Nerves and Ways to Deal with Them

You can always tell when I'm nervous. My house is usually clean. And decorated.

It's kind of backward, I know. I should be too anxious to clean, but I've come to realize it's my way of trying to exert some control over a situation that I might feel out of control.

Last year I had a bad pap smear, only it wasn't a the usual kind. The bad cells were endometrial which made me more than a little freaked out. My nurse practitioner was fantastic and got me into a gynecologist in her office within days to have a coloposcopy. The doctor removed a large polyp during the procedure that appeared to be attached to my endometrium. He said he was sure it was the cause of the bad pap smear and that the growth was most likely benign, but the pathology report would tell us. I'd have the results in a few days.

{Side note: If you didn't know this, don't feel slighted. I think I only told two people.}

Over the next few days I painted and decorated Ryan's room, cleaned out and organized his and both girls' bedroom closets. Busy girl. I had a paint roller in my hand when the phone rang, the nurse calling me to tell me everything was really okay.

{Side note #2: The doctor wanted to have me take a pregnancy test before he did the procedure. My insurance sucks so I told him it wasn't necessary. He said sometimes women thought they might not be pregnant so I should do it to be sure. To which I replied: "Trust me Dr. XXX, you're the first man to be down there in years." He turned a lovely shade of crimson and let it drop. Imagine my horror when several months later I discovered he was the husband of Julia's vocal teacher.}

My nervousness now is minor in comparison. While it's over a possibly life changing situation, no matter which way the decision goes, my life will continue just fine. Still, it's something out of my control.

So, my house is getting really clean. And pretty. I woke Ross up yesterday morning and asked him if he wanted to help me paint the kitchen and hearth room. He's my usual partner in home repair so he said yes. We spent the rest of the day painting and later last night, as Ross and I were finishing up, Jenna asks, "Does this mean we have to spend all our time outside?"

I looked at her in confusion. "What?"

"Since you're making our house so fancy, does this mean we have to spend all our time outside and only come in to go to bed so we don't mess it up?"

My daughter is a genius. Why did I never think of this?

Sisterly Love

Last week I was in New York City for BEA, Book Expo America, which is all about publishing and the newest books coming out in the fall. Basically, it's like Disneyland for book lovers. But leaving for a week always proves a challenge with a house full of kids and no significant other to help out. This trip was a hodge-podge of child care ranging from Ross and Julia tag-teaming during the week, Friday night at my brother's house and a baby sitter Saturday and Sunday.

Whew.

Needless to say, my house was a freaking disaster when I came home.

As I was cleaning the entry way this morning, I found a wadded up napkin. Ewww. Gross. But I noticed the napkin had writing. It was trash from Jenna's lunch on Field Day which Julia had made for her.

My oldest girls, Julia 13 and Jenna 8, sometimes get along but more than half the time fight like the two gangs in West Side Story, only thankfully my girls don't use knives. (that I know of) So finding this napkin was reassuring that maybe there is hope for them after all.

Jenna,

Even though Mom couldn't be here she loves you! Have a FANTASTIC day! I hope your day is filled with sparkles!

Love you!

Your sister, Julia

Excuse me while I go find a tissue to wipe my eyes.

The Reading Room

As any parent knows, once a first grader can string letters together to recognize a word, they become well acquainted with the Reading Log.

The powerful Reading Log holds control over life and death. Okay, that's a slight exaggeration, but close. Failure to maintain the required number of pages or minutes results in loss of attendance to the Ice Cream Party.

If you're in second grade, death is the preferred alternative to not attending the Ice Cream Party.

But when you're in November the oh-so-distant ice cream party holds little allure in the harsh reality of twenty minutes of lost playing/TV time. Jenna, my second grader, goes through spurts of loving to read and hating it. Perhaps it's the reading material, more likely the call of her friends outside, but whatever the reason, Jenna and her Reading Log have become reluctant acquaintances.

Ryan and Emma see me nagging coaxing Jenna to read, see me set the twenty minute timer on my phone, see her camp out in a comfy chair to dive into another world. Apparently (and thankfully,) they have missed the reluctance. Imagine my surprise when the preschoolers approached me with thick paperback books this afternoon and asked me to set the timer.

They were doing their reading minutes.

Aww, isn't that sweet? Ryan's reading.

Umm, are you sure that's appropriate?

Emma's snuggled in with her book.

What? Did they start a Shannon K. Butcher book club and not tell me?

BTW, I'm friends with Shannon and this series is awesome so at least they have good reading taste.

I am NOT a Morning Person

I am not a morning person. I am a night owl and often stay up until the wee hours of morning. Good thing too, because that's the only time I can get in uninterrupted writing time. Unfortunately, my children do no understand that Mommy needs her beauty sleep. Or any kind of sleep. Especially uninterrupted sleep.

Ryan is a morning person. He wakes up at the crack of dawn, wide eyed and bushy tailed. (For the love of God! The cliche's!) Ryan has always been a quiet child, except for when he's bossing people around. Nothing like rule breakers to crack a kid out of his shell.

In the last month or so, Ryan has blossomed. He's still shy with people he doesn't know, but lately he's become chatty with the law abiding inhabitants, too. Ryan has also discovered singing. Maybe he's seen too much Glee , or maybe Mommy's impromptu singing and dance numbers have finally had an effect, but the boy loves to sing.

This morning, I was Tired. (Yes, with a capital T.) Who comes bouncing down the stairs at 7:10? (I was up at 6:45 after staying up until 1:30 watching miners jump out of capsules.) Ryan. Shouting. And singing. What could be better that shouting and singing at 8:00 a.m.? Bossing your little sister around. That's right You Get the Best of Both Worlds.*

* I have sunk to new lows, invoking a Hannah Montana song title when she's not even part of the blog.

There's not enough coffee to handle this in the morning.

Part Two: Who ARE Those Kids?

I am the single mother of six children. Some people are amazed by that fact. To me, it's just who and what I am. My oldest moved out last spring, so I only have five children living at home.

Yes, I can SEE you shaking your head at my use of the word only.

My three oldest children are biological. My three youngest are adopted. Three are boys and three are girls. Yes, I have my own Brady Bunch. *snort* Hardly. Otherwise I KNOW I would have an Alice. And a Mike. For the record, at this point I'd prefer an Alice. I hate housework.

If you want to know the story about HOW I became a single mother read this.

Some of you know my kids from when I wrote before. Others are getting introduced. After this post, you'll all be up to speed.

Trace

My oldest, Trace, is twenty-three now. He moved out last spring and into a condo with his girlfriend Cody and her four-year-old son Gauge. Trace works full-time at a pizza restaurant and is finishing his last semester of collage. He is eager to get out of the food service industry and begin a career.

His girlfriend Cody is the owner/creator of LuandEd She makes the cutest monster bags and tutus. Be sure to check her store out.

Ross

Ross just turned twenty. He lives at home and splits his time between working as an assistant manager at a convenience store and going to our local community college. His major is still undivided. He currently has a girlfriend. Ross lives in a man-cave, otherwise known as our basement, where he happily resides with the 50" plasma screen TV he bought last spring. Needless to say, I don't see a lot of Ross, but he often bring me Starbucks mochas. I think I'll keep him.

Julia

Julia is thirteen and now an eighth grader. Julia is into everything drama, whether it be in real life or on a stage. She just found out she got the lead role as Millie in her school musical, Thoroughly Modern Millie. She is in Show Choir (think Glee) and Honor Choir. Julia has a heart of gold and loves children. She is a much coveted babysitter. If only she liked watching her siblings as much as she enjoys watching other people's kids.

Jenna

Seven-year-old Jenna is a second grader. A product of the Disney Channel, Jenna is hip and sassy, but is actually more sensitive than I expected. She's a girly-girl through and through and would rather play with her American Girl doll than kick around a ball. Jenna is very social and love her friends.

Ryan

Ryan is now four and in Pre-K where he gets speech therapy. Ryan was born with a cleft lip and cleft palate, but they were repaired in China before we adopted him at two and a half. Ryan likes things neat and tidy. He loves nothing more than to boss people around and tattle on them when they don't follow the rules, which explains his nickname: Officer Ryan. When Ross isn't around (most of the time,) he is the only boy in a sea of estrogen. God bless him.

Emma

Three-year-old Emma is the baby. Since the day I met Emma at three months, she has always had a strong will. A character trait to be admired, most of the time, but not when you are battling over the appropriate place to poop-- the toilet versus your panties. It's her very stubborness that helped her survive malnutrition in a Vietnamese orphanage and a case of RSV when she was four months old that left her on a ventilator for six days. While her tenacity can be annoying at times, I wouldn't change it for anything.

Love Notes

My kids take their lunch to school three to four days a week and they love it when I send them notes. But when you're writing that many notes, sometimes it's hard to come up something original.


Today was an original day.

Yes, my notes tend to be illustrated. Haters, don't be so jealous of my artistic abilities.

The Beautiful Forest Amongst the Trees

Meet my beautiful daughter, Jenna Meilin.

Jenna is seven years old. Six years and one month ago, the People's Republic of China blessed my life by entrusting this precious child into our hands and I will be eternally grateful. The thought of my life without her is inconceivable.

Thirteen years ago, I was married to my second husband and had given birth to Julia, my third child, the daughter I long awaited after the births of my two sons. I also had two step-daughters. Five kids. When Julia was six months old, I had a false pregnancy alarm, but to my surprise, I found myself disappointed. I actually wanted another baby. The seeds were planted and would follow me for years. There were problems with this desire. We had five kids already. We were so poor we should have filed bankruptcy. Basically, a baby was the worst idea ever. And I told myself this for years, smothering myself with guilt. I was selfish to even wish such a thing. I prayed to God to please, please take this desire away. Yet it clung to me like a choking vine and grew stronger with every year.

And then, when Julia was four years old, I met a woman who adopted two daughters from China. I went home to tell Darrell. We investigated the possibility and found the expense astronomical. There was no way we could afford it, but Darrell said he would pray about it. Bless his heart, he did. He didn't have much choice; God kept throwing families who had adopted in his path. Finally, after two and a half years, Darrell said he wanted to adopt from China. Eighteen months later we flew to China to adopt seventeen month Lu Chu, renamed Jenna Meilin.

Two and a half years after that, Darrell died. My world crumpled. The boys and Julia were old enough to fend for themselves, but three year old Jenna needed me. She was the reason I got out of bed those first few months. Little Jenna had lost so much in her short life: her foster family, her father. She needed her mother to be there for her.

It took me a couple of years to figure out that I needed her as much as she needed me. With that realization came the knowledge that God had planned this for me, years in advance.

And that, my friends, is a humbling realization.

I am protective of this little girl. She has faced more pain and loss than a seven year old should, yet she is not a victim. She is a survivor. I cannot follow her through out the rest of her life in a vain attempt to protect her from the ugly things that are sure to come her way. I can only arm her with knowledge, support and my love.

We are fortunate that Jenna hasn't faced outright prejudice yet. However, I know it will come someday, at some point. I can only prepare her, so that when it happens she isn't caught off guard. We have discussed that some people dislike others because of the color of their skin or the shape of their eyes. In our house, where we are a equal distribution of ethnicity-- 50% Caucasian to 50% Asian -- the idea sounds preposterous. But events like Martin Luther King Day help shed light on the subject. Prejudice still exists.

But prejudice, not in that sense, isn't Jenna's biggest challenge. The immediate problem is far more subtle, yet almost more dangerous. It is the misconceptions of her circumstances and the thoughtless comments people make in her presence. As a parent, it's easy to dismiss ignorant comments in front of a baby, but as Jenna gets older, my patience shortens.

What is a seven year old supposed to say when an adult looks at her, with pity in their eyes, and says "You're so lucky your mom adopted you." I immediately respond, "No, I am the lucky one. I cannot imagine my life without her." It's an innocent statement but the implications are significant.

"You know, they just throw baby girls away in China." What would possess a person to say such a thing to a child? Yet, I have heard it. Many times. Even if it were true, you do not tell a child they were thrown away like a piece of garbage. No matter how secure the child feels, hearing this will cause some harm to their psyche. My daughter was NOT thrown away. Her birth parents must have loved her very much to bundle her up on a cold February morning and place her in a spot where she was sure to be found. I have no idea what forced them to give up their one day old daughter, but I have no doubt of their love for her. I tell Jenna this often. I will not tolerate strangers undermining her belief in their love.

"You are such a wonderful person to save her life." Even if this were true, which it is not, on so many levels, why would you ever say this in front of the child? I did not save her life. At all. Jenna was placed in a loving foster family the day she entered the orphanage. The orphanage director tried to find a local family to adopt her. On her first birthday, after no local family was found, Jenna was placed in the international adoption system. Seven months later, we adopted her. Jenna was loved and well cared for. If we had not adopted her, a long line of families stood behind us waiting to adopt. Her life was never in any danger.

This is an innocent sounding statement, yet it's repercussions extend LONG past the adoption itself. When a child hears any hint that the adoptive parents saved their life it makes the child feel obligated to the parents. Of all the reasons to adopt a child, saving their life should be last on the list. Trust me, you need more than the belief you saved the child's life to get you through the attachment issues you will face.

The adopted child should never, ever, for any reason, feel GRATEFUL to the adoptive parents for adopting them. Should the child feel grateful for what his or her parents do for them? Of course, but when was the last time you ever heard someone tell a biological child they should feel grateful that their parents gave birth to them? There is a difference. Which brings me to the first part of that statement:

"You must be a wonderful person to..." No, I'm not. Trust me. I am selfish. I fulfilled a selfish desire. I wanted a child. My sole purpose was to have a child to love. I am not wonderful, special, or any other attribute you wish to bestow on me. You can try and I will throw it off every time. The simple fact is-- I wanted a child. There were babies in China. I adopted from China. That does not make me wonderful. That makes me a parent.

The Chinese take great pride in names. They have significance and meaning. Jenna's middle name is Meilin, which means beautiful forest. Hubei, the province she is from, is known for a beautiful primeval forest. Jenna means white, or fair. She knows this and takes pride in it. Jenna loves to tell people she is a fair, beautiful forest. And she is. God help the person who suggests otherwise.

Now Hiring Out: Child Slave Labor (Only I Don't Think You Want to Hire Them)

With all this free time from Christmas break and endless snow days, it's time to put them to work. Last week, I taught Julia how to do laundry and she and Jenna washed all their clothes. (They put them away too) But cleaning up after dinner... long time readers know this has been a continual battle.

Tonight, Trace decided that Julia and Jenna should clean up the kitchen after dinner. I wasn't sure this would work, but when I tried to help I was yelled at and told to leave. Hey, no arguments from me! Imagine my surprise when I went into the kitchen after they were done.

The kitchen counter. What? We're supposed to wipe that off? We might want to eat those mini marshmallows later.

Mess? What mess? No one said we had to wipe off the stove.

What? These dishes? I can't believe you noticed them, Mom.

I'm now hiring my children out as indentured servants. Only serious applicants need apply

Dance Party

Hello, I'm Denise and I'm pretty much musically illiterate. I've spent the last 20 years listening to music sung by rodents, puppets and dancing vegetables. I can sing every Yo Gabba Gabba song ever written. But real music? Not so much.

Between writing and working out at the gym, I've found that music is indispensable but honestly, who wants to challenge themselves on an elliptical machine to There's A Party In My Tummy? Seriously. That's when I became acquainted with the iPod portion of my iPhone, the very same phone that I got with the world's most expensive cup of coffee. I used to have an iPod but Ross broke his and "borrowed" mine: aka he never returned it. But truthfully, I didn't miss it. I hardly had any music on it. So when I started writing and working out I needed music and who better to turn to? My boys. They hooked me up and before I knew it, I was listening to music on my head phones all the time.

But sometimes you want to share your music, especially when you find yourself listening to the same CD all day long, you just gotta share the love, you know? So I bought myself an iPod/iPhone docking station with a speaker for Christmas and now we listen to music all the time. Okay, so my kids are positively sick of listening to Watchout! There's Ghosts ***, I'm the mom. Go somewhere else. Or stay and dance. Yes, with all this music floating in the air spontaneous dance parties are bursting out at all times.

Dancing is great for many reasons. It makes the kids get their energy out. I get to burn some energy off after sitting in a chair all day and we have fun dancing together. Oh, and I also usually look like a fool, but what's new? Tonight we made a video one of our dance parties. Yes, there is a video with me dancing to Black Eyed Peas Boom Boom Pow. No, it will not be posted to this blog. But here are the girls dancing minus Ryan, who decided he just wanted to watch. Oh, and this is pretty tame stuff. We're usually wilder than this.

Yeah, I taught them all their moves.

*** If you decide to click the link on Watchout! There's Ghosts bear throught the first 20 seconds or so of "screaming" it gets so much better!!!

More Bible History With Jenna

We went to church tonight (they had brisket, thank you very much), which meant that Jenna, my first grader, went to her bible class.  Jenna came running to me after class was over to show me her treasure:  a Nigerian coin given to her and the other children by a man who spoke to their class.  On the way home, I asked Jenna some questions.

"Was the man a missionary?"  I asked.

"Huh?"  This obviously stumped her.  "He was somewhere where they have houses made from mud and straw."

Since her coin was Nigerian I suggested perhaps it was Africa. She agreed that it might have been.  "What did he say?"  I asked.

"You know when Jesus sailed around on a boat with 11 guys and tested them?  Yeah, he was with them."

"The man was on a boat with Jesus?"

"Yeah, he was on a boat with Jesus and they sailed around for about a year and then Jesus told them to go heal people."

"Jenna, Jesus lived about 2000 years ago.  Did this guy look really old?"

"No, he looked kind of young."

"But he sailed around with Jesus?"

"Yeah, for a year with those 11 guys."

"What 11 guys?"

Jenna was becoming very frustrated with 20 questions.  "You know, the 11 guys."

"The apostles?"

"Yeah, them."

"And they were tested?  How were they tested?  Did they do math tests?  Spelling tests?"

"Mom!"  I had gone too far with that one.  "Don't you know this story?"

I was wracking my brain trying to figure out a story with Jesus testing 11 guys on a boat for a year.  Nothing came to mind.  I decided it might be better to let this one go and covertly call my sister-in-law Janne' in the morning to find out what my nephews told her.

"So this guy was with Jesus?"

"Yeah, but he's retired now."

"Who? Jesus?"

"No! The guy."

"Wow,"  I said. "I'd really like to meet somebody who sailed with Jesus for a year.  I'd like to shake his hand but I probably better not."

"Why not?"  Jenna asked.

"Well, if I shook his hand it might fall off considering he's over 2000 years old.  He's probably not in very good shape."

"Oh, Mom!"

I'll be lucky if she ever shares another bible lesson with me again.

The Sister Act Grows

Emma was over 24 months old and had a vocabulary of about 10 words, to say I was worried is an understatement. But about a month ago, she had a word explosion and her vocabulary grew to about 50-75 words and she even began starting to put together 2 word sentences last week, usually with the word "I" in front. So this morning it came as quite a shock what song my 27 month old chose for her "first song." Another performer in my midst?

Pumpkin Patch

We took our annual trip to the pumpkin patch today.  While last year's trip was warm and sunny, today's trip was the opposite but it didn't seem to dampen any spirits.  The kids were excited because this year they got to go on a hayride!  But first things first. We went to the Deanna Rose Children's Farmstead in Overland Park, KS which has a model  Kansas farm for kids to interact with.  The best part is that the children's farm is free.

As soon as you walk in you are greeted by a chicken pen.  Emma was fascinated with the chickens.  Ryan was scared.  We then moseyed on to the dairy barn which had real live cows. The girls were excited.  Ryan was scared.

 

It also had a saddle right out in the middle of the floor which Jenna and Ryan had to try.  Contrary to the evidence above, Ryan is having a good time.  He just doesn't believe in smiling for the camera anymore.  He's moved on from the wink to a more stoic look.  In fact, his preschool pictures were on Thursday and his teacher told me that she had to literally be attacked by Elmo to make him smile.  I'm not sure which should concern me more: the fact that they had to go to such lengths to make him smile or the fact that he found his teacher being mugged amusing.

 

We then checked out the Indian village, complete with tepees.  The girls quickly decided that they had no desire to live in a tepee.

 

Next was the baby goat pen, which Ryan was afraid of.  He was completely content to stay outside and watch while...

The girls feed the baby goats.  Emma wasn't frightened at all.  I was more concerned that the goats might eat Toodee, who was in her left hand.

Jenna and Julia both had their turn feeding the goats too.

While Gauge found a new friend.

 

Next up was the tractor races because what farm experience isn't complete without tractor races?  The farmstead had an oval track for the kids to race their tractor tricycles.

Finally, it was time for the main attraction:  The Hayride and the Pumpkin Patch.

 

The five of us on the hayride.  I never got a picture of the wagon.  The wagon was pulled by 2 horses which completely freaked Ryan out.  When I came time to climb onto the wagon I had 3 crying children which caused quite the spectacle.  (Good thing I'm used to causing spectacles so it didn't really bother me.)  Ryan was crying because of the horse.  Emma was crying because I put her down to load Ryan onto the wagon and Jenna was crying because she wanted to sit on my lap, which obviously wasn't going to happen.  Once the hayride started, all crying stopped and Ryan thought it was fun.

 

Cody and Gauge on the hayride.

Once we got to the pumpkin patch there were many things for the kids to do.  There was a giant slide on top of hay bales.  While I got several videos of the kids on the slide, I didn't get any pictures.

 

The kids then went fishing in a kiddie pool for wooden pumpkins.

 

While Emma played in a watering trough full of corn.

 

We then moved onto search for the perfect pumpkins.  The entrance fee to the patch include a pumpkin for each person.  Ryan must have gone through about 20 pumpkins before he left with one.  Notice the happy little guy in this photo.

Compared to the scared little boy last year.  It's amazing the difference a year can make.

 

Here's the look I got from Jenna most of the day.  From complaining about her boots, to her whining that she was cold, Jenna wasn't a happy girl most of the day.

 

But she seemed pretty happy when she got her pumpkin.

 

Emma spent most of her time in the pumpkin patch picking up sticks.  She had no interest in pumpkins.  In fact, when given a pumpkin this was her response:

Some days I wish I could give a pumpkin a good spike too.

 

We knew it was time to go when spiking pumpkins wasn't fun any longer and Emma just wanted to be held.  Nevertheless, the pumpkin patch was a smashing success.

Sorry, I couldn't resist.

The Bible According to Jenna

Over the last year we've been total slackers with church. First we had a hard time finding a church we felt comfortable with. Then there's the logistics of trying to get 4 kids to Sunday school and church as a single parent. But at the beginning of this school year, I vowed that we would be better.  And other than the Sunday's we've missed because we had the plague H1N1 flu, we've been pretty good.  In fact, we're so good we've been going on Wednesday nights.   Yeah, so they serve dinner on Wednesday nights.  That's not the only reason we go.

Yesterday after dealing with the aftermath of Emma's marker mural, I decided to calm myself down with a non fat, no whip Mocha from Starbucks.  (Hey, it beats buying crack on the corner.)  I picked Jenna up from school and we headed straight to Starbucks.  On the way, I told Jenna that we were going to church later.

"I don't want to go to church!"

"But we have to go so you can learn about God and Jesus."

"I already know all about God and Jesus."

I was impressed.   At 6 years of age Jenna has achieved what most theologists have strived  for their entire lives.  "Okay,"  I said.  "Tell me about Jesus."

Jenna seemed disgusted at the pop quiz but explained, "Mary didn't want Jesus so she put him in a basket and floated him in a river and a princess found him.  He grew living with the princess."

After giving myself a mental head slap, I questioned which was worse-- The Gospel according to Jenna or when Jenna came running up to me after Sunday school last spring very excited that she had discovered that she could pray anytime, not just at dinner and bedtime.  (My friend Heather, Jenna's Sunday school teacher at the time, still won't let me forget that one.)

"Actually," I said gently so that I wouldn't upset her, "that was Moses."

"Oh, yeah."  She seemed puzzled that she had got that one wrong.  I decided to try again.

"So tell me about Jesus."

After thinking for a moment, Jenna said, "Jesus had to travel to a city really far away because people could be counted, I can't remember what it's called..."

"A census?"  I volunteered.

"Yeah, he had to travel on a donkey to a census."

Great.  I had failed my daughter's Christian education, yet ever the cock-eyed optimist, and just like when Jesus asked Peter who he was 3 times, I tried for the third time to see if Jenna knew about Jesus.

"But what about Jesus and the cross?"

"Oh yeah... Jesus died on the cross to forgive our sins so we can go to heaven."

So I wasn't a total bum.  Thank goodness.

"But I still don't want to go to church."  She added.

How could I make my daughter go to church and want to be there?  I pondered this as we waited in the Starbucks drive through lane.

"They're having fried chicken for dinner."  I told her.

"What kind is that?"

"You know, crispy chicken on the bone."

Her entire attitude changed.  "I love that kind of chicken.  I want to go to church."

That's my girl.