Sorry for the radio silence.
I was trying like crazy to finish my book before the writing conference this weekend.
I didn't.
I'm about 6000 words out--a little more because the conference made me see a glaring error that I did two chapters ago and I have to fix now.
One of the breakout sessions I took was about storytelling--oral and written.
We were to write about times in our life when we needed help.
This is what I wrote.
My goddaughter turned one.
A year after her mother's four-day labor. A year after my eyes caught my husband's as I held her. We went home and cheerily threw out the birth control pills We joyfully went about the business of adding to our family. It would be easy, right, I mean I'd spent so long hearing that it only takes one time. It had been a year full of periods that were always on-time. I wasn't worried-much.
My goddaughter turned three.
Three years of hearing "great news!" from my friends until we were the only ones of our group who wanted a chid and were without. Three years of worry and once a month depression. Two years after sitting in a doctor's office answering aseptic intimate questions and hormone shots that made me question my sanity and reason for living.
My goddaughter turned six.
A year after we started the process to "Just Adopt." Social worker--a lovely one who would become our advocate--came to our house to decide if we were worthy to parent. We had to ask our friends to write us recommendations. We had to ask other people to help us become parents. No one else seemed to have this trouble. I had been losing friends who told me horrible things. Some forever.
My goddaughter turned eight.
No one invites us to baby showers anymore--nor should they. Mother's Day has become a landmine of epic proportions. After waiting to adopt for three years and realizing it could be another three we decide to try IVF. It doesn't work.
My goddaughter turned ten.
People tell us to get out of the line for China. We say no--that's where she is. We've been waiting for five years, We see ourselves getting closer. But the wait is still so long. We renew our paperwork and pray.
My goddaughter turned thirteen.
She joyfully swings my daughter in her arms. My goddaughter laughed and my beautiful little girl giggles the way only a one-year-old can with her whole body. After the laughter my daughter reaches for me.
My goddaughter gives me boxes of her old clothes, that her mother saved for me. Her mother, my heart-sister never doubted that we would watch our two children playing together.
Our child lights up our world and, even today, I don't know that the joy would be as much without the struggle and the help.
Showing posts with label Motherhood. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Motherhood. Show all posts
Monday, June 4, 2018
Monday, May 14, 2018
What I signed up for
So another Mother's Day has passed.
It's hard to be a mother without a mother. I never had a Mother's Day where I was both parent and child. I miss my mom. On Mother's Day I would cook for her. I would be with her. I miss that.
Yesterday kind of sucked.
Lotus woke up coughing and sneezing. I have my mother's superpower that I can touch a forehead and be within .2 of the fever.
I got frustrated with the pediatrician's office. I adore my pediatrician and it's a group and every doctor there has been amazing. But there's a few people in the office that aren't as nice. I touched Lotus' forehead and knew that she had a fever.
For Lotus, normal body temperature is 98.0. If she hits 99.5, she is sick. Don't tell me that it has to be 100.4 (which they did) because the doctor told me that temperature is an average and if Lotus hits 99.5 I should consider it a fever. I should not let her go to school. I should start Tylenol/Motrin if she goes over 99.5.
But they kept saying when she is below 100.4 it isn't a fever. I pushed and got her a sick appointment yesterday. When she got there (D took her since I had to tutor) her temp was 98.6. I though that the diagnosis was going to be "worried mom" but since the Dr. knew her and she wasn't acting herself, he took a strep test.
Bingo.
So then all the nice Mother's Day plans we kind of had went pfft.
I had a sad Lotus on my lap watching a lot of inane tv.
But I thought of all the Mother's Days before when I just wanted a kid.
And she rested her hot forehead against my cheek.
This is what I signed up for.
I rocked her and gave her medicine and candy to "get the taste out".
I held her trying to ignore the fact that I'm almost certainly going to get it.
This is part of the mothering stuff.
And Thank God for it.
It's hard to be a mother without a mother. I never had a Mother's Day where I was both parent and child. I miss my mom. On Mother's Day I would cook for her. I would be with her. I miss that.
Yesterday kind of sucked.
Lotus woke up coughing and sneezing. I have my mother's superpower that I can touch a forehead and be within .2 of the fever.
I got frustrated with the pediatrician's office. I adore my pediatrician and it's a group and every doctor there has been amazing. But there's a few people in the office that aren't as nice. I touched Lotus' forehead and knew that she had a fever.
For Lotus, normal body temperature is 98.0. If she hits 99.5, she is sick. Don't tell me that it has to be 100.4 (which they did) because the doctor told me that temperature is an average and if Lotus hits 99.5 I should consider it a fever. I should not let her go to school. I should start Tylenol/Motrin if she goes over 99.5.
But they kept saying when she is below 100.4 it isn't a fever. I pushed and got her a sick appointment yesterday. When she got there (D took her since I had to tutor) her temp was 98.6. I though that the diagnosis was going to be "worried mom" but since the Dr. knew her and she wasn't acting herself, he took a strep test.
Bingo.
So then all the nice Mother's Day plans we kind of had went pfft.
I had a sad Lotus on my lap watching a lot of inane tv.
But I thought of all the Mother's Days before when I just wanted a kid.
And she rested her hot forehead against my cheek.
This is what I signed up for.
I rocked her and gave her medicine and candy to "get the taste out".
I held her trying to ignore the fact that I'm almost certainly going to get it.
This is part of the mothering stuff.
And Thank God for it.
Monday, April 23, 2018
My girl
A little about Lotus.
She's turning six soon.
She has her personality, her likes, her dislikes. She is proud of her Chinese heritage but she also knows that some people don't like it.
A few days ago she was asked where she was from, she told me she pointed at our house. (We're in sight from the school.) She said they wanted another answer and she wasn't sure about that.
My child has her butt firmly on smartass island.
Sometimes she laughs and covers her mouth. I don't know where she learned that and I've been working on breaking her of the behavior. Her smile is too pretty to be hidden.
She still sleeps on her own bed in our room. Generally she can go almost a week before climbing into our bed to snuggle up.
Speaking of which she just climbed onto my lap for snuggles. I love that she still does this.
She prefers TV over most other screen time. We're strict about devices and not as strict about TV. She loves My Little Pony.
Her hair is long and she loves me to style it differently. She has her own sense of style and it lovely.
When she walks into school it reminds me of Norm on Cheers. Everyone yells her name in greeting. She doesn't do drama. And she has enough moxie that she sometimes disobeys her teachers. I kind of like that, even if it isn't always easy.
She's kind and she doesn't like it when others aren't. She makes me smile and gives me hope for the future.
She's almost six.
Seven years ago around this time I had no idea that my waiting was coming to an end. Seven years ago I was in Infertility hell.
Six years ago I had redone my home study and paperwork in hope.
I don't forget how it was living with infertility. I still feel pangs when her friends moms are pregnant. I feel bigger pangs when she asks for a brother or sister.
I wish all who wanted to, could know the love of a little girl like mine. Or a little boy. Or twins. Or. Or. Or.
Just know you have an ally. You have someone in your corner.
Me.
And my daughter.
She's turning six soon.
She has her personality, her likes, her dislikes. She is proud of her Chinese heritage but she also knows that some people don't like it.
A few days ago she was asked where she was from, she told me she pointed at our house. (We're in sight from the school.) She said they wanted another answer and she wasn't sure about that.
My child has her butt firmly on smartass island.
Sometimes she laughs and covers her mouth. I don't know where she learned that and I've been working on breaking her of the behavior. Her smile is too pretty to be hidden.
She still sleeps on her own bed in our room. Generally she can go almost a week before climbing into our bed to snuggle up.
Speaking of which she just climbed onto my lap for snuggles. I love that she still does this.
She prefers TV over most other screen time. We're strict about devices and not as strict about TV. She loves My Little Pony.
Her hair is long and she loves me to style it differently. She has her own sense of style and it lovely.
When she walks into school it reminds me of Norm on Cheers. Everyone yells her name in greeting. She doesn't do drama. And she has enough moxie that she sometimes disobeys her teachers. I kind of like that, even if it isn't always easy.
She's kind and she doesn't like it when others aren't. She makes me smile and gives me hope for the future.
She's almost six.
Seven years ago around this time I had no idea that my waiting was coming to an end. Seven years ago I was in Infertility hell.
Six years ago I had redone my home study and paperwork in hope.
I don't forget how it was living with infertility. I still feel pangs when her friends moms are pregnant. I feel bigger pangs when she asks for a brother or sister.
I wish all who wanted to, could know the love of a little girl like mine. Or a little boy. Or twins. Or. Or. Or.
Just know you have an ally. You have someone in your corner.
Me.
And my daughter.
Monday, April 9, 2018
Dear China Mommy - Year 5
Dear China Mommy,
Our daughter will be turning six in a few weeks. She decided she wants a bowling party and put her foot down about who will be invited.
Her whole fricking kindergarten class.
I had said, you have one person more than you are old, but she talked me around. She said she wanted these people and then Hilly.
"Who is Hilly?" I asked.
"You know her, she's the one who doesn't sit and she wanders around the room and hums a lot."
Oh. I thought. The autistic girl. I looked at her face.
"I don't think she gets invited to a lot of birthday parties, mommy. I think it makes her sad. She doesn't hurt anyone and she's not mean and I want to invite her, even if her mommy says no." I nodded. I couldn't speak, you see, because I had this lump in my throat.
Did she get this compassion from you? Did she get it from me? Did it mingle together from both of us?
So why are we inviting the whole class when she wants to invite Hilly? So she doesn't feel singled out. Or that's what I think she was trying to tell me. Sometimes I don't understand what she's trying to communicate, but most of the time I do.
Our daughter is about three and a half feet tall. She is so graceful -- definitely your influence. Her smile can light a world.
She's lost her first tooth and the permanent one has come in crooked. Orthodontia is in our future.
She's learning to read and she says how "Words just pop out at her." as she looks around.
She asked why you left her to be found. She asked if she was bad. I was driving and I pulled over so I could stare into her eyes and tell her that it was not at all because she was bad. I told her that we would likely never know the full reasons but I had some guesses.
I think it was because she was premature. I think you were scared as hell that her lungs were underdeveloped and took her to where she could be treated. Even if it meant never seeing her again. I sometimes wonder if it was not you who took her to that place, if it was a family member who you have yet to forgive.
Her school is far more white than the daycare and pre-K she attended. She notices that. I think she's been made fun of, but if she has it's rolled off her back as our daughter does not start fights. She does tend to finish them.
Our daughter takes stalling to go to bed to an Olympic sport. But she knows that if she asks for more hugs we will give them.
Our daughter has an incredible capacity to love. She has an empathetic quality that is rare in 60 year olds, not only 6 year olds. But she has it. I believe it was put there by you, nurtured by me and her father.
Today she asked, for the n-teenth time, for me to tell her the story of when we first met. I told her again. But today she asked, Why did I stop crying when I heard you sing.
I gave a few suggestions and she kept shaking her head.
"Okay, Lotus, Why did you stop crying?"
"Because I recognized you. You weren't China Mommy, you were my mommy." She sighed as she saw my eyes fill. "Happy tears?" She asked--she's used to this by now. I nodded. We cuddled. Then she asked to send some love to you. And we hugged and sent some of our love to you.
I hope you feel the love that our daughter feels for you.
I hope you know the love and unspeakable gratitude that I feel for you.
God be with you, wherever and whatever you need,
Love
Your daughter's mommy.
Our daughter will be turning six in a few weeks. She decided she wants a bowling party and put her foot down about who will be invited.
Her whole fricking kindergarten class.
I had said, you have one person more than you are old, but she talked me around. She said she wanted these people and then Hilly.
"Who is Hilly?" I asked.
"You know her, she's the one who doesn't sit and she wanders around the room and hums a lot."
Oh. I thought. The autistic girl. I looked at her face.
"I don't think she gets invited to a lot of birthday parties, mommy. I think it makes her sad. She doesn't hurt anyone and she's not mean and I want to invite her, even if her mommy says no." I nodded. I couldn't speak, you see, because I had this lump in my throat.
Did she get this compassion from you? Did she get it from me? Did it mingle together from both of us?
So why are we inviting the whole class when she wants to invite Hilly? So she doesn't feel singled out. Or that's what I think she was trying to tell me. Sometimes I don't understand what she's trying to communicate, but most of the time I do.
Our daughter is about three and a half feet tall. She is so graceful -- definitely your influence. Her smile can light a world.
She's lost her first tooth and the permanent one has come in crooked. Orthodontia is in our future.
She's learning to read and she says how "Words just pop out at her." as she looks around.
She asked why you left her to be found. She asked if she was bad. I was driving and I pulled over so I could stare into her eyes and tell her that it was not at all because she was bad. I told her that we would likely never know the full reasons but I had some guesses.
I think it was because she was premature. I think you were scared as hell that her lungs were underdeveloped and took her to where she could be treated. Even if it meant never seeing her again. I sometimes wonder if it was not you who took her to that place, if it was a family member who you have yet to forgive.
Her school is far more white than the daycare and pre-K she attended. She notices that. I think she's been made fun of, but if she has it's rolled off her back as our daughter does not start fights. She does tend to finish them.
Our daughter takes stalling to go to bed to an Olympic sport. But she knows that if she asks for more hugs we will give them.
Our daughter has an incredible capacity to love. She has an empathetic quality that is rare in 60 year olds, not only 6 year olds. But she has it. I believe it was put there by you, nurtured by me and her father.
Today she asked, for the n-teenth time, for me to tell her the story of when we first met. I told her again. But today she asked, Why did I stop crying when I heard you sing.
I gave a few suggestions and she kept shaking her head.
"Okay, Lotus, Why did you stop crying?"
"Because I recognized you. You weren't China Mommy, you were my mommy." She sighed as she saw my eyes fill. "Happy tears?" She asked--she's used to this by now. I nodded. We cuddled. Then she asked to send some love to you. And we hugged and sent some of our love to you.
I hope you feel the love that our daughter feels for you.
I hope you know the love and unspeakable gratitude that I feel for you.
God be with you, wherever and whatever you need,
Love
Your daughter's mommy.
Monday, March 19, 2018
Seeing the future
My grandmother had a gift. Maybe a curse.
She could attend a wedding, engagement party, even watch a couple who were dating and know, know as an undeniable truth that they would not work out.
I remember going to a cousin's wedding. Big fancy wedding. Bride and groom made lovey-dovey faces at each other. When we came home my mom said what a nice wedding it was. I said that it would have been nicer if I thought for even ten minutes that the happy couple would work out. I watched my mother's face pale. It seemed that I said my grandmother's exact words with the exact tone that she had used about this cousin's parents. My grandmother had been proven correct seven years later. My cousin's marriage didn't even last that long.
I haven't always been able to predict it. Some friends split up and I really thought they were going the long haul. But right now, I'm watching my niece start on the road to the wedding and I know, I know, she's going down the road for heartache. Other people have told her and she just doesn't care.
I don't get this.
Her "fiancé" asked her to marry him, with a ring and everything, at the end of 2017. But--she's not allowed to tell anyone on social media. He wanted to wait to tell his family. Then he wanted to wait to tell someone else. It's March now, and she's still not allowed to tell people on social media. This means most of her friends don't know.
When her father got engaged, I remember that he was so proud and happy that he stopped the mailman and pointed out my soon to be sister in law. "Isn't she beautiful! She's the most amazing woman inside and out and she is marrying me!" They've been married over 30 years. Not without bumps, but still.
My niece has been dating this guy for a while. about six years or so. They broke up when she wanted to become engaged and he didn't. Then he charmed and wheedled and she took him back and she told him that if she didn't have a ring by the time 2018 came she'd be gone. So he got her a ring and forbid her to tell anyone about it.
When it comes to wedding planning he refuses to get married near where her parents live and where she wants to be married. There is an elderly aunt who can't travel and my niece wants her there, but he refuses so that's it.
He insists that she must formally convert to Judaism. Her father is Jewish, her mother is not. She was raised Jewish. She teaches Hebrew School. But it isn't Jewish enough and he belittles her hard-won Jewish knowledge. Their relationship is filled with his micro-agressions towards her.
Yet when anyone tells her that this is not the way a loving man treats his bride-to-be, she dismisses it. She loves him. She wants him.
So I wait with my heart hurting. I know that at some point she will see him for what he is. Maybe he'll change, but I'm not holding my breath. I wish so much that she could see him the way we do. I wish that she would stand her ground. She's a strong woman. Or she was.
But her biological clock is ticking. She's worried she'll have problems getting pregnant. She wants to be a mother and she thinks that this guy is the only way that can happen. I worry that if she has problems getting pregnant he will blame her and come down on her. I worry.
I wonder if she really doesn't see it, or if she's using her heart to override her head. Has anyone ever dealt with this kind of thing--if so what did you do?
She could attend a wedding, engagement party, even watch a couple who were dating and know, know as an undeniable truth that they would not work out.
I remember going to a cousin's wedding. Big fancy wedding. Bride and groom made lovey-dovey faces at each other. When we came home my mom said what a nice wedding it was. I said that it would have been nicer if I thought for even ten minutes that the happy couple would work out. I watched my mother's face pale. It seemed that I said my grandmother's exact words with the exact tone that she had used about this cousin's parents. My grandmother had been proven correct seven years later. My cousin's marriage didn't even last that long.
I haven't always been able to predict it. Some friends split up and I really thought they were going the long haul. But right now, I'm watching my niece start on the road to the wedding and I know, I know, she's going down the road for heartache. Other people have told her and she just doesn't care.
I don't get this.
Her "fiancé" asked her to marry him, with a ring and everything, at the end of 2017. But--she's not allowed to tell anyone on social media. He wanted to wait to tell his family. Then he wanted to wait to tell someone else. It's March now, and she's still not allowed to tell people on social media. This means most of her friends don't know.
When her father got engaged, I remember that he was so proud and happy that he stopped the mailman and pointed out my soon to be sister in law. "Isn't she beautiful! She's the most amazing woman inside and out and she is marrying me!" They've been married over 30 years. Not without bumps, but still.
My niece has been dating this guy for a while. about six years or so. They broke up when she wanted to become engaged and he didn't. Then he charmed and wheedled and she took him back and she told him that if she didn't have a ring by the time 2018 came she'd be gone. So he got her a ring and forbid her to tell anyone about it.
When it comes to wedding planning he refuses to get married near where her parents live and where she wants to be married. There is an elderly aunt who can't travel and my niece wants her there, but he refuses so that's it.
He insists that she must formally convert to Judaism. Her father is Jewish, her mother is not. She was raised Jewish. She teaches Hebrew School. But it isn't Jewish enough and he belittles her hard-won Jewish knowledge. Their relationship is filled with his micro-agressions towards her.
Yet when anyone tells her that this is not the way a loving man treats his bride-to-be, she dismisses it. She loves him. She wants him.
So I wait with my heart hurting. I know that at some point she will see him for what he is. Maybe he'll change, but I'm not holding my breath. I wish so much that she could see him the way we do. I wish that she would stand her ground. She's a strong woman. Or she was.
But her biological clock is ticking. She's worried she'll have problems getting pregnant. She wants to be a mother and she thinks that this guy is the only way that can happen. I worry that if she has problems getting pregnant he will blame her and come down on her. I worry.
I wonder if she really doesn't see it, or if she's using her heart to override her head. Has anyone ever dealt with this kind of thing--if so what did you do?
Monday, October 9, 2017
Parenting by Peopling - Microblog Monday
I asked my father a question this weekend. I asked him about the times I saw him send checks back--even when they were in his favor.
I asked him if he did it because it was right or because he knew I was watching. He looked at me as if trying to see if I was kidding or not and then he sighed. "Both." He said. "I did the right thing because it was right and because I knew you were watching. You're our third kid and by the time we got to you we knew that if we do something, good or bad, you'd see it and think about it. I wanted to try to be the person I wanted you to be."
I remember little things about my mom. I remembered a Valentine's day when I was in 9th grade. I had done my duty and given my valentines out and I didn't receive a one. Not one. I remember slamming in the house. I remember not telling my mom anything about the day. I remember slamming into my bedroom to be alone because that's all I would be. I sat sulking and probably crying on my bed. My mom knocked twice and then came into my room--it had been the devil to get her to knock at all! She told me she had to make brownies for something or other and asked if I wanted to help. I did the typical teenage shrug but I remembered eventually going down and making brownies with her. I didn't tell her about my day. She asked and I was monosyllabic. But it is hard to sulk when you're sharing just-baked brownies and milk.
Mom was gone when I thought about this and realized that she probably didn't need to bake brownies that day. I never thanked her for the gift of simple companionship.
Today Belle had no school and I had been scrambling to find out what to do with her. We went grocery shopping. We bought more halloween candy than we should have. But Belle read me things off the list--words like Banana and Milk. Other words she found when I made the sounds for it. We tasted yummy things and had a good time. I get what my father said now. I want to be the kind of person I want my daughter to turn into.
I asked him if he did it because it was right or because he knew I was watching. He looked at me as if trying to see if I was kidding or not and then he sighed. "Both." He said. "I did the right thing because it was right and because I knew you were watching. You're our third kid and by the time we got to you we knew that if we do something, good or bad, you'd see it and think about it. I wanted to try to be the person I wanted you to be."
I remember little things about my mom. I remembered a Valentine's day when I was in 9th grade. I had done my duty and given my valentines out and I didn't receive a one. Not one. I remember slamming in the house. I remember not telling my mom anything about the day. I remember slamming into my bedroom to be alone because that's all I would be. I sat sulking and probably crying on my bed. My mom knocked twice and then came into my room--it had been the devil to get her to knock at all! She told me she had to make brownies for something or other and asked if I wanted to help. I did the typical teenage shrug but I remembered eventually going down and making brownies with her. I didn't tell her about my day. She asked and I was monosyllabic. But it is hard to sulk when you're sharing just-baked brownies and milk.
Mom was gone when I thought about this and realized that she probably didn't need to bake brownies that day. I never thanked her for the gift of simple companionship.
Today Belle had no school and I had been scrambling to find out what to do with her. We went grocery shopping. We bought more halloween candy than we should have. But Belle read me things off the list--words like Banana and Milk. Other words she found when I made the sounds for it. We tasted yummy things and had a good time. I get what my father said now. I want to be the kind of person I want my daughter to turn into.
Monday, September 4, 2017
Microblog Monday - They go there
Lotus is sick.
I am sick.
D is not feeling well.
So we tried to get Lotus to bed without her usual routine. We wanted to go to sleep. We put her in her bed in our room and tried to sleep. Lotus started to cry that she couldn't sleep. She hadn't laid her head on the pillow for more than three minutes. She started to whine that she needed help and I brought her into our bed to cuddle. I rocked her and she kept saying how she needed help. She wanted hugs and I was short with her because I felt lousy.
I held her, checked for fever and she had none. I sang to her and she told me to stop. She hugged me tight.
And I remembered.
I remembered going to the orphanage where she spent the first 54 weeks of her life.
I remembered seeing the room full of cribs. We were pointed to the one she had slept in. Then we saw two cribs on the outside of the room. When we asked about the two cribs, our translator said that it was for the children for when they were "naughty or sick."
The immediate effect of this was that from that moment to now, Lotus has never slept in a room alone. We've been subtlety trying to move her. First she was in our bed. Then in her crib in our room. Then in her toddler bed in our room. Its slow going but it's worth the trip to make her feel confident.
As she was in my arms, I thought of my little Lotus as a baby. When she was sick she was taken away from all the other children and brought to be alone. I understand this--I do. If you are looking after a bunch of babies and one is sick you need to separate her or you have a roomful of sick babies. But it gave her lizard brain a lesson. If I'm sick I'm going to be separated from everyone else. Once she cuddled on me, I told her over and over that I loved her. I told her over and over that she was safe and no way would we leave her.
Now I'm kicking myself for not realizing what scared her. I hate the fact that she has that part of her brain that believes that we will leave her when she is sick. D, an adoptee, reminded me that they go there. A part of her will always go there. It's up to me to show her that we will love her with everything that we are for as long as we live.
I am sick.
D is not feeling well.
So we tried to get Lotus to bed without her usual routine. We wanted to go to sleep. We put her in her bed in our room and tried to sleep. Lotus started to cry that she couldn't sleep. She hadn't laid her head on the pillow for more than three minutes. She started to whine that she needed help and I brought her into our bed to cuddle. I rocked her and she kept saying how she needed help. She wanted hugs and I was short with her because I felt lousy.
I held her, checked for fever and she had none. I sang to her and she told me to stop. She hugged me tight.
And I remembered.
I remembered going to the orphanage where she spent the first 54 weeks of her life.
I remembered seeing the room full of cribs. We were pointed to the one she had slept in. Then we saw two cribs on the outside of the room. When we asked about the two cribs, our translator said that it was for the children for when they were "naughty or sick."
The immediate effect of this was that from that moment to now, Lotus has never slept in a room alone. We've been subtlety trying to move her. First she was in our bed. Then in her crib in our room. Then in her toddler bed in our room. Its slow going but it's worth the trip to make her feel confident.
As she was in my arms, I thought of my little Lotus as a baby. When she was sick she was taken away from all the other children and brought to be alone. I understand this--I do. If you are looking after a bunch of babies and one is sick you need to separate her or you have a roomful of sick babies. But it gave her lizard brain a lesson. If I'm sick I'm going to be separated from everyone else. Once she cuddled on me, I told her over and over that I loved her. I told her over and over that she was safe and no way would we leave her.
Now I'm kicking myself for not realizing what scared her. I hate the fact that she has that part of her brain that believes that we will leave her when she is sick. D, an adoptee, reminded me that they go there. A part of her will always go there. It's up to me to show her that we will love her with everything that we are for as long as we live.
Monday, July 31, 2017
Comforting After Loss - Microblog Monday
I'm in California. Visiting my Aunt. It's so weird not to say "my aunt and uncle," but I lost my Uncle a few weeks ago.
It was a hard visit. The look in her eye was lost. They were married for 73 years and now he's not there. They had no children. If they were bitter--they never ever showed it. During the times of IF hell, they were my rocks. They refused to accept that life without children had no meaning. They also said that their nieces and nephews were more devoted to them than some of their friends children--and we were. We are. All of us offered to have Aunt Vivian come and stay with us, but since we are east coasters and my Aunt thinks of 85 degrees as comfortably cool she said no.
It is the third time I have had to comfort after such a loss. The first was my grandfather, when I was 15. My grandparents missed their 65th anniversary by 8 months.
The second was my father, after my mom passed. They missed their 65th anniversary by 1 month and 19 days.
People don't know what to do or say.
They don't.
People kept calling the loss "a blessing." My aunt, who never swears--I mean she thinks "hell" is bad language told someone that calling this a blessing was "bullshit." I stared at her for about two minutes totally speechless. I was stunned to learn she knew the word--much less could use it in a sentence.
I took Lotus to see her and help comfort. It was disquieting for everyone, but eventually I think this will be good for Lotus. She's going to need to do this--and she rose to the challenge. She drew a picture of her self with a heart and her name. My aunt said it was beautiful.
None of us get through life untouched by loss. Lotus had one early on. It helps to help others.
Now to address my own grief at some point. Probably I'll do what I normally do. Hold it in for a while and then totally lose it. Ah, something to look forward to.
It was a hard visit. The look in her eye was lost. They were married for 73 years and now he's not there. They had no children. If they were bitter--they never ever showed it. During the times of IF hell, they were my rocks. They refused to accept that life without children had no meaning. They also said that their nieces and nephews were more devoted to them than some of their friends children--and we were. We are. All of us offered to have Aunt Vivian come and stay with us, but since we are east coasters and my Aunt thinks of 85 degrees as comfortably cool she said no.
It is the third time I have had to comfort after such a loss. The first was my grandfather, when I was 15. My grandparents missed their 65th anniversary by 8 months.
The second was my father, after my mom passed. They missed their 65th anniversary by 1 month and 19 days.
People don't know what to do or say.
They don't.
People kept calling the loss "a blessing." My aunt, who never swears--I mean she thinks "hell" is bad language told someone that calling this a blessing was "bullshit." I stared at her for about two minutes totally speechless. I was stunned to learn she knew the word--much less could use it in a sentence.
I took Lotus to see her and help comfort. It was disquieting for everyone, but eventually I think this will be good for Lotus. She's going to need to do this--and she rose to the challenge. She drew a picture of her self with a heart and her name. My aunt said it was beautiful.
None of us get through life untouched by loss. Lotus had one early on. It helps to help others.
Now to address my own grief at some point. Probably I'll do what I normally do. Hold it in for a while and then totally lose it. Ah, something to look forward to.
Thursday, July 27, 2017
Thursday Thirteen - Thirteen that I'm doing right
I tend to get down on myself for how I parent.
I'm like most women, thinking that I am constantly f**king this parenting deal up.
This weekend friends came to visit us. Friends with kids adopted from foster care. I was able to see what I was doing right and what I haven't been doing right. I decided to make this list about what I am doing right since I am so often thinking about what I am doing wrong.
What I am doing right is right for myself, D, and Lotus. I do not presume that what has worked for us would work for anything else. Also this is right now when Lotus is five--when she turns six she might throw all of this out.
1) Consistency
If I say, "Lotus if you do that thing one more time--Plan B is what will happen." Plan B is what will happen and Lotus knows this. Is this 100%? No. Is it better than 90%? Yes. I watched our friends threaten their two year old with everything under the sun and he would just smile and continue on his merry way.
2) Time In
I can't take too much credit for this. Two of the adoptive parenting books talked about it and when I put Lotus in Time Out she wigged. Not just the crying but a total freak out. When I put her in time in--which mean I held her close and immobile as a toddler, she'd fight but after the two minutes she'd calm down and let me in.
3) Listening to what she isn't saying
"Some of the kids were bad at school."
"Really? What did they do?"
I know by her tone whether she is talking about herself or whether she is really talking about the other kids and I react accordingly.
4) What happened at school stays there.
I hope I will be able to continue this when she starts Kindergarten but for now, if she misbehaved at school (rare though that was) whatever punishment was met out at school was sufficient. I want her to feel comfortable telling me about things that happen when I am not there. If I punish her for her misdeeds--that the teachers have already addressed--she won't talk to me.
5) Intervening when she can't.
When she came home and asked what was wrong with her eyes, I thought she might need glasses. Then she told me that a kid at school had been making fun of her eyes. When I took her to school the next day I was mama bear.
6) Intervening when she won't.
A teacher started to call Lotus a little pet name "Little Lotus" and she didn't like it. She told me she wanted it to stop. I told the teacher, and it stopped. I didn't ask her why. It didn't matter. She didn't like it and that was it.
7) "Stop"
A friend told us that we used this like a safe word for our preschooler. I don't like the sexual connotations of that. We are teaching Lotus that when she says stop, people will stop. If they don't, we will intervene and make it stop. When the friends were here, we heard Lotus' stop loud and clear and ran to intervene when she said it a second time.
8) Answering questions honestly.
From the funny and easy, "What's an asshole? Why do so many of them drive?"
To the heartbreaking, "Did China Mommy leave me to be found because I was bad." I answer them with as much honesty as I can. Lotus' memory is incredible and I don't want to be caught in a lie--even a small one.
9) Daddy is co-parent, not the enforcer.
Self-explanatory.
10) Accompanying her to the bathroom when she "wants company."
Also self explanatory.
11) No Tech Table
One of our most hard and fast rules. No phone or tv or screen when we eat at the table as a family. Sometimes we have to take a call (illness), but we explain that is an exception.
12) Co-sleeping.
I credit our amazing pediatrician for this. When we brought her home she slept between us. As she grew older I was worried that we would be told to stop this. Our pediatrician, born in Taiwan, said that she and most of the kids she knew in kindergarten (the equivalent) slept in a family bed.
"I slept in my parents bed until I was 7 years old." She told me. "How my siblings happened--one who is 4 years younger than I and the other who is 6 years younger than I--that's not something I like to think about." It put me at ease.
Now it is about 50/50 whether she will spend all night in her bed or climb between us at night but it works for us. Your milage may vary.
13) Reading
Our house is full of books and about a third of them are hers. We read all the time.
What are you doing right?
I'm like most women, thinking that I am constantly f**king this parenting deal up.
This weekend friends came to visit us. Friends with kids adopted from foster care. I was able to see what I was doing right and what I haven't been doing right. I decided to make this list about what I am doing right since I am so often thinking about what I am doing wrong.
What I am doing right is right for myself, D, and Lotus. I do not presume that what has worked for us would work for anything else. Also this is right now when Lotus is five--when she turns six she might throw all of this out.
1) Consistency
If I say, "Lotus if you do that thing one more time--Plan B is what will happen." Plan B is what will happen and Lotus knows this. Is this 100%? No. Is it better than 90%? Yes. I watched our friends threaten their two year old with everything under the sun and he would just smile and continue on his merry way.
2) Time In
I can't take too much credit for this. Two of the adoptive parenting books talked about it and when I put Lotus in Time Out she wigged. Not just the crying but a total freak out. When I put her in time in--which mean I held her close and immobile as a toddler, she'd fight but after the two minutes she'd calm down and let me in.
3) Listening to what she isn't saying
"Some of the kids were bad at school."
"Really? What did they do?"
I know by her tone whether she is talking about herself or whether she is really talking about the other kids and I react accordingly.
4) What happened at school stays there.
I hope I will be able to continue this when she starts Kindergarten but for now, if she misbehaved at school (rare though that was) whatever punishment was met out at school was sufficient. I want her to feel comfortable telling me about things that happen when I am not there. If I punish her for her misdeeds--that the teachers have already addressed--she won't talk to me.
5) Intervening when she can't.
When she came home and asked what was wrong with her eyes, I thought she might need glasses. Then she told me that a kid at school had been making fun of her eyes. When I took her to school the next day I was mama bear.
6) Intervening when she won't.
A teacher started to call Lotus a little pet name "Little Lotus" and she didn't like it. She told me she wanted it to stop. I told the teacher, and it stopped. I didn't ask her why. It didn't matter. She didn't like it and that was it.
7) "Stop"
A friend told us that we used this like a safe word for our preschooler. I don't like the sexual connotations of that. We are teaching Lotus that when she says stop, people will stop. If they don't, we will intervene and make it stop. When the friends were here, we heard Lotus' stop loud and clear and ran to intervene when she said it a second time.
8) Answering questions honestly.
From the funny and easy, "What's an asshole? Why do so many of them drive?"
To the heartbreaking, "Did China Mommy leave me to be found because I was bad." I answer them with as much honesty as I can. Lotus' memory is incredible and I don't want to be caught in a lie--even a small one.
9) Daddy is co-parent, not the enforcer.
Self-explanatory.
10) Accompanying her to the bathroom when she "wants company."
Also self explanatory.
11) No Tech Table
One of our most hard and fast rules. No phone or tv or screen when we eat at the table as a family. Sometimes we have to take a call (illness), but we explain that is an exception.
12) Co-sleeping.
I credit our amazing pediatrician for this. When we brought her home she slept between us. As she grew older I was worried that we would be told to stop this. Our pediatrician, born in Taiwan, said that she and most of the kids she knew in kindergarten (the equivalent) slept in a family bed.
"I slept in my parents bed until I was 7 years old." She told me. "How my siblings happened--one who is 4 years younger than I and the other who is 6 years younger than I--that's not something I like to think about." It put me at ease.
Now it is about 50/50 whether she will spend all night in her bed or climb between us at night but it works for us. Your milage may vary.
13) Reading
Our house is full of books and about a third of them are hers. We read all the time.
What are you doing right?
Monday, May 29, 2017
Microblog Monday - The Unasked Question
Lotus is 5 now.
I'm calling this stage the question stage.
"Why are skunks stinky? Why is poopy brown? Why is it raining? Why is the sun shining? Why did that Octonaught do something?"
I love the curious mind behind the questions.
I wish she would actually listen to my answers instead of repeating the question again and again and again.
But there is one question that has not been asked.
"Why was I left to be found?'
We talk about her adoption often if not daily.
"Why do I have brown eyes?"
"Because China Mommy has brown eyes."
"Can we go visit China Mommy?"
"We don't really know who she is."
"Google her."
We talk about how she lived in the orphanage and how the Aya took care of her. We talk about Aya and how she smelled and tasted. How it is okay to miss her Aya and I'm not mad that she does. We've talked about D's biological mommy and how Grandmom adopted D just like we adopted her.
She asked me once if Daddy was mad at China mommy. Then she rephrased her question to mean his biological mommy. I said she should ask Daddy. She gave me a look and repeated the question. I said that yes, sometimes Daddy is angry at his bio mommy. Her sigh of relief was huge. I asked if she was mad at China mommy.
She gave me one of those looks--the one that makes me wonder if there could possibly be a seventy year old woman gazing out of my child's eyes. Then she nodded. I told her it's okay to be angry. Then she asked me, "Is China mommy mad at me?"
I said no. Then I braced for it. "Why did she leave me?" And it never came.
It will. I know it will. Then I will have to talk about a cultural preference for girls. I will have to explain about the one-child policy. I will have to state my own ignorance.
But until then, I'm happy and exasperated to answer the other myriad of questions she has. Like a few days ago she asked, "Mommy, what's an asshole and how come so many of them drive?"
I'm calling this stage the question stage.
"Why are skunks stinky? Why is poopy brown? Why is it raining? Why is the sun shining? Why did that Octonaught do something?"
I love the curious mind behind the questions.
I wish she would actually listen to my answers instead of repeating the question again and again and again.
But there is one question that has not been asked.
"Why was I left to be found?'
We talk about her adoption often if not daily.
"Why do I have brown eyes?"
"Because China Mommy has brown eyes."
"Can we go visit China Mommy?"
"We don't really know who she is."
"Google her."
We talk about how she lived in the orphanage and how the Aya took care of her. We talk about Aya and how she smelled and tasted. How it is okay to miss her Aya and I'm not mad that she does. We've talked about D's biological mommy and how Grandmom adopted D just like we adopted her.
She asked me once if Daddy was mad at China mommy. Then she rephrased her question to mean his biological mommy. I said she should ask Daddy. She gave me a look and repeated the question. I said that yes, sometimes Daddy is angry at his bio mommy. Her sigh of relief was huge. I asked if she was mad at China mommy.
She gave me one of those looks--the one that makes me wonder if there could possibly be a seventy year old woman gazing out of my child's eyes. Then she nodded. I told her it's okay to be angry. Then she asked me, "Is China mommy mad at me?"
I said no. Then I braced for it. "Why did she leave me?" And it never came.
It will. I know it will. Then I will have to talk about a cultural preference for girls. I will have to explain about the one-child policy. I will have to state my own ignorance.
But until then, I'm happy and exasperated to answer the other myriad of questions she has. Like a few days ago she asked, "Mommy, what's an asshole and how come so many of them drive?"
Monday, May 22, 2017
Microblog Monday - Bravery
So, on Friday, which happened to be the fourth anniversary of meeting Lotus for the first time, it was time for Lotus' Kindergarten Orientation.
She was nervous. Heck with her, I was nervous.
Her questions were simple--would the teachers be nice? Would the other kids be nice?
Mine were not so simple.
Would there be other Asians in her class?
Would she be bullied?
Would she bully?
Would school take her love of learning and make it horrible?
Would she be safe?
These are just the top five--I have so many more questions as I'm watching my baby turn into my child.
So together we walked to school and sat with other parents and their kids. I started to make some introductions but Lotus had a death grip on my hand and so we talked and looked around. I looked at the folder with the agenda for the afternoon and it had that the kids would go to the kindergarten room and the principal and others would talk to the parents. I started explaining this to Lotus and her eyes started to fill with tears. I hugged her and she quieted as the orientation began.
First off a bunch of the current kindergarten class came out and sang songs. Yay. Lotus loves to sing and dance. They sang 4 and she knew all but 1 and the one she didn't know looked like fun. Then the teacher asked that the kindergarteners-to-be line up. Lotus hugged me.
"You're not going home?"
"Not without you." She thought about it and rested her head on me for a little. She watched other kids go on the line.
A few other kids were having fits. The one on the chair next to us was not leaving her mom. Lotus went over to her and said "want to go together?" The response from the other child was decidedly negative. Lotus came back, gave me a hug and stood on the line with the other kids. Her chin was quivering, just a little, but she met my eyes and smiled at me. As they walked out she waved at me and I waved back. Then, as she had done four years before, she lifted her head and looked into what comes next. Someone said something to her so my last image of her at that moment was walking away, head held high, with a little smile.
I didn't hear the first part of the discussion because I was musing about how brave my little girl is. How she walked into what came next with a smile on her face. I thought of the smiles we got shortly after we met her, when she was playing cute. I remember how breathtaking it was when we saw her real smile--the one with her dimple--four days later. I thought of how the journey from baby to child never takes as long as you think it will.
I thought of the song I first sung to her. You'll Be in my Heart from Tarzan. More specifically the second verse.
"For one so small, you seem so strong.
My arms will hold you keep you safe and warm.
This bond between us, can't be broken.
I will be here, don't you cry."
I lifted my head. Smiled. Then I listened to the rules that I, as a kindergarten parent would be expected to follow. I added a few. Be brave. Smile. Walk into the future with head held high.
She was nervous. Heck with her, I was nervous.
Her questions were simple--would the teachers be nice? Would the other kids be nice?
Mine were not so simple.
Would there be other Asians in her class?
Would she be bullied?
Would she bully?
Would school take her love of learning and make it horrible?
Would she be safe?
These are just the top five--I have so many more questions as I'm watching my baby turn into my child.
So together we walked to school and sat with other parents and their kids. I started to make some introductions but Lotus had a death grip on my hand and so we talked and looked around. I looked at the folder with the agenda for the afternoon and it had that the kids would go to the kindergarten room and the principal and others would talk to the parents. I started explaining this to Lotus and her eyes started to fill with tears. I hugged her and she quieted as the orientation began.
First off a bunch of the current kindergarten class came out and sang songs. Yay. Lotus loves to sing and dance. They sang 4 and she knew all but 1 and the one she didn't know looked like fun. Then the teacher asked that the kindergarteners-to-be line up. Lotus hugged me.
"You're not going home?"
"Not without you." She thought about it and rested her head on me for a little. She watched other kids go on the line.
A few other kids were having fits. The one on the chair next to us was not leaving her mom. Lotus went over to her and said "want to go together?" The response from the other child was decidedly negative. Lotus came back, gave me a hug and stood on the line with the other kids. Her chin was quivering, just a little, but she met my eyes and smiled at me. As they walked out she waved at me and I waved back. Then, as she had done four years before, she lifted her head and looked into what comes next. Someone said something to her so my last image of her at that moment was walking away, head held high, with a little smile.
I didn't hear the first part of the discussion because I was musing about how brave my little girl is. How she walked into what came next with a smile on her face. I thought of the smiles we got shortly after we met her, when she was playing cute. I remember how breathtaking it was when we saw her real smile--the one with her dimple--four days later. I thought of how the journey from baby to child never takes as long as you think it will.
I thought of the song I first sung to her. You'll Be in my Heart from Tarzan. More specifically the second verse.
"For one so small, you seem so strong.
My arms will hold you keep you safe and warm.
This bond between us, can't be broken.
I will be here, don't you cry."
I lifted my head. Smiled. Then I listened to the rules that I, as a kindergarten parent would be expected to follow. I added a few. Be brave. Smile. Walk into the future with head held high.
Monday, April 24, 2017
Microblog Mondays -To China Mommy
Dear China Mommy,
Our daughter turns five in a week.
She seems to have developed a fear of heights. That is, until I sit down while she's at the playground and she is off climbing something that she maybe shouldn't be and calling for me.
I love that she pushes her own limits.
She is sounding out words and can recognize over thirty written words. She's going to be reading by herself soon and it humbles me.
Any time she thinks we're angry at her she declares that she needs a hug. We give her one.
We nurture her. We let her watch a bit too much TV, and run herd on her computer and phone time. She's friendly with a lot of the kids at school, but not a lot of playdates, Kindergarten starts in September so I imagine that will change.
She falls down and scrapes her knees and ankles. when that happens, and there is even a spec of blood she requires a band-aid so she can't see it. My thoughts of a doctor to support us in our old age are out the window.
She hates loud noises, but will put up with them
She still does her parent checks in the middle of the night. She wakes up and asks us to tuck her in again. Actually the checks are closer to dawn. Is that when you left her in her finding spot? Was it close to dawn as you kissed her little hands and left? Did you look back? Or did you know that if you looked back you would have run and picked her up and I would not be writing this blog post, or not to you.
She asks us often why we love her. Why we like her.
I tell her.
Because she deserves love.
I tell her.
Because she is wonderful and kind and beautiful and all good things.
I tell her and I hug her.
Sometimes I get angry at you, for putting fear in our daughter.
Sometimes I feel sorry for you, because I have her, hold her, nurture her and all you can do is wonder.
I respect you.
I bless you.
I thank you.
Our daughter turns five in a week.
She seems to have developed a fear of heights. That is, until I sit down while she's at the playground and she is off climbing something that she maybe shouldn't be and calling for me.
I love that she pushes her own limits.
She is sounding out words and can recognize over thirty written words. She's going to be reading by herself soon and it humbles me.
Any time she thinks we're angry at her she declares that she needs a hug. We give her one.
We nurture her. We let her watch a bit too much TV, and run herd on her computer and phone time. She's friendly with a lot of the kids at school, but not a lot of playdates, Kindergarten starts in September so I imagine that will change.
She falls down and scrapes her knees and ankles. when that happens, and there is even a spec of blood she requires a band-aid so she can't see it. My thoughts of a doctor to support us in our old age are out the window.
She hates loud noises, but will put up with them
She still does her parent checks in the middle of the night. She wakes up and asks us to tuck her in again. Actually the checks are closer to dawn. Is that when you left her in her finding spot? Was it close to dawn as you kissed her little hands and left? Did you look back? Or did you know that if you looked back you would have run and picked her up and I would not be writing this blog post, or not to you.
She asks us often why we love her. Why we like her.
I tell her.
Because she deserves love.
I tell her.
Because she is wonderful and kind and beautiful and all good things.
I tell her and I hug her.
Sometimes I get angry at you, for putting fear in our daughter.
Sometimes I feel sorry for you, because I have her, hold her, nurture her and all you can do is wonder.
I respect you.
I bless you.
I thank you.
Monday, March 27, 2017
Microblog Monday - And You
And You*
or she's done something she knows
she's not supposed to,
she will cry.
"I want my mommy!" She'll say.
She will say this clutching to me.
Her face
buried into my very ample stomach
and breasts.
"I want Mommy." She cries.
"I'm right here." I say, holding her close.
"I'm here, baby."
"I'm not leaving."
What she means sometimes is
she wants mommy,
the one who isn't mad at her,
and is fun.
And I generally get this through my brain,
and I rock her,
and she stops crying,
and she says sorry,
and we're okay.
Sometimes she cries for mommy
as I am holding her
and I realize there's another woman she's crying for.
a woman who she lived with for five days.
A woman whose heartbeat she heard,
while she was getting ready to be born.
A woman who chose to give birth to her,
and then made the
heart-wrenching
unimaginable
decision
to leave her to be found
and cuddled
and loved
by strangers.
Lotus cries for that mommy.
She misses her.
That woman who looks at the world
from eyes that are like her own.
That woman who,
I imagine,
Aches for my crying little girl
in ways I cannot imagine.
And I don't want to .
When Lotus does this
We hug each other very hard
and send our love out
and hope China Mommy
can feel it
can understand
this is the best I can do
to pay the enormous debt that I owe
this woman with
my daughter's face.
And one time
After being scolded
Lotus said she wanted mommy.
I realized and asked.
"China Mommy?"
She nodded.
Then
tearfully
She raised her head
tears soaking er face
tears soaking my breast
to look me in the eye.
"I want China Mommy." she said
lifting her hand to my chin
"And You."
Her head returned
just above my heart
as more tears fell.
I held her,
and rocked her,
and internally praised her intelligence.
Because my four-and-a-half-year-old daughter
summed up adoption angst
in two words.
* The style of this post is a tribute to the book Brown Girl Dreaming by Jacqueline Woodson. I am in the middle of this amazing book told in verse so I tried to do a blog post in verse. Was I successful? Let me know.
Monday, March 6, 2017
Microblog Monday - If you become a teacher by your pupils you'll be taught
For the past year, one of the ways I have been earning money is by tutoring.
I love it. I love talking with the kids and listening to them.
My favorite pupils are siblings. The boy is a seventh grader. The girl is a high school sophomore. They are wonderful. They are first generation Chinese immigrants and after they learned that I am raising a Chinese daughter, we set aside five minutes from each lesson so they can teach me "things that a stupid American wouldn't know to teach her Chinese daughter." (Their words, not mine, but I'm not offended.)
They also talk about how they feel and I am watching them grow, and change.
The boy. I'll call him, Rob, was monosyllabic when we met. Now he talks to me in multisyllabic words. Part of that is trust. I say with only a little pride that he trusts me. I've watched him going from regular teenage boy to activist. We cut tutoring short a few weeks ago so he could go protest at the airports.
Another boy I tutored will run for President of the United States. This is what he says and I believe him. I would vote for him--he's more mature than the person in the White House now.
Then there is the teaching of a little girl which is part of my job as mother. Since I'm not earning as much we've cut down on her Pre-K classes. She goes 3 days a week and then the other two we have as "girls days." Sometimes we sit cuddled in front of the TV. Sometimes we go to the playground. Often we go to the library. And then there are days I teach her. I teach her about baking. I teach her about mitzvoth. I teach her about me.
And I learn.
I learn that sometimes she misses her China Mommy even though she doesn't remember her. Sometimes she wants her China Mommy, but she wants me too. I learn that sometimes it's okay just to be sad for a while. I learn that hugs are really great.
I've been debating of turning this love of individualized teaching to teaching in front of a classroom and I'm not sure. Until I am though, I like what is happening now. I like helping the kids through frustrations and I become hopeful that they will make the world they inherit better.
I love it. I love talking with the kids and listening to them.
My favorite pupils are siblings. The boy is a seventh grader. The girl is a high school sophomore. They are wonderful. They are first generation Chinese immigrants and after they learned that I am raising a Chinese daughter, we set aside five minutes from each lesson so they can teach me "things that a stupid American wouldn't know to teach her Chinese daughter." (Their words, not mine, but I'm not offended.)
They also talk about how they feel and I am watching them grow, and change.
The boy. I'll call him, Rob, was monosyllabic when we met. Now he talks to me in multisyllabic words. Part of that is trust. I say with only a little pride that he trusts me. I've watched him going from regular teenage boy to activist. We cut tutoring short a few weeks ago so he could go protest at the airports.
Another boy I tutored will run for President of the United States. This is what he says and I believe him. I would vote for him--he's more mature than the person in the White House now.
Then there is the teaching of a little girl which is part of my job as mother. Since I'm not earning as much we've cut down on her Pre-K classes. She goes 3 days a week and then the other two we have as "girls days." Sometimes we sit cuddled in front of the TV. Sometimes we go to the playground. Often we go to the library. And then there are days I teach her. I teach her about baking. I teach her about mitzvoth. I teach her about me.
And I learn.
I learn that sometimes she misses her China Mommy even though she doesn't remember her. Sometimes she wants her China Mommy, but she wants me too. I learn that sometimes it's okay just to be sad for a while. I learn that hugs are really great.
I've been debating of turning this love of individualized teaching to teaching in front of a classroom and I'm not sure. Until I am though, I like what is happening now. I like helping the kids through frustrations and I become hopeful that they will make the world they inherit better.
Monday, January 16, 2017
Microblog Monday - My Real Grandmother
Lotus is named after my grandmother. My father's mother.
I adored her. I looked up to her--even though by the time I was 14 I was taller than her. When I spoke of my grandmother, I meant her.
But I met both of my grandmothers. I met my mother's mother. She taught me how to bless the candles on Friday nights. She put dots of honey on my fingers and after I said some of the words right I would lick my fingers. She would read Torah stories to me. I remember her scent.
Grandma G. passed when I was around 7. I remember the funeral vividly. I remember my mother ripping a black ribbon as it was pinned to her suit. I remember that so well that when I was at my own mother's funeral, I flashed back to that day and broke down. It became real then.
But this isn't about my mom--or not really.
I came across a cache of pictures of my mother's parents. I never met my maternal grandfather, he died before I was born. My then 42 year old mother thought that her missed periods and nausea was extended mourning. She went to the doctor and was declared 4 months pregnant.
There are several pictures of me with my grandmother. But the picture that stopped me cold was a picture of both of my maternal grandparents--taken not long before my grandfather's death. In it my grandfather is smiling adoringly at my grandmother and she has--an almost shy smile on. It's the smile of a woman who loves the man she is with. It is a beautiful picture of two people very much in love.
I realized that while I had met my maternal grandmother--I didn't know her. Not because I was a child, but because so much of her died with my grandfather. This woman, with the shy, loving smile, this was my grandmother. The one my mother wept for. The one my mother knew.
Lotus met my mother but knew her less than a year. Afterwards my father had a lady friend who slipped effortlessly into the role and Lotus loves her. She knows and loves my father. He is Papa. He can't count. Every time he asks Lotus to give him three kisses he counts "one, one, one, one" He makes her giggle.
Today, I was looking through more pictures and I saw a picture of my father smiling so broadly with my mother in his arms smiling back. This is a lovely picture. I sucked in my breath as I realized I was staring at my real father. The complete one, the one with my mom at his side. No matter how long my father lives, Lotus will never know this man. My father, when he was complete.
I adored her. I looked up to her--even though by the time I was 14 I was taller than her. When I spoke of my grandmother, I meant her.
But I met both of my grandmothers. I met my mother's mother. She taught me how to bless the candles on Friday nights. She put dots of honey on my fingers and after I said some of the words right I would lick my fingers. She would read Torah stories to me. I remember her scent.
Grandma G. passed when I was around 7. I remember the funeral vividly. I remember my mother ripping a black ribbon as it was pinned to her suit. I remember that so well that when I was at my own mother's funeral, I flashed back to that day and broke down. It became real then.
But this isn't about my mom--or not really.
I came across a cache of pictures of my mother's parents. I never met my maternal grandfather, he died before I was born. My then 42 year old mother thought that her missed periods and nausea was extended mourning. She went to the doctor and was declared 4 months pregnant.
There are several pictures of me with my grandmother. But the picture that stopped me cold was a picture of both of my maternal grandparents--taken not long before my grandfather's death. In it my grandfather is smiling adoringly at my grandmother and she has--an almost shy smile on. It's the smile of a woman who loves the man she is with. It is a beautiful picture of two people very much in love.
I realized that while I had met my maternal grandmother--I didn't know her. Not because I was a child, but because so much of her died with my grandfather. This woman, with the shy, loving smile, this was my grandmother. The one my mother wept for. The one my mother knew.
Lotus met my mother but knew her less than a year. Afterwards my father had a lady friend who slipped effortlessly into the role and Lotus loves her. She knows and loves my father. He is Papa. He can't count. Every time he asks Lotus to give him three kisses he counts "one, one, one, one" He makes her giggle.
Today, I was looking through more pictures and I saw a picture of my father smiling so broadly with my mother in his arms smiling back. This is a lovely picture. I sucked in my breath as I realized I was staring at my real father. The complete one, the one with my mom at his side. No matter how long my father lives, Lotus will never know this man. My father, when he was complete.
Thursday, October 27, 2016
What Alice Forgot
It's been a bit since I've talked about the Pages part of the blog.
I've been rereading a lot. I tend to do that when I'm under stress and this election is stressing me out.
However when a librarian puts a book in my hand I at least read the first ten pages.
The librarian shoved the book What Alice Forgot by Liane Moriarty into my hands and told me to read it. I trust this librarian. She introduced me to The Black Dagger Brotherhood and likes a lot of the same books I do.
So I brought it home. I didn't plan to read it.
Then I thought I would go ten pages, and I was caught up.
The premise is deceptively simple. Alice, a 39 year old woman with three kids who is separated from her husband falls at the gym and hits her head. She wakes up thinking that she is 29, pregnant with her first child and still deliriously happy with her husband.
It forces the reader to ask a question--if you met yourself 10 years ago--what would that younger person think of you? What would she think of the choices you have made?
I also have to praise it for being one of the most realistic portrayals of infertility I have ever read. Alice's sister, Elizabeth, you see, has had recurrent miscarriages. A decade ago they were close, now infertility has separated them. There were times when I read Elizabeth's story that I wanted to shriek that someone had read my diary. It is brilliant.
This is a good one and I wonder if any of my blog -readers have read it, if so I would like to discuss it.
If you haven't--pick this one up. It is wonderful!
I've been rereading a lot. I tend to do that when I'm under stress and this election is stressing me out.
However when a librarian puts a book in my hand I at least read the first ten pages.
The librarian shoved the book What Alice Forgot by Liane Moriarty into my hands and told me to read it. I trust this librarian. She introduced me to The Black Dagger Brotherhood and likes a lot of the same books I do.
So I brought it home. I didn't plan to read it.
Then I thought I would go ten pages, and I was caught up.
The premise is deceptively simple. Alice, a 39 year old woman with three kids who is separated from her husband falls at the gym and hits her head. She wakes up thinking that she is 29, pregnant with her first child and still deliriously happy with her husband.
It forces the reader to ask a question--if you met yourself 10 years ago--what would that younger person think of you? What would she think of the choices you have made?
I also have to praise it for being one of the most realistic portrayals of infertility I have ever read. Alice's sister, Elizabeth, you see, has had recurrent miscarriages. A decade ago they were close, now infertility has separated them. There were times when I read Elizabeth's story that I wanted to shriek that someone had read my diary. It is brilliant.
This is a good one and I wonder if any of my blog -readers have read it, if so I would like to discuss it.
If you haven't--pick this one up. It is wonderful!
Monday, October 17, 2016
Microblog Mondays - Assumptions about choice
We are finally in the last stages of this interminable election. There are quite a few women I know who are voting for Trump or a third party candidate.
The women who are voting for Trump--all of them that I have spoken to which is in no way a scientific survey--cite the Supreme Court and anti-choice views as their reason.
When life begins--at conception, at sometime in utero, at birth--I don't know, I don't pretend to know.
When I did IVF and I saw those little dots on the screen--they were real to me. I was overwhelmed at how protective I was of those little dots. They were mine. When the IVF failed I was so despondent I can't put it into words.
That being said, I can't and won't use my beliefs and how I felt to say how others can and should feel.
I should say this. Pro-life is not the right term.
Anti choice is.
If you are voting for someone so that he will put forth justices that will force women to have babies that they don't want, and it doesn't bother you that he has no problem sexually molesting these self-same women--you are not pro-life, you are anti-choice.
If you do not see that there should be mandatory maternity and family leave, you are not pro-life you are anti-choice.
Please understand that, according to the Jewish religion, when the health (physical or mental) of the mother is in danger the pregnancy must be terminated. Not should, not can, must. If you can't embrace that because of your religion, you are not pro-life, you are anti-choice.
Do understand, if abortion is outlawed--there will still be abortion. It will just be unsafe.
Towards the end of her life my mom opened up about her college friend, Julie. She died because she had an unsafe abortion. My mom said that Julie was her best friend in college. Had she lived, I would have called her Aunt Julie. She was taken away from me because men in the 1940s didn't want to trust women with their own bodies. I would have liked her, my mom said. When I think of mom in the afterlife I like thinking of her with Aunt Julie, eating chocolate and drinking wine. She died horribly.
If you want to force women into this situation, don't you dare call yourself pro-life. You are anti-choice.
The women who are voting for Trump--all of them that I have spoken to which is in no way a scientific survey--cite the Supreme Court and anti-choice views as their reason.
When life begins--at conception, at sometime in utero, at birth--I don't know, I don't pretend to know.
When I did IVF and I saw those little dots on the screen--they were real to me. I was overwhelmed at how protective I was of those little dots. They were mine. When the IVF failed I was so despondent I can't put it into words.
That being said, I can't and won't use my beliefs and how I felt to say how others can and should feel.
I should say this. Pro-life is not the right term.
Anti choice is.
If you are voting for someone so that he will put forth justices that will force women to have babies that they don't want, and it doesn't bother you that he has no problem sexually molesting these self-same women--you are not pro-life, you are anti-choice.
If you do not see that there should be mandatory maternity and family leave, you are not pro-life you are anti-choice.
Please understand that, according to the Jewish religion, when the health (physical or mental) of the mother is in danger the pregnancy must be terminated. Not should, not can, must. If you can't embrace that because of your religion, you are not pro-life, you are anti-choice.
Do understand, if abortion is outlawed--there will still be abortion. It will just be unsafe.
Towards the end of her life my mom opened up about her college friend, Julie. She died because she had an unsafe abortion. My mom said that Julie was her best friend in college. Had she lived, I would have called her Aunt Julie. She was taken away from me because men in the 1940s didn't want to trust women with their own bodies. I would have liked her, my mom said. When I think of mom in the afterlife I like thinking of her with Aunt Julie, eating chocolate and drinking wine. She died horribly.
If you want to force women into this situation, don't you dare call yourself pro-life. You are anti-choice.
Monday, October 10, 2016
Microblog Monday - The sins of the mother
When I think of being Jewish, of the High Holidays, I always think about the Al-Chet. I allude to it, I think about it.
For the sins which we have committed.
Most of the time I go to synagogue alone. D isn't Jewish and Lotus isn't old enough to get much out of it. It is easier to let her stay home with D.
So I'm standing on Yom Kippur thinking about my own sins.
I think about Lotus. She is wonderful. She fills my arms with hugs and lets me show her the world. She listens when I talk, and I try to explain the world to it as I see it.
I wish for the current year that I can be the mother that my little girl deserves.
There are sometimes I don't want to watch Elena of Avelor for the ntheenth time. I want to watch something adult.
There are times I don't want to cuddle, or play. I want to sleep.
There are times that as much as I love her little voice I just want quiet.
There are times I think I am totally fucking up this motherhood deal and maybe that's why I don't have a biological child.
There are times I think, What right do I have to be annoyed or discontented when I prayed and wished and waited every single day for nearly a dozen years for this? How dare I not be smiling and happy every single day.
I want so badly to talk to my mother to see if she felt this too. While I could, and I'd be fairly sure she'd hear me, I won't get an answer. i miss her when I think I'm fucking up this motherhood thing.
For all these sins, God of atonement, forgive us, pardon us, grant us atonement.
For the sins which we have committed.
Most of the time I go to synagogue alone. D isn't Jewish and Lotus isn't old enough to get much out of it. It is easier to let her stay home with D.
So I'm standing on Yom Kippur thinking about my own sins.
I think about Lotus. She is wonderful. She fills my arms with hugs and lets me show her the world. She listens when I talk, and I try to explain the world to it as I see it.
I wish for the current year that I can be the mother that my little girl deserves.
There are sometimes I don't want to watch Elena of Avelor for the ntheenth time. I want to watch something adult.
There are times I don't want to cuddle, or play. I want to sleep.
There are times that as much as I love her little voice I just want quiet.
There are times I think I am totally fucking up this motherhood deal and maybe that's why I don't have a biological child.
There are times I think, What right do I have to be annoyed or discontented when I prayed and wished and waited every single day for nearly a dozen years for this? How dare I not be smiling and happy every single day.
I want so badly to talk to my mother to see if she felt this too. While I could, and I'd be fairly sure she'd hear me, I won't get an answer. i miss her when I think I'm fucking up this motherhood thing.
For all these sins, God of atonement, forgive us, pardon us, grant us atonement.
Sunday, October 9, 2016
The new year
I was surprised that it has been a bit since I've blogged.
The Jewish Holidays came along.
I wrote this. I couldn't get it published on any of the usual sites so I published it on Medium.
I took the Praxis--which means that I have been considering becoming a teacher.
I passed the Praxis. Now I'm not sure what I'm going to do.
Lotus is growing by leaps and bounds. She's taking steps towards reading. She's noticing words on signs. Words like "No" and "Name" reading is just around the corner. She's not even 5 yet.
There are things I want to do in the new year. I want to be more productive. I want to do more tutoring and maybe teach.
It's going to be a big year of change.
The Jewish Holidays came along.
I wrote this. I couldn't get it published on any of the usual sites so I published it on Medium.
I took the Praxis--which means that I have been considering becoming a teacher.
I passed the Praxis. Now I'm not sure what I'm going to do.
Lotus is growing by leaps and bounds. She's taking steps towards reading. She's noticing words on signs. Words like "No" and "Name" reading is just around the corner. She's not even 5 yet.
There are things I want to do in the new year. I want to be more productive. I want to do more tutoring and maybe teach.
It's going to be a big year of change.
Monday, September 19, 2016
Microblog Monday - Mourning needs more than a hug
Lotus has been talking about China Mommy lately.
We all talk about her. She's the reason we have Lotus. She's the reason Lotus has these amazing brown eyes while D and I have blue. We talk about her like we talk about my Aunt Vivian. She is a treasured relative who we don't see much.
Yesterday Lotus said "I miss China Mommy." I gave her a hug and said that it was okay and natural and right to miss her. I suggested that we hug each other real tight and we'll send all that love over an ocean an right to China Mommy's heart. We hugged and hugged and I don't mind saying that I felt pretty good about this. I felt like I did something right.
Then last night she had a meltdown. She started screaming, crying, and I just held her and rocked her. She didn't repeat that she missed China Mommy--she didn't have to. I've been mourning my mother for two years, I know what mourning looks like. She cried and I rocked her and held her. She let me--even though I was concerned that she would push me away. We rocked and straightened out what she didn't want to do--even though a blind man could see that wasn't what the tantrum was about.
Today on the way to school she said "I miss China Mommy." and I (behind the wheel of the car) struggled for wisdom. I said maybe when we were older we could go to China and try to find China Mommy. Then she got upset and practically broke down until I told her we could return to New Jersey.
When I dropped her off at school I sang our song "Mommy comes back." and she hugged me and kissed me. Had she broke down again I might have said fine, let's take the day off, but she was okay.
It just left me thinking that she's mourning China Mommy and will most of her life. It takes more than a hug to get through it.
We all talk about her. She's the reason we have Lotus. She's the reason Lotus has these amazing brown eyes while D and I have blue. We talk about her like we talk about my Aunt Vivian. She is a treasured relative who we don't see much.
Yesterday Lotus said "I miss China Mommy." I gave her a hug and said that it was okay and natural and right to miss her. I suggested that we hug each other real tight and we'll send all that love over an ocean an right to China Mommy's heart. We hugged and hugged and I don't mind saying that I felt pretty good about this. I felt like I did something right.
Then last night she had a meltdown. She started screaming, crying, and I just held her and rocked her. She didn't repeat that she missed China Mommy--she didn't have to. I've been mourning my mother for two years, I know what mourning looks like. She cried and I rocked her and held her. She let me--even though I was concerned that she would push me away. We rocked and straightened out what she didn't want to do--even though a blind man could see that wasn't what the tantrum was about.
Today on the way to school she said "I miss China Mommy." and I (behind the wheel of the car) struggled for wisdom. I said maybe when we were older we could go to China and try to find China Mommy. Then she got upset and practically broke down until I told her we could return to New Jersey.
When I dropped her off at school I sang our song "Mommy comes back." and she hugged me and kissed me. Had she broke down again I might have said fine, let's take the day off, but she was okay.
It just left me thinking that she's mourning China Mommy and will most of her life. It takes more than a hug to get through it.
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