Ukraine Adoption

Tara-isms Part III

We are in the car and I'm listening to the radio and Tara is looking at a book. She sneezes. "Mom! I need a bissue!" A what? I say. She says it again. A tissue? "NO! A bissue." Hmmm. Say it again, please. "I need a BLESS you."

We were on our way to a Tigers baseball game and Austin was lamenting about having to take his little sister along, saying she doesn't even know what's going on at the game. I'm frowning, Austin is frowning. Then there's a silent pause in the car. We hear a little voice in the back seat. "I like baseball! I'm excited!" We both glance back, she is smiling ear to ear, so sincere. How can you leave her at home? I say.

Last weekend, we were all busy doing stuff around the house. Tara wanted to ride her bike (again). Everyone kept telling her they were too busy. Finally, she came into the kitchen where I was cleaning, her hair in a pony tail, her lip pouting. What's wrong, I ask. "Anybody is not playing with me," she said.

Ride, Tara, Ride

She couldn't wait to pick out her very own bike. Tara had been riding Austin's tricycle this summer. She needed something bigger and more challenging. So we went to the store on Saturday and she climbed aboard this fancy blue bike and wouldn't get off. Round and round she rode, zipping past toys on shelves and other customers.

I was relieved to learn that this was the last one of its kind so we could buy it already assembled. I don't think she could have waited the hour it would have taken for them to put it together. When we got home, she rode up and down the block, over and over and over...


First thing this morning, in her pajamas, she said, "I want to go outside and ride my bike!" She only stops for a minute "I'm resting" but she won't get off the bike. Once she gets used to controlling it, we will raise the training wheels, and then remove them. This is an emotional time for me: she's a big girl!

They are waiting for China, too

My friend Susan in Chicago is waiting and waiting and waiting for her referral for a child from China. She should be notified very soon, and she will get to see a picture of her precious new daughter.

We know what waiting is all about. This international adoption process is not for the weak or frail! We are sending good thoughts her way.

You can check out Susan's blog at:

http://www.therachelchronicles.blogspot.com/

Sports, and more sports

Tara has been to a lot of Little League baseball games this spring and summer. She generally does well; we bring snacks, a small pink sports chair. She cheers when we do. And now we have been to two Major League Baseball games and an NFL pre-season football game. That's just the past few weeks. She marches in, pony tail flying around, carrying a purse filled with stuff. (The contents of her five purses would make an entire blog entry).

So she was sitting next to me at the football game, leaning over and smiling at the people on my other side. I look over, there's a very shy 5-year-old boy with his dad, staring at her and trying not to smile. But her grin is contagious. She smiles, she hides her face, she gets on my lap to get a closer look. She smiles demurely. The boy is intrigued, a dimple shows in his cheek.

I say to the boy's father, She's a bit of a flirt.
He responds, "I'LL say!"

She's going to be trouble in her teens, isn't she?

Small faces

A note to families waiting to adopt in Ukraine: If you need one more reason to keep going, despite crazy delays and paperwork madness, check out this site with photos of children in Ukraine orphanages, taken earlier this year by Operation Ukraine:

PS: These children don't care about dossiers and passports, they just want to go home.

http://www.operationukrainegallery.org/Album25/

Appointments

Some families have received appointment letters from the new adoption center in Ukraine. Yay! Their appointments are in the first week of September. The ball is rolling, at last.

A trip to the ER

It's very scary when you see your child's pre-school's phone number on the caller ID at work. Oh my gosh, who doesn't think the worst? Sometimes they just call because I forgot to sign a permission form or something. But I still feel the anxiety when I pick up the phone.

Tara's sweet little face was cut by a toy, someone hit her by accident. The teacher wanted me to know right away, since it was near her eye, and suggested I come and see for myself in case I wanted to take her to a doctor. She didn't think it would need stitches, but it was my decision to make, she said. I don't even know how fast I drove the one mile to her school.

I trotted down the long hall to her classroom, and paused to catch my breath. I didn't want to alarm her by bursting in and frantically grabbing her, which is exactly what I wanted to do.

At the small table, the children were eating their afternoon snacks, quietly. Tara looked up at me and I smiled and said Hi sweety, are you ok? It was then that her chin began to quiver. Who doesn't cry when they see their Mom after an injury? But she held it in. "I'm OK, Mommy," she said, trying to comfort me.

I looked closely at the cut just under her left eye, near her cheekbone. It was not large but it was a circle, gaping. Ouch, I'm going to take you to a doctor to make it better, I told her. She didn't like this idea. But we found an urgent care center a few miles away.

I'm not sure why they call health care places "urgent" and "emergency" when the first thing you have to do is sit down and fill out a form. I wanted to shout out: My daughter's face is cut! We can't wait! Alas, I filled out the paperwork and sat back down, defeated.

After 30 minutes, we were called in to an exam room by a pleasant enough nurse. She said Tara probably need stitches. She whispered the word "stitches" though I don't think Tara even knew what they were. Ugh, I said, poor thing. Who wants thread sewn into their face? (I didn't say that last part out loud).

About 25 minutes later, the doctor came in and took a much closer look. "Ah, it's a clean cut, we can seal this with glue." Whew. So the doctor and nurse held Tara onto the bed, a big girl who looks so small, and closed her cut with skin glue. My little girl's face is almost good as new.

This was her first trip to emergency care. She hardly said a word the entire time we were in the exam room, and only whimpered a little when they held her steady for the glue. They probably wondered if she could even talk. They gave her Motrin and stickers and when they were all done, they asked me if she could have a popsicle. Of course, I said. She wouldn't even answer what flavor she wanted, so I said orange.

She took one bite of the popsicle and looked at the doctor, smiled, and blurted: "We have popsicles at home! And we have popsicles at school!"