I need a hole in my head

My back finally went out last week. It had to happen. I didn't do the sit-ups leading up to Makena's seventeen pound arrival and I was now paying for it. So to help me along, my loving better half had a masseusse come to the house to give us much "kneaded" massages. The plan being, that when one was getting massaged, the other would be watching Makena. Jack, after all, is sort of like a self-cleaning oven. Give him the remote control and a friend who is easily hypnotised by electronic diversions and he's good to go. Just pull the plug out when you want to get his attention back.

So I was the first to get massaged and as I was relaxing and unwinding, Linda (the masseusse) asked me when I was bringing Nuiumaia (New Maya), my horse, back. I had sent him to a ranch, just before I left for Guatemala, so that he could keep company with other horses during the summer and have wide open spaces to romp in. I told Linda that I had gone up to visit him earlier in the week to make arrangements for his return, and I had discovered that he had bonded with another horse named Sizzler and that they were inseparable. Now it was time to bring Nuiumaia home and I knew he was going to be upset to be alone, that I would be stressed out worrying about riding or walking him every day (as I used to do before Makena) because, realistically, I knew that I wouldn't be able to do that anymore. So I was feeling guilty, too.

Linda, conveniently, had studied animal husbandry before she became a masseuse and insisted that I had to bring Sizzler back with (and for) Nuiumaia so that we could all have peace of mind (she included herself in the "we"). Remember, this conversation was happening during the massage that was supposed to relax me. I told her to forget it and that I'd rather have a hole in my head because one horse was enough work, but two? Besides, my "first" husband would never go for that. I say "first" because how much more of me and my animal antics could he take? The thought of adding another horse to the mix might quickly make him realize that it might be cheaper to divorce me. No, forget it, I was chosing to save my family and my marriage and Nuiumaia would get over it. Conversation over.

So the massage ended and I got on with my day. I separated Jack and his buddy from the video games, packed Makena and the kids into the car and took them to a birthday party, then spent the rest of the afternoon running errands.

I came home and the first thing out of my husband's mouth was, "Call the ranch and do what you need to do to bring Sizzler here." Huh? Say what?. Then he said, "Have them brought at the same time because I don't want to pay two trailoring fees." Two trailoring fees? And here I thought I was insane. Linda sure worked a number on my husband because, in one little hour, he was a changed man. A horse whisperer with a heart of gold."

So I attempted a smile and he smiled back, shaking his head, and I said, "Is this my birthday present?" and he said. "Yep, happy birthday."


I always tell people that our house is like "Green Acres". Except that I'm Eddy Albert and my husband is Eva Gabor. You get the picture?

One acre, one son, one daughter, one dog, one (big) African desert tortoise, 11 chickens, 2 leopard geckos and now, TWO horses.

So, yeah, next time I'm thinking about getting a massage, I'll just get a hole in my head.



Is - still married

Roman numerals

Packages addressed to Makena seem to arrive at the house on a daily basis and it's beginning to take its toll on Jack. We've tried to explain to him that he was showered with the same kind of love and attention from our friends and family when he was a baby, but - duh- he doesn't remember any of it and he is highly skeptical. For every couple of gifts that arrive for her, we get a teary meltdown from him begging for a PSP game because he is a poor suffering child who has nothing and no one to play with. He's good and he can really squeeze out the tears in a heartbreaking way which makes me suspect that he has too much salt in his diet.

If I'd taken the time to put a scrapbook together for him and maybe slapped a couple of pictures in a baby album, that might have gone a long way and convinced him more than me saying,"trust me, you got the same deal." But seriously, he is hurting from my diminished attention and he's growing up so fast because of the new role we've assigned him and it's tugging at my heart that I might be missing some of it because I'm too busy wiping snot or changing diapers. Yeah, I feel guilty.

Still, I'm not going to say that the honeymoon is over between Mak and Jack, because he unabashedly adores her and is very protective of her as long as she doesn't fart on him. She did so the other day and he turned around and let one rip on her! I had to nip that in the butt a.s.a.p.. Seriously, if he thinks that he has carte blanche to flatulate on his sister, I'll pass out from the fumes trying to air the house out. And let's not forget Tiger's contributions to the air quality around here...so sick.

In the meantime, my husband and I have stopped leaving any gift packages we receive for Makena out in the open where Jack can see them. I sneak them into the house and quickly unwrap them and get rid of the evidence while he is away at school or my husband sneaks them in after Jack has gone to sleep.

Well, another box arrived the other day and I opened it assuming it was for Mak and I pulled out this enormous blue Rams jersey with the number eighteen on the back of it. I was confused until I saw that my husband had ordered it for himself. I called him at work to tell him that his "package" had arrived and you'd think it was Christmas morning the way his voice shot up with excitement (the arrival of the Sports Illustrated Swimsuit edition seems to do that, as well). He was supposed to fly up to San Francisco last weekend to attend some football game with friends of his, and it was a Rams game, and he had decided that he was going to wear Roman Gabriel's jersey (vintage, I might add) to taunt his friends who were rooting for the 49ers - I'm pretty sure I'm getting all the teams mixed up but I do know that it was number 18.

Anyway, the trip got canceled at the last minute and I thought that was the end of that until I found him in the living room over the weekend watching a football game, wearing the Roman Gabriel Jersey, while talking to his friend on the phone and declaring that he was going to wear it every time he watched a game during the season. I quickly flashed on the inflatable Budweiser seat with the beer can holders in the arm rests and made a mental note to donate it to the Goodwill before he remembered where it was in the garage...because the thought of him sitting in it, playing dress up, and slamming his fist into a tray full of Nachos... Well, my imagination can't take this kind of visual. I think I can handle him shooting "dog liqueur," better.

And then he told Jack that he would be wearing the jersey to trick-or-treat with him on Halloween. Should I be the dutiful wife and go as a cheerleader? Halloween, after all, is meant to be scary. Makena could be the football and Jack could be the whack fan with a chunk of foam cheese on his head...or the Ref?

Actually, it is kind of brilliant.

What is happening to my family, seriously?


Is a bewildered.

Mommy and mean

I'm having a serious dilemma. Jack started school and U10 soccer last week, add to that karate, homework and the occasional playdate and I'm now in crisis mode, crisscrossing town, being his chauffeur/social planner and going through two tanks of gas a week. Add Makena to the daily chaos, and the exercise du jour has been getting her to sleep a full night (so that I can) and getting Jack to school on time so that we can make a good impression on the new teacher.

We didn't know her before this year and she is new to our public school district but she's really cool and happens to be a mother to a class clown, like myself. She has a very nice class set-up that seems geared toward teaching kids more than it does toward impressing their parents. By that I mean that it's essentially clutter free, very well organized, and with things clearly marked on the boards and walls for kids to read. Other classes are extremely colorful (I like that too) but they are so crammed with "educational" tools and paper mache monstrosities that it seems hard for me to think that these kids will have a peaceful setting to let it all sink in...Whatever, not my problem this year.

Jack loves her and the environment she has set up, so ultimately, that's all that matters. He is in third grade, in a three/four split and the day before classes started, I showed up at school to see who he had been assigned to. As I approached the bulletin board, I overheard this anorexically thin mother, who I used to have playdates with when Jack was a baby but then stopped because she drove me mad, complaining to her equally thin friend that her fourth grade son had been put in a class with third graders. So I quickly put the breaks on giving her my superficially smiley "hello" and clammed up, aghast, when I saw that I was going to be seeing a lot more of her than I wished to! AGH! I stepped away and paid great interest to what classrooms Jack's friends had been assigned to and, feigning disinterest, overheard her list off the names of the kids in Jack's class, moaning. Then she perked up and counted six kids in fourth grade, including her own, of course, who were smart and bright kids -- so maybe this wasn't going to be so horrible and she would wait to pass further judgment. This is exactly why we kicked her out of our mommy and me group!

I just wanted to lecture her and tell her that all the kids were smart and maybe the third graders had been put in her class because they were especially bright (which they are, of course), but I didn't. I decided that I would blog about it instead!

So this morning I made it to Makena's first "Mommy and Me" class, the same one Jack went to when he was a baby, and where I met my three friends who threw me her shower. I'm sitting there with my ten-month old Chinese daughter and she's crawling all over the place with her runny nose and drooling mouth (she's not sick) and freaking all the other moms out and I study them wondering what we have in common (other than babies) and then the next thing I know, I'm seriously panicking because I don't know how many more friends I can add to my mix. It sounds so horribly calculated but I can barely see the friends I have now, add to that my new China friends, and the time I also need to spend with my husband and not to mention, my horse (not to be confused with my husband, the work-horse) and it's way, way too overwhelming. And did I mention my professional obligations?

And then I think about that uber-thin mother, and that it all originated in "Mommy and Me" eight years ago, and I freak out. Internally of course, outwardly, I appear super-relaxed cool.

So now that I've had seventeen cups of green tea and a bowl of congee to think about it, I've decided that I'm not going to force the issue. I'm just going to be not overly desperate to set up playdates for Makena and be sucked into someone else's neurotic soap opera when I have my own whack issues to work through. Then again, maybe that is something we have in common and I have a whole new mine full of new friends to relate to...hmmm...

I think I'm A.D.D. In fact, I'm sure of it.

I need help, because with friends like me, who needs enemies?

Is -- a mommy and mean.

PS I was finally able to capture Makena's smile in a photograph. She is always very studious. It was taken at her first visit with her pediatrician (the one that took my calls from China). She babbled the whole time he was examining her and didn't cry when she was given a meningitis shot! (FYI she was current on all her vaccines according to her book.) She weighed in at 17 pounds and 27.5 inches and he told us that she is developmentally right on track. Yeah!!!

Pink Cadillac

Sally (the face that launched the $100K remodel) came by with her family to visit Makena and she brought a completely over-the-top, super-cool, present: Her first set of wheels. And not just any car, but a pink Cadillac!

Makena was found at a gas station when she was five days old and I've always felt that the location she was left to be found at meant that her biological mother had hopes that her child would be going far in life. I know, I have a vivid imagination and I tend to romanticize things, but so what? That's the story I'm telling myself and I like it. And, of course, that's why this gift is so meaningful because it ties in perfectly with what I have imagined.

Of course, Makena will be driving it off the deck next week, so I'm now going to have to think about more baby-proofing. Ugh.

This was one of Makena's referral photos. I stared at it for six weeks wondering what kind of child we had been matched to. A very resilient and determined one, that's what. This kid is a survivor and a fighter. On August 15th we were handed a very light -- around fifteen pounds -- baby who needed a bit of assistance sitting up and who could not crawl. By the time we left Guangzhou, she was officially crawling and had probably put on a pound or two in her first two weeks with us.

Now that we've been home two weeks, today, Makena is pulling herself up and standing for several minutes at a time. This is going by whiplash fast, I can barely keep up.

Furthermore, I still have to put my wedding pictures in an album (I've been married almost fourteen years) and I still have to do Jack's baby book (he's eight) and of course, I have to put something together for Makena but I can barely document her progress. Where does time go?

I also wanted to post this picture because I think it was taken outside the orphanage in Qianjiang. Several of the babies who were referred to the families in our group, were posed in front of this grass.

Coincidence? I think not.


Is a - clue

PS: official thank you for the Cadillac, headed your way in the next six to eight weeks. Look for it in the mail.

Thank you

As soon as we received Makena's referral, I purchased two disposable cameras and put a care package together that included them along with, a couple of small toys, gifts of cash to the orphanage and to the Foster mother, and other small items. I had a letter translated into Mandarin asking that pictures of Makena be taken with her foster mother and where she lived and I mailed it off with my fingers crossed, hoping against all hope that the postal worker who kindly translated the address into Chinese letters for me, did it correctly.

The cameras were returned to us the day we got Makena and I didn't get them processed in China because I wanted them saved to disc.

I finally had them developed. Of course I cried as soon as I started leafing through them, because it was obvious that Makena was well taken care of. All the pictures showed a very content baby (I'll post more later).

The detective in me now wants to go to Qianjiang and figure out where the apartment complex she lived was, and see if I can't track the woman down. They won't tell us her name. I already know that I will have to get special authorization to visit the orphanage but I definitely want to do it. I'm thinking November or April as good months that can't possibly be as hot as the inferno we lived through.

Obviously not this year but when Makena is old enough to understand things and young enough so that a visit like this doesn't become a huge emotional deal. Maybe when she is five or six. I'll have to put some serious thought into it.

In the meantime, I'm sending out a huge telepathic thank you to Qian Li han's foster mother. I'm also going to send her copies of the pictures via the orphanage, along with new ones and I'll keep my fingers crossed and hope that she gets them.

I feel so lucky to have one piece of Makena's past to show her when she is older. It's a far cry from completing the puzzle but it's a step in the right direction.

Isa -grateful.

Kitchen sink confidential

I've been going through pictures that I took on our little adventure and I wanted to share these ones that I took while on a visit to this woman's house in the Hutung neighborhood. This was when we were still in Beijing and our guide wanted to show us how a middle-class Chinese person lives.















I kept thinking about this very dignified older woman and her nylon knee-highs, as I went to Sports Chalet to purchase cleats for Jack and then hopped over to Target to buy more (useless) stuff.

This woman raised two children in one room and her kitchen doubled as her bathroom. She shared the courtyard (pictured) with four other families.

There is no room for materialism or privacy in this household. She's been married over fifty years. How many of us could stay married that long in less than a hundred and fifty square feet? Her home is slightly larger than an American prison cell. She is retired and now receives a small income from opening her door to curious tourists.


I'm grateful for having spent time there. One of the best things about dragging Jack to the four corners of the world is to be able to show him how other people live and show him how they can actually survive without their own personal space or a bath tub, or a color television, or a remote, or a PSP and yet still manage to get some enjoyment out of life (like the two cuties we met in the park).

He's only eight, but I'm hoping these experiences will seep in and nurture his empathy and his respect for the differences in our cultures. Not to mention, giving him a little perspective on life.

Missing China.

Isabelle