Ukraine Adoption

Wish you were here

We went parasailing yesterday (check photos). What a wild time! Austin and cousin Meagan had a blast, flying high over the ocean. On the way back, the boat hit some really rough waves and we got drenched, over and over again. I mean, like a bucket of water in your face about 50 times. Tara was a real trouper, keeping her head down with her hat over her face. We couldn't have been any more wet if we had jumped into a pool. But it was sunny out, so it wasn't so bad.

We're hitting the souvenir store soon. Sister Karen, want some souvenirs? They won't be as good as the ones from Ukraine!

Wish y'all were here!

Rest, relaxation

The beach house is exactly how we remember it from last year. Memorial Day week is a great time to be in North Carolina. It's 85 degrees and sunny. Tara runs toward the waves, she jumps in the pool, she sings when she plays. She expresses the way we all feel. Free!

Beach house

We are getting ready for our annual family vacation at a beach house that we rent in North Carolina. This photo was taken last year of Tara and her cousin, Meagan. They had just met for the first time. Tara was only 2 years old and didn't speak much English. Yet. This year, she has been taking swimming lessons and talks non stop. Every day, she asks me when we are going to the beach. Soon, little one!

(Thanks to Meagan for designing this photo in computer class!)

Little red car

We had to run some errands today but John took my car to get new tires. We have an extra car from many years ago, a red convertible Mustang. It's old, but it's still fun and fast. Just Tara and I were going, and she wanted to ride in that. So I figured it was time to rev it up. She came outside with her sweatshirt tied around her waist, asking for her sunglasses and hat.

Off we went, stopping here and there. I would turn around and glance at her in those sunglasses, she would give me that broad smile. Sometimes she would be staring upward at the sky, the sunshine on her face. She was holding her hat; her hair was flying all around. She thought that was funny.

Finally when were finished with our stops and were cruising in our neighborhood, I told her we were very close to home.

"Oh, maaaaaan!" she said. What's wrong, Tara? I asked.

"I didn't get my turn to drive," she said.

Grandma's House

Tara spent the morning with her Grandma today, she had such a nice time. She was all smiles when I picked her up. It's so nice to see them bond. I know that tomorrow, she will ask if she can go back.

What's not to like at Grandma's? You get all those treats, constant attention, non-stop cartoons on the TV in the kitchen, pretty barretts for your hair, mints to tuck into your purse. Heck, I should have stayed there this morning, too!

Rainy days and Mondays

It's so hard to prod Tara to wake up in the morning for school when the rain is hitting softly on the window and her room is still kind of dark. Her little face is so innocent on the pillow. Down the hall, her brother Austin is also sound asleep, twisted around the covers with his long arm dangling down. I feel like the sleep thief. But it's time for school!

We have lots of routines here. I think that's the only way you can raise children without losing your mind. I get ready by myself in the morning, get my coffee, finish making their lunches and load up the car. Then I slip into their rooms to wake them up. Sometimes I sit on their beds to get a glimpse of them so peaceful--and quiet.

But that often comes to an abrupt end.

Tara doesn't want to wear THAAAT! Austin can't find (insert anything here). Tara's shoe won't go on, (EEEEE!) but don't try to help her! I'm running to one room's crisis and then back again. Sometimes my car is also running in the driveway. Hurry! I say. They don't seem to care about the price of gas. If one wanders toward the TV, it's over. I might as well sit back down and stay home. Hah.

We have had a lot of rain and the forecast calls for more this week, and Tara saw other children with small umbrellas. Somehow, in all the STUFF that she has received from wonderful friends, family, Santa, the Easter Bunny and us...she didn't have her very own umbrella. So despite my attempts to try to say no more often---we stopped on the way home today so Tara could pick one out.

She looked at them all, opening and closing, examining each one, noting the colors and designs. She picked up a soft purple Barbie umbrella. "This one," she said. It's another first for the girl from Ukraine. She carried it wide open into the house, so proud of herself. The cat and I were ducking out of her way. Now, she is hoping that it rains again tomorrow. She can make even the rainy days seem sunny.

That's what people do

Tara runs to her swing in the back yard and throws herself onto it, tummy first, arms dangling onto to the ground, hair flowing into her face. "That's what people do," she tells me.

She jams all kinds of things, like a small doll, a pencil, a key chain, a clown nose, into her fake leopard-skin purse and puts it on her shoulder. Then she struts outside and says "C'mon Mom." I smile, and tell her that's a lot of stuff in her purse. She says, "That's what people do."

I pull her in the red wagon to the park on a beautiful, sunny Sunday, she wears sunglasses and sits on a blue blanket like a little princess being carried to the ball. She brings her purse. At the park, she says, "Watch this," about 100 times, but she doesn't need to because I don't take my eyes off her. (I still marvel at her every move.) She jumpts to grab onto the bar and hangs down. "That's what people do," she says.

Indeed, this little three-year-old girl, a former resident of a Ukraine orphanage, has been home in the U.S. just one year, and has figured out what people do.

People ask me if she still speaks Russian or Ukrainian. No, she does not. She speaks 100 percent English. She is very chatty. She has opinions on most things. She does not like to be left out of a conversation. She tells stories with such excitement that you forget to pay attention to what she is saying because you are smiling too much.