A joke no one else will think is funny

Today, on this lovely spring-like afternoon, I went for a jog and took Miles with me on his bike. On the way home, he was complaining about a very loud car, and I took on the Daddy role briefly and explained about mufflers. I felt rather proud of myself.

A few blocks later, a van screeched to a halt, brakes squealing. I explained that that car probably needed new brakes, and that was why it sounded like that.

Miles answered, "Yeah, it sounds JUST like macaroni cooking in a pot!" Um...?

It took me a second, but I got it. And now I will explain it to you:

We have a magnetic induction cooktop (which, incidentally, I LOVE when it's not being repaired). When a pot of water is boiling, and steam is escaping between the lid and pot, because of the magnetic vibrations it makes this very high-pitched metal-on-metal squeal until you reach over and adjust the lid.

Precisely like a van in need of a brake job.

So yes, Miles, that guy's brakes did sound like cooking macaroni.

Not measuring up

The other day I was noticing, not for the first time, that African-American women don't appear in public without being pretty put-together. This is a trait I admire, but a habit I've failed to develop myself. This is a generalization, but for the most part,

Black women:

- have their hair styled

Emily:

- a ponytail IS a style, right?

Black women:

- have their fingernails long and manicured

Emily:

- only bites hers when watching movies. Mostly.

Black women:

- wear make-up, and often have really awesome skin underneath it.

Emily:

- makes it a goal to put on mascara on days she leaves the house.

Black women:

- wear not-insignificant amounts of jewelry

Emily:

- a couple years ago made a resolution to try to look more put-together. This involves trying to remember to wear earrings most of the time.

Black women:

- accessorize in other ways (scarves, designer purses, belts, hats, etc.)

Emily:

- see previous. Have not worn a belt since high school. A scarf is for keeping my neck warm outdoors. And of course I own a purse, or maybe it's a diaper bag. More than one would involve shuffling my stuff back and forth, and I'm too lazy for that.

Black women:

- wear clothes with labels. Today, one of my Muslim friends (a very modest woman) was jogging in her headscarf on the treadmill, and Miles read her butt aloud: "Love Pink". I told her she was corrupting my son by advertising on her rear.

Emily:

- wears workout clothes with labels. Sometimes they say Old Navy.

Black women:

- wear shoes that are an important part of their outfits (a couple ladies at my gym have gym shoes in 10 or 12 colors, to go with each outfit)

Emily:

- wears shoes that are comfortable and flat. Buys multiple pairs of the same shoe when she finds one she likes.

Hmm.

You see, when I think of accessorizing, in my mind that's something as simple as putting on a bra. After all, if I can go to the grocery store without it, then it counts as an accessory (and therefore optional) in my book. So shoes are not an accessory, but by that definition, a bra is.

Sigh. Yet another way in which I'm not the ideal cultural role model for my children...the question is, do I care enough to invest the effort into changing this rather than working to change something else about myself (perhaps something with deeper moral or spiritual significance?)

We'll see, but the exit polls are showing a slim chance at best.

Jumping back on the bandwagon

Adopting AGAIN?

Are we crazy? Are we trying to get our own TV show? Or have we somehow failed to notice the 6-month-old in the next bedroom?

No, no, and definitely no. But there's a short version and a long meandering version here. Let's start with the short, simple one today:

Last week, we submitted our pre-application to adopt again, this time from Haiti! The international process will probably take close to 18 months, so that's why we're starting so early (and in case you're wondering, I cannot imagine having an additional child right now...but we are pretty confident we do want another, and we would like for Juliet to have someone within 2 years of her age, hence...this plan).

We’re hoping to adopt siblings – if things go smoothly (which they won't, since nothing is totally predictable in adoption) we’re guessing we would be bringing them home in summer 2013, so when Miles is 6 1/2 , Eleanor is 5, and Juliet is 2, we’d be bringing home a 3-4 year old and a 1-year-old, or something roughly like that. That’s the ideal anyway, but we’ll just see how it goes; kids don't come made-to-order to fit OUR needs, so we want to be open to as many variables as possible, including the age of the children. The one thing we will probably not flex on is the maximum age; Miles is adamant that he does NOT want an older sibling, and I've read enough about adopting out of birth order that I believe displacing him as the oldest would be pretty traumatic and cause a lot of sibling resentment. So that limits us to kids under age 6 (in 2013, that is).

For those of you curious about adoption, here's a few facts:

Unlike many countries, because of the poverty and recent disasters in Haiti, there are more children in need than families waiting to adopt them, which is pretty heart-wrenching. In terms of a time frame, our home study will probably take 3-4 months. The home study is the process where you submit a whole bunch of paperwork - financial data, medical histories, criminal background checks, etc. - to a US adoption agency, get interviewed by them, and then finally they do actually check your home (mostly to make sure you do have a bedroom for the child you want to adopt, you don't leave guns or household poisons lying around, you do actually have heat and running water, etc.) Then they write a home study, which is the document that certifies you have been approved by a licensed agency to adopt. It's a whole lot of paperwork and time to net you four pages of paper.

After that, we send our dossier (lots MORE paperwork, including annoying stuff like certified notarized stamped original birth certificates for everyone in the family) to Haiti. This will probably happen in mid-June, when Scott turns 35 and we are finally old enough to qualify; Haiti has some pretty stringent rules about who they accept as adoptive parents, though it's apparently quite possible to get a waiver for some of them, since otherwise almost no one would be allowed to adopt from there).

And then we will probably get our child referrals pretty quickly, probably within a month or two (a referral is when you get assigned a child, sent photos and medical/social information, and you have to accept the referral and commit to that child or else turn it down and ask for a different one). And then it’s about a 12 month wait (estimated) to go through all the court process, paperwork, immigration, etc. until you actually bring your child(ren) home. One nice thing about Haiti is that it’s so close, we can fly there to visit “our” kids once we have a referral. They have a guest house where you can live with your adopted children and get to know each other, etc; that’s pretty cool.

So that's the short version. If you'd like to know more about adoption in general or about our journey in particular, I always LOVE to talk about my favorite subject!

Juliet's adoption is complete!

Hooray!

This morning we had our adoption court hearing in Salt Lake City. We flew out last night (fussy teething baby plus late night wasn't a great combination) and flew home this afternoon, so it was a whirlwind trip.

Here I am with Juliet in her Adoption dress (aka Christmas dress, I know. I figured I put enough work into it that she better wear it at least once more,'cause it's getting short.)



And adoption court was pretty...um...uneventful. I won't say boring or pointless (though I might think it), because after all, adding this little girl to our lives is a wonderful gift, and we treasure her. But some of the paperwork and legal hoops feel less like treasures, and "rituals" not being particularly important to my personality type, this one felt like rather a bother.

To clarify: many of the adoption court judges in Salt Lake City will waive the requirement for an out-of-state family to appear at their adoption finalization. We drew a fairly new judge, though, and he required us to show up in person with the baby, in order to answer a few earth-shatteringly vital questions like, "Are you married to the man sitting next to you?", "Have you seen this document before? Is that your signature on it?", and "Do you realize that this child will have the same rights as any biological children?" (to which, with an inward eye-roll, I wanted to reply, "um, of COURSE...that's the whole point why we're here!") I confined myself to a polite series of yesses, though, thank you very much!

Here we are in the courtroom with the man I grew to think of, not precisely as Evil Judge, but perhaps as Nitpicky Judge (who was a very nice and kind man who probably cares deeply about the welfare of children, which is why he wanted to see us in person to make sure we're not meth addicts or involved in child buying or something).



Our lawyer (whom we'd never spoken with before) did a fine job, as he ought to for $200/hour or whatever it is we paid him.

And we received an entirely unexpected blessing, too. The adoption agency sent a representative (as apparently they are required to do). After we were finished and waiting for copies of our paperwork, this woman told us that her youngest adopted son was Juliet's double-first-cousin! Jules' birthmom is a twin, and her twin sister had placed her son for adoption five years previously.

This was just so thrilling to me! We have a closed adoption with Juliet (not by our preference), so we do not have any contact with any of her birth family, though if they ever choose to look for us, we've told the agency to please give them our contact info. So while Miles and Eleanor will grow up able to email/call/Facebook/visit with with their birthmothers and even a few other birth relatives, Juliet will likely not have this option. This cousin may be the only relative she would have the option of meeting. And I call him a double-first-cousin because not only are their mothers twins, their fathers (the boyfriends of the respective twins) are apparently also brothers.

AND this adoption worker, bless her heart, brought us copies of a number of photos of her son, of Jamie (Juliet's birthmom) and Jasmine (Marcus' birthmom) with baby Marcus, AND of a young Malasha, Jamie's older daughter and Juliet's full sister, whom she may also never get to meet.

I am getting teary just writing about this, but the thoughtfulness of this other adoptive mother really blessed me, and I hope I can do the same for someone someday. What a gift: the gift of family, of origins, of a biological connection to someone. Juliet may never desire that, may never care; I know some adopted children don't. But I am so grateful to have this to share with her just in case she does!

unwelcome surprise

It's been a bit of a rough week. First, I hurt my back working out on Tuesday (not seriously injured, just stressed/sore/strained muscles), so going up stairs or bending over to pick up anything at all has been challenging. Also on Tuesday, our stove died, right in the middle of a massive amount of freezer cooking. So now I have a fridge full of chopped vegetables and raw chicken, and I have no way to make the appropriate sauces to complete the dishes. The replacement part is ordered, but will take a week to get here.

Incidentally, do you know how hard it is to come up with a non-cereal breakfast without a stove? Eggs...no. Pancakes..no. Oatmeal...no. I know many of those have a baked version, but that takes a lot more time to cook and plan-ahead-ability. And most of my go-to quickie dinners also involve the stove. Macaroni and cheese? Pasta with some kind of sauce and sauteed veggies? Stir-fry with rice? Even breakfast-for-dinner? All out.

So today, I've been icing my back and lying on the sofa as much as possible, which isn't as much as I'd like. The kids are playing quietly downstairs (always a bad sign, I know). Juliet wakes up and I head downstairs to see...this.



"Mommy, we knew you weren't feeling well, so we made ourselves sandwiches! And we made you one. Smashed cheese!"

Eleanor adds, "Yes, peanut-butter and cheese!"

Miles: "There's a BIG glob of peanut butter on the floor. But we put it on a towel!"

Thanks, guys.

Here is Miles' sandwich:



It's basically crumbled cheese with about a fourth of a cup of Miracle Whip Light. A closer look:



Eleanor's may look better at first glance, but believe me, it's not.



She apparently opened my new jar of peanut butter, and slathered it on. No jam, nothing but a THIRD OF A JAR of peanut butter! I kid you not, this sandwich is an inch and a half thick. Did she eat it? Well, she started to. I think she got full after about 3 bites. So she says, "It's OK, I'll save it for Daddy!" So we did.

Trying to figure out my daughter

I know that all parents have that, "What on earth is my child thinking? Why is he acting this way? I just don't understand!" reaction fairly often. And while I know all children are little mysteries, my older daughter sometimes is more of a mystery to me than I would like.

I typically find myself describing her as "stubborn" or "a little strong-willed", and while that is accurate, it does not fully describe the aspect of her personality I can't figure out. Here is a prime example:

Last night we were playing a family game of Uno. Both kids enjoy it, and while Eleanor needs a bit of prompting, matching the colors or numbers is well within her grasp at this point. But the game goes sort of like this:

"OK, Eleanor, it's a blue 2. Do you have a blue card?" (since she can't hold all her cards, they're sitting on the table, making it pretty easy to help her out.)

She smirks, hides her cards in her lap for a moment, and pulls out a green card! She knows perfectly well it's green, but chooses it anyway.

Several times, she figured out an appropriate card to play by herself. Once, she played it in the right place...but upside down. Once, she played it on top of the deck we draw from. Once, she tried to play it but hide it under some other cards in the stack. Once, she tried to play two (appropriate) cards.

She loves playing Wild cards, and whacks them down with gusto. But when we ask, "What color do you want it to be?" she won't ever say a color. She clams up, and eventually will hold out a card from her hand and wave it at us, and we say, "OK, Eleanor picks yellow" or whatever.

She likes to deal, but after going around the circle adding cards once, she wants to switch directions. Then she wants to start in a different spot.

She wants to play. She even likes to win (though she doesn't at all mind losing). She does not want to quit...but she doesn't want to follow the social "rules" of appropriate behavior when playing a game. In linguistics, we'd maybe say that she is flouting the maxim of cooperation, or that she does not understand or care about the pragmatics of the situation.

The Uno example is just kind of cute and silly, but it really exemplifies her behavior in all areas of life. Basically, she does not ever want to cooperate or do what she's "supposed" to do. Why on earth not? This is so unlike me, my spouse, and my older son that I'm not sure how to handle it.

Often, like in an Uno game, it's not important enough to need to "handle". But envision this kind of reaction - not quite rebelling but definitely not obeying - every time you ask her to do anything: put away your toys, stop sitting on your baby sister, hold hands while crossing the street, tell me what sound that letter makes, be respectful to your babysitter. Sometimes reverse psychology does work on her, and sometimes bribery or threats work. But sometimes nothing does. And I don't want to resort to bribery or threats; eventually, shouldn't pleasing mom/dad/teacher/friends/God be a reward in itself? The intrinsic societal and spiritual reward of cooperation and obedience? (I know, I know; this is my natural people-pleaser personality talking.)

So what IS this behavior? Yes, she's three and a half; I don't expect perfection, but I also know a whole lot of other three year olds. The compliant ones tend to cooperate, the strong-willed ones will throw tantrums when thwarted. Is this being passive aggressive? Is this just a different kind of strong-willed behavior? Is she just trying to be cute, or creative? Does she just want extra attention?

I should note that I haven't noticed this behavior much when she's playing with other kids, or at least when she's playing with Miles. I also don't see it as much in class situations; she seems to listen to and more or less follow directions in gymnastics, in Sunday School, and in swimming (though it's possible her teachers might disagree with me here!) But with authority figures whom she knows well - mom, dad, grandparents, babysitters, etc. - it appears pretty regularly. Is that because she knows those people well and is comfortable with them?

And most important of all, how do I teach a child like this? How can I encourage her to obey, to cooperate? I pray that her stubbornness and creativity will turn into assets for her as she grows up; I know they can be great strengths if she learns how to harness them. But a child who does not respect authority or any kind of convention is not going to be well-liked or successful in life.

Being a "trailblazer", going her own way, being unconventional - those describe choices we make as adults that can be great life decisions. But somehow, I have to teach my daughter to function in society without society crushing her before she reaches adulthood, because a lifetime spent in time-outs and detentions and being held back a grade and being avoided by other children just cannot be good for her psyche no matter how independent-minded she is.

Advice welcome!

conversations in the car

So we're driving along, and I'm trying to lead the conversation away from "what I want for Christmas" and toward "what would Jesus like for a birthday present? What makes Jesus happy?"

Miles responds, "but we haven't SEEN Jesus...not for a while."

Eleanor, in utter disdain, retorts, "No, you have to DIE to see Jesus."

Miles objects rather incoherently.

With total confidence, Eleanor assures him, "Oh yes. You are going to die."