Mak and Jack

Mending Hope

2011-12-22T17:44:00.000-08:00

To explain why I paused updating some of the China trip for a short while back was because I was busy cutting together the footage I shot while on the Luoyang Mission for Mending Hope International. Two of the special needs children that I want to advocate and find families for are in this video. Here is the link.

Mending Hope

Isabelle, back to Qianjiang after this.

Breathless

2011-12-20T10:51:00.000-08:00

(Xisha bridge)

Juana and I are in a zone. We hail a cab and hop in clutching scribbled notes that are meant to lead us to an address where we are told that the head of the Foster mothers from Makena's orphanage lives. My torn and almost illegible piece of paper feels like a promise of gold. I am a pirate in a strange sea of chaos seeking to dig up a treasure. I feel like I could be a candidate for the Amazing Race show right now. Come to think of it, I may audition.

Juana is arguing with my driver. He doesn't recognize the address. We panic. I call Cherrie in Beijing, and miraculously, she answers. I have Cherrie in my ear giving me loose instructions that she is recalling from memory, I shout them out to Juana who then relays them in Chinese to our driver. He argues with her, we are driving in the wrong direction and u-turns are in order. He is extremely annoyed. Apparently, Chinese men do not like to be told what to do. This is a universal dilemma. What to do, what to do...

We tell him to head for the main bridge, Xisha (the finding place for a friend of mine's daughter), and make a left. We have to drive 3 kilometers along a road that follows a river and stop when we get to a fruit market. Ok! We get to the road and about 400 yards down we come upon a market but no fruit is being sold. The driver tells us that we have reached our destination. We argue and he basically kicks us out of the cab like we are a bunch of crazy ass ladies. We are. Slightly freaked out, we head through the market praying he was right and that this is the only market on this road. Yes, people stare so our search for foster lady is not discreet. We are on the hunt for an alley that is barely wide enough for two people to walk through. We will have to follow it until it zigzags left, then right and then come upon a courtyard. We have to enter the courtyard with four buildings and more alleys spidering out, face left and then we will be at the building we are looking for. The apartment is either on the first, second or third floor...

(Firecracker exhaust.)

We have an hour left to find this address and then, hopefully, talk to this mystery woman. No panic, just sheer internal hysteria. We can't find the alley and some pyromaniac is blowing up the neighborhood with an insane fireworks display.

(Talking to strangers.)

We end up weaving our way in and out of buildings, walking along narrow paths with one or two story drops into other courtyards. We accidentally stumble into people's private courtyards, walk past their open doors staring into dark living rooms, avoid buckets of wash water being emptied above our heads, not to mention flying projectiles of spit. People stare at this white person and her interpreter seeking a woman they do not know. Orphans? Foster children? What the heck? Juana is extremely out of her comfort zone asking strangers for information. She whispers that this little adventure is making her braver. She is my action hero. Time means nothing anymore. I am the dog chasing the bone. Tunnel vision. Do not give up. I can't. I won't. We won't.

We have run out of street and practically come to a dead end. We have to backtrack. How could we have missed it. Ugh, I want to scream. We retrace our footsteps and stop and ask anyone and everyone along the way. Until we get back to the now extinguished fire cracking hell spot and notice an alley we never saw because of the choking smoke. Yes it is narrow. Yes, it zigzags claustrophobically left and right and yes it abuts into a smaller than imagined courtyard, if it can in fact be called that. Juana, emboldened from thirty minutes of battle starts screaming out foster lady's name... Once, twice and third time is the charm. A man pokes his head out a third floor balcony and yells down asking why we are looking for his sister. Juana quickly explains and we are suddenly ushered up three flights of steps and now find ourselves in his cavernous living room. A couple of boys are huddled behind a sheeted room divider playing a computer game. Tween life is universal.

(View from the Foster mother's front door.)

(View from the living room.)

We sit in the darkened room. The air is cold. The windows are open. No heat to feel as we all keep our coats on, even our host is dressed warmly. His sister is out running errands but he quickly calls her to tell her that some white lady from the West is sitting in her arm chair and wants to talk to her about a baby she adopted five years ago. He offers us tea (translation: boiled water that has cooled down to become potable). Juana converses with him but I am not sure what they talk about. Twenty minutes go by... and the woman walks in the door. I instantly recognize her, albeit slightly older and more disheveled, as a woman who was sitting in the back of the room when we were handed Makena at the Civil Affairs Bureau in Chongqing. I thrust one of the dozen photographs I have brought with me in her face and quickly explain that I am hoping that she can give me the name of the woman seen holding Makena in one of the photographs we received after our instant cameras were returned to us on adoption day. She takes the image and studies it then says that she was an orphanage worker. An Ai but that she can't remember her name. However, she recognizes Makena because she looked after her, here, in this building. I am stunned speechless. I know that I am not breathing. I turn and look at Juana trying to make sense of what is being translated. Juana is equally shocked. She peppers the woman with questions. Yes, Li Han was here. One of among a dozen girls she looked after in 2006.

(Foster Mother.)

Seriously folks, I cam all this way to get the name of the woman in the photograph, never expecting that she was not her main care-giver and that I would be standing face to face with her actual Foster mother. Juana grabs her phone and calls our minders to tell them that we are going to blow off lunch and meet them back at the hotel in an hour so that she can catch her train. My eyes are welled with tears, I am trying to come up with questions. I should have had a list. I just wanted a name and I have hit the mother-load. More firecrackers errupt in the distance and I suddenly realize how jolting this particular sound must have been for the babies. Sudden sharp noises, doorbells, toilets flushing have always sent Makena into a freakout and I wonder if this is the ground zero of why?

I catch my breath as the woman disappears for a second and then returns hauling two trash bags filled with baby clothes. She explains that these are the clothes that some of the children were found in. She goes on to say that a lot of the babies left at the finding spots in baskets they would have been carried in. Sadly, she did not catalog which clothes belonged to which baby. She shows us cute satiny jackets, explaining that most of the Qianjiang children are from the Tujia minority. A tribe that originated in Northern Thailand (based on my research) and then migrated to the hills above and around Qianjiang and beyond. More than likely, Makena has older siblings since there is no limit on the number of children the Tujia can have. Abject poverty being an explanation for abandonment and how this might explain (to me) why she was found in old clothes, according to her report.

(Makena, pictured among the clothes.)

We move into the bedroom and she shows me an album. It belongs to friends of mine from our adoption group. She shows me toys. She then explains that the building was used as an annex to the orphanage and that an apartment on the ground floor housed most of the babies, a dozen or so, and that nannies would be sent from the orphanage to help her care for them. Not the warm and fuzzy answer I was hopping for. I get the impression that Makena was housed on the first floor and not one of the two or three babies she personally cared for in this apartment. Nevertheless, a piece of the puzzle has been filled in. I still wish that I knew the Ai's name or how to gain access to the orphanage records in the future. I grab my camera and shoot everything that I can of this place to have a record of it for later. Time is a luxury we can no longer afford and we have to say goodbye. I hand Foster mom a box of chocolates and hug her with heartfelt gratitude. I already know that this is not the last time that I will be seeing her (I hope) and that I will be returning with Makena at some point in the future.

Frustratingly, we can't poke our head in the ground floor apartment as it is now rented to a family so I just stand in the courtyard and try to absorb every detail, the sounds, the smells, the firecracker infused air and slowly walk away thanking the universe for this experience magnificent gift I won't soon forget.

(First floor where girls were housed.)

(Outside the building.)

Is - humbled and grateful.

Adventureland

2011-12-11T09:20:00.001-08:00

(Public worker's tricycle)

What I love so far about this magical mystery tour that I amon is that it hasn’t been sugar coated. I spent a week sleeping in a dorm with nine women,crashed a night at Juana’s lovely condo in Chongqing, traveled on obscure airlines, navigated a chaotic train station and have now spent my first night in Qianjiang in a, three-star, Chinese business traveler’s hotel. I say first because I will now be staying one additional night in the city, extending my trip to do something completely unplanned nor anticipated because this is the way this adventure is unfolding for me.

(Kids who found me amusing)

I completely failed to mention (in the last couple of posts)that my hosts were hoping that I could talk to some of the students at theschool of tourism about my volunteering experiences in China (and elsewhere). Pauline delivered thisrequest to me and Juana at dinner last night. Juana said that I didn’t have to speak and that I could simply return with her to Chongqing this afternoon, but what was I supposed to say? Thank you for theuse of a personal driver and car and two guides? Thank you for generously paying for all mymeals and footing my hotel bill, thank you for trying to pay for my train ticket. I’ll be off now buh-bye? So, yeah, I'm staying the extra day. And, yes, I understandclearly that Juana will not remain with me to translate and that I will spend a daypointing and signing my way through Qianjiang (and surrounding areas) until my back-to-school chat tomorrow.

(Young girls near the orphanage)

One of the goals I set for myself on this mission was to try to remain present. I know this sounds corny, but I really wanted to not be scared to explore, feel and appreciate the people, the places, the culture; be it a shoe shine, eating tripe or eating with chopsticks for two weeks, I kind of felt like an ambassador for Makena and that it was my duty to take it all in for her with my eyes and my heart wide open and then share it with her later when she starts asking questions. A souvenir installment in her sense of self and to honor her beginnings.

(Tujia doughnuts)

But first things first, it is 8AM and I am in the extra bonus points-round of this journey. When my friend Cherrie (who lives in Beijing) found out that I would be traveling here, she asked me to meet with a young burn victim, Amanda, to photograph her wounds as a favor to her. (We have given the girl an English name to protect her identity.) Cherrie has secured surgery for Amanda in Australia next February and the surgeon, who is donating his services, has asked for new photographs. So I am scrambling to get dressed and make the room presentable so that we can do this and then dash out to track down a woman who was purported to be the head of the Foster mothers at Makena's old orphanage and who may know the woman who is seen holding Makena in one of the old photographs I have of her.

Amanda shows up at nine o'clock on the dot. She is fourteen years old, painfully shy and about the size of a ten year-old. She is accompanied by her aunt and two cousins. Juana puts them at ease and explains my role while I try to figure out how to photograph her facial wounds. Thank god for the Luoyang mission that seasoned me not be scared to look at children with deformities. I look into Amanda's eyes and do my best to keep the session light and easy as I try to pose her in the available light.

(Typical Qianjiang baby Bjorn basket)

Amanda was four months old when the basket she was cradled in (similar to the one pictured) tipped over and her face came to be pressed against the hot stove. Her grandmother heard her cries and dismissed them, initially. When she finally came upon her (I can only imagine what the baby looked like. ), the grandmother had the presence of mind to poke a reed through Amanda's mouth to create an opening as her face blistered and swelled around it. She spent the next dozen years being fed through an opening in her mouth that was the size of a straw. Her mom and dad left the village they lived in (from the hills above Qianjiang) and moved to Guangzhou to work in factories and earn enough money to pay for surgery. They worked and saved money for years. They finally had enough money to pay for the operation (two years ago) but it was botched. And although she now has lips and a patchwork of skin grafts, none of the scar tissue inside her mouth and was removed. She can still barely open her mouth or swallow and she still needs dental work. So she can't talk or articulate very well and she continues to be bullied and ridiculed at school. In spite of all this, she is an excellent student. And because she has managed to keep her grades high, she benefits from a scholarship that pays for her high school education. Otherwise she could find herself working menial jobs like my friend the shoe shiner. So, yes, I want to help this girl. She is a survivor and she deserves it and I am raising funds to help her get to Australia for surgery.

(Amanda)

I take a couple of dozen photographs and thank the Aunt for bringing Amanda and try to say goodbye but she won't leave. The girls take off and the aunt is insisting on taking us to breakfast. It is the least she can do, she says, to thank us for coming all this way to help her niece. Juana is monitoring the time. If we can manage to get breakfast over by 10 AM, this will leave us two hours to hunt down the Foster mother lady and get back to the hotel to meet up with our minders. Hmm... We're off with the aunt, leading us who knows where down side-streets to a little restaurant she knows where we can have a bowl of noodles for breakfast. Yes, my dining experiences are becoming increasingly spectacular. My stomach has been screaming at me since lunch, yesterday, and here I am sitting on a bench slurping (yes, slurping) some beef noodles with a guy next to me smoking like a chimney. Oh, and yeah, my rock star status has not diminished. People stop in front of the restaurant to stare at me, openly. I wave and slurp.

(Crossing street at my own risk)

Ok, now we are really pressed for time and auntie wants me to get a hair cut. It turns out she owns a small salon a few block away and thinks that I should get my mop cut and colored. I realize that I am sporting a low maintenance style and that it is not blown dry so I try to keep as straight a face as possible and thank her and tell her that I might take this into consideration the next time I travel to the city (gulp) but that I am really pressed for time. We try to leave but she insists that she needs a photograph of us. I whip out my camera to take one but this is not acceptable. Juana is freaking out as we are now seriously late in our quest for Makena info. The next thing I know, I am risking my life (again) crossing the street and being led into a photo studio. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, I am now in a Sears type photo studio. I swear, I am not making this up and if I were to write this in a script, no one would believe me. In any case, time ticks away like sand through the hour glass as Auntie takes her time selecting backdrops. She settles on a stone arch with peonies in the background.

(Juana, me and Auntie in photo studio)

We pose, we smile, we are given our laminated copy, we hug goodbye with promises of returning and then Juana and I dart off into the street in search of a cab... We have an hour and fifteen minutes to get answers...

Is on the hunt

Love your Life

2011-11-28T15:18:00.001-08:00

We are staying at the Tianlong Grand Hotel, a three star establishment on a busy avenue. I can't give you an address because all the pamphlets are in Mandarin, the clerks don't speak English and guests sitting in the lobby are openly staring at me while smoking their cigarettes. Juana tells me that I am probably the first white person they have ever come across - other than those they have seen on TV. Qianjiang has a population of a hundred and twenty-thousand people. The director of the school of Tourism thought the hotel's location would be more practical for me so that I could just walk about town.

We are assigned room 5650. We head up to the fifth floor and walk down the corridor. I notice that if I reach my hand and hop, that I can touch the ceiling. I'm 5'4.'' A quick swipe of the key card and, surprise, we stumble upon a pair of Chinese men. You guessed it, smoking. Thankfully, clothed. They gasp. We gasp and quickly retreat into the hall wondering what has just happened. I am just grateful that the situation was not reversed and that I am the one who shocked them. So we return to the lobby and attempt to extract an explanation from the front desk lady. She looks at us as if we are stupid, I can tell this by her tone and I don't need to understand Mandarin because her condescension is so not subtle. 56507 = sixth floor, room 507. Ok, we aren't so bright. Our mistake. But how does this explain the fact that we were able to enter the wrong room, one floor below us?

Spacious, decorated in earth tones and olive colored lame, with the prerequisite kettle in the bathroom to boil the water, yes! Wherever you go in the country, this is the key to your health while traveling. Boil all water that crosses your lips, even when brushing your teeth. Thankfully, although the view is of the conference center parking lot, it is more quiet than had we been fronted on the main drag. And it's free!

Our guide, Pauline, will meet us and take us out to dinner. I am really beginning to feel watched over as plans materialize for us before we can think them through and the clock is ticking on the time I have left in the city. Juana and I plot our last day in Qianjiang which will consists of tracking down the supposed "head of the foster mothers" from Mak's orphanage and finding out if she recognizes the woman pictured with my baby a few weeks before we adopted her. I know that this is a no-no. I fully understand the risks the Center for Adoptions is trying to avoid by having adoptive parents come in contact with former nannies or foster moms. I get it. I am not planning on giving anyone any monetary gifts - other than some chocolates and my undying gratitude. I just want a name for the woman. I want the tiniest bit of information so that I can fill my mommy tank with answers for my curious daughter when the questions start coming.

Cherry is calling and texting me from Beijing with an address she has pulled from her files and she is dictating directions to this person's home based on memory. Cross the main bridge and take the first left along the river, or is it the second... go three kilometers down the road until you come to a fruit market... follow the market until you come to an alley... zigzag left, zigzag right... look for a courtyard... and so on. I transcribe the instructions trying to visualize what she is saying. Juana keeps repeating the Chinese address in Mandarin and thinks the grammar is off. The clerks have never heard of the street... Meanwhile, we have to set up the appointment to take photographs of a young burn victim so that Cherry can send pictures to the surgeon in Australia but we can't get a hold of her she has no telephone. We find another number to call in case of emergency and it is that of the girl's father who is working in Guangzhou with her mother. He excitedly takes our call and promises to have his daughter in our lobby by 9am the next morning. Which, if all works acording to plan, will leave me two hours plus to get to the Foster mother's place (assuming directions are correct.) We are not sure this is going to happen. What is certain though is that we don't want the babysitters around when we are documenting the burns and I don't want them with me when I go looking for the foster mother lady. We hatch a plan to have our guides pick us up at noon to take us to lunch and then the train station for a return back to Chongqing.

Pauline meets us on a street corner a few blocks from the hotel. The streets are filled with people and children. Groups of them, clearly belonging to one family. I am confused about this. Is there not a one child policy in effect? Pauline explains that the Tujia minority (originally from Thailand or thereabout, I believe) are allowed as many as three children. She leads us down restaurant row - which mostly consists of outdoor kitchens with tarps spread overhead to shield diners from the elements. My olfactory sense is on overdrive. I swear that my nostrils are numb from trying to decipher and identify the perfume of smoke, sludge and Sichuan peppers, or is it Qianjiang bacon? We snake our way past carnival type games spread out over the sidewalk and past rows of shoe shiners.

We look to Pauline for dining guidance but she is at a loss since she never goes out to eat, preferring her own cooking to anything else she might want. We settle on the most formal of settings, a restaurant with actual walls and a lot of steam billowing out of it. I like it because of the promise of beer. At this point I feel like a leaf carried by a stream headed for some rapids. I have no clue as to how much dining luck I have left . I know that I just need my stomach to hold out for another seventy-two hours and then I can explode when I get back to Los Angeles. At least, I'll be home.

I gently beg not to be served food that is too spicy. The Sichuan pepper has a taste all to its own and usually makes my tongue thick and numb. I am told that this pepper leaches the moisture out of the body. Translation: it has some arthritis combatting properties that these mountain folks appreciate. The dishes are all sealed in thick plastic wrap and they serve me water tea. Translation: hot water. Good for digestion. The meal is delicious. As much as I profess to be nervous about the dining conditions, the noodle dishes and breaded ribs and mystery soup are memorable. Everyone else loses weight when they travel here but not me, no sir. Those extra five pounds I won't be able to shake when I get home will be my lasting souvenir. That is, if my stomach holds out. What a dilemma.

Don't ask me what this is. It was spicy and delicious.

At the end of the meal a shoe shiner approaches me for a shoe shine. Juana and Pauline quickly waive her off but I ask her to stay. My boots are disgusting. They are covered in mud, construction dust (the air is thick with it) and who knows what else. In any case my friends groan when she plants herself in front of me and starts to clean them. I defend myself. I tell Juana that here is a woman who is trying to survive and the skill she has to put food on the table is to shine my shoes. This isn't about a superior-inferior complex, this is about me needing the service and her being able to provide it. She is not begging. She isn't asking for something for nothing. Juana thanks me for my perspective. The shoe shiner looks up at me and smiles. I smile back at her and thank her in Mandarin, to which she responds, "Love your life." "Excuse, me?" She repeats it. "Love your life!" You speak English? She nods. "Love your life, love yourself." I am stunned. Juana is stunned. Pauline is stunned. We go on to find out that she loved studying English in high school until her parents could no longer afford to pay for her schooling and she was forced to go to work to help support her family. She conjugates a few verbs for us, sharing what she remembers of the language, always smiling and laughing and proud while diners have gathered around us to listen to her. She points to my boots showing me that she is done. They look fantastic. I feel like a kid with a new pair of shoes who can't stop looking at them. She asks for four yuen. I give her six. She gives me two back. I tell her to keep it. The job was worth 3 yuen a boot, at least. She laughs and heads off in search of her next client. Juana looks at me and smiles. What a trip. This almost feels like and old "Touched by an Angel" episode.

How could my shoe shiner possibly know that "Love your life, love yourself," has been my mantra for the last two years and that I try to wake up every day with the goal of being conscious and grateful for the things that I have, for my kids, for my friends, for my life, for this amazing trip.

Is - loving it all

Serendipity

2011-11-26T16:20:00.001-08:00

So, I'm squished into the window seat of a Sichuan Air flight from Beijing to Chongqing trying to crack the mystery of the contents of a lunch box that has been placed before me. My eyes are red and tired as I squeezed the last of my tears out after saying goodbye to the kids in the morning. I don't know if this is why people stare at me. I have taken the quick Caucasian head count and we are two aboard the plane, except that I am way cooler because I don't have an interpreter with me and I only speak six words of Mandarin. I glance to my right and observe that most passengers are placing pickles inside the bread and eating the whole as a sandwich. So I stuff my pungent spread inside the bun, shovel it in my mouth and order my Lu Cha (green tea) to wash it down.

Juana is waiting for me when I come out of the baggage claim area and I am SOOOOO relieved because even though I thought I was hot shit for spending the better part of a day without linguistic assistance, I would have been really wigged out if she wasn't there grinning at me upon arrival.

How was I ever to imagine that a trip to Singapore a year and a half ago to visit Dominique would have me meet and get to know one of her closest friends there, Juana. And what would the likelihood be that Juana used to live in Chongqing and was originally from Fuling? (Which is a stop on the way to Qianjiang.) Or that subsequently she would end up divorcing her husband and moving back to China? Or that she had no clue that children were being abandoned and that SWI were filled to capacity?

I quickly brought Juana up to speed and gave her the 411 on my adoption journey and shared my dreams to someday to travel back to China to check out Qianjiang, the city from which Makena was purportedly from. She was fascinated and quickly offered to be my guide should this dream materialize. And fast forward to November 11, here we are.

(First class, soft sleeper, cabin: 139 yuen, one way. Book all for seats in case you don't want to share with a stranger and make sure it is non-smoking.)

(Chongqing rail station at 7AM)

FYI: Even though I had my friend with me, figuring out how to get to the right track in the correct departure hall and going through security was intense so I recommend extremely light packing for the train ride.

One of the rivers that feeds the Three Gorges Dam and the expressway that now links Qianjiang to the big times.

I always tell myself when I meet people for the first time and find a strong connection to them that there is always a reason. That is the case for Juana who essentially gave up two days of her weekend to embark on an adventure with me to a town she had never visited even though it is a couple of hours away by train. Thanks to her college connections and for wanting me to get as much out of the trip as possible, she called on friends to help us find a guide and a driver so that we could trip around town.

(My guides, courtesy of the school of tourism.)

(Footage of the drive through town on a Saturday morning.)

(A young woman rehydrating seaweed which is used in all soups.)

I really felt like I had stepped off the reservation when my entourage took me to lunch in a nondescript hole in the wall. To date, all my dining experiences in China in trips past and present were in cavernous glittery five star culinary extravaganzas. Here, I was being led into a windowless cinderblock room with a big round table at the center of which stood a bowl of steaming hot soup. I was being hosted at a farmer's restaurant where all veggies served were straight off his farm and everything was fresh.

As an aside, I had until that very moment been a vegetarian for the last three years. Juana, pretty much told me that those days were over and that I needed to try everything. You pretty much can't pass on the pork when the poor pig was slaughtered in honor of your arrival. Times like these are usually when I start praying silently to my digestive gods hoping that Montezuma is seeking vengeance on some other continent. So I took the tiniest bite of it, almost gagged over the tripe, tasted a sliver of something beefy looking and took a mouthful of something that looked like squid. When I inquired as to the provenance of said protein, no one would or could tell me. The best surprise though were the potatoes that made an appearance halfway through the meal. Qianjiang is a mountainous region and many varieties are grown here. They even fry them up and serve them mixed in with the rice. I do have to fess up that once I got over the visuals and the scent of spices I had never smelled before, that the food was really delicious. I even impressed my hosts by moving a chicken talon aside in the bowl and plucking some yam noodles out with my chopsticks. They were seriously stunned that I could eat with them.

My first and immediate goal was to get to Makena's finding place. I had combed Brian Stuy's website for pictures of it but never found one and I was really concerned that, as time went by, the city would change due to the massive construction push all over the country. I wasn't wrong.

(We stopped in a store so that I could purchase some tape for a poster of Makena's life that I intended to leave at the finding site.)

(As expected, and after three different attempts made to locate the Bojiawan gas station, we finally found it. At least, what was left of it. A primary school now stood in its place.)

It took my breath away, I was really emotional and conscious that everyone was watching me. Strangers curious about this white woman who really needed to get a picture of a gas station. I had to try to make them understand that one day my daughter would ask me questions about her beginnings and that I wouldn't really have any answers for her other than what I was able to gather for her now. In the very least she would know that mom moved heaven and earth to go in search of some facts to weave into the fabric of her life before the trail grew cold.

(This wall was part of the original gas station complex. I leaned there for a long time. I felt like this was my great wall and that it stood between me and Makena's past. Prettier shot than a gas pump.)

I put together a poster letting whoever know that in November of 2005 a little girl was found here and that she was later adopted by an American family, that she was bright and beautiful and very much loved by all who knew her. My guide translated everything into Mandarin while my driver shot a lot of pictures. I'm fairly certain that although he never said two words to me, that he spoke fluent English and reported everything back to higher up. So much for keeping a low profile in Qianjiang.

(We left the poster at the entrance to the school along with an email address to contact us with any info about Makena.)

Just before we were to leave, a woman showed up at the school. She was the new director of the Qianjiang SWI that was being constructed. The director of the school of tourism had called her and told her where I was and basically ordered her to hightail over to me and give me a tour of the old orphanage. So our group left in a convoy of automobiles and drove up into the hills to a pink building overlooking the city. It had been closed since September and all the remaining children were now relocated to Chongqing. As hard as she tried, the director could not unlock the door so we went up the back stairwell and poked around with limited access.

(View from the rooftop.)

(The empty kitchen.)

(A peek through the bars and I caught a glimpse of the profiles of the last of the children who were there before moving to Chongqing.)

According to the director, the new SWI will house retirees as wells as children but she was not clear on when the new facility would open. We bid farewell with the promise of staying in touch and then headed back to the hotel where I soon found out that the bill had been taken care of by the school of tourism. I was officially their guest. And although I insisted and waived my credit card around, Juana just told me let things be. That this was the Chinese way and that protesting too much would be insulting. So I backed off, thanked all present for their hospitality and headed up to my room for a well-needed rest until dinner. I still had a lot of to-do's I needed to check off my list before leaving the next day; namely get a name for the woman who was pictured holding Makena in her arms in early photos of her and take photographs of a young burn victim who my friend Cherry from Beijing had lined up surgery for in Australia. And so far, so good, my stomach was still holding up.

I came, I saw, I'm back.

2011-11-23T10:41:00.001-08:00

Men at work?

In front of one of the Long men caves in Luoyang (UNESCO world heritage site.)

I just realized that if you don't want to age then you should always try to cross the date line the day before your birthday and land the day after. I plan on doing so again next year, and the year after, and the year after that and remaining forty-something, forever!

-The Mending Crew-

So many emotions factored into getting ready for this trip. One, I would be leaving my six-year old for almost two weeks when the last time I was going to China was to bring her home. Two, I would be spending a week in a hospital-like care facility with over a hundred and forty orphans most of whom had physical disabilities and, three, the Mending Kids coordinator was asking me to document the mission - which was okay technically since I am a grad of the American Film Institute but as a director, not a cinematographer. I felt a lot of pressure building up on many fronts. Here we were, fifteen volunteers traveling to China: two surgeons, an anesthesiologist, two scrub nurses, three pre-op/post-op nurses, three MKI staff and four moms with varying degrees of volunteering skills and experiences. Seriously, I thought that I would be burping kids and singing songs and rolling around on the floor with them.

-Heroes-

I didn't realize that I would end up in the operating theater filming the surgeries without passing out or throwing up for hours on end. On another more profound level, I was scared at what my reaction might be to these kids with special needs. Could I connect with them? Would they interact with me? I, and most everyone of my friends have been blessed with healthy kids (knock on wood) who have no reallyapparent physical disabilities. I've seen kids with disabilities, we all have, but in the past I would be careful not to stare. I'd shoot a quick glance and avert my gaze. Aware but detached. And I know this reads horribly but the truth is I really hadn't spent any quantifiable time trying to get to know anyone and I had no clue about how to behave.

All of this changed over the course of a lightening emotion-in check packed week. I met three kids in particular who touched me profoundly, whose personalities bore a hole into my heart and whose faces and laughter remain there since I had to say goodbye. This isn't to say that there weren't other babies and toddlers I had to get a daily hug or snuggle with - like Seth who we all fought over to hold and carry and who came off the train from Xian late in the week with a travel buddy who was in dire need of life-saving surgery, or Theo, a little boy who would never walk, who scooted around the room following me and insisting that I carry on with him.

-Seth-

Seth's travel buddy recovering from surgery.

-Theo-

Three little girls: Jaelynn, Jessica and Fallon are the ones whose faces still shine bright when I close my eyes. All any of these children wanted was to be seen and to be heard and to be understood for who they were and not what their bodies were misleading. I'm embarrassed to say that it really wasn't hard at all to get down on the floor and hold their hands and laugh and play. These little ambassadors made me realize that I could have the emotional strength to parent a special needs' child. And don't think that I didn't come home wanting to fast-track them into my life, permanently. The reality is that I just can't right now. I have to get back on my feet and help provide for the two kids that make up the rest of my heart and soul and unless the adoption laws change in China soon, I would have to be married for five years at least and, oh yeah, this future imaginary husband would have to also want to do the same and,oh yeah, I am not so sure that I want to ever walk down that road again. Certainly not after having a taste of what having taking control of the remote like. I'm selfish that way.

-Jaelynn-

-Jessica-

-Fallon-

The only alternative I have in the short run is to become an advocate for two of these girls (see blog links below.) So if you read posts on the Chinese family groups advocating for a girl with spinabifida or another one with CP, you will know that it comes from yours truly.

Also, part of my other tasks as an MKI volunteer was to blog about our experiences. We did this by sending an email to the PR person in L.A. who then transcribed/edited and posted them into the blog. The links are posted below. I am trying not to repeat myself, which I find almost impossible but in any case, the links also give you access to some of the pictures that I took and sent off. Some of which may also be repeated in this post.

You lose a sense of time when you are present and involved, but time did in deed move forward and at the end of the week, thanks to Mending Kids and the surgeons, doctors and nurses of Cedars Sinai, Los Angeles, eleven surgeries had been performed (10 boys, 1 girl) and all those children will now become eligible for adoption and hopefully be matched to families somewhere in the world, soon.

Impressions

unexpected visitors

How do you say goodbye?

Is onto the next mission...

My new Facebook ID

Gifts

2011-11-03T09:36:00.000-07:00

Six years ago tomorrow, I was on a cruise in Italy with EM. It was like a second honeymoon. We new that we wouldn't have too many more opportunities to have one on one time like this because Makena would be arriving within the year, we hoped. We had stopped off in Coullioure, France, for the day - which also happened to be my birthday. And as we were tripping around town, hopping in and out of galleries, I came across a small finger puppet. I bought it as a future present for her, wondering if my daughter, who had floated in and out of my dreams for so long, was even born. Little did I know that likely around the same time I was buying this gift, a good samaritan had come across her in the middle of the night and was taking her to a police station. She was a week old. It was November 4 in France and November 5 in China. She was the best present of all and it would be ten months before I would be able to hold her in my arms.

(Add placed in the paper announcing that Makena had been found.)

Tonight (in celebration of hitting my mid-century mark) I will be boarding a flight to China as part of a volunteer group (for Mending Kids International) traveling to an orphanage in Luoyang, China. A team of surgeons from Cedars Sinai hospital in Los Angeles will be performing about a dozen surgeries on young orphans to make them adoptable. I will be the trip documentarian and I will be recording the mission for them. It probably means stepping into an operating theater (and praying that my Grey's Anatomy exposure has prepared me) and spending time with some young patients in palliative care, and living and playing with a whole slew of young children.

When the mission ends in a week or so, I will travel onto Chongqing and meet a Chinese friend of mine who will take me by train to Qianjiang. The sole purpose of this part of my birthday trip is to get to Makena's finding place and take a picture and leave a poster letting whoever know that she was found, that she is an amazing little girl, and that she is thriving with her new family in the US. I'll also leave an email to contact us with any information. A message in a bottle, so to speak. (And, yes, it will all be written in Mandarin.)

The chances of me meeting her Foster Mother are slim to none, but I will try in any case. Then, I will travel out to the country side to the Tujia hill tribe villages where she is most likely from, gather a spoonful of dirt, and make the trek home with some great photographs and some lasting memories that I will eventually share with her when the time is right.

Is - on a mission.

Two years, too long.

2011-10-29T18:29:00.000-07:00

Where do I start? The last time I left off, Mak was in preschool, Jack was starting Middle School and I still had a husband.
Flash forward two years: Mak is in kindergarten, Jack is in eighth grade and the dust has settled around us. EM and I are friends.We shockingly pulled the plug on seventeen years of marriage because we realized that life is too short and we felt that we might actually be better parents (and role models) to our kids living apart than together. Controversial, sacrilegious and scary on many fronts, yes, but once we took that leap and realized that our parachutes had opened and that we had landed safely, it was quite liberating for us both. That isn't to say that we haven't skirted the odd mine or two...
Regardless, I wake up every day and count my blessings. My kids have come through the dissolution relatively unscathed. We are still a family and we still do things together as a family. Our co-parenting is tight and even though we each technically only have the kids half the time, I have been able to make stabs at resuscitating my directing career and EM is completely and actively involved in their lives. In fact, we have a better relationship now than we did when we were married.
No point in looking back when the future has so much to offer. No point in being scared when you know that your friends and family are there with you arm in arm and in spirit!

Just thought I would bring you up to speed before I shift gears on the next posts.
Is - been a while.

Snapshots

2009-09-04T18:03:00.000-07:00

I found Makena sitting in this box talking about some train ride she was on. Then she ran inside and changed her clothes for the third or fourth time. (Typically, Makena insists on picking out her clothes and then changing into new outfits as the day progresses.)

I actually managed to get her to pose for me in a shot but she didn't sit there for long. She was off!

And then she ran around the yard quite a bit.

And then she went into the vegetable patch and picked some green beans.

It was a lovely and very active day.

Is a busy following Makena

Leap of faith

2009-09-03T13:28:00.000-07:00

The last thing I did in Montreal before hoping on a flight home was to go watch my nephew skydive. This is how he chose to celebrate his seventeenth birthday. His girlfriend, Sarah, was also on hand to witness this and, although the weather was rainy, the sun came out long enough for him to get the go ahead and suit up.

Sarah was adopted from China when she was a baby. (She is now eighteen.) She is beautiful and quirky and smart and very sweet to Xavier. And she hates Chinese food! The two met at a track meet almost two years ago and hit it off.

Of course, in classic fashion, my sister and I decided that we had enough time to go and get everyone lunch before the parachuters were okayed for takeoff. And sure enough, Uncle Peter called to say that Xavier was about to board the plane while we were still waiting for our orders in two separate restaurants. So, yeah, we missed Xavier boarding the plane and flying up into the cloudy blue yonder.

We did actually arrive in time to see his descent so all was not a loss and, more importantly, he landed in one piece.

Happy birthday, Xavier.

Isabelle

I don't

2009-09-02T17:21:00.000-07:00

I love my friend Dominique but I don't want to go to any more weddings! As EM said it best: "Her love life has cost us a lot!" Okay, I'm paraphrasing. (About the sentence, not the $)

So I flew to Montreal last December for her engagement party and to meet her fiance. I brought Makena and we spent four or five days there. Then in March I flew to Paris for a week. This was the longest I ever left Makena. The first time EM was in charge of both kids and (miraculously) everyone survived. In June, I took the kids to Singapore to visit Dominique - and it was a little wedding related since I was one of her bridesmaids and I saw a version of her wedding dress and checked out the gift registry with her -Then, at long last, the second and final wedding reception for the family and friends who couldn't make it to Paris was held on August 28. I flew to Montreal again, this time without the kids or husband, for five exhausting days. Partying can take a toll on you. I managed to score some face time with my sister and dad but it was short-lived. I was on a flight home before I knew it.

EM and I were two ships crossing in the night. He went up to the lake house while I stayed behind to go to middle school orientation with Jack. Makena was very happy to see me. I know this because she kept waking up in the middle of the night to make sure I was still there. Jack caught a flu bug or food poisoning and has been gagging up buckets. We missed orientation and delayed our trip up to the lake house to squeeze the last bit of summer out of our holiday.

Of course, all of sudden California is burning. We are safe at home with no imminent fire danger but you never know. I am planning the drive tonight hoping both kids will sleep and more importantly, that Jack will stomach the drive. (Every pun intended.)

The only future travel I plan to do for Do is to visit her in Australia because there is a rumor going around that she may get a place in Melbourne. Until then, she owes me four visits!

Is - staying home for a while.

PS: I loved Dominique's second wedding dress. It was like a cross between Bjork's swan Oscars dress and the Sex and the City one SJP wore :)

It was only a matter of time

2009-08-24T20:42:00.000-07:00

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

2009-08-21T22:22:00.000-07:00

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

2009-08-21T22:16:00.000-07:00

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

2009-08-21T21:13:00.001-07:00

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

2009-08-10T15:19:00.000-07:00

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

Play date

2009-07-31T14:56:00.000-07:00

I hooked up with my friend Linda and her daughter, Li En, a week ago. We decided to meet at the Long Beach Aquarium which was a good midpoint destination since we live about an hour and a half from each other. In usual fashion (although you wouldn't know it from the picture) we decided to meet on a Friday. I swear I have no grey cells left in that cavernous brain of mine. Every day camp in the greater Los Angeles area had decided to have a field trip there that day. It was insane. The place was crammed like a can of sardines. I squid you not. When you purchased a ticket they gave you an appointment time for later on in the day to try and pace the ebb and flow out of the aquarium.

Of course, we disregarded the appointment time and dove right in and, once there, Makena wanted to go left and Li En wanted to go right. One wanted to see the jelly fish inside, the other, the sharks outside. I had brought along, Daisy, one of Makena's older friends because it just wasn't going to be a challenge to lose one child in a crowd. Why not go for two? Heck, three! Thankfully, seasoned from my Asia trip, I didn't lose too much sleep when I momentarily lost sight of my girls. Linda was more stressed about it so I knew she would make up for my slack. I also took out my pen and tattooed the three girls with my cell phone number on their forearms... just in case.

Li En and Makena were both from the Qianjiang SWI, both born a week apart. They were the same height, had the same skin tone and hair coloring and the same energy level - although Li En was a better listener by far and had not learned how to do a fake smile. Other than that, the girls hit it off famously and had a great day together. Linda did mention at the end that we should meet in a park next time.

A relaxed play date. What a concept.

Is - a - considering it.

Alaska

2009-07-21T13:56:00.000-07:00

Jack's come a long way since he first cast and (promptly lost) his Scoobydoo reel in Big Bear Lake when he was two. EM took his eleven year-old on a five day salmon fishing adventure to Prince of Wales Island in Southeastern Alaska. Jack did his own casting and reeled in his own fish and loved loved every minute of his time spent there. Even though Jack and EM were fishing the waters ten hours a day, Jack still couldn't get enough. The boat would come in and Jack would hop off, grab another reel, and fish off the dock until the mosquitos became too bloodthirsty.

For those in the know, fishing is more than catching fish. Fishing is mostly waiting (without getting bored). It requires patience and that, in turn, fuels meditation or introspection and leaves you open for profound conversations. Jack never once complained about the time he spent waiting for his hook to lure a catch.

Jack became a true fisherman on this vacation. Mostly though, he spent amazing quality time with his dad that the two won't soon forget.

Isabelle

Here we go again

2009-07-17T22:41:00.000-07:00

I got woken up by Makena's crying around six thirty in the morning. I went into her room to check on her and she was boiling hot - the kind of heat coming off her body that sent me into a quiet panic. I knew at this point that she was a ticking time bomb. She wasn't even warm when I put her to bed the night before. How could this happen? I quickly rushed to the kitchen and poured her a glass of juice. I scrambled to get a dose of tylenol and then returned to the room to try and coax her to drink either to bring her temperature down. Every attempt was met with screeching and tears.

(EM and Jack had taken off the day before for Alaska and my nephews were asleep at the other end of the house. I would be taking them to the airport for their flight home in a couple of hours.)

Before I could strip her down to cool her off, the nightmare I had lived through two years ago replayed itself. She suddenly jerked back stiffly in my arms and started to shake violently. Her eyes rolled back. She was having a febrile seizure. I watched this happen with surprising detachment. I think that my heart rate probably dropped to thirty beats per minute as I went into robo-mom mode. I remember hesitating between walking into the shower in the master or heading for the bathtub in her bathroom.
I opted for the latter.

I carried her jerking body and sat us both in her tub. I turned the cold water on and proceeded to splash her feet and then I let the water run up her legs and stomach. I drenched her as she jerked away. I was fully clothed and soaking wet holding her for I don't know how long. Probably only a minute which seemed like an eternity. I kept replaying the mantra my pediatrician had told me the last time this happened which was if the seizure lasts less than two minutes: Don't call 911.

The seizure stopped. I wiped the foam off her mouth and then I crawled out of the bath and laid her on the floor and proceeded to soak a bath towel and covered her with it. I then grabbed a hand towel, soaked it with cold water and placed it over her head and forehead. It was hard. Her eyes were staring straight ahead, nonreactive. I knew she was breathing. Her lips weren't blue. I called the pediatrician's office and left word with the operator that I was having an emergency.
I called,Wendy, my neighbor - who told me to call 911. By the time Wendy was in my house, Makena's doctor had called me back and was telling me to bring her into the office to check her out.

I handed Makena - still unresponsive and soaking wet - to Wendy and rushed to get dressed and grab clothes for Makena, when I realized that my two nephews were still here and asleep and supposed to leave for the airport in a couple of hours.

I grabbed their passports and ran into their room to wake them up and tell them as matter-of-factly as I could what had happened. Poor guys. What a way to end their stay with me. I handed them their passports, told them to make sure all their bags were packed and that I would let them know in an hour or so if they would have to take a taxi to the airport or if I could get a friend to drive them.

They walked me out and said goodbye to Makena and then Wendy drove me to the office. We didn't bother putting her in the car seat. I just held her in the back of the car as she slowly came to. On the way there, I called my other good friend, Debby, and asked her if she had the time to drive my nephews to the airport. She didn't hesitate and quickly told me that she could.

When we arrived at the pediatrician's, the staff was waiting for us and quickly directed us to a room and measured her vital signs. By then, Makena was cognisant, annoyed she was wet, fever less and seriously unhappy. Hurray, her fighting spirit was back.

Our doctor reassured me that she was going to be fine. Strep, ear infections and swine flu were ruled out. I was instructed to alternate between overlapping doses of Motrin and Tylenol for the next 48 hours to stop the fever from reoccurring. I was reminded that her febrile seizure did not cause her any brain damage and to call the office if I had any concerns or if she started to vomit. Nice.

On the way home, I called Debby who was driving the boys to catch their flight and told them that their cousin was okay and to have a safe trip home.

I debated whether to e-mail EM and Jack what had happened and decided to do so on the way home when I knew that we were in the clear. There was virtually no cell reception where they were staying at the fishing lodge - except for one spot by the end of the dock. I texted them to tell them what had happened, figuring that they had left to fish for the day and would get the message in the evening when they returned. And, of course, EM go the message within minutes of me sending it, because they hadn't left when I thought they would. He was naturally freaked out and ready to come home so I had to reassure him that his daughter was okay, that I could handle it and not to hop on three planes to get home and to go out and catch lots of fish.

I spent the weekend in pajamas with Makena letting her drink "spicy apple juice" - which is what she calls Sprite. We played with puzzles, read books, took our medicine, napped and recuperated. It was a very mellow 48 hours for a change.

My friends have all asked me how I stayed so calm through all this. I don't know. Since it was obviously different this time because it had happened once before and I knew what was in store, I went through the motions. As it was happening, I did keep telling myself to remain positive. It was stressful, sure but I didn't cry.

I have had several conversations with Makena's doctor over the lat two years about the reoccurrence of a fever induced seizure and he has coached me to resist sending her to the ER because of all the invasive procedures they do. The first time it happened we spent a day in the ER - as they botched her i.v., ran cat scans and drew blood and urine - mostly to rule out abuse. It was a horrible and traumatic experience for Makena, much more so than the seizure itself. They took one look at the Mongolian spots (birthmark) she has on her back and assumed that the seizure had happened because we were abusing her somehow. Not fun to be put on the defensive when you don't know what has happened to your child.

Now I do, but were this to happen again (which it most likely will as she won't be free of these until she is about five or six) and I wasn't around and the sitter or my friends freaked out, then obviously I would expect them to call 911.

I need a vacation. Wait. I just came back from one.

Is - hanging in there.

Testosterone

2009-07-06T18:35:00.000-07:00

Although my children slept most of the return flight home and we sailed through customs and our bag was not lost, I was exhausted. (I give myself a golf clap for traveling to Asia and packing three people's worth of clothes for fourteen days into one suitcase that did not exceed fifty pounds!) Nevertheless, my little adventure justifiably left me drained from jet lag and, prior to that, pounding the pavement visiting four countries with temperamental companions. All this tempered by the constant fear that I might lose one of them along the way.

So, yeah, reentry was brutal. The coup de grace being the synchronised arrival of my teenage nephews for their annual two week visit with me ON THE SAME DAY I RETURNED HOME. Masochistic, is the word that comes to mind. The only thing I did right (other than opening the door to let them in) was to have a car pick them up at the airport because there was no way in hell that I was going to return to LAX to pick them up six hours after setting foot in my house. Thank God they were now too old to be "Unaccompanied Minors." And since El Mysterioso was already at the lake house, I was still technically single-parenting and now I had two more individuals to add to the mix.

Two cute, tall, skinny teens greeted me with a grunt and a slap on the shoulder and proceeded to raid the pantry for something to eat. I returned to bed.

I vaguely remember the fourth of July. When the fog lifted and I regained my bearings, we had joined EM in the mountains and Jack and my nephews had their posteriors embedded in the couch with the remote control fused to their hands. Makena used them as her personal jungle gym and they were happy to entertain her which was quite gratifying to see. I went back to bed.

What is it with teens? Is it the advent of facial hair or the adjustment to testosterone that turns once sweet, curious little boys into mini cavemen with monosyllabic responses to questions making conversations a thing of the past? EM thought two aliens had descended upon us and kidnapped Jack who was so happy to surrender himself to them for their teenager boot camp.

Trying to get them to pose for a picture was impossible. Their radar was on full alert and anytime I pulled the camera out, they would bolt or hide. I seriously had to pretend to be looking at something on my phone to capture their images surreptitiously. A yeti would be easier to photograph.

Seriously, their two week visit with us is always the highlight of Jack's summer, he loves them so much.

Regardless of our minor communication issues we love having them around and for all their quirks, they are always happy to play with their youngest cousin or attempt to beat me at ping pong. (Never going to happen!)

Is - ugh - belle

Food for thought

2009-07-03T14:28:00.000-07:00

One of the highlights of our Asian adventure was when we stumbled upon a fish spa outside the zoo. Jack had essentially spent the last three years since our adoption trip fantasizing about the hour and a half foot massage he had been privy to in Beijing, pre Makena (seen here, below) and I believe that part of his eagerness to visit Singapore was colored by the thought of getting his feet massaged.

But nothing could really prepare him for this new aquatic sensory experience: dunking his feet in a tub filled with "doctor fish" who took it upon themselves to eat the dead skin off his feet! We all tried it. And once we got over the tickling and surrendered to the pulsing sensation a hundred-plus fish created while nibbling at us, it was actually quite soothing and relaxing - even though it was weird and wild. It didn't hurt. No blood was drawn and no fish were harmed (that I know of). Jack would have stayed a whole hour - had the session not only lasted ten minutes. The dunk was immediately followed by a half hour foot massage which eventually sated his appetite but my boy was hooked on fish spas.

And thus every outing we set upon after that, for the remainder of our stay in Singapore, was always colored with his longing (okay, whining) about finding another fish spa to go to.

Jack was near tears when this field trip did not materialize and I promised that we would try and locate one in Hong Kong and go there, time permitting. I did eventually locate one in Kowloon but it was much too far away from where we were to go hunt it down. It wasn't until we started talking about his obsession with Kenwyn and Doug that we discovered that they had been to one in Macau. This revelation cemented our resolve to visit the country. I really did not want to return home to the U.S. without making this happen and they were kind enough to watch Makena for me while I took Jack and Esme to have our feet doctored.

I swear, if this had not happened, he would still be talking about it and airing his disappointment. I eventually found out that there is a fish spa in Las Vegas and one somewhere in Ohio but I have kept this information to myself.

Food for thought.

Isabelle

Fake smiles

2009-07-02T22:31:00.000-07:00

Imagine my delight when I was able to get Makena and Amelie to look in my direction and smile.

I quickly realized that they were both fake smiling.

They dropped all artifice once we handed them the candy.

Nevertheless, the girls still have a thing or two to learn from the master fake smiler. (Pictured here as we waited to board the flight home to Los Angeles.)

Is - onto them.

Macau

2009-07-02T15:31:00.000-07:00

What can I say about the Las Vegas of Asia? Not too much other than "Have children, will travel." We decided to hop over to Macau with Kenwyn and the girls (Doug joined us in the evening) to spend the night at the Westin Hotel which was away from the gambling and had a lovely pool. The expedition involved taking a one hour ferry ride over, getting our passports stamped and hopping on a shuttle to the resort. It was a bit of surreal deja vu driving past the strip of Casinos vying for our attention. Of course, I didn't take any pictures of said establishments. You will just have to take my word for it.

Makena napped the whole way over which made for a relaxing trip and some quality time with Jack.

Moms on the go.

The shuttle was exciting because there were no seat belts.

The kids probably spent about four to six hours at the pool. What a surprise.

I snapped this street corner scene after we left restaurant Litoral - touted the best culinary experience in all of Macau. Delicious Portuguese cuisine.

Exploring...

This was a bus stop outside another great restaurant Doug uncovered for us. It was called Fernando's and the wait to get in was worth it. We dined on sea food and stuffed ourselves silly in hundred degree weather.

Then we ran back to the hotel, grabbed a shuttle and returned to the port to hop on the ferry back to Hong Kong. All went well until Makena had a tantrum of seismic proportions upon arrival which led me to hail our own taxi back to the apartment. Jack, in classic form, rode in Amelie's cab to avoid being associated with me. His sense of preservation is quite well tuned. Frankly, I would have done the same.

What an adventure.

Is- still standing.

Hong Kong

2009-06-30T22:25:00.000-07:00

I can't tell you how exciting it is to ride an Airbus 330 through typhoon weather on our way to Hong Kong. I'll just say that it was a bumpy ride. Makena cooperated and kept her seatbelt on and held my hand throughout the turbulence. The plane was full of people wearing masks - a constant reminder about the spread of swine flu across Asia. Not fun. Regardless, we landed safely and were greeted by sweltering humidity and more stormy weather to which my hair responded accordingly.

The second part of this adventure was to reunite with our Seattle friends who were now living in HK for the next two years. They were part of our adoption group and we met and befriended them when they were in China adopting their daughter Amelie (Esme's little sister).

Amelie and Jack hit it off right away which meant that Makena had to keep a close eye on the two as her sense of proprietorship kicked into full gear. Poor Amelie became a little frazzled observing Makena claim all of her toys as hers. We kept telling Amelie to ignore what Makena was saying and that worked for a bit. I also came to a very expensive realization while we were in Hong Kong which was that my children don't travel the world with the intent of actually seeing it (okay, Mak is three and has no say.)They put up with the travel to swim in new pools.

The kids were wiped out from the time spent in Singapore and by the time we landed in the apartment and getting them to leave this toy-filled sanctuary was quite trying. The constant rains and the allure of the Wii didn't help matters either. Esme and Jack bonded over some serious Wii tennis matches. Heaven.

So, Alas, I did not see much of the city but in all reality, I was wiped out too and glad to catch up on my reading. I did read a few tour guides therefore I knew what I was missing and I did escape with Doug and Kenwyn at night to have grownup dinners and walk around in the rain. I was taken to a few extraordinary restaurants and tried Manchurian and Nepalese food for the first time. Both cuisines made deliciously delectable use of potatoes. I still think about the potato and eggplant dish I had that will lure me back to that Manchurian restaurant when I set foot in Hong Kong again. Yum!

I did end up having to take Jack to the doctor a couple of days after we arrived because he was complaining of stomach ailments (and to rule out Swine flu at his insistence.) We tried to figure out if it was the sushi dinner our last night in Singapore or the malaysian curry lunch the day before that did it. His culinary curiosity may have gotten to him after all.

We found our way to a very large practice full of ailing foreigners. We were seen very quickly and Jack was given something for the cramps and told to eat white rice for the next few days, which did not go over very well. He was also told that he did not have Swine flu, which did go over well.

Although we took a cab to the doctor's office, we walked home and rode the longest escalator in the world, up the the hill, to the mid-levels where our friends lived. Jack experienced a feel for the city without walking too much. There were store fronts, cross streets and alley ways crisscrossing under the escalator that were bustling with businesses, shops and restaurants full of people. I was dying to explore them but knew I was pushing my luck so I could only study them from afar. Jack only tolerated the field trip home because I promised to get him back to the pool while the sun was still out.

I snapped this sign along the way. Hilarious.

Is - in Hong Kong

Sealed with a kiss

2009-06-29T21:20:00.000-07:00

I had to embarrass myself by volunteering to throw a frisbee at a sea lion and have him catch it. I raised my hand and promised the MC that this was my sport. I stood up in front of a large audience, told everyone my name and where I was from and then was handed the plastic disc. For a brief moment I flashed on my friend J (this is actually how you spell his name) who is an extreme frisbee player and tried to channel him as I took aim and failed, over and over and over. I could hear Jack groaning as the sea lion made every attempt to reach it and missed. Ugh. He finally caught it and splashed me as he belly flopped into the tank. Whatever. My failure still won me first place in line to get my picture taken with the animal so I quickly grabbed Makena and led her up to the podium as Jack took off in the opposite direction distancing himself from me. I hate lines so bruising my ego was definitely worth it.

The zoo offered elephant rides so we had to try that. We also fed giraffes. Ran twenty miles chasing after Makena...

Singapore was all about close encounters with animals as well as hand sanitizer. I went through an entire bottle the week as I was there. I would pop the bottle out and squirt away. Makena and Jack never turned it down.

The snake charmer's business was dead until we paid him to have Jack's picture taken with his boas. A crowd gathered around us as I snapped my pictures and then a few other tourists did the same. I sent Jack to the bathrooms to wash up after that. I didn't have enough antibacterial on me and snake pee is really smelly.

We really enjoyed ourselves in Singapore.

Is - sad to be leaving

Singapore

2009-06-26T22:46:00.000-07:00

The last straw was walking past the health monitors positioned at passport control who had pointed temperature readers at us to get our body heat readings. Thankfully, we were just hot looking. Swine flu was as big deal here and they weren't messing around since most of the recent cases had been brought courtesy of visitors from the United States and Mexico.

Anyway, by the time we crawled out of the baggage terminal and were greeted by Dominique, it had taken us twenty-nine hours to get to Singapore. The kids were well behaved if not a wee bit smelly and sticky.

Mak and Jack passed out the minute we reached the condo so Do and I caught up and created an attack plan to entertain them for the next seven days. Although I was disappointed that Do's husband was stuck working in Australia, it was probably for the best. He wouldn't have to suffer our jet-lagged three AM awakenings and Dominique wouldn't have to feel torn about giving us all of her attention. He wasn't there! We had her al to ourselves.

Sunday was spent by the pool getting used to the 100 degree weather and ridiculous humidity and then walking through an Indian neighborhood and checking out Mustafa's: The most insane six story shopping plaza/fire trap that sold everything from Reebok shoes in the basement to electronics, medicine and freshly slaughtered goat meat on the third floor. The aisles were narrow. The place was overcrowded. You had to turn sideways to get passed people and the stroller didn't fit down most aisles. The only saving grace was that Makena had fallen asleep so I didn't have to worry about losing her. That would come later. I made it out of there with rice milk and a box of frosted flakes cereal.

Day two was spent at the Singapore zoo. The most grand, clean and beautiful zoo I have ever set foot in. The white tiger exhibit was something to behold. All the animals were active and not pacing like I often see in most other zoos. Do and I lost five pounds chasing after Makena all day because she wouldn't wait for us and kept running ahead. If that wasn't enough, after a full day at the zoo, we decided to cap it off with a visit to the night zoo to see nocturnal animals in action and to eat an amazing (zoo purchased) dinner of Laksa (a spicy coconut, noodle, seafood dish). The day was repleet with stops at spotless restrooms where I would cool Makena off by pouring water on her. Seriously, Singaporeans know how to keep public facilities clean.

Of course, none of my photographs correspond to any of the places I have mentioned because I forgot the battery to my camera. Do has promised to send me the ones she took and I am still trying to figure out how to get the ones Jack took with his phone onto this blog. These will have to do for now.

More adventures to come.

Is-loving Singapore.

Far and away

2009-06-25T07:48:00.000-07:00

Ok, so Jack graduated from fifth grade and I decided that I would mark the occasion by going away on a special trip to Singapore because Dominique now lived there and because we had an open invitation to go visit her. The trip was meant to be for just Jack and me and to last ten days but... as the planning began and after talking to EM about his schedule, and to Makena's teachers, everyone recommended that I not leave her for that long. It was better to go away for a bit longer and take her and deal with jet lag than leave her at home without me.

So the planning shifted to two weeks and we added a stop-over in Hong Kong because friends from our adoption group had recently moved there and had also extended an invitation to us to visit.

Our savvy travel agent booked tickets to Singapore via a layover in Taiwan and then flew us from Singapore to Hong Kong. The most difficult part of the trip for me was going to be the ten hour layover in Taipei after a fifteen hour flight. I've done some daring travel in my life but schlepping my volatile daughter halfway across the world with her brother BY MYSELF takes the cake. I did lose a few nights sleep in anticipation but then calmed a bit when I decided to hire a guide to pick us up at the airport, show us around, and return us in time for our flight. Mostly to make sure that I didn't lose my children because I passed out in the back of his car.

EM and I decided to have a party for Jack's class on Thursday the day before we were to leave. My flight was at one on Friday and I figured that I would pack after the party. I sent e-vites out to thirty students, other friends and their parents. I ordered the Margarita and snow cone machines and pizza. I cleaned the house and then I got a call from my travel agent to go over the details of the layover in Taiwan.

Thank God she called because if she hadn't I would have missed the flight. I was right in thinking that I was leaving at one on Friday. But wrong in thinking that it was 1PM. The flight was at 1AM!!! This meant that I actually had to leave for the airport on Thursday. So in classic Isabelle fashion, I decided to leave for the airport from our own party (and have EM clean up on his own). The party was held. Everyone came to celebrate and to laugh at me and ask me if I was packed. (I wasn't.) The party was supposed to be from 1 to 6 (giving me four hours to get my act together before having to leave). Of course nothing ever goes as planned and our guests partied until the last ones left around 8:30PM. I dashed around the house gathering the list of items I needed to bring... making sure I had the Benadryl and the DVD player... grabbing cameras bathing suits and Advil.

I surveyed my haul: One rolling suitcase (for the three of us for two weeks). One rolling carry-on. One stroller. One backpack and one tote. EM was impressed by my packing. My goal was to do laundry at my friends' and be able to move around the airport without Jack's help in case he was too exhausted.

The first seven hours of the flight went well because Makena slept. Then she woke up and tolerated the flight for another two hours until she decided that she wanted off the plane. The rest is a blurr. I do remember her screaming and crying so hard and for so long that she didn't want to wear the seatbelt as the plane began its descent into Taiwan and also that a flight attendant finally came up to me a minute before we landed and told me that they would not "see" me if I chose to hold her on my lap. So I did and Makena stopped her tantrum. Those Margaritas were beating drums inside my head.

Thankfully our guide was waiting for us when we cleared customs and took us around town for some sightseeing.

A stop at a Buddhist temple (to pray for a smooth layover and for a smooth flight to Singapore).

Chiang Kai-shek memorial park.

Makena phoning home.

The panda exhibit at the Taiwan zoo...

Making the best of it in 105 - high humidity heat.

Lunch at Taiwan 101 - currently the world's tallest building and then off to the airport for the flight to Singapore...

(To be continued)

Is-far and away

PS: All these pictures were taken with my Iphone because in my rush to get out of the house I took my camera but forgot to take the battery that was left in the charger.

The million dollar question

2009-06-24T07:09:00.000-07:00

A writing contest was held by our town's Women's League for all the fifth graders from every school.

The question they asked was "What would you do with a million dollars if you couldn't keep it for yourself?"

This is what Jack wrote:

If I had a million dollars but I couldn't keep it, I would give it to the orphanage in China where my sister is from.

You see in 2005, my family had all made the decision to adopt a baby girl from China. So in August of 2006, my family including me went to go get her. When we finally got to the orphanage, there were at least twenty babies, but most of them had unsatisfying pasts.

When we found one of the foster moms, we had asked her "Is there anything we need to know about her?"

I remember she had said some pretty thoughtful things about her. But what I truly remember her saying was... "Your daughter was left at a gas station."

Those words broke all of our hearts and it shouldn't break anyone else's. That's why I would give my million dollars to the orphanage. Half of the million they could use to track and pay the families to repay them for giving up one of their kids.

Also with the other half of the money they can use it to buy products because another thing that I remember was that most of the kids didn't have any toys. They were either sitting down or held by one of their foster moms. So in conclusion, If I had a million dollars there could be a change in China. Making all children and parents happy.

Jack won first place for his class and a check for $150 to go along with it. I never saw what he wrote until the ceremony when he was invited to lunch and to read his essay. Needless to say I was a blubbering tearful fool when he was done.

I was also struck by what he remembered of the day we got Makena when he was newly eight and how it left such an emotional impression on him and not just because he was being asked to open his heart into welcoming a new sister. Jack is and remains a very emotional and empathetic child who really feels things deeply. This essay contest was a great opportunity for him to channel some of his thoughts and for us to talk about it further.

I asked him what he would do with the money and after careful deliberation he decided to donate it to help Makena's orphanage. Either by way of a tuition to help a child with his or her studies or to buy milk for the babies.

EM and the family and I are so proud of him.

We love you, Jack.

Isabelle
PS: For clarification, we never made it to the orphanage. We received Makena in a government office and the foster moms were in fact the SWI nannies. When I asked him about paying the parents, what he really meant was that he would give them the money so that they wouldn't have to give up their children for not being able to afford to keep them.

RIP

2009-06-23T20:12:00.000-07:00

I'd like to think that Jerry had a good life. He was loving and patient and got along famously with Tiger. He let Makena hold him whenever she caught him. He followed me around and would lie on my lap when I wrote. He slept with Jack and he even had EM wrapped around his finger. He was a prolific hunter and brought us offerings of lizards and birds...

We loved Jerry and we miss him.

Isabelle

Okay

2009-06-23T18:59:00.000-07:00

Yeah, it's been a while. I won't start to post about where I actually am right now, only to tell you that it's far away.

Makena did get potty trained. It took two good weeks and a lot of sanitizer but she got on with the program and cooperated even though she wasn't happy about it. During this time I discovered that she hates the flushing sound most public bathrooms make so I have her block her ears or have her leave the bathroom before I flush and that seems to work. I noticed that around the time this training started that she curiously began to line things up around the house and especially in her room. Pillows and her toy ponies seem to be the favorite thing to order.

But the most monumental change for us has been having her sleep through the night most of the week.

I had Makena re-tested for allergies and food intolerances. Seafood is to be avoided at all times but we also found out that she is intolerant of wheat, dairy, citrus, chocolate and tomatoes. Within three days of cutting dairy and wheat out, her perpetual runny nose stopped flowing and the waking up in the middle of the night ceased.

The doctor suspected that because she had a high tolerance for pain that she could manage any indigestion she had during the day but when night came, and she slept, her guard went down so the indigestion might have caused her to cry out and wake her up.

Pizza occasionally slips by us and chocolate is also difficult to avoid but for the most part we try to keep her off the no-no foods and she is good. Uninterrupted sleep for the first time in almost three years has done wonders for my sense of humor too.

The final count of bunnies I had to find homes for was sixteen. The last four were given away the day before we left.

Is- okay

Crap

2009-04-17T12:43:00.000-07:00

Sometimes I feel like I'm living my life zooming by fifty miles an hour but not actually getting anywhere. I came home with the kids last Saturday and was promptly tossed into the spin cycle. First, because I had to unpack, do laundry, and then repack Jack for a field trip his fifth grade class was taking to Washington D.C for a week. (The fun never ends for him.) We sent him off Sunday night on a sleepover with a couple of his travel buddies. (Mainly because I had no intention of getting up at three in the morning to get him to the airport for a six AM flight and mostly because my girlfriend sacrificed her beauty sleep to take him along with several other kids.) "Buh bye, please brush your teeth and behave," were my parting words. EM's were "I love you and have fun." What's wrong with me? I couldn't step out of my vortex for a minute to take in the picture of my ten year old going off on an adventure of a lifetime with the rest of his class. Ugh.

Then Monday morning came around, I woke up and decided that this was the day that I would no longer put up with pull-ups. The day that I decided to throw myself into potty training Makena.

Yeah, I know, I'm a little slow on the draw.

Her preschool had offered to start the process next week but my ego got in the way. Fast forward to day five... and a whole lot of crap. I am on a half hour "take her to the bathroom" vigil which has been somewhat successful but she isn't really showing signs of telling me when she needs to go. My method works most of the time unless someone calls me and I miss my deadline. It is exhausting and my intention is to win this battle but Makena is posing to be quite a challenge. I'm not sure that she was as emotionally ready for this transition as I was led to believe, because she has become very clingy and whiny in the process and now I am feeling guilty about it all. (While I was writing this, Makena peed all over Jack's carpet.) But alas there is no going back. The train has left the station. I am left to hope that it makes it to its final destination.

Add to this, Jerry (the cat) who came back angry from being fixed and then boarded for ten days. How else can I explain the nice dump he took on Makena's bed (within a foot of her head). I came in to check on her last night and I was assaulted by a very distinguishable smell. The room was dark and I was fumbling around trying to find it (and not step in it) on the carpet and almost landed in it when I sat down on the bed. Yes, it was disgusting. On a positive note, Oxyclean works wonders on stains.

Then, one of our five rabbits (who I was told was female) impregnated three of them. I am overrun with baby rabbits (after Easter) and looking to place eleven of them of varying ages. This is precisely the type of thing that happens when I leave town for more than a week. I'm thinking of going into the manure and rabbit business. It will be a philanthropic venture. So if any of you are interested, please present yourselves RIGHT NOW. They are free. They are cute. They are cuddly. Take two and you can name them Mak and Jack. But most importantly, they are free!

In the meantime, poor Pedro called in sick so I have to go muck the horses. I actually look forward to this shitty job because it's the only real alone time I have around here. Nobody bugs me when I am cleaning up after them. Shoveling it tones my arms and I get to wear the cool goldfish boots that auntie gave me for Christmas.

I feel like I am an infomercial. You know the kind where they offer you something like a set of sponges for $19.99 (plus shipping and handling) and then they throw in the kitchen sink and dish towels. Only this one is hawking something scatological.

Please, someone tell me when this pooping madness will end.

Isabelle, Mistress of the flies

AKA

Is-a-taking orders for bunnies

Dumb O

2009-04-14T09:59:00.001-07:00

Yes, it takes a special kind of mother to take her children to Disney World during spring break (see subsequent posts). The happiest place on earth was more populated than downtown Chongqing. Obviously not recommended for agoraphobes or parents who might worry about losing their kids in such as large crowd (which may or may not have happened to me when I was purchasing ice cream for Makena and realized that she was nowhere in sight.)

While we waited to connect with our friends Barbara and Mia, we had the pleasure of waiting thirty minutes in line for a twenty second Dumbo flight. Jack was a good (slightly disgruntled) sport about having to go on the baby rides but I offered him twenty bucks to change his attitude and he accepted (savvy business man that he is.)

Makena was completely enthralled with her elephant ride and had (the first of several) meltdowns when I told that she couldn't ride it again.

Our little Cinderella posed in front of her evil step-sisters. She wasn't too comfortable with these strange creatures and I pulled her out of the setting before she drop-kicked them.

I saved a bunch of money by convincing Makena that the Ariel nightie was just as beautiful as the Ariel princess gown and she happily wore it for the rest of our never-ending time at Disney World.

Isabelle

Mia

2009-04-14T07:31:00.000-07:00

Seriously, the moment Mia and Makena hooked up (having not seen each other in a year and a half), trying to get them to stand or sit still for a picture was like wrangling cats. The girls are pictured here within seconds of seeing each other again.

Furthermore, Jack could do no wrong with Mia. She was completely charmed by him and stuck to him the entire day we spent together at ... Er...Disney World. The "note to self" I wrote myself got lost in all the moving around. That, combined with my low IQ and short term memory, had me schlepping the kids there to spend quality insane time with them. Mia was tall enough to ride some of the more serious roller coasters (2 inches taller than Makena) and enjoyed every second she was on them. She was a total daredevil. Interestingly, as the day progressed, Makena became more proprietary of Jack, at one point telling Mia, "Jack is MY brother!"

Barbara (Mia's mom) and I must have taken about twenty shots between us trying to get the girls to look in the same direction at the same time with a smile (or even a fake one) on their faces. I gave up.

Sugar kept us going all day (as in, we walked through the gates at 10AM and walked out at 11PM). The party continued at Barbara's hotel, where we crashed, because I (aka mother of the year,) messed up the reservation for this trip and short-changed myself one night's accommodation. Thank goodness for sleeper-couches. The girls were ecstatic to have another few hours to spend together the following morning before we headed off to the airport and home to Southern California.

Of course, it wasn't until I arrived at the airport that I realized that I was wearing the same pair of jeans that I had ripped on the way over -- which embarrassed Jack all over again. Other than that, it was a smooth and tanned getaway.

Is- in need of sugar detox

Valerie

2009-04-13T17:32:00.001-07:00

After the day we had yesterday, Wanda (Valerie's mom) put us out of our misery by inviting us over for a play date in lieu of going to Sea World (see note to self in prior post).
The girls hadn't seen each other since last we traveled through here on our way to the Bahamas in 2007 so it was great to see how much they had grown. Valerie is tall and completely bilingual (English and Spanish) and has three older brothers (Jonathan, Brandon and Diego) who Jack loves to play with. And she loves doughnuts as much as Makena. They have sooo much in common.
We had a delicious lunch at a local Chinese restaurant.
More doughnuts and soda may or may not have been consumed.
And at the insistence of the boys, we headed back to the house so that they could resume their nerf gun shoot-out battles.

We said goodbye after an eight hour playfest. Makena fell asleep on the way home which gave me some quality hang-time with Jack.

Thank you, Wanda, for a wonderful and relaxing visit. The kids had a blast.

Is- catching my breath.

Note to self

2009-04-13T17:15:00.000-07:00

How to undo a relaxing vacation:

Say goodbye to the Keys and drop your husband off at the airport curb so that he can catch his flight home while you travel on to Orlando to visit China cousins.

Promptly get lost for forty minutes trying to return rental car and almost miss flight.

Arrive winded at the gate for flight as it is boarding.

Sit on plane for additional hour (feeding kids placating candy) while they investigate an oil leak.

Listen as you are told that your flight is canceled and they will tell you when a new one will materialize.

Grab carry-on, wait for gate-checked (now damaged) stroller and head back to departure area.

Two hours later, board new flight with cranky, over-sweetened children.

Wait for an hour for rental car.

Wait for half an hour for car seat to materialize.

Get lost (following GPS directions) on the way to finding hotel.

Get call from husband letting me know that he landed safely in Los Angeles in the time it took me to grab an hour flight to Orlando.

Check in to hotel and put everyone to bed in their travel clothes.

Lights out at midnight.
Additional note to self:

Do not travel to Orlando during spring break.

Is- still standing... but barely

The Keys to happiness

2009-04-12T16:26:00.000-07:00

We sprung Jack from school two days early and traveled to the Keys for spring break. As we headed to the airport around nine to catch a red-eye to Miami, I panicked because Makena was wide awake. She walked through security, pranced around the departures gate, asked to watch Mulan for the seventeenth time and showed no signs of slowing down. The flight from L.A. to Miami is 5.5 hours so I needed every second of that air time to sleep. After we landed, we would have another two hour drive to Duck Key, where we were staying. Things were not looking good.

Neither was my derriere because as I leaned down to pick something up, I heard a ripping sound that took my breath away. My jeans tore. There was no way to keep the incident private because Jack decided to announce it loudly to anyone within ear shot and then promptly declared how embarrassed he was that my buttock (one cheek) might be revealed.

EM came to my rescue and declared the rip to be "sexy." Thankfully, It was a horizontal tear and, no, I didn't have a change of clothes for myself. I boarded the plane with my head held high, walking with very short strides and with visions of the perfect Mojito awaiting me at the end of the line.

Makena (there is a god) fell asleep upon takeoff and I managed to get some uninterrupted shut-eye all the way to Miami. The rip was revisited when I had to disembark so I did what I always do in situations such as these and I told myself that I didn't know any of the travelers around me and that I would never see them again.
We swam with the dolphins.
The kids spent entire days in the pool.
Makena was little Miss Sunshine...
When she wasn't being Pirate Girl.

It was an excellent, relaxing and sun-filled vacation.

Is-happy

Uniform

2009-03-29T17:37:00.000-07:00

The prospect of Jack attending a private middle school has been a steady focus for us since last August when we decided to try our hand at having him apply. We selected three within a reasonable distance from our home. Two of which were very hard to get into; one basing the decision on report cards, teacher letters and the ISEE exam, the other, on report cards and the admission interview.

What we did not anticipate and what came as a total and complete delight was that Jack was accepted to all three. I had actually hoped that these schools' selection process would kind of make the decision for us. Lame, I know.

What ensued was a soul searching debate over which school to enroll him in that sent me into a tailspin. I really had to think about who Jack was now, visualize him as who I saw him to be in high school and hope that whatever decision EM and I made would ensure that he would continue to enjoy learning and not flounder. Each of the school acceptance letters arrived on the same day and each gave us ten days to make our decision and come up with the (gulp) down payment. Jack favored two. One an art school with a progressive approach to teaching, a half hour from where we live, and the other a more academically demanding school where one has to wear a uniform and also the same distance away. The art school insisted they had an academically rigorous curriculum and the uniform school insisted they had a great arts program. EM and I were completely torn. The decision we had to make brought me back to my childhood and to the choices that were made for me and then memories and feelings floated up to the surface making this a very emotional decision for me.

I had to cash in several of my "wise parent" chips and hope that our choice will pay off. So come September, Jack will wear his hair slightly shorter and look like everyone else. Yup, Jack will be wearing a uniform -- which ostensibly should cut down on the time it takes to get us out of the house in the morning. Come to think of it, maybe I should wear one too

EM and I also made a pact that once the decision was made that we wouldn't look back and agonize over the decision.

So, with that in mind, I am visualizing pool side Mojitos as we are headed to Florida for spring break and to reunite with two of Makena's China cousins.

Is-a-uniform

Huh?

2009-03-16T18:22:00.000-07:00

I drive home, bleary eyed, with visions of my children running toward me in slow motion, their faces streaming with tears of joy. What I in fact arrive home to are two very casual children who act as if I've been gone five minutes instead of a week, a dog (and now cat) with diarrhea and an absent husband who is dealing with an emergency at the lake house.

Jack walks up to me and gives me a "hey, mom"/ hug/ slap on the shoulder/ what did you get me/ look and I find Makena in her room. It takes two "Meimeis" to get her to look up, at which point she says, "hi, mommy" and goes back to her Little Mermaid video. I was expecting to be punished for my absence, I didn't expect it to be so slyly lethal.

The tell tale sign that their aloofness is in fact an act is that Makena decides to remain attached to my hip for the next two hours and that Jack just isn't cooperating about going to bed. I am wiped out. My eyeballs are dry and I feel very lightheaded.

I wake up around five in the morning, fully dressed, with Makena wrapped around me; legs, arms, everything. I guess I must have put her to bed and ended up spending the night right where I was. The next thing I realize is that my throat is sore. I can barely swallow and my ear won't equalize. Ugh. A cocktail of too much freedom combined with jet lag and pain leaves me shaken and stirred

I spend Tuesday having the horses shod and taking the animals to the vet. I spend the rest of the week in child chauffeur mode, coughing and feeling pathetic until EM can't stand it anymore and orders me to see a doctor.

I begrudgingly drag my derriere to our local urgent care to be told that I have bronchitis and that the "equalizing" problem is an ear infection. I leave with prescriptions for antibiotics, prednisone and an inhaler. I guess I was sick after all. The revelation actually cheers me up because I was beating myself up for not having more energy and not being able to get everything done. I'm sick!

Is-on the mend

Last stop

2009-03-10T13:24:00.000-07:00

Anouk and I had planned on sharing a hotel room around the Paris airport for our last night in town but my friend, Vero, invited us to spend it at her place near Montmartre. She even sweetened the invitation by offering to drive us to the airport the next morning. I have to say that it was such an enjoyable and relaxed way to end this adventure.

When we showed up, we were met with the classic challenge of having to get our luggage up three flights of steps. We managed to cram two suitcases and me in the elevator while the other two ran up ahead to meet me. Since eighteenth century buildings were constructed before the advent of the elevator, I was amused to see how the floors were numbered. I ended up half a floor up from my intended destination.

We took Vero out for drinks and she brought two of her three children along for the escapade. Ines, her twelve-year old free spirit...

And, Lucas, her rambunctious ten-year old. Anouk and I had a good laugh at poor Vero's expense, watching her discipline her kids (and only because ours weren't there to add fuel to the fire). Ines and Lucas spent most of the outing sabotaging each other's drinks, hopping from seat to seat and pinching themselves. Vero was not amused. When she wasn't looking, Anouk even tried to teach them how to make spitballs with pieces of napkins.

The evening turned out to be greatly motivational. Anouk and I having had a weekly taste of freedom for the first time, in a long time, were instructed by Vero to make it an annual event. She shared that she had been taking a week to herself for the last two years and was about to implement a two-week getaway this year. (Those bold French women!)

I decided to begin formulating a one-week escape plan after I see what the impact of my absence will have been on Mak and Jack.

In the meantime, au revoir freedom, au revoir fries, and merci you Vero!

Is-going home

I Do

2009-03-09T14:34:00.000-07:00

When Anouk found out that her mother would be wearing red at the wedding (as was she) and that so was the "official" maid of honor, she began a mini campaign to have me wear that color, too. We weren't going to tell Do any of this, just surprise her. Do, who as we know, went into shock the minute Christophe proposed to her. Actually, we all did. Forty-eight years as a single woman, finally deciding to tie the knot for the first time, with someone she's only known for six months (two, pre-engagement,) was a bit of a whirlwind for everyone. Dominique spent the following four months leading up to this day in a semi-functioning zombie state that her new French family amusingly thought was very "zen." (We knew better.) And so it was that we showed up on a rainy Saturday in the beautiful French countryside to celebrate, boldly. We wouldn't have missed this for the world.
The best part of the ceremony, other than the moments where they both said their "I dos," was when Christophe put the ring on Dominique's hand and it would not slip on! We all chuckled nervously and then with mounting panic watching Christophe, who had that finger in a death grip trying to get the ring on. I was ready to hurl a spit-ball at Dominique's finger to help lubricate the action. Thank god sheer force prevailed (because I'm really not that good a shot).
It did rain that day, but never for the important parts like walking in and out of the ceremony, reception and visits to the porto-potty.
I ended up writing the speech that morning. I composed it in English until I realized, late in the game, that my audience wasn't going to understand a word of it, so I grabbed the best man while we were all taking wedding pictures and had him help me translate it into grammatically correct French. (Although I do speak it fluently, I hadn't written more than a French sentence or two since high school.)
Standing before everyone, I managed to give the audience a peak at Do's personality and tidbits about some of her more outrageous exploits, without embarrassing her (or her husband). I did manage to make her laugh and cry. So I have to say that it went over quite well.
I was sad to say goodbye the following day. I was also exhausted. We had shown up at the farm at 2PM, the prior day, and had left the wedding at 3AM, the following, only to be back at there for brunch at noon with our bags packed and checked out of the hotel. A week as a single woman had my head wanting to explode. I was so delirious that I actually started fantasizing about making school lunches and driving carpool. Proof that I must have been hallucinating.

Boy, do the French know how to throw a good party, or what.

Is-almost home

In the meantime

2009-03-06T13:59:00.000-08:00

EM and Makena's preschool e-mailed me a couple of pictures of the kids. Makena is happy to blow bubbles and paint all day long.
EM took Jack to Arizona for some father-son time and to catch a few games at the Dodger training camp.

I miss them but it doesn't seem to appear that my absence is causing them too much wear and tear. Unless you take note of Jack's nails -- which need some serious attention.

I am off to search for a French souvenir nail clipper.

Is-a-still away

Crystal clear

2009-03-05T16:12:00.000-08:00

The official maid of honor had us over at her apartment for cocktails. The evening was also supposed to include dinner but she ended up bailing on feeding us because she didn't have matching china. (Apparently, she hadn't heard of take-out which usually comes with matching plates, all be it of the paper variety.)

As we scrambled to figure out what to do for Do's bachelorette party, the best girlfriend of her future groom stepped up to the plate and batted it out of the field by making reservations for us at the Crystal Room. It was thus that we proceeded out of the apartment and caravanned over to another arrondissement for a memorable experience.

I assumed that the celebration of the interment of Dominique's life as a single woman would include a pole so I was slightly surprised when we ended up at a very chic restaurant. Sadly, my crisp Euro bills ended up staying in my wallet. The Crystal Room restaurant was located inside the Baccarat (duh, crystal) museum. The place was renovated by Philippe Stark who married 18th century French with contemporary serious chichi.

The Maitre D saw us arriving with our cameras and was mortified. He asked us not to take pictures in the restaurant (boo)... but he didn't say anything about the rest of the place. Ha!

This was the kind of dining experience where you were presented with four glasses and the same amount of forks, spoons and knives and the object of the game was to figure out which one to use, when. You could feel the eyes of the waiters behind us ready to catch us in a dining etiquette faux pas. I thought of Jack's table manners and decided to look into cotillion camp when I get back.

On the way home, Dominique mustered up all of her courage and asked everyone present to keep the microphone away from me at the wedding. Well that did it for me. I had never planned on saying anything (nor Anouk) because I was too miffed to have not been asked to be a bridesmaid, that I decided there and then to prepare a speech. No one on the Canadian side of the family was planning on speaking so I decided (with the blessing of Do's mom and sister) that I would do the deed.

Horror of horrors, the fear that set into Dominique's eyes should I recount some of the experiences we had shared in our lives, certainly played a minor role in the insomnia that set into her for the next two nights.

I have to admit that the pressure of coming up with something to say about my friend (who I have known since I was nine years old) without making it too mean, too revealing (to embarrass her or the groom) and funny and touching at the same time, but most importantly, short, did rob me of a couple of hours of shut-eye, as well.

Is-a-plotting

Vive la France

2009-03-04T14:32:00.000-08:00

What's a girl to do with all this time on her hands? One option is to spend two hours watching the hairstyle trial for Dominique's wedding.

Another, is to wrap a hundred snow globe party favors in tulle, stick name tags to red cards, organize guests by alphabetical order and cross check that everyone will be seated at the right table. Which is how I found out that I will be seated in Siberia with no one I know.

I feel that I can rag about this because Anouk and I are not Dominique's bridesmaids or bridematrons - whatever we should be called. Anouk and Dominique were mine. Dominique and I were Anouk's but Do decided to break that tradition when she asked a cousin of hers to take on that role. We are still waiting for said cousin to show up, step up to the plate and help. News flash: She isn't. She has been too busy attending the opera and going to museums to help. Which is exactly what Anouk and I should be doing. Aaaghhhhhh. I knew this was going to happen. Anouk knew this was going to happen. Even their mother knew this was going to happen. And guess what? It did! On the plus side, I don't have to wear one of those ridiculous pastel pouffy dresses or make a speech at the wedding. Please keep the microphone away from me.

Thank god for friendships.

We are done non-bridesmaiding for today. It's threatening to rain and Anouk and I are about to head out and salvage what we can of this vacation - which may really mean heading to a cafe and ordering wine at noon - all the while telling ourselves that it's five o'clock somewhere in the world.

Five hours later...

We are back, having window shopped our way through the sixth and seventh arrondissement. (Our husbands will be relieved to know that we purchased small, inexpensive, token souvenirs for our children.) We did end up in a cafe but we were too exhausted to think about drinking wine. So we talked about Dominique (our favorite subject) and ordered fries, instead. Freedom fries.

Vive la France!

Is-a-fried

Freedom

2009-03-04T01:30:00.000-08:00

So the plane was an hour late in taking off and by the time the Air France flight attendants with the red, red, lips served dinner, I was actually hungry. I had my cocktail, ate my dinner and refused bread three times -- which is not very French. In fact it might even be considered an overt act of hostility not to eat it. I refused wine, too, and that's when they stopped smiling at me.

I settled in and chose "Quantum of Solace, which I stayed awake for, and then fell asleep through "Vicky, Christina, Barcelona." I woke up when the pilot announced the decent toward Paris. I slept. Yippee.

When we landed it was two in the afternoon of the next day and I received a text message from a good friend of mine telling me that she was waiting for me on the other side of baggage claim. Quelle surprise! What a gift! On the drive into town, we caught up on our lives, our kids and the necessity of abandoning our families for a week to seek freedom and regeneration.

Dominique (AKA the bride) showed up later in the afternoon and we spent the rest of the day catching up before going out to dinner. We chose Indian and thus did not have to refuse any bread. Brilliant.

Back at the ranch...

I called EM to see how things were going and things had gotten off to a ruff start in the morning when Tiger had some gastric complications in the middle of the night and decided to express them in front of our bedroom door. Ugh. Jack was dragging his heels to get dressed for school and Makena was clingy...

I am feeling a little bit guilty about all this freedom but I have been assured that this feeling should completely dissipate by tonight. I'm waiting for this moment to happen with anticipation.

In the meantime, Anouk, Dominique's sister has just arrived from Montreal. Time to explore.

Is-in France

And she's off

2009-03-02T18:00:00.000-08:00

I interrupt this blog to announce that I have the week off. My friend, Dominique is (finally) getting married for the first time and the ceremony is taking place just outside of Paris. As in "France!" I am writing this from the airport lounge awaiting my flight.

El Mysterioso gave me his blessing and I purchased one ticket to Europe. This is quite possibly the first time in almost eleven years that I am taking more than two days for myself without a husband, a child or two children in tow. I arrived at the airport about an hour ago and breezed through security. I didn't have to unstrap a child out of a car seat and strap her into a stroller. I didn't have to hear another one complain about the long lines. I didn't have to remove three pairs of shoes and stuff all the baggage through the x-ray machine. I just placed my hand bag on the conveyor belt, showed my boarding pass and walked through.

My deodorant supported me, I have no food stains on my shirt. I feel calm. I debated about whether or not to have a drink before the flight and decided to blog about this momentous time in my life instead.

All it took for me to get here was spend a couple of days writing down an intricate schedule for my husband, three babysitters and driver-friends to follow. Mak and Jack will be chauffeured to school, baseball, karate, tennis, gymnastics and Chinese tutoring. Teachers, coaches, doctors and veterinarians have all been alerted that I am leaving town. The horse feed is being delivered tomorrow. The geckos have feasted on crickets and the health insurance card is tacked on a cabinet in the laundry room.

Mommy is off.

Next stop, Paris.

Au revoir.

Is-away

Zoo

2009-03-02T17:19:00.000-08:00

This picture would have been perfect had I been faster to whip out my Iphone to capture the cat in this shot, as well. But he saw Makena on the hunt for him and bolted. I did manage to get Makena, Tiger, Romel and Scarlet in the same frame so I would deem this a successful shot. I have visions of rounding up all our animals, along with the kids and posing them for a holiday but I chicken out every year at the time consumption such a photograph would take.
Makena is obsessed with Jerry. She finally caught him and wanted to introduce him to Rommel, but the tortoise was too preoccupied, trying to snap at Tiger, to bother. Every time Tiger makes an appearance in the "tortoise sector" of the yard, Rommel makes a mad dash for the dog and chases him away. He is extremely territorial.
Jerry is quite possibly the best cat. He has been with us a month and has not scratched or bitten Makena. This poor cat spend half his day in her embrace (under our supervision). He has learned to go very limp and pretends to sleep. As soon as Makena releases her grip, he sprints away to hide and then the search for the cat begins again. Endless, obsessive fun for a three year old.

Is-a-zoo

Wo lian ni

2009-02-27T11:41:00.000-08:00

(The first Valentine artwork from Makena)

We reintroduced Makena to Mandarin a month ago when she began taking classes with a Chinese tutor who is originally from Chongqing. This woman apparently has a waiting list of students wanting to be taught by her who come from all over the Los Angeles area (as well as adjoining cities) to learn Mandarin from her. We showed up for our first lesson only to find out that we were auditioning for her. She needed to know that Makena would actually sit still long enough to be taught and that she would actually make progress and learn.

She decided to try her out for a month and see if she was a good candidate. She started off by only talking to her in Chinese for the first few minutes and it was fascinating to watch Makena listen as if she was almost entranced. Makena is usually a bit standoffish when she meets new people but not with her tutor. Well, I can happily declare that we made it (so far) through four weekly classes and that she has invited us to continue. Makena can almost count to ten in Mandarin and is learning the words to "Twinkle Twinkle Little Star." I am learning along with her and some of it is actually sticking. I practice with her wherever and whenever and I feel that the new vocalization she is having to learn to speak Mandarin has helped improve her English diction.
We stopped by a yummy bakery after class to buy Jack and his friends some cupcakes on the day before Valentines and we couldn't leave without sampling one.

Wo lian Makena
Wo lian Jack
Wo lian baba

Is-a learning Mandarin
PS I love you

Preschool

2009-02-26T14:40:00.000-08:00

In 2007, when the truck fell into our house, I was forced to put Makena into day care/preschool to have some time to focus on the reconstruction. This did not go well for her at all. She was aggressive and territorial and bit or clobbered any child that threatened her space. She was also going through the added disruption of having moved to temporary lodging with her stressed-out parents and this just meant too many changes and little stability for her. Compounding her frustrations were her speech delay and her nanny leaving us without any notice. Ugh.

It was so hard for me to see her struggle to claim some control over her life that I pulled her from preschool after two months and decided to keep her home with me through the construction. I knew in my gut that I wouldn't even try to put her in a school for another year, until after her third birthday. What I should have done in hindsight, is put her name on a preschool waiting list so that I could re-enroll her locally when that time came.

Since I happen to live in a small chichi surfing town, I blew it. All the preschools that appealed to me had a waiting list of a year to a year and a half when I went looking for one last December. I was stunned. And since all my friends have children enrolling in middle schools this year, I didn't know anyone who could help me get her in locally. Pathetic.

Just when I thought that I might have to (gulp) homeschool Makena, a mom whose daughter had attended the first preschool Makena had, called me for a playdate. Her daughter, a year later, still talked about Makena. She wanted to know if I would arrange a play date for our daughters to reconnect. I was thrilled. A little nervous for her daughter but thrilled none the less. The girls hit it off right away and found that dressing up as princesses was something they could do together so the reunion was a success.

Better yet, this woman proved to be a source of valuable information. She introduced me to an occupational therapist and to the preschool Makena now attends. She dropped out of the sky like an angel for me.

I had Makena evaluated and the OT explained that Makena was a high-toned, visual learner, which meant that she was ahead of the curb with regard to her physical abilities (I knew that.) and that she learned by watching more than by being told. (I didn't know that.) She gave me some exercises to do with her, told me to be Makena's interpreter when it came to her interaction with other children and told me to schedule more play dates and to keep them very short so that they would be successful and leave her wanting more of them. We did that for about six weeks until it was deemed that Makena would be ready to interact with a larger number of children in a school setting.

I enrolled Makena in the preschool that this woman ran, on the spot. I was number one on the waiting list (as opposed to number fifty-six) and although this preschool isn't even in our city, I believe that the half-hour drive there and back is worth every minute Makena spends there. The best part is that more than half the school is full of neighborhood kids and the other half is comprised of children that have some special needs that range from mild to severe. Bonus: any one of those needs can be addressed at the school, if they become an issue. But what makes this an even more enriching experience ultimately, for Makena, is that she isn't the only Asian child in an all-white school anymore. The children and staff she plays with three day a week are a rainbow of ethnicities. I think that on some level it makes her feel part of the group as opposed to an outsider.

She has now been there two months and we haven't had a single bitting episode. Yes, she has clobbered a couple of children, but she has also been clobbered! She hasn't once said that she didn't want to go to school. She looks me in the eye when I leave in the morning and she runs to hug me when I pick her up. Her vocabulary is flourishing and her speech is catching up, as well. And her teacher e-mails me a daily report and photographs of her at play. I couldn't ask for anything more. It took a while to get here but now that we are, this is the pie in the sky.

Now, all I have to do is figure out where Jack will be attending middle school next year. Hopefully, I can have two children schooled in the same city.

Isabelle

Thank you!

2009-02-15T10:45:00.000-08:00

I want to send a big shout-out THANK YOU to my friends and to all the families in the Qianjiang adoption community who have rallied and are sending donations to Packages of Hope to help provide air conditioners for Makena's orphanage. We have almost reached our goal of being able to purchase five units. This effort will go a long way in helping these children stay warm.

I will post pictures when I receive them in a few weeks.

Thank you so much!

Isabelle

Please help

2009-02-08T14:11:00.000-08:00

As you know, Makena spent her first months in the Qianjiang SWI which happens to be one of the poorest Social Welfare Institutes in Chongqing province. Every time I send a care package to the children of the orphanage, I am told to send bottles to feed the babies or socks to keep their feet warm. Yes, stimulating toys are great but, seriously, what the orphanage needs is milk to feed the children or cash to purchase it. Contrary to popular belief, quality of life does not begin with Fisher Price. Quality of life begins with food to feed a hungry child. From there you hope and pray for one-on-one attention, interaction and stimulation. Toys are a distant last on the priority list especially when you have to factor in the cost of keeping the children warm.

Recently, with the help of families from the Qianjiang adoption community and with the facilitation of the Packages of Hope charity, we were able to send enough formula and rice cereal to feed all the children there for the next few months. A small miracle which freed up some of the SWI Director's limited funds to purchase COAL to heat some of the rooms (but not all) in the orphanage.

Unfortunately, the children of Qianjiang barely have any heat to keep them warm There aren't enough nannies to keep them active so many babies are left to languish in their crib day in and day out.

Packages of Hope has begun a drive to purchase heaters (otherwise known in China as air conditioners) for the orphanage. They cost $600 a pop. The orphanage needs 5 so that al the children's rooms can be heated. No donation of money is too great or too small. I know times are difficult but if you could spare a few dollars and make a contribution, it would go a long way to helping us realize the goal of keeping these babies warm.

Makena was found in November and didn't move to a foster family until March. It just kills me to know how cold and alone she was those first few months that she was there, so if I can help a few babies stay warm, I will do what I can and I hope that you can too.

Please follow the link and make sure you let Packages of Hope know that your donation is meant for Heating for the Qianjiang orphanage. Every penny of your donation will go to the orphanage.

I would be very grateful.

Thank you.

Isabelle

Best Blog

2009-02-06T12:11:00.000-08:00

My friend Barbara nominated Mak and Jack for "Best Blog". I'm not quite sure what this entails. Is there a ceremony? And, if so, do I need to get a manicure and get my hair done? I am very flattered that she enjoys reading about our family. We live at the intersection of chaos and dysfunction. I think you know where that is. In any event, this has motivated me to blog more regularly.

In the meantime, I need to pass the baton and nominate five blogs that I enjoy reading.

The first one is about Mia who was adopted on the same day as Makena. Barbara and Mike were part of our adoption group and were also our traveling companions on a short trip that Jack and I took to Beijing before we met Makena. Mia is incredibly precocious, cute and "runway mode"l tall She and her family live in Florida and Barbara is very good at keeping her blog current.

The second blog, Why Do These Kids Keep Calling Me Mom, is hilarious. I read it weekly and it is about a family in the Washington State area. Although I have never met them in person I appreciate the parallel universe we live in. They have two daughters (one of whom was adopted at the age of 8) from China and an older biological son who reminds me a lot of Jack. Their life is ripe with chaos, humor and adventure.

The third blog, Grrl Travels, is about another family who adopted two children from China after having a biological son. The daughter they adopted had some developmental issues in the beginning and has made amazing progress (her mom deserves an award). This blog has always been very straightforward, often dark and funny and generous as it presents the challenges of trying to help this little girl function while meeting the needs of the other children and staying happily married!

Fourth: A good blog about two sisters, Maddy and Gwen, who were both adopted from China within eleven months of each other. The girls are a month apart in age so they are twins for all intents and purposes. Their mom runs a tight ship and her blog is always insightful, full of advice, good doses reality and useful links.

The last official nod will go to the twins. They are a hoot and remind me of Makena times two so I don't know how their parents do it.

Runners up: Waiting for Sophie, the Rolls Royce of blogs with several hundred thousand readers.

Life in the Greene Family She doesn't update very often but when she does it is to announce that another child has been adopted into the family. At last count, she was raising 22. I think that the octuplet mom should turn to her for advice.

Enjoy visiting these blogs.

Thanks, Barbara.

Is-a-blogger

Jerry

2009-01-28T13:31:00.000-08:00

I've never pretended to be sane. (Actually, I have, I've just never been successful at it.) So when I stopped by our local pet store last week to buy crickets for Jack's geckos and saw that they were closing up shop, I was upset. I spent countless hours there with Makena looking at the puppies and kittens and that distraction would no longer be available to us. I was bummed. As I waited for service, I noticed one of two cats sleeping in a large cage. I just stared at it for the longest time... thinking... wondering... For as long as I have known my husband, he has always told me that we would NEVER have a cat. I think the precise quote was "OVER MY DEAD BODY!" Flash forward -- to the house of the living dead.

Meet "Jerry," the newest member of our clan. That is, if you can. Makena is kitty obsessed. She LOVES Jerry. She has to hold Jerry. Thankfully, Jerry obliges. Jerry doesn't mind Tiger and Tiger doesn't chase Jerry. When I came upon this scene, Makena was already lying there in that exact position. I had time to run off, grab the camera and snap a few shots.

Jerry is of the rag doll breed and came potty trained - which is more than I can say for my daughter. My zombie, I mean my husband, came home and was shocked by how fluffy Jerry was. I pointed out the bargain basement deal we paid for a purebred cat but that didn't really make him feel any better. He did soften when he saw how sweet Makena was with the cat, how happy Jack was and how calm Tiger was in the face of a feline presence in the house. But mostly I knew things were going to be okay when I caught him air-kissing the cat and crawling after him in our bedroom!

Jerry now joins: A dog, 2 geckos, 2 fish, 1 giant tortoise, 5 rabbits, 4 chickens and 2 horses.

Jerry is also incredibly smart. He figured out how to climb the ladder to Jack's bedroom loft and likes to hang out there when he needs a break from the love.

Is-a-cat lover.

Seeing red

2009-01-26T21:00:00.001-08:00

Jack tested for his red belt in Tang Su Do karate. He had to present two forms and a half-dozen one-steps (self-defense moves). The last stage before he could receive his belt was to side-kick two boards. If he succeeded, he would pass.

I was thrilled. He now stands one belt and one year away from being invited to test for his black belt.

I was and continue to be so proud of him.

Is-a-karate mom.

The biggest lugers

2009-01-02T13:43:00.000-08:00

We spent Christmas up at the lake house and never, since I left Canada, have I seen so much snow. Our tract of land that runs to the lake was the perfect sledding hill. We spent several days having fun on our little slice of frozen paradise.

(I love this picture of Jack and his banana peel hat.)

Everyone who came to visit could not resist the course we set up. We had to avoid trees, a picnic table, water pipes and the semi-frozen lake. It took some part courage, some part stupidity and a whole lot of luck to avoid calamity. I can -- since I am posting this-- say that we all survived. No one hit anything and no one slid onto the lake or fell through the ice. Not even Tiger who took a couple of strolls on the ice.

Our neighbors viewed our antics with alarm (for about five minutes) until we invited them to have fun (at their own risk) on the course. Their teenagers promptly turned our picnic table at an angle, packed it with snow, and created a ramp that got serious air if you hit it right. I did. Once. That was enough. My body wasn't too forgiving and my chiropractor has been kept busy ever since.

EM shot sideway view of Makena and me going down the course. I couldn't figure out how to rotate the footage so we appear to be going uphill instead of down. Go figure. Any way you look at it, it was ridiculous good fun.

Happy New Year!

Is-a-luger

Merry Christmas

2008-10-31T22:20:00.000-07:00

Last year for Jack's school halloween parade I was a sushi roll. My friend, Jill, showed up as a ginger bread cookie. After I was asked how my pilates classes were coming along I was determined to be something more flattering in 2008. I announced that I would be a "sexy" Christmas tree. I had a whole year to figure it out and, of course, put it off to the last minute. Nevertheless, I felt like I achieved my goal in a Project Runway sort of way. Jill was at a loss as to what to be so I made her "present" costume and we paraded around the school as a team. It was pretty funny. I had battery operated Christmas lights (that you can't really see in the picture) and the star on my head actually blinked. This all came in handy when we went trick-or-treating later that night. Everyone could see me coming a mile away.
Makena was a Flamenco dancer. She wore my authentic Spanish dress! My father (the pack rat) kept it for me all these years and then mailed it to me when we came home with Makena. It fit her perfectly. She thought she was a princess.

Jack was a surfer eaten by a shark. We were going to bloody him up but he was concerned that he might scare the Kindergarteners. He later ditched the shark costume and went out in a bathing suit and rash guard because he could cover more ground in his quest for chocolate.

This was Mak's first real Halloween going door-to-door and being handed candy. She lasted all of four houses before falling asleep in the golf cart between stretches of houses. EM and grandpa drove her around while we proceeded on foot. She woke up the next morning made a b-line for the pillow case and dove into the candy before anyone noticed and could stop her. When we found her, her eyes were pinwheels. She was hooked. She was vibrating from the sugar rush and she had a whopper of a tantrum when we cut her off. She not only ate a third of the bag she actually hoarded some of the chocolate away. I found some under our sheets, under her bed and under the couch. She must have known that this was too good to be true. It was. The candy spent 48 hours in the house before we donated it back to our school, who then gave it away to some local nursing homes. Seniors deserve every opportunity to be jacked on sugar, after all.

Is-a-happy Halloween

3

2008-10-28T20:21:00.000-07:00

Makena turned three on the 28th. We celebrated her birthday by taking her and her friend, Willa, to Disneyland for the day. Jack generously offered to take the day off school to help supervise the girls. I agreed and made him promise not to whine and beg to go on the older kids' rides and he held true to his word. He was awesome and a very much needed extra pair of eyes.

Makena has made me replay this merry-go-round clip and the subsequent two for her about fifty times since her birthday. I figured I should memorialize them in the blog.

Makena loved the Dumbo ride. We waited in line two more times so that she could fly again. I did'nt take her on the "It's A Smal World" because that song drives me crazy and If I hear it twice it stays with me for a month. So Pass.

This clip is funny because Makena accidentally bumps into someone while moving and dancing and then bows, as if apologizing, and then runs into Jack who stands there obliviously devouring a churro.

It was a great day. I think Makena spent all of ten minutes in the stroller, otherwise she was running left and right taking it all in. She had a great day.

Is-a-recovering from the happiest place on earth.

Manatee

2008-10-27T20:53:00.000-07:00

Jack's fifth grade class went on a sleep-over field trip to Sea World in San Diego. We checked in at 5PM and were led on a private tour of the park. The kids learned about manatees. Did you know that they are related to elephants? Go figure. I drove a few parents crazy by combating the camp songs the Sea World counselors were shouting out by singing the words I remembered from John Lithgow's book "I Am A Manatee." Jack loved this book when he was younger and it has become one of Makena's favorites too. "From time to time I dream that I'm a manatee, unshackled by the chains of mere humanity..." And on and on I went. I can't sing.

The evening ended around midnight when we piled into the manatee hall and inflated our air mattresses and promptly fell asleep to the glowing ghostly shapes of these sweet mammals. The next morning wasn't so charming or magical. Having to clean up in a public bathroom with the cold water tap spewing three-seconds' worth of water at a time and clothing falling into pools of unmentionable liquids... I even sacrificed my already bad hair to ride the Atlantis coaster (three times.) I was soaked. What we won't do for our children. (And Jack had a great time too.)
We came home really tired only to find Rommel waiting for us at the front door. Who needs field trips when we live in one every day of our lives.

Is-a-manatee lover

Two tu

2008-10-27T20:44:00.000-07:00

The last day of being terribly two in a tutu.
Wondering how impossible three will be...

Isabelle

Pink

2008-10-17T11:30:00.001-07:00

I'm not quite sure when Makena's love affair with pink began. It crept up on us and has now laid a stranglehold on our world. I think it's karmic payback because I professed too loudly too long that I would never dress my daughter in such a color. For her shower, my friends knew better than to give me pink clothing but then the color snuck into her wardrobe by way of business gifts, hand-me-downs, glitter shoes (thank you Joan) and then the great deals on clothing that I couldn't pass up (I was weak). But the real catalyst for this pink obsession was Pinkalicious, a storybook Makena can't seem to get enough of. She has memorized the first few pages and recites the prose along with me when I read it to her.

She also -- as you well know by now -- has a very stubborn mind of her own and knows what she wants and aims to get it when she desires it. I bought her a new set of crayons and turned my attention elsewhere while she was busy creating. She immersed herself wholeheartedly on paper and on herself! And she pitched a fit when I attempted to intervene with her creative process and suggested that she use other colors.
My bad.

Is-a-pink convert

Splash

2008-10-16T16:20:00.000-07:00

Makena's love affair with water began when we she took her first bath with me in Chongqing. As I lowered her into the tub, her eyes were wide and expressing a mixture of shock and pleasure. Until then, she had been expressionless. Her mouth was slightly open and the curves of a smile were forming on her lips. Then quite suddenly she began to thrash and kick her legs in the water. She was so slippery she was hard to hold onto.

It's been two plus years since we brought her home and I have been determined to make her water safe since then. The first session of swim lessons last year, comprised of teaching her to grab the side of the pool if she fell in and of holding her breath. I always new that she could hold it for six to eight seconds so when she launched herself into a hotel pool once, I was counting steamboats on my way to fishing her out when a perfectly coiffed (and fully clothed) woman dove into save her. Err... she was fine but the lady was pissed off by my lack of alarm. Not one of my better days.

This summer, with the help of Makena's swim teacher, she worked on moving through the water. She could almost cross the width of a pool without coming up for air. I didn't know how Makena was going to figure out how to grab a breath, but she did. This is footage of two-year old Makena (a month ago) jumping off the diving board in the deep end. The rest is history.

I'm dreaming of Makena competing in the 2024 Olympics; possibly giving China a run for their money in diving or swimming because this Mei Mei can do anything she sets her mind to.

Is-a-proud.

Home run

2008-09-29T14:22:00.000-07:00

(Jack, Caelan and Skyler)
Jack -- ever the negotiator made a deal with EM that if he did well on the State test last May that he would take him to a Dodger game with a couple of his friends. The test results arrived by mail in late August and he rocked it. He scored advanced in language arts AND math-- a sweet academic home run as far as we were concerned. We were very proud of him (and still are.)

The game was especially exciting to Jack because Manny Ramirez plays for the Dodgers now and Jack is really a die hard Red Sox fan. We have no emotional ties to Boston so this is really a mystery or meant to antagonize his father (a die hard Dodger fan). Nevertheless Jack enjoyed a Friday night out with his buddies and suckered EM into purchasing the Manny look -- which I hope will now also double as his Halloween costume. If not, I may have to borrow that wig for my trick-or-treating purposes.

Is-a-fan

Boulder rocks

2008-09-20T13:38:00.000-07:00

(Makena and the chalk cow at the Children's Museum of Denver.)
Makena and I just returned from a trip to Denver and Boulder which was a good excuse to visit our friends Olivia, Chloe and their parents. They were one of among sixteen families who traveled with us to China when we adopted Makena. We had several outings and play dates with them and the girls had a blast getting reacquainted. But as their mother, Karen, said:"Trying to get the three to sit still for a shot was like wrangling cats."
(Makena, Chloe and Olivia.)
(The girls at the butterfly museum.)
I hired the daughter of a friend of ours to chauffeur Jack to his activities and help him with his homework while I was away and he hardly missed me at all. Jack's teacher knew of my travels and e-mailed me to let me know that Jack didn't smell in spite of my absence. I was concerned that he may take a break from hygiene but I was wrong. He showered daily and obsessed over his hair. (He is ten going on seventeen and I am in so much trouble.)

As the plane landed at LAX, Makena turned to her doll and said."Baby, we are home." I felt the sme relief and happiness she felt. This was a long haul and I hope to stay put for a while. As soon as we stepped foot in the house, Makena ran to her room and proceeded to inspect every toy, puzzle and book she had hen promptly trashed her space.

Over the next few weeks I'll get her back into her routine and figure out the preschool options and other classes I want to check out with her. Right now I just want to be a vegetable.

I have to say that in spite of all the changes in scenery and lodging over the last three months that our Mei Mei has become an amazing little traveler. Something I was incapable of predicting as far back as last April but something I am incredibly proud of.

Is-happy to be home

Blink

2008-09-09T19:08:00.000-07:00

The summer went by in the blink of an eye. It often felt like I was on a class three rapid navigating all the things I did to keep my children busy (and spoiled.) Below are the photograph that capture the time spent over the last ten weeks.
My nephew, Stefan. came for an almost three week visit at the beginning of the summer.
We celebrated Jack's tenth birthday with his friends.
We rented a house with some friends and spent a week in Martha's Vineyard.
We moved on to visit our friends in Worthington, Massachusetts. They live on a blueberry farm and Jack and his friend, Jack, spent an entire day selling blueberries.
Check out the size of these berries!
We drove up to Mont Tremblant, Quebec, and visited with Anouk and her family and spent a few days playing with them and boating on the lake.
I love this picture of Jack. After our stay we drove south to Vermont to drop Jack of at camp where he spent the following two weeks there honing his tennis and soccer skills. My sister picked him up at the end of the session and took him back to Montreal for three days. He flew home as an "unaccompanied minor" (with a connection in Chicago!)
While Jack was at camp, I flew from the East Coast out to San Francisco to spend the weekend celebrating the second anniversary of Makena's adoption with her China cousins an their families. It was great. The girls were all extraordinary, with such different personalities, and a lot of fun to watch and play with.
Jack came home, EM took the week off and we repacked our bags and flew out to Montana to spend the week at a dude ranch. It was great. The sky was big. The air was clean but we spent most days freezing. (The coldest winter I ever spent was my summer in Montana!)
I finally managed to get Makena on a horse and she loved it. I'm psyched because by the end of our stay she was comfortable enough in the saddle that I could envisage taking her out on my horse around the neighborhood. That is, when I finally make it back.

I am presently in Boulder, Colorado with Makena. Jack is at home with his dad and getting used to being a fifth grader. Hopefully, he is also showering.

Is-exhausted.

Tang Soo Panda

2008-06-24T12:14:00.000-07:00

Jack finally tested for, and received, his red belt in Tang Soo Do karate. He is pictured breaking a board with a side kick. EM almost didn't get the shot because Jack broke through on his second try!

Jack is now officially one color away from black. If he applies himself, he could be invited to test for the black belt by the time he enters middle school. This is huge. I know he does it because of my insistence (it teaches him coordination, discipline, mental focus and self-defense). I told him that if he really felt strongly about stopping, that he could quit the sport once he received his second degree black belt. So he plugs away at it week in, week out, wax on, wax off.

No sooner was his belt singed around his waist did he point his finger at me and order me to start taking classes, because of a silly little promise promise I made him about a year and a half ago (to keep him motivated) that I would start as soon as he hit red.

Okay, so I am now a Tang Soo newbie with two classes under my white belt (no pun intended.) If I apply myself, in a year, I could be taking classes with Jack -- which would be cool because we would have that to do together (AKA quality time) and because he would essentially be my (gulp) coach.

On a related matter, we took Makena to see her first movie in a theater. It was Kung Fu Panda. She sat on my lap for most of it until she couldn't take it any longer and jumped off. She spent the rest of the movie either punching Jack and me or kicking us in the shins.

EM was waiting for us when we got out of the theater and she ran out and kicked him in the knee.

Needless to say, Makena will soon be taking karate classes too.

Is a karate mom

Father's day

2008-06-24T11:58:00.001-07:00

The special day started off with Jack making breakfast for his dad and grandpa. We had beautiful warm weather so we headed back out on the water to try our hand at catching some lake trout. Makena loved her new vest and didn't fight me when I put it on her. I suspect because it was pink.
We didn't catch anything AGAIN. I was so looking forward to gutting and scaling fish. I especially enjoy the residual smell it leaves on my hands and clothes. Alas.

It was a perfect day.

Isabelle

Freeze Bobos

2008-06-10T20:25:00.000-07:00

We had freakish weather over Memorial Day. A blizzard in May. Snow came down so hard and so fast that I had to pack chains to get up the mountain. Nevertheless, I persevered and we made it to the lake house safely. The foul weather was followed by a blanket of fog.Once it lifted, the sun came out and the snow melted but the weather was still biting cold. That didn't stop us from getting out on the lake for some fishing.

The only thing we caught was a picture of the four of us in the same frame.

A prize catch! I'm going to stuff it and mount it on the wall.

Isabelle

The Mei Meis

2008-06-05T20:02:00.001-07:00

If you ask Makena what her name is, she will respond "Mei Mei." Until now, we have never referred to her that way. She has always been Makena, Mak, Kiki or La Diabla. Her Chinese name is Li Han. The reason I am slightly amazed is because the term happens to mean "little sister" in Mandarin. So I wonder if the diminutive is just a coincidence or if she has some memories of Chinese and is calling herself that because she might have been referred to as "Mei Mei," in her foster home or at the orphanage. The bottom line is, she is now called Mei Mei about 80% of the time.

Willa and Ruby, two little mei mei friends of Makena's came over to the house for our her first official play date. It was a challenging social experiment for our two-year old and she passed with flying colors. Until then, most of Makena's social/play activities had been centered around going to the park and interacting with children she met there, or while attending dance or music classes. This time she was the host and was subjected to having to share her toys and her space with two curious, lovely and charming three-year old girls.

We started the date off with an art session which really kept them focused for a long time and then we had the girls run around the yard looking for Rommel (pictured above,) petting the horses and trying to catch the chickens. The only emotional distress occurred at lunch time and was centered around having to share the (one) princess cup. Until then, Makena had graciously tolerated the assault on her toys and the trashing of her room but she drew the line at her Cinderella goblet. That was off-limits. For the safety and well-being of her guests, we let her win that battle.

The girls really drew Makena out of her shell and by the time they had to leave (for their naps,) she was interacting with them and bossing them around to follow her along on her cavalcades. It made me feel happy and very proud.

I can't wait to get the mei meis back together again soon.

Isabelle

Secret Identity

2008-06-03T07:58:00.000-07:00

A phone call from Sears took me for a bit of a tailspin last Thursday. A woman called me from the store to ask if I had added anyone to my list of authorized users on my Sears card. I hadn't. She went on to say that a woman had purchased over five thousand dollars in goods at two store. This was done in person and giving enough of my personal information to get away with it until someone became suspicious and called me. I can't believe I actually picked up the phone. I'm a screener.

I spent Friday on the phone with the fraud department for all my credit cards, we established new passwords and checked my credit report (apparently, your mother's maiden name is part of the public record). I am now waiting to fill out a dossier they will be sending me shortly. I have to get it notarized.I have to include a police report. I have to go to my local sheriff and report it. Ugh.

I opened my mailbox on Saturday to discover a letter from the doctor's office (where I had my mammogram last week). I immediately assumed that since he hadn't sent me a purple postcard telling me that everything was fine, then the letter meant that he had something more ominous to share with me. I was right, except I was wrong.

A woman posing as a driver for a messenger company the doctor's office uses for their billing, stole all the personal billing records of the patients who had been examined the day I was there. We're talking: Social Security, driver's license, home address, birthday, etc. That's how my identity was stolen! They haven't caught her yet. They weren't able to nab the woman who had a shopping spree on my good credit either (maybe they are one and the same.) Why she couldn't steal my attention deficit or my procrastination or the little voice inside my head that encourages me to have an extra bite of cake when I shouldn't have any, really gets my goat. I might have let her shop a little bit longer out of sheer gratitude. I'm done.

I had to get that off my chest.

Is- not shopping

A thousand words

2008-06-02T15:47:00.001-07:00

This is Makena. She is 2.5 years old and leaping off a diving board in the deep end of her swim teacher's pool. She can't swim, although thinks she can. She moves her body through the water like a dolphin and holds her breath until we fish her out for a breath of air.

I'm so glad we don't have a pool at home.

Is- staying dry... so far.

Proof

2008-06-02T15:25:00.001-07:00

(Makena,discovering the joys of spelunking through a narrow box.)

(Jack investigating Makena's recycled wonderland.)

(The result: A half hour of impromptu sibling Co-play.)

This is proof that a brother and sister (seven years apart in age) can find commonality in cardboard and that with a little imagination and enough packaging to go around, fun can be free. Of course whatever was in the boxes cost us an arm and a leg. But that is beside the point. Or is it?

Isabelle

Wicked

2008-05-20T15:34:00.000-07:00

My family took me to Denny's for Mother's day. I'd like to say that the decor was beautiful and that the food was delicious... The carnation the hostess handed me when I walked in ended up smeared in egg yolk. I still took it home but it never made it out of the car. I discovered it (the rotting egg smell lead me to it) under my driver's seat, a few days ago.

The Denny's setting was picked primarily for the novelty (some good friends of ours were going there with their young daughter and asked us to tag along) and secondarily, because we knew that we could take Makena and not lose too much sleep over her trashing the place. Of course, bucking convention, Makena sat politely the entire meal and only left her seat once. She didn't scream or throw her food about. She quietly dunked grapes in jelly, wiped her hands and colored on a sheet of paper. Go figure. She gave me the gift of good behavior. Jack made me a beautiful card and coupons that were good for: cleaning his room, laughing at my jokes, 20% off his allowance (for a limited time only!) and a breakfast in bed. EM gave me tickets to see Wicked. Wicked! And then as I was mucking the horse corral later that morning, thinking my special day was over, EM reminded me that he was taking me to a Phil Lesh concert. I was psyched. Not because I was a Dead head (I'm a Dead Head's wife,) but because it meant an evening out. As I was getting ready, I was instructed to go easy on the make-up. I think EM didn't want me stick out among the aging hippie crowd. Of course I didn't listen to him and slapped on some security eye-liner and self-esteem mascara and left the house feeling good about myself. The shower also helped.(Me, before the make-over.)

We had so much fun.

Moreover since the writing of this post began, we went to see Wicked at the Pantages in Los Angeles. It was AWESOME. We took Jack with us and he was blown away by the show. I felt bad that we had waited until he was almost ten years old to expose him to musical theater, until then his only reference had been the few school plays he had acted in. His mouth was open the entire time. I don't think he knew anything like this was possible. We had ridiculously amazing seats which helped him connect. I do know that he will probably look back on that evening with us as the starting point in his love affair with the stage. He has already asked us to take him to another musical so I will keep my eyes peeled on the calendar section of our paper and hopefully select a show that will keep him engaged and excited.

What an amazing Mother's Day--that stretched into a Mother's Month. And to think it all started at Denny's over a breakfast of Country fried steak. Now if I could only get rid the stench from my car everything would be perfect.

Is- a loved
PS Don't forget the children in China. www.halfthesky.org

Astrocamp

2008-05-16T13:34:00.000-07:00

Jack, and ninety-five percent of his school's fourth grade, left for a three-day field trip to Astrocamp in the San Bernardino mountains. It was an amazing experience for him and his friends, filled with days of science, star gazing and rocket launching fun.

Jack was so excited in the days leading up to this adventure. He took great care in planning what he was going to pack and wear for the road trip. He asked me about fifty times if his cow alarm clock had made it into his suitcase. He was in charge of waking up his bunk mates and thought that the sound of a cow "mooing" would be the right mood setter.

Jack is not good at saying his goodbyes and would have preferred that I make a rolling stop so that he could jump out of the car and pretend that I didn't exist. I would have obliged him but he had too many cumbersome bags to tote. Some were simply too big to throw out a window. And besides, there were a very large number of (caring) parents hanging out with their children who would have been a witness to this. So after I parked and unloaded everything, he insisted on lugging all of his belongings to the drop-off (in a show of independence). Kissing him goodbye was out of the question. I did that while were still at home in the driveway.

I did, however, set my foot down and made him pose with two of his classmates (Sophie and Skyler) before taking off. I have blogging obligations, after all.

I know that "mother of the year" points were deducted off my score sheet for leaving before the buses had even arrived but I had very specific instructions from my nine-year old and I followed them to the letter. EM stayed at home with Makena who was still asleep when it was time for us to leave.

Jack had a blast. We all missed him while he was gone. He was so exhausted when he returned that he mistakenly allowed me to hug him in public without protesting.

I was thrilled.

Isabelle

PS Please consider making a donation to Half the Sky to help the young victims of the Sichuan earthquake.

Shaken

2008-05-13T19:58:00.000-07:00

I didn't sleep last night. I woke up at three in the morning and stayed awake for the next hour and a half. My thoughts kept straying to Chengdu and Chongqing and Sichuan and all the people who lost their lives in the earthquake. I worried that Makena's orphanage had been hit. I started wondering about where her biological family might live and whether they had been in harms way. It felt very depressing and hopeless.

The worst was reading about the schools that collapsed like houses of cards and finding out that as many as eight hundred kids in one school alone might have perished. I thought about the one child policy. I thought about all the families who had lost their only child and who might have (at one time) had a second child but been forced to leave him, or her, somewhere to be found (and hopefully adopted). I thought of them and how now they had none. Their hopes and dreams lost in a matter of seconds.

Insomnia thrived on my worries.

I woke up this morning to read e-mails telling me that Qianjiang had been spared and that help was on its way to orphanages in the Sichuan province. I felt relieved but the fate of the victims out there still haunts me.

If you are inclined to help in a small or great way, please visit the Half the Sky site. They have a trusty infrastructure operating n China and have been authorized to set up a relief fund to help all the children that have now been affected by this act of God. The money will pay for food, medical assistance, short and long term fostering and many other things. And not just for the children in the Half the Sky programs.

A little will go a long way.

You can donate to the fund by calling Half the Sky (+1 510 525 3377) or at
one of two dedicated sites online:
Global Giving: http://www.globalgiving.com/pr/2100/proj2086a.html
or
Half the Sky website:
http://give.halfthesky.org/prostores/servlet/Categories?category=Children's+Earthquake+Fund

If you would like a Canadian tax receipt, please donate at
http://www.canadahelps.org/CharityProfilePage.aspx?CharityID=s86248

Thanks.

Isabelle

Paris

2008-05-09T14:52:00.000-07:00

The last leg on our whirlwind "mommy and me" adventure was an afternoon spent in Paris to connect with my jet-setting girlfriend Dominique and her cousin, Caroline. Dominique flew into into Paris (from Montreal) for the weekend to celebrate her birthday. The girls met us at the Montparnasse train station and helped me with my bags, stroller and child, as we navigated the streets headed for the Luxembourg Gardens, where our hotel was situated. The Euro being what it was, arriving in the afternoon with only a few shopping hours left, was the safest thing I could do for my pocket book. Traveling with Makena also curtailed any spending.(Dominique, holding Makena, and Caroline at Cafe St-Sulpice.)

(Dominique and Makena in Seattle, the first time they met.)

I cut my daughter loose in the Luxembourg Gardens for an hour and a half of pigeon chasing and pebble collecting, which left her spent enough to hang out with us at an outdoor cafe for an additional hour (the apple juice and Pixter helped.) We had fun sipping wine and studying the Yves St-Laurent storefront from afar. Later, we found a little Italian place in the sixth where we sat down for dinner. Makena ate a huge bowl of pasta and then hung out with a street cat -- the feline variety, not the beret toting, Gitane smoking, art student -- until we headed home around 11PM.

Rising at the crack of dawn to get to the airport in time was brutal but we made it and I was lucky enough to get seated on the (11 hour) return flight next to a man who had four children. None of whom were traveling with him. Needless to say, he was very understanding about Makena and even laughed when she took to screaming for no reason -- other than because she knew it was flipping me out. I fed her bonbons.

EM met us at the airport and Jack returned from school shortly after we got home. He made me dinner! He cooked it all by himself. Apparently, while I was gone, EM taught him how to cook eggs, omelets, bacon and pasta. I was so proud of him. (Why couldn't I think of that?) He made me a pasta scramble with noodles, cheese, avocado, sausage and roast beef. It was delicious. We ate the whole bowl and then I headed off to bed and left Makena with them so that they could spend some quality time with her.

The rest is a blur.

Au revoir et a bientot.

Is - in need of a vacation

Training

2008-05-01T15:56:00.000-07:00

Papi saw us off at the train station for the next leg of our trip, visiting a girlfriend and her family near La Rochelle (halfway up to Paris) on the Atlantic coast.

Makena has always enjoyed the Thomas shows on TV and one of her most favorite books is "Chugga Chugga Choo Choo," so she was excited to go on a train ride until she actually saw it pull into the station. I could tell that the sight of it impressed her and terrified her because she got very quiet and wouldn't take her eyes off it.
Nevertheless, Makena boarded without resistance and smiled seeing Papi wave goodbye to her. I have to admit that I was relieved to leave Pau with my clothes still fitting me. The amount of food, namely cheese and foie gras and wine that I ingested was nauseating (because I have no self-control). I can't believe my liver stood up to the assault but it did (thank you, mon petit foie). Makena on the other hand, having no say in this traveling adventure, decided to reclaim control by NOT eating (and not sleeping). She's not into bread so baguette meant nothing. She had yogurt, bottles of milk and strawberries, with the occasional cracker as sustenance. But the "piece de resistance" were these drinkable packs of apple sauce. The most brilliant packaging of mess-free kid food I have yet to come across. Why do we not have these in the States? Why, I ask?
Probably because the little yellow cap might be considered a chocking hazard... Still, I think the cleanliness outweighs the health risk.
The portable DVD (with the additional eight-hour battery pack) and a Pixter were my babysitters.
And then we finally arrived at my girlfriend's vacation home and it was paradise. The grounds were spectacular. The wine was refreshing and the souffle was light and fluffy.
They train the branches of their apple trees to grow straight along a wall -- which makes it easier to pick when it bears fruit.
Makena only had eyes for Diego. Partly because he was so charming and partly because she could say his name from watching the Go Diego, go shows.
She let Ines stick flowers in her hair.
But left to her own devices, Makena preferred her hoody, bottle and glasses. (Future rap star?) Chic, chick.

Is - a - looking for Spandex

Peace

2008-04-29T17:35:00.000-07:00

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

2008-04-25T09:16:00.000-07:00

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

2008-04-11T21:44:00.000-07:00

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

2008-04-10T18:09:00.000-07:00

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.

Sitting pretty

2008-03-15T19:07:00.000-07:00

Makena had a playdate with three of her China cousins last week. Seated left to right are, Makena, Emily, Li En and Charlotte.

As much as I have been preoccupied with Makena's behavior lately, getting together with the girls' mothers gave me a lot of perspective, support and not to mention, a reality check. (I am the mother of a two year old!) Some of them are going through a similar situation. The hard part was talking and blogging about it in the first place. Now that I have, I have friends to compare notes with and I don't feel so isolated anymore.

The girls enjoyed themselves and all behaved beautifully (including La Diabla.) Makena and Li En were happy to practice their acrobatic moves. Emily was more shy and Charlotte was very chatty and observant. It was so cute.
Emily and Charlotte were the first to leave so Makena and Li En had the park to themselves. I don't know if the girls remember their adventure at the Long Beach aquarium last year but regardless, they amused each other and had a grand old (exhausting) time.
The plan is to attempt another playdate six weeks from now because that seems to be a goal that we can probably plan for and keep.

I can't wait.

Is - having a walk in the park.

Go fish

2008-03-02T19:11:00.001-08:00

I would love to state that my children seem to have recovered from the nanny quitting and dropping out of our lives so suddenly last December but I can't. I was really angry and upset at first because I was extremely worried for Makena's mental state and I was equally distraught because of the close relationship that she had with Jack and how tearful he was when he realized that she wasn't coming back. Although we never really talked about it with him, I suspect that he had a crush on her. She could do or say no wrong, she played video games with him, he could sweet-talk her into making him Ramen noodles or buy him a cheeseburger after school (even though I had repeatedly told her not to.) She was cute, she was young and she would listen to him talk endlessly about Naruto or watch a million "Zack and Cody" episodes on the Disney channel with him. It broke my heart to see him so upset.

After spending the month of January interviewing potential candidates, we finally hired a very sweet (and seemingly stable) woman who has two children exactly the same age as mine, only in reverse. Her daughter is nine and her son is two. What I rapidly realized shortly after Mo started working for us, was how bad we had it before she came into our lives. I came to the conclusion that I had been an emotional hostage to the whims and petulance of ex-nanny because I lived in fear of the psychological consequences her departure might reek on my children. I put Mak in pre-school far ahead of schedule when the Ex changed her schedule on me suddenly and Makena did not like that at all. (Please remember that I had a truck demolish a third of my home and we have been in remodelling/reconstruction hell for the last seven months.)

I really thought that Makena would get over it and accept the new schooling environment. I figured that she would learn more vocabulary and play in peaceful coexistence with the other children. She did not. She pretty much stopped sleeping through the night, started biting one or sometimes two children a day when she was there, and fell far behind the other children in conversation. Her emotional outbursts increased. Her anger increased and her eye-contact decreased (usually when being disciplined for attacking me or Jack). So my fears were completely justified and I am now attempting to pull myself out of this emotional quagmire (and finish the remodeling of the house so that we can move back in at the end of the month) and save my family!

In an attempt to stop feeling discouraged, distressed and incompetent, I pulled Makena out of pre-school and decided to keep her at home for the next year. She has been out for a month now and her vocabulary is blooming. She sings and dances and walks around with a tiara on her head most of the day (Girlyfication, courtesy of new nanny) . I am hoping that her growing communication skills will ease her frustrations and minimize her tantrums as I continue to spend half the night in her room holding her so that she can sleep. I have been told that she will grow out of this so I am cautiously optimistic.

In the meantime, I was turned onto a book that explains things in ways I never understood them before and is which helpful to parents of children who have suffered some form of trauma (abandonment, divorce, abuse, accidents, etc.) and it covers infancy through adolescence. It is called: "Trauma through the eyes of a child" by Peter A. Levine and Maggie Kline. I'm not big on self-help books but desperate times call for desperate measures.

Jack is bouncing back. Baseball season is in full swing so Mo and I are busy chauffeuring him to his games and practices (on top of tennis, karate, and playdates). Although more guarded, he is trying to find ways to cajole and manipulate Mo to his advantage (so far, she is holding strong and Jack has lost a couple of pounds!) And, yes, I know he is over-scheduled.

Makena has had a few one-on-one playdates in an effort to socialize her and so far her guests have come through unscathed. Our next big hurdle comes next week with the move back into our house. More change for Makena. More emotional turbulence ahead.

So I'll buckle my seat belt and I'll hope for a smooth landing...

Isabelle

Rats

2008-02-12T23:03:00.000-08:00

Our friend Joan took on the job of hosting the Chinese New Year festivities this year and we had a blast. I scoured a couple of stores looking for celebratory goodies and came upon some gems in the Halloween sale bins: Rodent noses!
The masquerade lasted all of five minutes but I did manage to snap a few pictures of Jack and his beauties: Makena, Lulu, Alice and Sally. He was really sweet and played with them without complaining. He even allowed them to chase him with swords, wands and fairy wings all evening.
Sally and Makena stole themselves away and took a minute to discover the candy I had added to the goody bags. I'll rethink that next year. Before I knew it, Makena had eaten her entire bag (and most of Jack's) and did not fall asleep on the car ride home at nine o'clock at night -- because she was "jacked" on sugar!

Thank you Joan (and family) for allowing us to trash your house. (I mean celebrate with you.) But then that should be expected since you invited a bunch of rats over for dinner...

Is - awake

Mother load

2008-02-09T22:11:00.000-08:00

I debated long and hard about whether to take the kids to see the Chinese New Year's parade downtown and decided at the last minute to attempt it. Jack had recovered from an entire week of being sick and needed to get out of the house to break the boredom and I felt that I needed a few pictures of Makena witnessing a Chinese tradition to keep up my end of the promise I made to the officials in Chongqing -- that I would raise her with a sense of her culture.

As usual, it was a last minute decision. I told Jack to get dressed and I ran into the shower where I was promptly joined by Makena. Every time she hears it running, she insists on stripping out of her clothes and getting in. It's not worth the crying tantrum to oppose her and I can keep an eye on her that way, all be it a soapy one.

Once we were done, I toweled her off and proceeded to take a minute for myself when I heard her utter her first three-word sentence: "Ooh, look poopoo!" I couldn't believe the string of words pouring out of her mouth nor the vision of her naked in the hallway pointing at a lump on the carpet. She repeated the sentence and followed it by, "Ew, stinky!"
We made it downtown in time to see the last of the parade. There were thousands of people everywhere and firecrackers and confetti were being tossed left and right. It was amazing. Jack never once said he was bored and even helped me keep an eye on Makena who kept pointing to the rodents, calling them "mouse". A few bystanders kept telling me they were "rats" -- which I knew. I was just happy to see Makena expressing herself.

Unfortunately, her expressions didn't stop there. I put her on my shoulders to help her get a better view when I was assaulted by a very familiar smell... Makena repeated her "Ooh, stinky" line and Jack's expression confirmed it all. I had it on my clothes... my neck... in my hair...

As I ran back to the car with no wipes on hand, I kept telling myself that nobody knew me and that I would never see these thousands of people again... We drove off with the windows down so that I could go home and have my second shower of the day.Hopefully, Makena will be out of diapers for the year of the ox.

Is - a - potty head.

Papi

2008-02-07T12:19:00.000-08:00

Papi (Mak and Jack's grandpa) finally made the journey to meet his granddaughter for the first time. As is the case in my family, the trip was ripe with drama. The plane took off from Montreal for a stop-over in Chicago before heading onto L.A. when one of the doors threatened to blow off at thirty-five thousand feet. The plane was redirected to Ottawa where it made an emergency landing. Then all the passengers were put on a return flight to Montreal and then reassigned flights to the destinations they were headed to in the first place. Papi then elected to fly to Vancouver to grab a connecting flight south. My eighty-three year old father finally stumbled out of the Los Angeles terminal around eleven PM - twelve hours later than he was supposed to arrive and about twenty-three hours since he had last gone to sleep.

I was at first worried for him and then relieved that he hadn't aborted his plans because we hardly ever get to see him. He spends half the year in Canada (the cold months) and the other half in Spain (the hot months) so we only get two windows of time during the year when he is able to visit us.

I was concerned about how Makena would react to him and I was ready with cautions and warnings, telling my dad that I had to hold her, that he couldn't just pick her up whenever he wanted because it might freak her out and not to be concerned if at first she ignored him (or drop-kicked him) -- as Makena sometimes does when she meets new people. In typical Papi fashion, he didn't hear a word I said. (He's deaf and refuses to get fitted with a hearing aid!) And before I knew it he had scooped her up and was kissing and tickling her. I was stunned when she didn't wiggle out of his grasp or smack him. She giggled. A few hours later, I was getting dinner ready and I caught her drinking her bottle cuddled on his lap, watching Barney! I couldn't believe it. We took him to visit grandpa and grandma -- they hadn't seen each other since EM and I got married (fifteen years, two months and eight days ago) and then we journeyed on to San Diego and hooked up with another one of Makena's China cousins, Mea, along with her mother and older sister, Ashley. We met at Sea World and Jack convinced Papi to take a ride on Atlantis while I headed off to the polar bear exhibit. I hooked up with them a half-hour later to find them soaked. Jack was grumbling something about Papi having embarrassed him (welcome to the club.) He apparently attempted to wipe down the wet seat with a few of his MacDonald paper napkins (he tends to carry around with him.) Makena spent the day with Mea and the girls had a great time running left and right all over the place. After we returned home, Papi helped Jack construct his Spanish mission for his 4th grade Social Studies class. It took several days to accomplish and they worked really well together. After I saw how Papi was dressed for the endeavor, I insisted that the project be completed indoors. (we have a recessive "style" gene on my side of the family.) I was mortified that the neighbors might catch site of him in his paint splattered swim trunks and sweater vest and have him arrested by the fashion police.

Makena spent the rest of Papi's two week visit calling after him and bossing him around to chase her or sit and watch a program or drink from her tea set. He always obliged or indulged her with attention and hugs and he had a great time reconnecting with Jack, playing board games and telling him stories. We were really sad to see him go and are now contemplating a trip to Spain to go visit him because we just don't travel enough in this family.

We miss you Papi and hope to see you soon!

Is-a-frequent flyer

Touch the sky

2008-01-18T17:42:00.000-08:00

Sadly, EM's uncle quietly passed away a few days before the end of the year. After arrangements were made, it was announced that his funeral would take place on the afternoon of New Year's Eve. There was no question that we would attend. Our only dilemma was that we were up in the mountains, with a home full of visiting friends (12, ready to party) and no nanny. The other problem we were faced with was the drive to Los Angeles. Due to the holiday traffic, the best we could hope for was a 3 to 4 hour drive there and back, compounded by the fact that NO ONE, NOT A SINGLE ONE of our friends, offered to watch Makena. Our Bahamas' friends decided they would take Jack skiing with them while another couple decided to take Tiger (the dog) with them for the day, but we were stuck having to go to the funeral with our terrible toddler. Just when we were about to commit to the 8 hour drive, our friend, Steve, suggested we look into chartering a flight. Brilliant (if not costly). We would avoid the holiday traffic, we could fly into Burbank (minutes away from the cemetery) and be back before the sun set! Gung Ho, EM called the airport and was immediately told that we could not charter a plane, as none were available -- but that we might try the flight school and see if they would charter out a plane to us. We did, and they could! Moreover, it was an incredibly reasonable rate (then again, it was a minuscule plane). So we packed up the diaper bag, the car seat and the devil -- I mean, Makena and we hightailed it to the airport. After EM filled out some paperwork and I tried to stay zen (because of my claustrophobia issues,) we were ready to board the plane. I was squished in the back with Mak and EM sat himself in the front-passenger seat... For about a second and a half until the pilot told him that he (my husband) would be flying the plane. We all laughed thinking that he was joking, BUT HE WASN'T.The paperwork that EM had signed was for flight instruction (the reason the rate was so reasonable!) and he was told that he would be taking off and flying the plane until we reached Burbank, at which point, he (the flight instructor) would take over. If we didn't agree to this, our little charter would be three times the price!

I couldn't believe it when EM said, "okay." He was stunned but totally psyched to do this. I was crammed in the back with Mak, feeling like an Icelandic sardine and with visions of "La Bamba" floating through my head, crying dry tears and screaming internally. I really thought that my dance was up, that today was my day to go. (EM in, on the left, flying the plane.)
After a few minutes of instruction, EM took control of the plane and took off. I still was not convinced that we would land so I called Jack on the ski hill to say goodbye, to have him look up and see the plane, and to remember to say "please" and "thank you" and to do his homework -- to which he reminded me that he was on holiday break and therefore had none.
(The ski hill, as seen from the plane.)
Obviously, we survived this because I am blogging about it. We arrived at the cemetery saw family and friends and were able to introduce Makena to those who hadn't met her. After the service, we rushed back to the airport to meet EM's flight instructor and to take off one more time before the sun went down.

I said a little prayer and it was answered.

Now that I am not dead, It was really quite a stunning and magical way to end the year. I really felt like we were touching the sky. It felt like we were close to Sam and saying goodbye to him in a really spiritual and special way. Our own private send-off to the hereafter... Another bonus (other than Makena being a total trooper) was that she finally understood the concept of flying and now constantly points up to the sky when she catches sight of a plane. EM, on the other hand, had an epiphany. He logged two hours in his flight book and is now considering getting his pilot's license.

I told him that he could do whatever he wanted as long as he upped his life insurance by a million.

Happy New Year!

Is-a-loving wife and loving life

Bite me, part II (aka The long road home)

2008-01-15T16:55:00.000-08:00

(Mak and Jack in the lagoon.)
How do you get four adults and four children out of the Bahamas smoothly? You don't. The morning started off with my friend's eye still swollen from our "sandy" mishap/adventure the day before. Then Conner, her son, ended up with a half-inch splinter embedded in the heel of his foot. On the way back from bidding the DEA lagoon adieu, I slipped and fell on my hands and knees while carrying Makena on my shoulders. I managed to keep her from crashing head first into the ground but my back seized and I had no feeling between the base of my neck and my shoulder blades for about an hour. We loaded up the car and were starting to head out when Conner's dad realized he didn't have his passport. We tore all the bags apart without finding it. It turns out it was in my purse! How it got there was a mystery.

We piled back into the car and headed to Georgetown to catch our flight. We stopped at the supermarket to purchase snacks for the kids and I don't know how it happened but EM ended up closing the door on Conner's fingers. It was horrible. His fingers were stuck -- but miraculously not broken because of the rubber trim around the door -- We ended up buying frozen peas and extra-strength Tylenol and praying that his fingers were not going to swell up and that he could last until the flight made it to Miami. We flew into Miami and Conner's fingers were feeling much better and then we hightailed it to make our connection for the flight home to Los Angeles.

Makena had an enormous tantrum in the middle of the terminal. EM was horrified, I told him to walk away and pretend he didn't know us and I let Makena continue to scream and thrash about the floor while the holiday travelers passed by us trying not to step or trip over her. I figured that she might as well get it out of her system before we got on the flight -- and she did. A few minutes after boarding she fell asleep.

Unfortunately, we did not take off after boarding. We stayed parked on the runway for a while, waiting for the passenger manifest to be examined. Then about an hour into this wait, the pilot spoke to us and explained that the flight was so full and that the plane weighed so much that we were being redirected to the longest runway for take-off and that we would be traveling at a very high speed for a longer than normal time before becoming airborne. I wish he hadn't felt the need to explain this because it really stressed me out. But we did take off (eventually) and we did finally land late but safe.

We thought we were home free but our luggage never made it and we spent an hour and a half trying to figure out where it was and what other flight it might be on... I could go on and on but we are already in 2008 and much more has happened since. I'm still trying to catch up and we are all still itching from the bug bites!

Is - happy to be home