Selfish Shopping
I’ll admit, the surprise court date kicked my nesting instinct into gear. I’ve been making purchases for Etta since last summer, thanks to online clearance sales and going out of business sales (check out Ginger and Scallion, not a whole lot left, but Etta just raked it in at 50% off, free shipping and no tax, and I got a new hotsling for $25). Seems like I really had imagined that she would be far older – like a two-year old. Almost all of the clothes I had purchased for her were meant for an 18 month old at least. There are some really great coats in Size 3, even. Obviously I needed to stock up on some appropriately sized clothes.
In addition to Etta’s amazing wardrobe (really, it’s something else; she’s going to be looking great until about age 3, when I file for bankruptcy; I wish I had some of these things in my closet, honestly), I’ve been making some major purchases for Oscar. Lots of workbooks and activity books and all kinds of educational materials geared towards increasing his cognition (we’re working on letters, colors and shapes currently) and many a toy or piece of equipment to enhance his “sensory diet” (that’s sensory processing talk). We have a mini trampoline on our way that I really hope will be helpful (at a minimum, it might save one of the beds), as well as a weighted blanket in a super-plush fabric that I hope will be as “magical” as people say, and some musical equipment, including egg shakers and, help me, a drum. Still working on finding some interesting objects with flashing or colored lights that are appropriate for a two-year old, so any leads would be appreciated. I ran across this odd rubber whomping worm thing with a light that flashes when hit that’s a good start, but we need more. Oscar is “sensory seeking”, so the thought with all of this is that if his day is filled with a variety of sensations, his life will be easier for him. He won’t get as wound up, he won’t (literally) bounce around as much and his mind will settle a little, helping him focus a bit better. I’m tempted to keep these all as gifts for him when Etta comes home, at least the trampoline and drum, but just don’t know.
So, I’ve done that, but that is not the shopping that has me perplexed. Today we made a run to Target, and I came home with new bedding. You’re saying, “so what”, right? Okay, I’ll explain, but first – whoever came up with the idea to have a children’s story time at Target on Saturday morning, complete with gift bags (with goldfish crackers, juice and candy!) and balloons, is a genius. Seriously, I love you and will shop at your store many more times.
Back to the shopping. I walked out of the store today basically with a new bed. From mattress pad to shams and everything in between. But none of this was for Etta or even for Oscar, who theoretically at least will be bed-less when his sister arrives, since she’s taking the crib he’s never used. It was for me. Isn’t the nesting instinct supposed to be for the child you’re bringing into your family? Not yourself? I’ll even add that I didn’t stop at the bedding. I added a dvd player for my room (albeit the very cheapest one), and when we got home, I went downstairs, absconded with the unused television next to my unplugged treadmill and redid my bedroom. Since we’re believers in the Family Bed practice round here, perhaps I can tell myself that this wasn’t entirely self-interested? That Oscar will sleep easier on the new sheets and under the really soft new comforter? And we’ll all be happier now that I can entertain Oscar with some movies in the morning while I attempt to gain precious minutes of additional sleep?
The reality is that I think I was getting embarrassed by my bedding. Or, the lack of bedding. We’ve been cobbling together whatever blanket and sheets I can find a couple times a week and I really haven’t liked it. I’m pretty sure I haven’t had “bedding” since I lived in Dallas (um, 4 years ago). I was sort of living like a guy (in fact there was a little hole in one of the sheets I disposed of today, I cringingly admit). Now we have a pretty bed (well, the bed was always awesome, we now have pretty linens) and a little 26″ LCD tv in the bedroom. See, not living like a guy anymore. What guy would own a 26″ tv?
I’ve decided I’m going old-school with Etta’s bedding situation. I’m re-converting the crib from a toddler bed into a crib and putting her next to my bed. From what I can tell, the kids at our agency’s care center sleep in cribs, so as much as I love the co-sleeping for attachment purposes, I think I might be better off in the long run if I keep her in a crib. We’ll see how that goes. Oscar’s room apparently will officially be a playroom when we move the crib. Extra room for toys, ugh.
Single digits tomorrow!!!
The suckitude of the past two weeks Part I
I suppose it wasn’t a nervous breakdown, but my referral certainly set off a chain of events (or perhaps was simply the first in a chain of events) that had me shutting down many things that were not mandatory for me to do. Like, you know, blogging and wearing makeup and stuff like that.
I received Etta’s referral and was thrilled, but along with the excitement came all of those emotions that I felt when I received Oscar’s referral. The whole “this is my child (?)” thing. Ugh. It was bad enough the first time I went through this (the questioning, not the adopting). I was really doing it again? So, I spent days poring over Etta’s pictures (the very few good ones all thanks to one really awesome mom who just picked up her son) wondering about her. What she really looked like, how old she really was, will she hate me, does she laugh or smile, how big she was . . . was she meant to be part of our family. Whoa. What?
As many of you know, I am not a “meant to be” person. I reject determinism (basically the belief that every event is causally determined – in fact, a lot of you probably do, too; if you believe that things are pre-determined to happen, ask yourself whether you should blame people when they do something “bad” or wrong; is it right to punish someone when their actions were pre-determined? or do you ultimately believe that they had some part in their actions? - sorry, the philosophy lecture is now over). So, why was I obsessing over whether this tiny little girl was fated to be my daughter?
I have some thoughts on the why’s, but ultimately, that doesn’t matter. I think it’s appropriate to freak out a little when you’re matched with a child. It’s natural to wonder whether this little person, a complete and total stranger, would want to be a part of your family. Whether the whole mother-child bond will happen. How the addition of another child will impact the child you have at home. Whether you’ll be able to make it all work out.
Sadly, that’s not what I was worrying about with Etta. I was not thinking about whether that bond would happen or, more appropriately, when it would happen. Ultimately it dawned on me that I was engaging in exactly the behavior that I found confusing in others. Wondering whether she was “the one.” When I realized what I was doing, I looked back at what initially motivated me to adopt. That had nothing to do with finding the “right” child. The child who was meant to be with me. I was motivated by wanting to have a family and wanting to build that family through adopting a child who simply needed a family.
When I figured this out, everything went back to normal, to the extent that can exist during an adoption process. It does not matter whether Etta was divinely or mystically fated to be in our family. It just matters that she is part of it and that I know I’ll do whatever is needed to make sure our family works. . . at least until the kids are teenagers. At that point, all bets are off.
And so it begins
The countdown, that is.
I spent the day yesterday in a haze. I honestly had difficulty believing that the morning’s news was real. But, it was, and it just kept getting better. Five waiting families with my agency received the same court date yesterday. Even better? One of them is a friend of mine (another single mom adopting her first child, a precious baby boy). I don’t want to get my hopes up that we’ll pass on our first attempts and then be able to travel together! Well, I don’t want to get my hopes up, but I sort of already have. Another cool thing? Another friend will be in Addis Ababa at her visa appointment while we’re at court. Maybe she could pop by to make sure my letter gets there and everything’s in order? Well, maybe not, what with her adopting a five-year old girl of her own and all. I guess she’ll have her hands full, huh.
So, what happens next? I wait twelve more days for my court date. C’mon – 12 mere days. There is a very good chance that we won’t pass on our first attempt. A lot goes into getting through court, so I’m not counting on passing. Of course, I’d love to (obviously, and for reasons I’ll explain later), but I’m not counting on it. Even if I don’t pass on my first attempt, I’m still ahead in my book. I always thought I’d have at least two court dates, so even if I do, I’m ok with the timing, given my ridiculously fortunate timeline for getting my first court date.
Why would it be great if we passed court on the 10th? March 10th is my dad’s birthday. I would love it if Etta joined our family that day. Oscar was born on my maternal grandmother’s birthday, so it would be lovely if Etta’s first day as an official member of this family had a similar link. The 10th is also very important to me in that it is the anniversary of the day on which I was divorced. Ah, sweet memories. But that’s a completely different story perhaps for another time.
Court Date?
You know how to kill one of those “do one post per day” projects? Get a referral. Clearly there’s been a lot going on around here in the past 17 days. I’ll get around to telling you about some of it soon, but there’s one thing I thought I would mention. You know how I told a lot of you IRL that my next step was to get a court date? And that court would be sometime in April maybe? I was wrong. So wrong.
After a record-breaking wait to get my referral, I got a court date this morning! On March 10th (13 short days from now) our case should be heard and Etta might be officially part of our family. Holy *$#@!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
9:28 – Share
Oscar is the quintessential only child. He has no real concept of sharing or waiting for his turn. Two concepts we met frequently on our weekend get-away. We ended up riding the carousel half a dozen times simply because there was little to no wait, unlike his other favorite ride (Dumbo). He was able to wait patiently for a few minutes but anything more than five minutes got him to his boiling point.
I tried to use this as an opportunity to teach him the concept of sharing and your turn/my turn. Sharing is signed by opening both hands with the fingers together meeting at a 90 degree angle. Move your right hand towards the thumb of your left hand and then back to the right. The movement of the hand represents dividing up things that are to be shared. Oscar didn’t repeat this sign, but he’s getting hit with it hard right now, since I’d prefer not to have an over-indulged, non-sharing child.
An example? Here’s Oscar running to meet Mickey. Sweet, huh? Yeah, until you find out that he cut to the head of a line of at least 25 people. People waiting in line to meet Mickey are not nice. Not even to a cute 2 year old bursting at the seams at the thought of meeting a mouse. Just thought you should know.
Yes, I got a referral!
Sorry for the confusion my last message created for some of you. I was trying to share news without the luxury of the time to do so properly. I’ll rewind.
Last week I cracked. I had been somewhat patient in my wait for a referral, but that patience abandoned me weeks ago. By last week I was beyond reason; pretty much losing my sanity when I started to believe that I wouldn’t receive a referral until next month. As a result, when given the opportunity to take the little guy on a weekend trip away, I thought it would be good for both of us. He’d get to go to an amusement park and I’d get to get away from the stress of the wait (I hear those of you who have adopted laughing right now).
While we were on our trip I emailed my coordinator to see whether she thought there would be any new baby girl referrals. Since becoming #1 on the wait list, I had started emailing her once a week to check in. I figured emailing was less invasive than calling, when I figured she would sit there thinking “would you please stop asking me when you’re getting a referral?” I usually check in on Monday, but since I had just hit the month mark at #1, decided to accelerate it. Sometimes our agency gets word that new children have come to the orphanage but they can’t give the referral because they’re waiting on medical info, etc. My coordinator responded to my question saying “no; nothing right now.” I figured it would be at least a couple of weeks before I heard anything, so I just resigned myself to another period of staring at the phone, willing it to ring and being disappointed when 3:00 rolled around on weekdays and my agency shut down for the night.
Oscar and I wrapped up our trip and headed to the airport early, where we sat for hours waiting for our much delayed flight. The not so perfect ending to a quick trip to the Happiest Place on Earth. I spent some time emailing friends and colleagues and when our flight was finally about to depart grabbed my phone to turn it off. I looked down and was more than a little surprised to see this…
Missed calls from my agency! I was pretty sure I knew what this meant, so I hustled to call my coordinator as quickly as possible while juggling Oscar, my 20 pound monster bag (the orange leather one in the pic below – greatest diaper bag ever, BTW!), my blackberry, my phone and Oscar’s stroller (which I was trying to simultaneously fold up) as we walked down the jetway to the plane. My coordinator gave me all the relevant details – beautiful little baby girl, 3 months, maybe 4 months old, where she comes from and what her name is and its meaning (which is so perfect). And she told me at least three times how beautiful she was, which ended up being really nice to hear because the picture of I got wasn’t the greatest quality. We got off the phone when the flight attendant kept glaring at me, and I kept downloading info from my blackberry as they were shutting the door of the plane. I was able to save her social report and her photo, so I spent a chunk of the flight looking at those while trying to keep Oscar entertained. For some reason he wasn’t as enthralled by these things as I was.
Since then, it’s been a whirlwind of activity sharing the great news, and of course accepting the referral. I managed to snap and post a pic of Oscar in the t-shirt I ordered for him eons ago in a hope that a picture of him could serve to spread the word while I waited to formally accept. That t-shirt, by the way, was designed and ordered in mid-September, when it looked like my referral was imminent. It’s now almost too small for Oscar and traveled with us to Mexico and Oklahoma. That’s how sure I was that I would get my referral before Christmas. I was so certain I would not get a referral on this trip that it stayed in the closet.
I’ve decided that the next time that things get too stressful in this adoption we’re heading to Disneyland. I promise not to complete that thought by making some schmaltzy reference to being the place where dreams come true. Okay, I lied.
8:28 – Sister
I know that I’ve already told you that Oscar knows how to sign “sister” (rub your thumb along your right jaw and then take both index fingers and meet them together in front of your chest), but please indulge me. Despite the fact that we already know this sign, we gave it some practice today – and Oscar even said the word “sister” using his words. Anyone know why?
7:28 – Swim
Let me first say that I now get the Disney thing. We never went to Disneyland or World until I was in college, so I truly expected this to be a bit of a wasted experience for Oscar on most levels. Fun, yes, but I thought he’d miss most of it. Wrong.
My somewhat reserved little guy bolted from his stroller in a dead run when he spied Mickey Mouse holding court on Main Street. When I started humming It’s a Small World he didn’t hit me or grunt repeatedly as he usually does when I dare to sing. Instead, he put his hands on either side of my face and rested his forehead on mine. Remarkable, really.
This afternoon we returned to the hotel for a break and I taught him the sign for “swim” (small breast-stroke moves) and he repeatedly signed it back to me. I was so proud of him that I took him swimming despite the fact it was about 55 degrees outside. Alternating between the somewhat heated pool and overheated hot tub bought us two hours of fun before Oscar’s lips turned, and stayed, blue. Even the magic of Disney wasn’t enough to save us from the biggest fit since Vietnam when I forcibly removed him. He’s sleeping it off now before we head back for our final hours at the park. Two days was nowhere near enough.
6:28 – Happy
Jeesh, what a day. First, we made it to Disneyland. Who knew so much went into taking a two year old away from the house for two nights? With all the stuff I packed, we may as well be gone for a month. So much for packing light.
Oscar is still a pretty good traveler, but he’s exerting his independence much more. Makes being in a confined space an absolute joy. Can’t wait to try it on a flight to Dubai.
We didn’t spend a ton of time learning new signs today, but I did teach him “happy”. What else would work here? Happy is signed by making a circular motion with both hands (flat) at chest level, moving down and back up, slightly hitting your chest. He didn’t even attpt this one, but that’s okay. We’ll keep on it.
He’s definitely feeling happy, though. Aside from an expected meltdown when he couldn’t ride Dumbo or the carousel for the third time each, he’s had an extremely happy day. If I had brought my laptop, I could post real pics, but for now all I have is this from the parking lot this morning.
5:28 – Signing
Since I spent the evening packing for our weekend getaway, most of Oscar’s sign language came via our Signing Time DVD tonight. However, I did work with him on the word “signing”, which I’m trying to use with him as a cue (if he can’t say a word, I’m trying to both say and sign “sign” so he knows the two are interchangeable. Not sure he gets it yet, but I think he might. Off to Disneyland in the morning!
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Etta’s Hats
Where I’ve Been
