Peace

For as long as I have had Makena in my life, I have been haunted by not knowing where exactly my mother's ashes were finally laid to rest. I needed a visual to bring me some closure and peace of mind and I finally got it. Although I traveled all the way to France with one suitcase, I had a cargo load full of emotional baggage I had dragged along with me for the ride and it was truly psychically exhausting. The day after we landed in Pau, Papi, Mimes and Francois (my cousin's husband) took Makena and me on a pilgrimage to Bizes, in the Pyrenees. I purchased flowers along the way and we had lunch at another cousin's home.

Makena fell asleep shortly after lunch, Papi passed out on a bench and I stood there twiddling my thumbs for a bit wondering whether I should wake either of them to accompany me and then I decided that this should be private.I was scared. I really didn't know how this expedition was going to play itself out so it was with some trepidation that I made my way over to this very old cemetery. When I finally located her plot it was almost anticlimactic. I laid the flowers on her patch of eternity and stood there for a moment, crying.

In the distance I could see the snow swept mountains, the pastures of grazing sheep and the old tombstones and it was perfect. Mom was home, where she ultimately wanted to be, surrounded in death as in life by what she treasured: beauty and family.

When I returned to the house, Makena was still asleep. I laid down next to her and held her.

Is - looking to the future

Fried in France

This is why I am insane and why I should be committed. I never stop to think about what the consequences of traveling with a toddler on transcontinental flights are I just pull the trigger and shoot. Obviously, I seem to recover long enough from these antics to think up another one. The latest, going to Pau in France to visit my mother's grave. Since there was no question of leaving Makena with EM and Jack for ten days, I had to take her.

We traveled on a non-stop direct (10 hour) night flight to Paris. Makena woke up two hours into it and decided it would be a good time to scream with pure glee. I pulled out the Barney disc and DVD and pushed, play. That lasted half-an hour. My eyes were burning from the lack of sleep and my nerves were on edge because she was keeping half the plane awake. It wasn't until the Danish-Swedish-Slavic (very blond) woman in the row in front of me stood up in her seat and turned around to yell at Makena, that I lost it. I told her to back off, that I was handling it and that if she uttered another work in Mak's direction, I would do NOTHING to stop her. I told her to sit down and started feeding Makena bonbons. That worked.

The stroller I gate-checked in Los Angeles was not there for me when we landed in Paris. I had two pieces of carry-on, a pillow and Makena to get off the plane and onto a shuttle to get us to the terminal and go through customs and then on a tram to another terminal and then run a kilometer or two to get to the next gate and through security again to get to the domestic wing of Charles De Gaule. I made it, bought myself an over-priced Evian and boarded the subsequent flight. I won't mention my lack of deodorant, my sweaty clothes or the layer of sticky dirt smeared across Makena's face. But since this was France, nobody noticed.

An hour and a half later, we landed in Pau. I had trouble getting my luggage because Makena kept running away from me and trying to jump on the conveyor belt. The French were aghast. Nevertheless, I persevered and my cousin was there to greet me and take me to our hotel. Makena fell asleep on the way. I laid her down on the bed, had a beer, fell asleep and woke up at 3 in the morning when Makena was done with her "nap" and then decided it would be appropriate to stay awake until 6AM. We miraculously fell back asleep until I was woken up at noon and told that I was late for lunch.So I crawled out of bed, showered and called a cab. We finally arrived at my mother's cousin's house where we were greeted by Papi (who had made the trip up from Grenada, Spain,) Mimes, my mom's best friend and cousin, and a lovely glass of Port. "Appero," as they like to call it. I drank it. The rest is a blur.

Is a - jet lagged

Truck free

We are home. After seven months away, the house has finally been rebuilt and following two weeks of unpacking and nesting, things are settling down. Yeah. So, of course, now is the perfect time to throw a little disruption into this semblance of routine we were all getting used to because I leave for France in less than forty-eight hours to meet up with Papi in Pau (which is at the foot of the Pyrenees on the Atlantic side) and with Makena as my traveling companion. I can't think of a more exciting trip than being cloistered on a plane with my little princess for twelve hours and follow that up with another hour and a half flight south.Ever since my family chose to relocate my mother's ashes to a family plot in the middle of mountainous French nowhere while I was in China adopting Makena, I've been haunted by the fact that I didn't have a visual on where my mother was finally laid to rest -- not to mention the lack of notice so that I could attend the memorial. But happily-sadly-neurotically and joyfully, I am checking this off on the things I've needed to do to bring a bit of added healing and closure to my life so that I can fully focus on the future.

Truck out -- check.
Visit mom -- check (almost).
Give Makena consistency -- ugh... well...ugh.

I won't post while I am away (no kidding) because I chose to use the space my laptop would take up in my carry-on for a portable DVD player (with an eight-hour battery pack,) a Pixter, a gazillion Babybug magazines, art supplies and two cases of Altoids (her candy of choice). I'll throw in a diaper and a change of clothes (for me) for good measure.

I will spend six days in Pau before heading halfway back to Paris to visit a girlfriend and her kids (an hour from Bordeaux) and then ultimately hook up with one of my oldest friends to celebrate her birthday in Paris. I'll be staying across from the Luxembourg gardens (6th) so that Makena can have a traffic-free spot to run around in and terrorize French pigeons, possibly drink toxic toxic water out of rococo fountains -- who knows.

Meanwhile, back at the ranch, Jack, dad and Tiger (although he doesn't know it) are preparing to party for ten days. I predict that it will be high on fun and low on fiber and that they won't miss us for a minute (although I will). Just try to shower once or twice while I am gone or else I might have to come home with cologne as a gift.

A bientot,

Is - a baguette lover

PS: Jack's baseball bag is under his bed. Make sure he completes the Junior Great books packet.
PPS: Our new kitchen!

I spy

I've never been good at keeping photo albums or scrapbooks so this is pretty much it. I know that it tends to skew heavy on Makena but I feel a greater responsibility somehow. Mostly because we know so little of her past and because I get preoccupied about what she might ask me when she gets older. I'd like to have as many answers as I can for her.

With that in mind, I went on a little fact finding mission over the last couple of weeks. I joined some new adoption groups and posted a few questions that I floated out there into the universe of families who have adopted children from China. I didn't hold out much hope but I wanted to be able to say that I had tried... and a funny thing happened. I got responses. Not only that but my little question, "Did anyone travel to the Qianjiang SWI between January 1 and August 14th of 2006 and did they take photographs?" was answered and hundreds of pictures were suddenly posted -- mostly of orphanage life the year of her birth (which were equally valuable) and then (icing on the cake) a connection was made with another mother, whose daughter "Sofia," we initially suspected might have been Makena's foster sister. In any event, having reviewed the photographs she sent me, we both decided that Makena and Sofia's foster mothers were definitely related. Even Makena and Sofia's referral photographs were taken in the same location, on the same date, and wearing identical outfits (I don't have a photo to show). I realize that the orphanage must purchase clothing in bulk and assign it to the various foster families but still, I felt really excited about all this news. The biggest gift (the cherry on top of it all) was finding a photo of Makena when she was about five months old, asleep in a crib. When I caught sight of it, my heart leaped and I cried.She is pictured on the right and this would be the youngest photograph I have of her.

I am now more determined than ever to travel back to China and Qianjiang with Makena while she is young (and as often as possible), regardless of whether she has lasting memories of these visits. Because no matter, they would be chronicled and woven into the history of her life. More importantly though, there are rumors that the Qianjiang foster program is to be terminated and I don't want to miss out on the chance of meeting her foster mother or some of the nannies who may have played a role in her early up bringing.

In the meantime, while I accrue frequent flyer points to do this, I'll keep combing the internet for clues when I have the time. Because I realize that there is a bounty of information to be reeled in from the great unknown and I plan on catching me some peace of mind. As much for me as for Makena.

Is - on the hunt.