Oscar

I have not really been into the Oscars the past couple of years—it just seemed like an overly bloated version of its former self with a lot of self-congratulations for movies that the general American public never sees, or worse, doesn’t have the access to see.  Finally we had a year when many of us, even those living in more rural locations, had the opportunity to agree or disagree that these particular films were good or bad.  I think Hugh Jackman, the consummate performer, did an incredible job.  I didn’t watch all of the Oscars, but it really seemed that he brought old Hollywood glamour back to the show and it was a beauty to watch.

The Spud was down by 8 pm, but I was working feverishly to clear out my email in-box.  I still had unopened mail from the weeks we were in Vietnam and from the first few weeks we were home.  His room is also my office until I have the money and my contractor has the time to rebuild an office in my living room.  Spud got the boot a few weeks ago whenn Aunt Krissy and Cate were visiting and in an attempt to wade through the mess I have been trying to read and respond to emails more appropriately.  So, I went from 400+ emails in my inbox to 150.  Much more manageable, but I did miss the first hour of the Oscars.

Please tell me I was not the only one who really wanted the man with funky large teeth to win in the documentary category to win (I can’t remember which of the two in documentaries, but oh my goodness, wow).  I remember when I was young being so self-conscious of what I thought of as chiclet sized front teeth.  The rest of my teeth are smaller and they just seemed so obvious.  If I had known this man I would have felt a lot better about my teeth. I wonder if he had the same prison dentist I had (long story, but for some dental procedures I saw the prison dentist in his home office—no x-rays were performed and he was a bit “light” with the anesthetic.  Bad, bad memories which make for a good story some other time). 

Who else was ecstatic over the Slumdog Millionaire wins?  I saw Slumdog last week with Michael while my mom watched the Spud.  I loved it.  It was hard to watch some scenes, but the life and vitality that was portrayed was incredible.  And who is capable of not smiling when Jai Ho starts playing?  Not me!  I want to buy the soundtrack when I am working again.

And how excited is India for this film and it’s people???  Check out this video:

I love the person being interviewed for saying “it feels great and I am looking at them and they are all on the street and I am with them.  My heart is there.”

What an amazing film filled with hope.  If you haven’t seen it, I recommend it!

Dread

I knew this day would arrive—it was inevitable.  It was also one of the reasons I was so reluctant to adopt as a single person without family in the vicinity.   What do you do when you wake up feeling ill and your child isn’t?

I woke up feeling so exhausted that I could barely move.  I don’t know if I am coming down with something or I’ve just been too busy and this was my body’s way of saying “sit your cheeks down!”   The joints ached and all I wanted to do was throw the blanket over my head and sleep.  All Spud wanted to do was get up early.  Of course it would also be a day when Spud decided only to take a short afternoon nap. 

The only thing harder than keeping up with him was the knowledge that I was shortchanging him a mother.  I hated that feeling.  But he is such a dear.  He seemed to know I wasn’t having a good day and for the most part stuck close by so I wasn’t having to chase him throughout the house.  He even spent some time on the couch with me—we curled up and played and I would try to make him laugh.  His laugh is like medicine for me.  And the strangest thing happened…I started feeling better.  Maybe the early afternoon nap we had taken was finally kicking in or maybe, just maybe, the joy of being with him revived me. 

 

Yep, that’s my little man trying to help me out.  What a sweetie!

9/2 months

Dearest Son,

I love that I get to celebrate your birth and the date we were made a family on the same day.  I love that every Friday I wake up with a song in my heart, not because it is TGIF, but because Friday will always and forever be the day we became a family.  It’s my own little holiday—a celebration of yet another week that we have been family.  Nine week family, two months as a family and nine months since you entered the world and stole my heart.

I mark my time BD and AD—before you and after you.  My life feels too long in comparison to you—how could you have not been a part of it from the beginning?   How did I survive my mornings without your smile?  You, sweet son, are turning me into a person that loves morning. 

Your laugh is still the most beautiful sound I have ever heard.  Evidently you think the same of mine.  From the beginning, from our first hours and days in Vietnam, people would comment that you would smile and giggle when you heard me laugh.  I remember our time in the orphanage—oh how I laughed through my tears!  You laid your hand on my face and watched me so intently.  You placed your fingers over my lips feeling my lips move under your fingers.  Even now after nine weeks of bottles, you still lay in my arms with your bottle at your lips and a hand on my face or lips. 

When we were out yesterday visiting with your doting aunties they reported that you started imitating my laugh while I was in the car hunting down wayward toys.   You giggle a lot.  After I giggle (and vise versa), when you are tired, when you see your bottle full of formula ready for your belly and when you are amused by someone or something. 

I think about your birth mom—the woman and people that knew you first. I find my sadness and jealousy intertwining leaving me with a jumble of emotions that are sometimes hard to describe, let alone process.  I feel a deep sense of sadness for your first mother—every time you smile your double-dimple grin or you laugh at something I am doing or discover something new—I think of her and all that she is missing.  And a new feeling has emerged as the weeks pass—jealousy.  I could never have given birth to someone so perfect and so perfectly matched for my family, but I can’t help but wish I was one of the first people to see you.  To see you breathe in that first breathe and smile your first smile.  There are so many empty spaces between that time and now.  I wish I could fill them in somehow and put the puzzle of you together—to marvel at the way you were so perfectly knit together by two people I don’t know.  

I never knew to pray for someone as incredible as you.  I had prepared myself for a sickly, pale, underweight child and you were none of those things!  Just the other day I was telling Oma that I was amazed at how quickly my sun rose and set on you.  That with one smile or giggle I forget that you are pulling my hair or terrorizing the cat. 

I love to watch you learn.  You focus so intently on everything that is in front of you.  Your look is so intense you look as if you are glaring.  So many new things going on:

• seven and a half teeth (ok, it’s not quite out, but your gums are definitely hurting.
• blowing bubbles.  And you are really good!  Sometimes you even blow your food.  It cracks me up so bad I can’t help but laugh.  Probably not the best thing to do.
• You LOVE to turn the lights off and on.   It took a few times, but now your little fingers flip it pretty easily.  If only you could feed yourself your own Puffs…
• you are growing!  I see your face changing constantly and while I didn’t think it was possible, you get cuter every single day.  And if the ache in my arms is any indication, I think you have finally started gaining weight.  You finally have your very own Buddha Belly!
• You love people more than you love toys.  I love that about you.
• You hate it when I eat and don’t share my food with you.  You just stare at me with big puppy dog eyes.  You don’t whine—you let your eyes do all the work.
• You pull up all the time and walk down the hall while holding on to the wall.  I know you’ll be happier when you are finally walking and I suspect that moment will arrive all too soon.

Every morning I walk in to your room  and listen to you coo.  Eventually you look up and see me.  You smile and clap and I feel like the most important person in the world.  Every day, whether we have a good day or not, I am thankful for that day with you.

Hercules, urine fountains, baby curses, ANTBM and other full disclosures on motherhood.

My son is strong.  Like ridiculously strong.  Like big men trying to hold him say “wow, he’s really strong!”.  And that was when he was sick (he’s been sick since we’ve been home—long story—not going into it here).  Now he is feeling ass cheek kicking awesome.  I don’t have a problem with having a strong son other than I am not sure how I will keep him contained once he reaches, oh 10 months, because I have big plans for him.  The next time I move, he’s helping.

As a result of being so strong I have experienced my very first purple nurple and can I just say, oh my God, that hurt.  The first one might have been an accident, but the ones since?  Not a freakin’ chance.  Talk about spine paralyzing pain.  I’m surprised I haven’t dropped him while  he’s doing that.  So, here is the question…what the heck do I do to discourage this?  At what age does a child understand what ‘get the hell off me’ NO means?  At this point I scream in pain at such a high octave he looks at me stunned—but still pinching.  Yowza.  I’ve already started putting mittens on his hands during bottle feedings so he can’t pull my hair (he used to stroke it so nicely).  If he keeps this up he will be wearing those stupid mittens like socks—24/7. 

Seriously, he is that strong.  And since he is a male he won’t likely know his own strength until he nearly 45 years old.  I’m not sure I’ll be around long enough to notice.

Some of you have seen my attempt to diaper my child (or laughed your cheeks off while watching).  He doesn’t cry, but he loves to wrestle.  There have been more than a few diaper changes that have taken place while standing on his head (the pediatrician is aware), while I pin him to the floor with an arm or on bad days, my legs.  I didn’t buy a changing table before I came home and thank God I didn’t.  I can just see him flying right off of it. 

When people ask how I am adjusting (really well, thank you for asking) the only issue I ever mention is diapering.  The only thing more difficult than diapering him is getting him dressed after a bath.  He loves bath time and gets all riled up.  Well, today I decided to let him play naked for a few minutes before dressing him because I needed to catch my breath before round 2 he is so cute.  He looked so stinkin’ cute I ran to get my camera.  Twenty seconds later I return to find him standing up holding on to the jumperoo peeing on my carpet with a huge grin on his face.  Somehow I managed to cover him up with a diaper while I proceeded to laugh myself stupid.  The kicker wasn’t really the urine fountain, it was the absolute joy and pleasure on his face while he stood there watering the carpet.  Seriously, I think potty training is going to be a breeze…as long as I teach him to pee on a wall and poop at the table. 

I have been known to use a few curses in my life, I am not proud, but after working with nurses and doctors for the better part of 13 years I have picked up some of their poor language choices.  Obviously with a child in the home I need to correct that so I looked at the words I typically use (believe it or not, there are only a few).  I’ve started using ‘cheeks’ to replace ass.  It’s a shame because whether I see it in writing or hear it used out loud ASSHAT is still the funniest word I have ever heard/seen.  And, yes, I am aware that my sense of humor is in line with what you would typically see among 12 year-old boys.  Unfortunately referring to someone as a ‘cheekhead’ does not have near enough zing.  Given the number of “oh shit” moments I had in Vietnam, my biggest fear is that shit will indeed be his first word.  Seriously, walking down the narrow, wet steps around the mountain when we were in Halong Bay I repeated “ohshitohshitohshit” more frequently than my heart beat (and believe me, my heart was racing double time).  I have found a couple of fillers “oh doggies” or just putting in the name of someone I dislike.  Unfortunately that one only works if they aren’t standing in front of you.

After our fountain incident earlier today I decided we needed to get out of the house (I wanted to know if the living room still smelled like pee pee after smelling it with a fresh nose—thankfully, it doesn’t).  I was in desperate need of an oil change and while I was there a woman approached me and started chatting (hey, she had 3 kids, one of them a blonde and Spud likes himself some blonde).  Anyway, Spud has just been discovered!  Evidently a leading baby formula company is looking for baby models, especially “ethnic” babies.  She thought he looked cute (well, duh) and photogenic so we are hoping to set up a shoot soon.  Obviously it’s not definite that they will use him, but I thought that would be pretty freakin’ funny to see his face in the advertisements I am suddenly swimming in.          

This is so totally unrelated to anything else this post, but Spud got his Certificate of Citizenship last Friday (I have a “single and loving it” shirt that I need to pose him wearing while holding up his CoC since they identified him as single—what the heck?).  Anyway, we filed for a social security number on Monday when Kris and Cate were here and it arrived today.  After all the issues I have had with adoption related paperwork over the last 2+ years I was expecting it would take 14 weeks and then because they lost it (because you know they would) it would take 14 more.  But then I realized, my name isn’t anywhere associated with his SSN.  He is working with a fresh, clean slate.  Wow, so jealous of that. 

And because I am letting it all hang out today I am going to try to post next time on our little blow out at a Mexican restaurant last week.  Yeah, cliche, I know.  And by our, I mean Spud’s.  I don’t want anyone thinking I ‘oh doggied’ myself at a Mexican restaurant. 

Family from afar

Last Friday, Kristin and I were discussing when to have a family reunion and get our kids together.  I was dying to get my hands on Catherine finally and she wanted to snuggle Spud (little did she know he is quite the wriggly worm that would rather wrestle).  I will admit i was rather hesitant to go any distance.  Lately Spud has begun getting really upset when I am out of sight.  Even using the bathroom and literally being 6 feet away (but out of sight) reduces him to tears.  It’s heart breaking.  Being in a rear-facing car seat is murder lately.  Over the weekend I listened to 75 minutes of non-stop, breath-catching tears.  It was awful.  That and some brake issues that I haven’t yet addressed had me feeling very nervous about going any distance.

They arrived Sunday late afternoon and we had a BLAST!  Oh my goodness—both Spud and I had a wonderful time.  It was just wonderful to spend time with someone who understands how wonderful and how hard being a single adoptive parent can be.  Sharing this experience with one of my closest friends made it that much richer for me.

My favorite, absolute favorite, moments were when all of us were just jumping around on the bed or the futon just playing.  Kristen or I would take turns taking photos and tickling the kids.  Catherine has boundless energy and for several days we would play a little game of  “I tickled you last”.  I will admit she was a bad influence on Spud—he didn’t want to take a nap with her around! 

I was concerned she would feel threatened by Kristen giving Spud some lovin’, but as long as she got her turn she was quite happy to share Spud with Kris. 

Spud absolutely adored Catherine!  I couldn’t keep his eyes off of her and his hands weren’t far behind!  His little head would whip around constantly trying to see where she was.  Nearly all my photos were blurry because they both move so fast!

My second favorite moment was when we stuck them in the bathtub together for a shared bath.  They both love water.  And splashing.  Spud would just stare at her.   It was fun to watch and I imagine that once he starts walking it will definitely be double trouble!

A rare photo with me and my Spud (now you understand the nickname, don’t ya!)

One of the rare, and I do mean rare, photos of all three of us looking at the camera at the same time.  How stinkin’ cute is Catherine!

Happy Valentine’s Day

Best Valentine’s Day ever!

Camera suggestions?

It has become quite obvious to me that the Spud is faster than a speeding bullet, more mighty than a locomotive.  Ok, I don’t know what the heck I am trying to reference here, but Spud is really fast and my camera is not fast enough to capture him and it kills me that I am missing all his wonderful expressions.  Just this week he began sucking his lower lip under his upper and making smacking noises when he eats.  He also made his very first fish face!  And I have no photos to remember the moment later (not that I would have had a chance to grab a camera, but I can dream). 

Anyway, back to the point.  I filed for the Spud’s social security number this week and was told it will arrive next week (hallelujah!) and I am already planning on how I can help stimulate the economy with my tax return (really, Mom, I promise I will pay you back before I buy anything!).

I want a camera.  A really nice digital SLR that I can grow into.  A DSLR that I will allow me to capture every. single. precious. moment of Spud’s life.  I have asked a couple of you out there that are profession or semi-professional (or look professional) for suggestions and so far I am hearing Nikon D40 and Canon Rebel.  I am leaning towards one over the other, but I thought I would ask for input from ya’ll.  If you were looking for a new camera what features would you want?  What do you wish your current camera had? 

Thanks for your help and God speed the US postal service and the IRS!