoption. We chose to adopt because we love children and because there are many children in the world in need of loving homes. We've had no fertility problems. (We, of course, have one biological child, also known as "the Bünj'" and by many other names.)
To be sure, adoption isn't for everyone. There are many factors in deciding whether adoption is appropriate for someone. As we've learned in the educational component of our adoption process, one must be aware that "being adopted" is a real psychological difference or challenge for a child and a person to cope with as she grows up and throughout her life. Parents must feel they are emotionally equipped to be able to support their child with that issue.
That having been said what, good, healthy biological parent whose child happened to have a physical or psychological challenge wouldn't try to move mountains to help and support him and cope with it.
When you adopt, you don't always know what sort of child to expect; you may know little of her family history. But with a biological child you still don't know who he will be until you have him and raise him. You may know a lot or a little about your family and genetic heritage. But as to what combination helps make your daughter or son who s/he is, that's a gamble no matter what — even without the potential of not-genetic problems or tragic life events. Yet every day people choose to take the risk and have children they plan to love and raise no matter what.
I am the first, however, to acknowledge that (as I said) not everyone has the personality to adopt — and moreover to adopt someone of another ethnicity, to adopt an older child, to adopt someone with special needs, etc.
One of the most difficult parts of applying for our adoption was indicating — in the abstract — what sort of child we were requesting. (In our situation, the China Center for Adoption Affairs [or CCAA] will match us with a child, but they will do so based upon our application and request.) It seems like a sin to say we want to adopt but only within these parameters. Nevertheless, it would be a mistake for parents (and adoption agencies) not to be honest enough to recognize that, given their own backgrounds, there are some situations certain people shouldn't volunteer to get into. We had to admit there are certain levels of special needs children that we don't feel strong enough to be able to give the best care. Yet, strangely, if any such child were chosen for us or born to us, we would care for that child the best we possibly could. It is a near paradox, and I find it disturbing. Yet that is how is happens.
When we talked to our social worker, together we kind of explained it this way: When a couple decides to have a biological child, they hope for the healthiest of healthy, strong, smart, emotionally adaptable children. Even if the child born to them is far from that hope, good parents will raise her and love her just the same. But when you are adopting among children already born and known, how can you hope for the "best", but be willing to love the "neediest"? Choice is involved. It seems to me that it takes a uniquely strong and sacrificing person to say, "I want to adopt the child with the greatest needs." Or even (to be hypothetical), "Choose a child for us randomly." And yet anything less than the former option seems callous.
It comes back to what a person feels capable of taking on. Life may present me with any number of risks I don't choose in advance. There are many risks I feel I am wise not to take, if I have the choice. If I become stranded on a high mountain, I guess I'll do my best. Otherwise, though, I'm not going to take up mountain climbing; I don't have the temperament or coordination for it.
That's just with my life. It seems even more unwise to take risks with other people's lives, like adopting "over your head."
Despite the challenges of adoption, I truly believe the world would be a better place if even more parents who felt they were up to those challenges would adopt regardless of their ability to conceive. There are so many children in our country and all over the world who need parents and homes.
I hope it's not too obvious to say that it is not only infertile couples who adopt. Adoption doesn't have to be a last resort. We are in the midst of an adoption. We chose to adopt because we love children and because there are many children in the world in need of loving homes. We've had no fertility problems. (We, of course, have one biological child, also known as "the Bünj'" and by many other names.)
To be sure, adoption isn't for everyone. There are many factors in deciding whether adoption is appropriate for someone. As we've learned in the educational component of our adoption process, one must be aware that "being adopted" is a real psychological difference or challenge for a child and a person to cope with as she grows up and throughout her life. Parents must feel they are emotionally equipped to be able to support their child with that issue.
That having been said what, good, healthy biological parent whose child happened to have a physical or psychological challenge wouldn't try to move mountains to help and support him and cope with it.
When you adopt, you don't always know what sort of child to expect; you may know little of her family history. But with a biological child you still don't know who he will be until you have him and raise him. You may know a lot or a little about your family and genetic heritage. But as to what combination helps make your daughter or son who s/he is, that's a gamble no matter what — even without the potential of not-genetic problems or tragic life events. Yet every day people choose to take the risk and have children they plan to love and raise no matter what.
I am the first, however, to acknowledge that (as I said) not everyone has the personality to adopt — and moreover to adopt someone of another ethnicity, to adopt an older child, to adopt someone with special needs, etc.
One of the most difficult parts of applying for our adoption was indicating — in the abstract — what sort of child we were requesting. (In our situation, the China Center for Adoption Affairs [or CCAA] will match us with a child, but they will do so based upon our application and request.) It seems like a sin to say we want to adopt but only within these parameters. Nevertheless, it would be a mistake for parents (and adoption agencies) not to be honest enough to recognize that, given their own backgrounds, there are some situations certain people shouldn't volunteer to get into. We had to admit there are certain levels of special needs children that we don't feel strong enough to be able to give the best care. Yet, strangely, if any such child were chosen for us or born to us, we would care for that child the best we possibly could. It is a near paradox, and I find it disturbing. Yet that is how is happens.
When we talked to our social worker, together we kind of explained it this way: When a couple decides to have a biological child, they hope for the healthiest of healthy, strong, smart, emotionally adaptable children. Even if the child born to them is far from that hope, good parents will raise her and love her just the same. But when you are adopting among children already born and known, how can you hope for the "best", but be willing to love the "neediest"? Choice is involved. It seems to me that it takes a uniquely strong and sacrificing person to say, "I want to adopt the child with the greatest needs." Or even (to be hypothetical), "Choose a child for us randomly." And yet anything less than the former option seems callous.
It comes back to what a person feels capable of taking on. Life may present me with any number of risks I don't choose in advance. There are many risks I feel I am wise not to take, if I have the choice. If I become stranded on a high mountain, I guess I'll do my best. Otherwise, though, I'm not going to take up mountain climbing; I don't have the temperament or coordination for it.
That's just with my life. It seems even more unwise to take risks with other people's lives, like adopting "over your head."
Despite the challenges of adoption, I truly believe the world would be a better place if even more parents who felt they were up to those challenges would adopt regardless of their ability to conceive. There are so many children in our country and all over the world who need parents and homes.
Elevator Protocols
In addition to trains, Bünj' really likes elevators. It's a cautious, compulsive interest. When he uses real elevators he's really intense, kind of nervous. He insists on strict adherence to protocol: immediate boarding and offloading, he must push the buttons, etc. He respects the elevator. He senses its power.
Rebecca had a couple of professional conferences last month and Bünj' and I joined her on the trips (as is our custom). Beforehand, Bünj' was really looking forward to the elevators (and the swimming pools) in the hotels, particular the "glass elevator" in one hotel at which we'd stayed previously.
Well, we had nice trips, had many good adventures and enjoyed numerous fruitful, if intense, elevator rides.
Well, now we have an elevator in our house. (YES, it's imaginary.) Fortunately, it's our sunroom, not some cramped, dark closet.
You see, we live in a hotel. Bünj' is the manager. We all work here.
When we want to go upstairs in our house, unless we have some serious reality-based reason, we can expect to be told we must step into the sunroom— er, uh, elevator … while Bünj' pushes some buttons and closes the door and then let us out.
Moreover, it's the service elevator. It's the only one we may use. This restriction, we discovered, is quite strictly enforced. Yesterday Mrs. OccupationDad tried to use a different one. Mr. Manager reproached most stridently saying, "You can't go that way. That's for guests!" It's obvious he thought she was the most ridiculous employee he'd ever encountered.
As Mrs. OccupationDad said this morning (when Mr. Manager was still asleep), "It really comes to something when we're regulated to the service elevator in our home."
Monday, May 07, 2007
It's the Blogification of It All
Yesterday we visited a friend that Mrs. OccupationDad met through a blog. In a sense we really met her yesterday. We've never seen her in person before. (She lives in the Southeast. We [obviously] don't live in the Southeast; although, with the Lake Michigan-cooled weather we've been having lately, it might not be a bad idea. Anyway, the friend was visiting Wisconsin.) So the visit was a sort of consummation of a relationship that was entirely Internet-enabled. Pretty weird.
Of course, it's far from the fast-paced, youth-populated world of chatrooms and "MySpace," etc. The whole friendship developed in cautious-adult time. It gradually grew from blog reading to commenting to personal emailing to a few telephone calls and then finally this visit. All this having developed over the course of . . . I don't know . . . a year and a half, all parties were pretty confident they weren't going to be meeting up with a scam artist, a predator, a psychotic killer or even Dateline NBC.
It was a great visit. And the whole thing is so . . . 21st Century . . .
Of course, it's far from the fast-paced, youth-populated world of chatrooms and "MySpace," etc. The whole friendship developed in cautious-adult time. It gradually grew from blog reading to commenting to personal emailing to a few telephone calls and then finally this visit. All this having developed over the course of . . . I don't know . . . a year and a half, all parties were pretty confident they weren't going to be meeting up with a scam artist, a predator, a psychotic killer or even Dateline NBC.
It was a great visit. And the whole thing is so . . . 21st Century . . .
Thursday, March 15, 2007
New Flavor
I bought the Bünj' a few pieces of taffy when we were in a store yesterday. On the way home he was eating them while I was driving. With each one he was trying to figure out what flavor it was based upon the color.
With one piece he couldn't even guess at first and asked me. I told him I couldn't look and that he should tell me what colors it was or just taste it and see.
"Well," he responded, "I think its toenail polish – vanilla flavor." How could I not think that was hilarious and also be very curious?
At the next stop sign, I turned around to have a look. Sure enough, the taffy had a white swirl in it and the rest was a color I don't think I've ever seen on food. It was, however, a kind of pinkish flesh-tone color, the exact match of which, I have no doubt, is in stock on any department store's nail polish rack — "Blushing Salmon," perhaps.
Fortunately for all, it didn't really turn out to be nail polish flavor. In fact, the Bünj' assured me, it was peppermint/butter flavored.
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