running for Haiti

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I'm ready to share something really exciting, but also a little terrifying. I am training to run a half-marathon. Admitting this in public is a big step for me, for many reasons. Topping the list include my abyssmal lack of athleticism and crippling fear of failure. I could write an entire treatise here about how this decision came about, and how the mere idea is shaking this asthmatic, postpartum 35-year-old to the core.

But.

This is not about me.

Well, not this post. I'll probably whine more about my own insecurity at a later date.

For now, I want to share why I've decided to do this. Our never-ending adoption process from Haiti has had one benefit, and that is the fact that we have developed some amazing relationships with people who are serving in there. Haiti is a very difficult place to try to effect chance, because the issues there are so overwhelming. One of the things that impressed me most with Heartline Haiti (who we are adopting from) is the clear and tangible ways they are serving people in Haiti. Run by John and Beth McHoul, who have been in Haiti over 20 years, their mission includes an orphanage, a sewing school, a child development program, and a prenatal program. Recently, the prenatal program was expanded to include a birthing center, run by midwives.

The dangers of giving birth in Haiti are great - you can read about it in this news story. Haitians suffer the highest maternal mortality ratio in the Western Hemisphere, by far. Millions of Haitian women either cannot access health care, or cannot afford it. Those who can't afford it are often left to go it alone. Even those who can afford it are often treated in conditions that are unimaginable here in the US.

These pictures depict one of the maternity wards in Port-Au-Prince. When I first read this article, I was expecting with Karis. I remember thinking about India's birth, and how I was surrounded by professionals in a clean, private room, and how it was still a scary and overwhelming experience. I can't imagine what these women must go through. And again . . . these are the women fortunate enough to have access to care.

Now, contrast this to the care that Heartline is giving the women in their program. Each week the Heartline prenatal program sees twenty pregnant women. Most of them have never received pre-natal care. When it comes time to deliver their babies the women can come to the birthing center to have their baby. As you can imagine, this is a huge blessing to these women, and there is a very long wait-list of women wanting to join.

(photos from Beth McHoul and Tara Livesay)

Heartline offers women in Haiti a safe, clean, peaceful and loving place to experience labor and delivery with trained midwives to assist the ladies throughout their labor and delivery. There is no cost to the women. The difficult reality is that because these pregnancies are high risk, often times women will need to be transported to a hospital in order to receive emergency-level care. The chief goal is to deliver a healthy baby to a healthy mom. When that becomes impossible Heartline will be transporting women to a local hospital, acting as advocates for them until they are checked in and being cared for by hospital staff.

Here is where the half-marathon comes in. There is a team of fifteen of us, who will be running in the DisneyWorld half/full marathon in January. Some of us are adoptive moms, others are missionaries in Haiti, and others are friends. We all share a common goal of supporting this birthing center. The money being raised will be used to purchase a make-shift ambulance. It will not be a traditional Western ambulance, but instead will be a sturdy utility vehicle that will be transformed into an ambulance and outfitted with necessary medical equipment.

I resonate very deeply with the need for women to feel supported and cared for during pregnancy. This is just an example of how Heartline is acheiving this, as told by Tara:

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The women we serve are strong and resilient and have overcome many challenges.One such young woman is Malange.Malange came to us early in her pregnancy. Due to her history she was fast-tracked to the top of the wait list.At 16 Malange lost a baby to pre-eclampsia. During that pregnancy she received no prenatal care. She never fully understood exactly why her baby died. Sadly, it is not uncommon for medical situations to go completely unaddressed. Often times when a Doctor is involved the patient is not respected enough for the information to be passed along. Over and over again we've had women tell us that the Doctor did not tell her what he did or what was wrong.

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Malange came to the Women's Center at 4am on October 13th. She was in labor and looking for help. She has been faithful to the program for months and was healthy enough to deliver her baby with the Heartline midwives in attendance.Malange labored most of the morning. During her labor she was in a clean, quiet room. She was checked on repeatedly. There was a doula there to speak in her native language and tell her what was going on with her labor. She was fed and cared for, loved and respected.

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Malange delivered a healthy baby boy late morning. She spent the afternoon recovering and resting. She was offered encouragement and assistance with nursing her new baby boy. Around 5pm her family came to pick her and her son up and bring them home.

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This week Tuesday Malange came with her son for a follow up appointment. The midwives checked Malange and her son and offered continued support and encouragement. Malange will now enter the Early Childhood Development program. Each Tuesday for a year she will be surrounded by women who love her and desire to see her succeed. She will be given tools and teaching that will help her be the best mom she can be.

In January I will be running for Malange and many more just like her. If this case is resonating with you, too, I would encourage you to sponsor me in this run. I will be running 13 miles, give or take, but a donation in any amount would be huge. A website for our run has been set up at:

http://www.heartlinerunners.blogspot.com/

Or you can donate by clicking here:



And if the story of Melange didn't tug at your heart, how about a little song and dance?

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not so well-rounded

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Last Friday, I took Karis to see a specialist about her head shape. I was pretty sure of what the outcome would be. I mean, don't all moms google before appointments and show up with an already formulated diagnosis and treatment plan?

No? Just me?

Anyways, based on photos and descriptions I'd seen from the medical sources on the internet, I was pretty sure she had plagiocephaly. Which is basically a fancy term for a wonky-shaped head. It is a result from spending too much time on her back (and in the swing), causing her head to widen and flatten out. She's basically got an oval head. There is no real risk to her health or development. Unless you consider looking bad in hats a developmental issue. The course of action is to try repositioning (which we did), and then move towards an orthotic helmet.

Now there is always some controversy about doing something that could be painful for a child, just for the sake of how it might look. It's an interesting decision to ponder - do you sacrifice some discomfort now to keep your child from potentially looking a little different later? Especially when this is a minor thing that poses no risk to their health?

Okay, enough talking about circumcision. Ba-dum-dum. Let's get back to talking about plagiocephaly.

After I had confirmed my diagnosis with myself, I did what any other neurotic mom would do, and joined several online message boards about plagiocephaly. I wanted to learn about the different helmet options, so that I could tell my doctor what to do suggest where my doctor might send us for a fitting. I expected to find some discussion about the types of helmets, how to decorate said helmets, and how to keep the skin clean, etc. What I found instead were many, many parents sharing how difficult this was for them, to have a child wearing a helmet. People were really devastated about the diagnosis. I started wondering if I should be, too. Thus far, I've been pretty indifferent about the whole thing. Was I under-reacting? Moi, the queen of being over-dramatic? Because really, wearing a helmet for a few months? Not that big of a deal in the scheme of things.




So I went to the appointment on Friday armed with a good understanding of the diagnosis, a clear decision on which band to choose, and a firm resolve that this was NO BIG DEAL. So maybe she wears a helmet for a few months. Big whoop.


Fast forward to me sitting in the office with the doctor, who pulls out the high-tech photos they have taken of every angle of Karis's head, as she starts using words like "deformity" and "brain growth" and "brachiocephaly". Zoom in on me, drama mom, who is quietly fighting back tears and resisting the urge to cry out, "No! Not my perfect baby! Noooooo!! THIS CAN'T BE HAPPENING!!!"

By the way . . . passport photos of babies: totally freaking cute. Detailed medical photos of babies with asymmetrical demarcations: not cute. Not cute at all.

That lasted for about five minutes, and then I sucked it up and regained my laissez-faire attitude about the helmet. Bottom line, Karis has exactly what I thought she had. She's gonna need to wear an orthotic helmet for a few months to reshape her head.

It's no big deal.



I think.

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less stuff = more life?

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Okay, okay. Yes, I occasionally watch Oprah. But I gotta tell ya, this episode is one of the reasons why. I find it so fascinating to consider what other cultures are doing, and to think about what does and doesn't work within our own. It always shakes up my little American bubble to hear about how things are done in Denmark. I don't agree with all of it . . . but I think they're on to something.

and one more . . .

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more family drama

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Last night, the kids seemed to be feeling a bit better, so we decided to take a family walk. I've been trying to run in the evenings, and Jafta always wants to come with me, so he ran alongside me while Mark pushed the girls in the jogger. It was actually really fun to have Jafta running with me. He kept up for about a mile and a half - running the whole way. He had his headphones in, which means that any time he talks he speaks at FULL VOLUME, assuming that we can hear the music, too. He was also singing along quite a bit, which was pretty cute.

The route I usually take circles back by our house about halfway, and India was starting to cry and Jafta was wheezing, so Mark decided he would head back with the kids and let me finish my run alone. This is the point where my kids decided to stage a full-out Lifetime movie scene a couple steps from my house. I gave the kids a peppy little goodbye, and as I'm leaving , I hear all three of them screaming at the top of their lungs.

India: No, Mommy! Come back! Don't leave us! Come back!
Jafta: Mommy!!! Take me with you! I want to come with you! Take me! Don't leave me!
Karis: WAAAAHHHHHHH!!! WAAAAHHHHH!!!

It was very dramatic, and anyone listening might have thought I was leaving my family for good, as opposed to continuing on for another mile, making me (gasp) about ten minutes late to start their baths. Oh, the horror.

After the kids recovered from my act of abandonment, we got to sleep and sat down for a little evening programming. While we were watching tv, we heard Karis crying a little, but we've been trying to let her soothe herself a little more, so we didn't go in there. A few hours later, as I was going to bed, I peeked in on Karis and she was asleep, covered in drama. It was matted in her hair and all over her crib and her pj's. Which pretty much made me feel like the Worst Mother Ever, since I was sitting in the living room watching Glee, smugly thinking how much she needs to learn to fall back to sleep on her own, while she is covered in puke. So I gave her a bath, and apologized profusely. (She accepted, begrudgingly).

It was a long night, because a) I felt guilty and was now standing at-the-ready in case she puked again, and b) I was feeling like I could have some drama of my own. The morning came, and both Karis and I seemed to be in the thick of a nasty flu, and Jafta and India were still on the grumpy side of healthy.

Sp for good measure, as Mark left for work, I gave the neighbors a repeat performance.

No!!!! Mark, don't leave us! Don't leave here alone. Stay! Come back ! We need you. COME BACK!!!!

And scene.

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drama (you give me fever)

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My kid (as most kids do) use some vocabulary that is uniquely their own. The funniest to me by far is the way Jafta refers to Karis's frequent spit-up as "drama". I have no idea how he picked this up, but he actually thinks this is the correct term for it. Of course I don't correct him, because it cracks me up. Nearly every day I hear him say "Uh-oh, Karis is having some drama right now". Or "There's some drama on the floor over there." Or "Burp her so there won't be any drama." Hilarious, right? I mean, why would I want to correct that hilarity?



India, on the other hand, says that she is "spitting up" any time she actually pukes. I know this, because she throws up quite a lot. She is my little carsick sweetie. A couple enthusiastic pushes on the swingset, and she is sure to lose her lunch. It's so bad that I actually have a technique for protecting her clothing on airplane rides, that involves tucking a blanket into her shirt and then suspending the other end from the seatback tray. Pretty effective.

Another of Jafta's unique colloquialisms is that he claims to have a fever any time something hurts. I'm sure it's based on hearing me say that he had a fever when he was sick. But now, any time he hurts himself, he will hold his head or stomach or knee and say "I have a fever! I'm getting a fever right now!"

Last night, we managed to have a perfect storm of drama, fever, and spitting up. India took her usual nap around 2pm. She had a rough morning, but I didn't suspect anything. I've been so focused on trying to keep the asthmatic and the infant healthy that India kind of slipped under the radar. When she was still sleeping at 4pm, I thought it was kinda nice. At 5pm, it seemed a bit curious. At 6pm, I actually started to worry a little bit. I went in to check on her, and she was burning up with a fever.

She obviously had some sort of flu bug, and when I woke her up she told me she had "spit up". Which she had, all over her bed. Which Jafta discovered and called "drama".

India then proceeded to have "drama" about seven more times last night, all over the house. Despite the puke bowl we hovered under her chin for the better part of the night, she managed to catch us unawares and spew her "drama" on every square inch of the house.

DRAMA.

Fortunately, this morning she is back to her usual self, evidenced by the fact that she made five costume changes by lunch, and then kept lunch down. But Jafta - Jafta has been pointing to his tummy and saying he has a fever, which might actually be correct. And I woke up with the scratchy throat, sour stomach, and body aches that seem to hallmark half of the winter when living with kids in preschool.

Hmmm . . . must be flu season.

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the feel-good adoption movie I don't want to see

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Lately I've been hearing a lot about the movie The Blind Side. It's coming out next month, and it's the story of a wealthy white family that adopts an African American teenager. Trailers are being passed around on adoption message boards, and many people have mentioned it to me, assuming I am excited about it, too.

I'm really not thrilled about this movie, for a number of reasons. For full disclosure, probably the number one reason is that it just isn't the type of movie I usually enjoy. I'm not big on the feel-good, tear-jerker genre of movies (unless there is singing and dancing). I tend to gravitate towards movies that are a little dark, a little brooding, a bit dysfunctional, and that don't wrap up with a happy bow at the end. You might be thinking that this is because I am cynical and prone to merriment at the misfortune of others. And to that I would say, you are right.

The part of this movie that troubles me on a philosophical level, though, is that it reinforces some of the savior narratives about adoption. The first thing I noticed when I watched the preview was that, with the exception of the main character, every black person in the movie is bad, and every white person in the movie is good. We see a female black relative who appears to be an addict, several thugs who threaten the mom, and even a sassy black social worker who further plays into stereotypes. Then, on the Great White Hope side, we see sacrificial parents, concerned friends, loving coaches, and encouraging tutors. The subtle message: if we can just get some of these kids away from BLACK PEOPLE, then they might have a chance.

I don't think I need to expound on the problem in that message. Do I?

And then there is the overt message that this teen is being saved by his adoptive parents. I can't remember where I saw this quote, but it has stuck with me: You can only save a child once. After that, it's called parenting. Adoption is not something people should do out of some sort of messiah complex. And of course, the main character gives the ubiquitous line, "We're not saving him, he's saving me." I might be guilty of having said something like this a time or two - but it's putting adoption into a simplified, quid-pro-quo kind of light: You take a kid out of the ghetto, and the kid will change your life and become a hero and shining star for the family. Parents who expect their kids to redeem them are in for trouble, adopted or not.

Ugh. And the football scholarship. So more people can look at transracial adoption as a way to get themselves a pro-ball player. Because, you know, all black people are naturally good at sports. Right, Spencer and Heidi?

Now, obviously, this movie is based on a true story, so I can't really criticize the plot, but I'm annoyed with the glossed-over presentation. I guess I just wish that a mainstream adoption movie could present the full picture in a more realistic light. Like the fact that many adoptive couples are not wealthy. Like the fact that continuing ties with the birth family are important. Like the fact that older adoptees will have some serious issues with bonding that don't go away with a hug and a pep talk. Like the fact that adoptive parents are not heroes, they are parents, and adoptive children don't owe them any more gratitude than bio kids do. Like the fact that bringing home a troubled homeless teen off the side of the road, when you have a teenage daughter and a young son, is a risky idea no matter how selfless and heroic it may seem.

For me, the best transracial adoption movie I've seen is a quiet little film called Lovely & Amazing, that takes an honest look at the identity issues an adoptee feels being raised in a loving yet typically dysfunctional family.

I haven't seen The Blind Side yet, so maybe I'm wrong. Maybe this movie does delve into the complex issues of attachment and race that doesn't end with a "love will solve everything" message. But I somehow doubt it.


EDITED TO ADD: When my husband read this post he said I was being too harsh. Probably true. And then he accused me of being biased just because it looks cheesy. Also true. I do think a pro-adoption movie is a good thing overall. I'm mostly balking at the savior narrative and the racial stereotypes. Also, I don't think it's unwise for people to adopt older children. I think it is a HUGE need. Just the whole "pick a person up off the side of the road and bring him home" scene bugs me, since they have no idea what his story is, haven't gotten a pyscho-social background or an idea of his mental health, etc. Maybe the movie explains that they knew more about him. That's the beauty of writing movie reviews on movies I haven't seen. I get to judge without being informed. But I don't want to give the impression that I think it's unwise to adopt older children. Couldn't be further from the truth. Just maybe use an agency instead of picking them up roadside?

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nice white lady

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(Thanks, Dawn, for pointing this out. I had never seen it before!)

Okay, THIS is what I was talking about in today's post, but somehow couldn't communicate without sounding harsh and offensive (see edit). Yes, this little satire just about sums up what is bothering me about another another Nice White Lady movie. So funny.

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if you play it, they will come

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Further proof of the magnetic properties of the television . . .

For the last month, I've been letting Karis watch a Baby Signs DVD every day. Both Jafta and India watched this when they were babies, and they really did learn some sign language from it so that they could communicate before they were verbal. And also so that we could make them perfom party tricks like signing "poop" in front of a large audience. Because poop is funny, ya'll.

However, every time I put the video on for Karis, Jafta and India stop what they are doing and sit and watch it, too. Even though it is a TOTAL baby show, with slow, boring shots of toys and animals and rotating gizmos, and even though they have each seen it umpteen times, they just sit in a daze and stare at the screen for the entire twenty minutes.

Kiddie Crack. The television is Kiddie Crack.

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In their siblings' voices

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I really like reading about transracial adoption from the perspective of adult adoptees. Some of it is discouraging, and some of it is heartbreaking, but it always teaches me something. One of my favorite books on the subject is a collection of essays called In Their Own Voices:Transracial Adoptees Tell Their Stories. The editors of that book have just come out with a new voice, from the siblings' perspectives. I just ordered it and I can't wait to read it.

I always wonder how it will effect my daughters to be raised with two brothers of a different race. I like how being a transracial family has pushed us out of our comfort zone, and I hope that the experiences I am giving my kids will allow them to move with comfort through situations where they are the minority or the majority. I like to think that my daughters will be the better for it. I am anxious to hear the experience of others, and learn from them.

Anyone read this one yet? Anyone have older kids with a perspective of their own on this?

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flesh & blood

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I was having a conversation with a friend the other day, and talking about some parenting stuff. I was describing feeling a bit protective of Jafta in a certain scenario, and she said, "Well, of course you do. I mean, he's your flesh and blood. That's the mama instinct." And then we went on talking, and it took me a minute to register that what she had said was not, in fact, true. That he is not my flesh & blood, but that my friend so perceives him to be that she didn't even catch the innaccuracy of referring to him that way.

And I love that.

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India's Musical Stylings, Take 2

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Okay, embedded the wrong video. HERE is the video of her budding potty humor. Which is all due to the influence of her older brother, and not at all encouraged by my laughing and prodding and video recording. Of course.

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three going on thirteen

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Here's a little write-up on India's party from my other blog. If this reads like I am dropping product names in exchange for promotional consideration, that's because I AM. It's amazing what companies will hook you up with for some linkage love. Who says blogging doesn't pay? When I consider all of the blogging I've done in the past few months, and then think of the free food and drinks I earned for this party, why, I've made at least 12 cents an hour in juice boxes alone. I can totally justify this time-sucking hobby now!




The theme for India's party was High School Musical. Now, some of you may be reading this and thinking that High School Musical does not seem appropriate for a three-year-old. And to you, I would say: you are correct. However, my darling daughter has had her mind set on a “High School Musical Birthday” since she turned two. Truly, she has been talking for a year about her desires for this party. No amount of talking or reframing was going to sway her into choosing something preschool-appropriate like Dora or Backyardigans. She is three going on thirteen, and she loves Troy Bolton in a big way.

For invitations, we sent an evite. The days of cute, homemade invitations on colorful cardstock are over for this tired mama. If that kind of thing floats your boat, you go on with your bad self and your glue stick. Not for me. Besides, it is so much easier to keep track of the guest list on evite.
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I love when I can incorporate the party favors into the décor and activities. We decorated the tables with pom-poms, microphones, basketballs, and stickers, which were all used at the party, which the kids then got to take home. I ordered them bulk from Oriental Trading Company. I also set up some of India’s other HSM paraphernalia on the other tables. The only decorations I had to purchase were the tablecloths and paper plates.



We had the party right at lunchtime. Choosing the time for a party is always a challenge, and typically I like to try to avoid having a party during a meal (because I am cheap). However, some of her friends are older and had sports in the morning, and some of her friends still nap in the afternoon. So we were pressed into the lunch window, which meant providing lunch for all the kids, and the parents. It’s also always interesting trying to provide healthy food that kids will actually eat. We decided to keep it simple, and offered a large chicken nugget tray from Chik-fil-A along with big bowls of grapes, carrots, salad, and whole-grain goldfish. Previously I have spent a lot of money on fruit and veggie trays, but for younger kids keeping it basic worked to my favor.





I went for some fun beverages for the grown-ups, since the food was geared for the kids.







For dessert, my sister-in-law made cupcakes. Let me share this tip: find a friend or family member who is willing to swap this responsibility with you. Sarah had the idea that we make the cupcakes for each other’s birthday events, and it has been such a lifesaver, since it is one less thing to think about when you are planning a party. It’s fun for me to get creative for my niece and nephew on their birthdays, and I love the stuff Sarah comes up with for my kids. I think I’ve gotten the better end of the bargain with her cupcake skills, though. Look at what she made!



When hosting a party, it’s always a delicate balance between letting the kids freely play and offering some structured activities. Too much free play means they get bored, but too much structure means I become the shrill, controlling mom ordering kids to follow rules when they just came to have fun. I wanted to keep the activities simple and allow for things that would be fun for both genders and all ages. We had just three activities during the party:

1) Banner Project – as the kids arrived, I invited them to choose a letter or two on the banner to decorate. I put out crayons, markers, and stickers. The banner was just several sheets of white paper with a letter on each page to spell out “High School Muscial”. I downloaded the HSM font and typed it onto a word doc, and then printed it from my printer and strung it on a piece of ribbon. Uber-cheap and easy, and it kept the kids occupied for a while. Once it was complete we hung it up on the “stage”.


2) Sing-A-Long – after eating, we invited kids “backstage” and then played scenes from the movie on a tv set up near the stage. We passed out the microphones and pom-poms and the kids were invited to sing and dance while the parents watched. The stage was basically an area in front of some chairs where I hung two king-sized red curtains from IKEA for $7 each. They covered a large area and cost much less than if I had purchased fabric by the yard. Some of the kids took the performance very seriously (i.e Howerton children). Some of them just stood and watched the movie scenes. It engaged them for a good chunk of time.





3) Cupcakes & Tattoos – we set up the cupcakes at the table while the kids were dancing. After singing happy birthday, a couple parents went around and helped give the kids some HSM tattoos we found at Target.

After getting their tattoos, we had India open her gifts, and then most of the kids ended up jumping on the trampoline. It was a really fun party and most importantly, I think India felt very special.

We're all in this together!

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birthday weekend

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We had a really fun birthday weekend with India. On Fridy, we went to California Adventure with the kids. India has been asking to have a High School Musical birthday for months now, but then a couple weeks ago she changed her tune, and started asking for a California birthday. I panicked a little, first because I had already purchased the HSM party paraphanelia, but also because I had no idea what she was talking about. A California birthday? I'm not sure why that code was so hard to crack, but I finally realized she was wanting to go to California Adventure.

Sounded good to me. Today we had a lovely party with a few of her friends and the High School Musical theme. I'll post photos soon (still recovering from a party at home). But yesterday, we went to Disney. Before we left, I let her open her gift, which was a princess dress. She was thrilled.


She got to see the live High School Musical show. She was so excited.

In this picture, we are posing with signs to enter a VIP Disney contest with a blogger I really like. I may be shamelessly asking for your votes in a few days.

The kids love the water area, and since mommy was involved in the preparations, we had their spare suits with us. And sunblock.

India had a really great time, which was only matched by her party with her friends today. Note to self: next birthday, choose a destination party. Hosting at home is a lot of work!

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family needed

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I know a lot of adoptive parents read my blog. I love the community that this blogging thing has created between us. One of the friends I have made in this process is looking for a very special family, for a very hurting boy. It is a devastating story. If you know of someone who does not have younger children in the home and who is interesting in adopting a boy who will require a lot of love and attention, please pass this along. I know they could use your prayers, too.

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morbid curiosity

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In the last 24 hours, 458 of you clicked on the link of India's poop that I warned you not to view. 458 of you, and that doesn't include my facebook feed. Mwahahahahaha.

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bittersweet birthday the third

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Today was a hard day. Today, both Keanan and India turn three years old. Each of the last three birthdays has been hard, but this one was particularly difficult. On their first birthdays, I thought for sure that we would celebrate #2 together. Last year, I was certain he would be home by three. Today, I just don't know what to think anymore. Last year I described this day as bittersweet. Today I am just feeling bitter.

I'm sure it didn't help that we didn't really have any birthday festivities for India to take my mind off of things. We are celebrating her birthday with a few friends on Saturday, and going to Disney on Friday, so today was really mellow. It was also low-key because I pretended that it wasn't her birthday. Because my four-year-old likes to tattle more than Matt Damon in The Informant. And because I want to squeak in one last "free under three" day at Disney before we have to spring for India's annual pass. So mum's the word on the birthday front until we pass through the front gate at D-Land.

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You know what is almost as bad as Keanan not being home? (Okay, nothing is almost that bad. I'm just using hyperbole here. And I'm about to talk about poop. Put down your lunch): India is three and still not potty-trained. Sure, she wears undies and attends preschool and fools the world, but every day around 2pm, she craps her pants. I catch it in time to put her in a diaper most days. Today, I did not. I've been trying to psyche her up all month by saying things about how, when she is three, she will deposit her poops into the toilet. I guess today she wanted to show me, in a rather explosive way, that she is not so keen on that idea. So. She really showed me.

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And because misery loves company, I'm actually posting a photo of the mess. It is here. YOU SHOULD NOT CLICK ON THAT. It is a vile and disgusting photo of toddler poop. But when you do click on that, just so I get the maximum amount of sympathy, know that I snapped that photo after already cleaning about half of it up. Notice the feet, people. Notice the feet . . . and then think about what the hallway looked like when she walked out of her room. What you can't see in this picture is that she is actually saying "cheese" and smiling proudly, like the whole thing is one big joke. One big joke that I am still cleaning out of her room. (This is the part where I decide not to make a joke about her $h!t-eating grin, because that would be in poor taste. And if there is one thing I want to avoid more than anything, it's doing something in poor taste. Obviously).

Well, I've now gone from debbie downer to poop poster, and I'm not sure why anyone would still be reading, but if you stuck it out, there's a prize at the end. Here is a really, really adorable video of Keanan's friends singing happy birthday to him at the boy's home. Precious. Truly.

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make it work

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Jafta is my crafty little kid. He is always coming up with creative solutions for the things he wants, and this often involves dressing up like someone else. Like when he was watching football with Mark, and he suddenly bolted out of the room and re-emerged with two rolls of toilet paper under his shirt, declaring himself a "USC football guy":

And then, a few days later, he came up with a better solution, using his skateboard pads on his shoulders:


He has also been asking for an ipod so he could "go on a run" like I do. I found a little flash drive at Target that plays MP3's through earbuds. It was $9.99, and holds 40 songs. I loaded it with High School Musical and Ozomatli, and he is convinced it's an ipod just like mine. The problem was, the earbuds wouldn't stay in his little ears. I bought him an old-school set of headphones, but he wasn't having that. He ran to his room, and came out with a sweatband that would go around his ears and hold the earbuds in. And then he went on that run.


My little problem-solver.

He has also been begging me - BEGGING ME - for a Robin Hood costume. He and Mark have been reading the book, and he is a little obsessed with Robin Hood right now. (By the way, in case you were interested, the actual book of Robin Hood is NOT the same plot as the cartoon movie, and completely inappropriate for small children, as we discovered upon reading aloud. Which is probably why he loves it.)

I've had a little trouble finding a Robin Hood costume (more on that later), so he has taken it upon himself to create his own Robin Hood costume. In his mind, this involves three elements:
1) a skirt
2) a hat
3) an arrow coming out of the hat

His first attempt involved finding a sunhat that a relative left at our house. Then, when India went to the bathroom, he seized his opportunity and stole her skirt. He ran into the living room declaring himself to be Robin Hood, and India ran into the living room screaming about her stolen skirt. I scolded him, but not before snapping a picture of the debacle. It's a little fuzzy, but that's the best I could do. Notice the skirtless, angry India in the corner:



His second attempt was less violating, but not much closer to looking authentic. This time, he used his blanket as the skirt and a swimcap as his hat (with compulsory arrow, of course). He was pretty pleased with himself:

I was fine with this get-up until we had a costume event to attend. I tried to get Jafta to wear one of the store-bought superhero costumes he owns, but he was dead-set on being Robin Hood. He even laid out his swimcap and blanket before the event. Now, I am all for encouraging Jafta to think outside the box, but I was not gonna have my son show up to a party wearing a blanket skirt and a swimcap. Nooo. Lucky for me, I had some extra fabric laying around, and so I crafted it into a tunic and belt, and then I found an online tutorial and made him a Robin Hood hat:

I know you are reading this and marveling at my sewing abilities and general craftiness. And I know what you are thinking: I could totally go on Project Runway and win. I know. I am amazing.

Hopefully someone will read this post and just forward me straight to Fashion Week.

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Disney Dad

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Things Mom Packs to Take Two Kids to Disneyland:
stroller, sunblock, wipes, alternate outfits, water bottles, healthy snacks, antibacterial gel, camera, band-aids, and extra undies


Things Dad Packs to Take Two Kids to Disneyland:
two kids




Amount of Notice Mom Needs to Go to Disney:
72 hours minimum and a Xanax


Amount of Notice Dad Needs to Go to Disney:
aprox. 2 seconds




Parent Who Wins Girl Scout Badge of Preparation & Frugality:
mom


Parent Who Wins Affection of Kids:
dad

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catching up

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We are slowly but surely settling back in from our whirlwind trip to Haiti last week. During the month of September, we somehow spent nearly as much time traveling as we did at home. My house, my work, my kids, my sleep, my email inbox, and my patience are all feeling the results of that. I am SO looking forward to a month of doing nothing. (Nothing other than raising three small children while working from home, of course).

We had such a great time in Haiti. It's always an adventure, and this trip was no exception. Karis did really well on the long plane ride, and she was a big hit with her seatmates. Turns out, in other cultures, babies on planes are actually welcomed. And smiled at. A lot.

She was winning friends at every turn, and quite the hit in Haiti. The nannies at the orphanage were really excited to hold her, which made our time with Keanan even easier. And also, she got her very own mosquito net, which I think sort of makes her look like an appetizer:


But it worked! Not one single mosquito bite on our little blanche baby.

Our reunion with Keanan was rocky at first, which we expected. He is always a little wary of us . . . a telltale sign that he is bonded to his nannies, which makes me feel reassured and sad all at the same time. It was surreal for me to see him again. He looks so much older. It was so great to hold him and kiss him in person. There is also the tension of wanting to smother him with affection, but also to hold back as to not overwhelm him. I think I might have overwhelmed him just a tad.


For the first hour or so with us, he just kind of sat very quietly in a daze. Mark finally drew him out with some soccer, and I am here to tell you: this kid can kick. He loves sports of any kind and I think he will soon be giving Jafta a run for his money. He is such a cool kid - very playful and funny. He has a great sense of humor and even though there was a language barrier, he was cracking me up with just his facial expressions.

On our second day there, we had to go sign the papers that the government is now requiring of parents, stating that we have met him and intend to adopt him. This experience was definitely quintessential Haiti. Our orphanage's adoption coordinator, Junior, picked us up in the morning in his small jeep, and we proceeded to take the most harrowing car ride I have had in a long time. With Karis in my lap. In the front seat. I think Junior might have been smirking a little a when I repeatedly pointed out that a car was coming straight at us. Things like lanes and lights are just mere suggestions in Haiti. Be liberal with the horn, might makes right, and watch the potholes. Those are the rules to driving in Haiti.

When we arrived at the courthouse we were ushered into a crowded lobby where about 20 people were standing in what felt like a 10x15 room. There were three tables, each with a person sitting behind the table. On each table sat a notebook. Behind these tables was a man typing on a typewriter from the 1950's. And behind him were piles and piles and piles of notebooks. This room opened to another room, where about 30 people were sitting and waiting for their case to be heard in front of that judge. In the back of that room there was a huge pile of rocks, and about six dead motorcycles. There was no a/c and it was HOT. Everyone seemed very agitated and grumpy. Fortunately I had the four-month-old Princess of Smiles and Goodwill with me to lighten the mood. Except that she chose that very moment to have a minor meltdown. (If only she's given me some indication of what she wanted):

As you can see in the photo, this is me signing my name in the official notebook of graph paper that will soon join the other piled of notebooks of words on graph paper. What happens to these notebooks is anybody's guess. What I do know is this: I signed my name under about four paragraphs of hand-written text in Creole, and I have NO IDEA what it said. I may have just signed up to buy a timeshare in Jacmel. We shall see.

On the way out, we saw about five guys sitting outside with typewriters on tables. Junior told us that these guys are there to make documents. Need a birth certificate? They can make you one. Wanna change some info on your marriage license? They can fix it. With their typwriters from 1950 . . . in plain sight of the courthouse. O-kay?

Our ride back was just as thrilling, but we got to have a very interesting discussion with Junior about adoption and the state of things in Haiti. Junior is a fascinating guy - he grew up in Haiti and had little schooling, and yet he speaks four languages and is an avid reader. He told us how difficult adoptions had become, and some very interesting conspiracy theories as to why Haiti continues to struggle as a nation. Sadly, I think his theories are right. There is so much corruption in this place, and some of it is coming from the very sources who are supposed to be protecting and serving these people. And that's all I'm gonna say about that. *cough* *goonicef* *cough*

We got the pleasure of hanging out with another adoptive couple while we were there. Jason and Sarah are adopting Naomi who is turning three. They also have a three-year-old at home, so we will both have sets of "twins" through adoption. We celebrated their birthdays while we were there, with some cake that Sarah brought in. Mark and I carried in some scooters and trikes for all the kids, and they were a big hit.

We had a really great visit with Keanan. It was so much better than last time, when he was recovering from surgery and very out-of-sorts. I was worried that this trip would be emotional and difficult and heavy, and that I would come home angry and bitter. Surprisingly, the opposite happened. I'm not happy that Keanan is still there, but it was such a good reminder that he is happy and nurtured and loved. He still has the same nanny he has had since he was a baby, and there is a clear bond with the other boys in the house. The boys' home is run so well, with a schedule that would probably benefit my own household. All of the kids seem

content and joyful, and that is exactly what I needed to see. It was like a balm to my wound. We have a son. He lives in Haiti. I know he will be cared for and loved until he comes home. I have no idea when that will be.

Whenever we visit, we love getting the chance to spend time with the people who are serving there full-time. There is one thing I will say about expats: they are always, always interesting people. We smuggled in five Burger King Whoppers for John McHoul, who reportedly will eat them up to five days old. The Tluceks hooked us up with smoothies that I thought were the best I'd ever tasted (though it could have been the heat). We got to have some quality time and smack-talk with the Livesay family, who are every bit as funny and sarcastic and lovely in-person as they are on their blog. Which, if you aren't familiar with, you should be. And we got to meet Renald:

This is a picture of Renald now. Three months ago, he was brought to a medical rescue center nearly starving to death. Go look at his picture from this summer. Seriously, go look. It is devastating that any three-year-old would be so small. It is amazing to see how he is thriving now, due to the Medika Mamba (medical peanut-butter) he is being given. Meeting Renald was powerful for me, because I'll be brutally honest (and I think I'm not alone in this): sometimes, when I see photos of children in a malnourished state, a part of me detaches a little bit. We see images on tv, on the news, on informercials, of skin-and-bones kids with flies around their faces. It is so easy to not think about that reality. To look away, or to depersonalize these children. And yet here is Renald, this kid who was clinging to life, who is now one of the most vibrant kids I have ever seen. His personality is bold, his smile is infectious, and my heart literally broke with the realization that EVERY CHILD is important. Starving kids in foreign countries are KIDS. Kids that are just as important as any of ours. So when someone like Tara Livesay decides to run a marathon (tomorrow) and raises over 50,000 to feed children just like him, it is with admiration and humility that I wonder how I can start to effect some change right now, too.

A trip to Haiti is always a rattling experience. We had such a good trip - better than I could have imagined - and it has shaken me up a bit, as travel always does. I'm so happy to be home, but I can't wait to go back, and I'm moved to think about what my comfortable little life is all about.

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