It was only a matter of time

If I had had my way, I would be sitting at a cafe on a Parisian curb smoking cigarettes, sipping espresso, flaunting a new pair of recently purchased pumps and talking about some obscure subtitled Italian movie; fresh from a challenging game of Scrabble. As it turns out, I haven't smoked in close to two decades. I quit coffee last year, my feet ache, I have to drive too far to see Euro movies and my neighbor is too busy to play Scrabble with me. She's in Minnesota until God knows when.

I've had an interesting week, mostly because I was determined to stay active and spend quality time with both Mak and Jack since these are the last two weeks of summer. This has involved playing tennis with Jack several times, swimming and doing artsy fartsy stuff with Makena.

Jack freshly returned from tennis camp is a month or two away from being bored of hitting balls with me. His forehand has so much top spin and back spin, I never know what he has dished out for me until I run up to the ball and trip all over myself. It's only a matter of time before he surpasses me athletically (EM thinks he has.) and he is four inches away from surpassing me in height. He is eleven. I won't even get into his shoe size other than to say that I have first dibs on his Ugg boots when he outgrows them next week. In the meantime, even though my serve is pathetic, the workout is really good. My hips and knees hate me as I write this and I am nervous about the amount of Advil I have ingested over the last few days.

I also spent a great deal of time playing with Makena. We went a little crazy with our play dough creations (which may or may not have spurred my mental escapism depicted in the first paragraph) and then our interests turned to the practice of cutting. I bought her one of those educational booklets that lead you through the steps of cutting paper (from straight lines to curvy and circular ones) and she loved it. She could not get enough of this newfound skill. I moved on to my pile of magazines in an attempt to teach her to recognize the letters of her name. Once we would find an A or an M, we would cut it out. This proved interesting until it didn't. I don't quite remember the sequence of events precisely but it did involve a telephone call - one I answered - and while I was busy chatting away I suddenly became aware that Makena was no longer at the table but under it... still practicing her cutting. I walked over and found her with a mischievous grin on her face and a clump of hair by her side. It took a few seconds for it to register and then all I could do was gasp loudly. That's when she cut the next clump of hair off her head.


It looks like she cut about three inches in front of her face and gave herself some long bangs. The look just compliments her wild nature so I am in no big hurry to fix it just yet. I'd rather take the time to personally book myself into a hair salon because I need it more than she does.



Is - serving up delicious playdough cupcakes

Reunion, Day 3

Emily, Katherine and Jack.


Leah.


Maelin, Makena and a tired, Tiger.


A walk on the beach before saying goodbye.


Jack, gracious host and devoted older brother.

Isabelle

Reunion, Day 2

Dress up as your favorite princess, add a little fantasy and what do you have? A reunion!


Princess Amelie who came all the way from Hong Kong!


Makena, digging her butterfly.


Princesses Page, Maelin and Leah waiting to get their faces painted.


Anna watching as Sarah gets a blue butterfly.


Older sisters Esme and Katherine, helping with the face painting process.


Alyssa.


Margarita Man machine: key to a successful reunion!


The red couch! From left to right: Jamie Rose, Esme, Faith, Alyssa, Aimee, Page, her mom, Emily, Katherine, Leah, Jacob, Amelie, Makena, Anna, Mia, Sarah, Jack.


Maelin, Makena, Mea and Sarah.

To be continued

Reunion

Where does the time go? I can't believe that three years ago we were sweating it out eating hotpot in Chongqing (while it was 116 degrees outside,) staring at Makena who was passed out in her stroller. I still remember the surreal awe I felt examining her every feature, absorbing the reality that she was my daughter and that this face was now and forever a part of my life.

On the fourteenth, fifteenth and sixteenth of this month, our adoption group reunited for the third time to celebrate the third anniversary of our daughters' adoptions. We hosted ten of the families who traveled from all over California and Hong Kong to celebrate. As the date approached, I tried to prepare Makena by letting her know that her China cousins were coming to party for three days. She was happy that Amelie (from HK) would be coming for a sleepover and that Sarah - who she had just seen a couple of weeks prior to this- would be there too. Otherwise, I don't think that she grasped the immensity of the celebration.

My friends and neighbors kept calling me the week leading up to the festivities, to check on me and ask if I was stressed. I wasn't. I honestly don't think twice about having forty people at my house. I'm defective that way. If I'm not ready, someone will always step in and offer to help and I always accept. It's a great ice-breaker and it makes people feel at home. The only thing I really focused on, in anticipation of the gathering, was making sure that the bathrooms were clean, that the superfluous piles of paper that tend to follow me from room to room were gone and that Makena's toys were sorted and somewhat presentable.

As far as the planning, I followed the template we created two years ago when we hosted the first anniversary.

1. Send out invitations and create schedule
2. Call nearby hotel and get a group rate
3. Plan activity for the first Friday afternoon
4. Reserve tables at a Chinese restaurant near the activity, plan the menu and negotiate cost (including tax and tip!)
5. Rent bouncy
6. Hire face painter for the girls
7. Rent margarita machine for the parents
8. Soup and salad for lunch
9. Hire taco caterer for dinner
10. Eat leftovers of Chinese food, Saturday lunch and Saturday dinner for brunch on Sunday. Finish margaritas!

Voila. A three day party.

I have to admit that I was a wee bit wiped out on Monday and Tuesday but it was worth every Advil I popped because seeing how beautiful the girls were: such adorable individuals, and soaking up all their quirks and energy was what kept me going. Makena was so happy and then it ended and she spent the rest of the week wining that the bouncy had disappeared from the backyard and why couldn't she have a butterfly painted on her face and where were all her friends?

I know for certain that as we keep reuniting from year to year to celebrate our families, that Makena will grow to have each and every one of them to turn to for commiseration and support. They are her extended family and they all have this date to share as a common experience. This is her normal. She is not alone. Not now and never again.

Happy Anniversary.

Mommy, Daddy and Jack love you, Makena Rae. You are our beautiful ray of sunshine.

Is - loving my daughter

Mia Culpa

About a week before Jack was born eleven years ago, a friend of mine gave me a little motherhood pep talk encouraging me to aim for the middle and not try to be the "best" mom. She reasoned that if I lowered the bar, I would constantly surpass the expectations I had placed on myself and therefore be happier and less stressed. A less stressed happy mom raises less stressed happy children. When I failed to exceed this goal, I would not beat myself up because I had aimed for the middle, after all, and what did I expect? I mean, really?

Well I have (mostly) successfully been applying myself to this doctrine for over a decade and I finally failed miserably. I sent Jack to tennis camp for two weeks - clear across the country. He flew as an unaccompanied minor and arrived safe and sound in Burlington, VT. Then something happened to me during that time - probably going from two children's lives to schedule, to one - and the next thing I knew, life was less hectic. I wasn't checking my calendar or my email as frequently. Makena was in day camp three days a week. She had play dates and went fishing with her dad. I rediscovered the enjoyment of reading the newspaper in the morning and having a conversation with my husband (even though he still speaks Martian.) The pace was calm and relaxed and dare I say, rejuvenating. All this ecstasy came to a thundering halt when I received a call from my annoyed son telling me that I had screwed up. I was thinking at the time that he was referring to the care package contents I had sent to him - more specifically, the nail clipper. But, no. It was more along the lines of: camp was over and no one was there to pick him up. #**!!@%*! What the?

My sister was to retrieve him from camp and then drive him across the border to Canada to spend four days with her and his cousins in Montreal before sending him home to us, except that I had given her THE WRONG DATE. She was planning on going on the fifth and here we were on the fourth and camp was over for three hundred campers but Jack. Jack called her around noon to find out when she was arriving and, by some miracle, she actually answered the phone. And in uber aunt form, dropped everything, grabbed her passport and drove three hours down to get him. Thank you, Cath! For the record, my sister does not believe in aiming for the middle. She aims for the top. Always.

Fortunately for me, a) my son was used to my mediocrity so this incident - although horrifying, embarrassing and shocking - did not traumatize him too badly. (I may be in denial about this.) And, b) my husband, although horrified, embarrassed and traumatized, did not divorce me. ( I may be in denial about this, too.)

Interestingly, this incident brought back memories of me being left in a park by my dad when I was four (policemen who found me took me to the station until they could locate my parents - long story) and I have always found it difficult to forgive him even though it is an episode that is always recalled with humor. Since I screwed up, I can somehow now relate to him and therefore I forgive him. We obviously have some recessive parenting gene and compassion is in order.

I only hope that Jack can find it in him to forgive me.

Mia culpa.

Isa- going to aim higher