Ukraine Adoption

Tara Turns 4

Family and friends celebrated Tara's birthday Saturday. I think she was smiling the entire time. So were we, Tara.

Tara's Special Day

She has grown out of her naps, but she likes to be carried sometimes. She can tie her shoes, zip her coat and recite the ABCs, though she clings to me when she is scared. She sings when she plays, she laughs at herself, she skips to the car, she hugs so tight.

Little Tara Vika is four years old today. She is a big girl now. She tells us she is not a baby anymore, but she will always be our baby.

Happy Birthday, precious Tara!

Many roles

I am the drill sergeant. I am the timekeeper. I am the game show host. Do you relate?

Every morning, I must flip on lights and shake warm sleepy children out of bed to begin their days. This is difficult on cold, dark wintery mornings. They seem to blame me for their fate: time for school. Up and out!

I am constantly reciting the time. It's 7:15. It's 7:22. C'mon! Move it. If you would have gone to bed at 9 instead of 10, you wouldn't be so tired. When you get home at 3:30 you should do all of your homework so that you can watch TV at 8. Don't forget baseball practice at 2 on Saturday. (yes, indoor). Good thing I have a watch. And a clock in most rooms. I'm fairly certain that if I didn't recite the time, that my family would just sit on the floor and stare at the wall.

I am the the game show host: You have 3 minutes to finish that juice! Can you do it? When I count to three, can you be in the car? Go! Which prize do you want, a bagel or a granola bar? Pick one. How are you doing today? Tell us about yourself.

That is my life with two kids and a husband and a cat. I told Austin last night when there was friendly resistance about going to bed (him and Tara) that maybe I should just quit trying to enforce all the rules and let them do whatever they want, and I could go in my room and read a book. He looked worried, and said, no, you can't do that. I said, why? He said, "Tara would cry."

In a box

I'm spending my little bit of spare time with my head stuck in a closet. Every closet. One by one. First the coat and boot closet in the main hallway, which had become the closet with the tennis racquets, 15 single unmatched mittens and gloves, three pairs of shoes that fit no one, picture frames, Russian language CDs, four chewed up cat toys and, well, I don't think I need to go on. Now, it is the picture of organization. It is my pride and joy. Sometimes I just stand back and stare into it. I think I need to get out more often.

Next, was the linen closet upstairs. Old towels, mismatched sheets, extension cords and a Walkman that doesn't work any more. Then my closet, and I won't even tell you how many old purses were jammed in the back corner. I seem to have some challenging organizational issues. And now that there are two kids in our lives, we are really trying to get our house, our closets, in order.

Every week I de-clutter the house, walking from room to room and looking for toys and stuff that I can pitch. Mainly, what the kids won't notice is gone. The rest I sort. I have boxes for Tara's dolls, bags for beads--including the stray ones that were rolling under the couch, much to the cat's excitement. I have big plastic containers for clothes that don't fit her yet, and boxes of dress-up clothes for a princess, ballerina and a Snow White.

But somehow, everything keeps finding its way outside of my perfect boxes and neat closets And this can make you crazy. Is there such a thing as trying to be too organized? Is it less painful if you just don't even bother? Do you ever just say, OK, forget it. When the kids are 18, we'll get our house back?

Hmmmm. Maybe I am the only one with this problem.

Say what?

Tara's vocabulary continues to improve every day. We already miss the funny way she used to say things like "Sa-sa" (Austin) and "cools" (school).

She is getting more sophisticated in her conversations. We had a fierce ice storm last week and a lot of people lost power. So yesterday in the car she said to me, "We have power at our house. Some people don't have power." Oh! I thought, how observant she is. I said, Do you know what power is? She said, "Yes..." and I said OK, what is power?

She smiled, paused, and said: "You tell me." Well, if her mom didn't ask so many questions...

Austin isn't feeling well today and the first thing Tara said to him when she woke up: "Are you feeling better? I can give a hug for you."

On another note: A lot of families are sort of stuck in limbo with their adoptions in Ukraine. Hopefully it's just the post-holiday slow-downs and things are back up to speed very soon. Families are waiting for court dates and signatures and document updates and all kinds of stuff that get in the way of any kind of smooth process.

My note to families: Remember, the children are still there, every day, waiting for you. They don't know about paperwork and processes, delayed court hearings and expensive flights. They're there, waiting.

Dolphins, Part II

Tonight I tucked Tara into her bed and plopped down at the bottom, horizontal with my feet still touching the ground, just like I have done countless nights. We had just finished talking about everything we did today; her swim classes where she went all the way under water; the Dora card-match memory game where she beat me for real; the shopping trip to Old Navy where she picked out two pairs of adorable little jeans (why can't we all look that good in jeans.)

In between the handful of errands, we laid around on the couch near the fire and watched Ellen on TiVo and the Wonder Pets. We both try to act just as excited about the other's show; we are good sports. John worked a bit, Austin had indoor baseball practice and a birthday party to go to. It was a nice lazy day for the girls of the house.

So what better way to end such a day than plopping at the bottom of her bed to listen to her rustle around until she falls asleep, and I hear that deep breath. She offered me one of her dolphins again, she never gives up hope that I will stay just a little longer, and sometimes I do, though I realize it mostly keeps her awake to have me there for too long. She will want to talk and play.

This time, when she sweetly whispers: "Mommy, do you want one of my dolphins?" I smile and say, "Sure, honey." And she hands me the smaller of the two, then shows me the proper way to snuggle them, just under the chin.

Second shift and dolphins

Working moms are never really off, are they? When I get home, I start my next shift with a thud: usually a child or two running into me on purpose or hugging me real tight. There's dinner, homework, baths, bedtime rituals, lunches for the next day. And then there's the night of the almost forgotten homework project, the quick trip to the store at 10 p.m. to buy folders, milk and juice, and the late-night jaunt to the basement to switch the gym clothes from the washer to the dryer. Sometimes, at 11 p.m., I look down and realize I'm still in my work clothes. Nothing makes me crabbier than staying in my work clothes all evening. Ugh! But this isn't about me, it's about Tara, who is nearly four years old and I want to say has truly mastered the art of sharing (except with her brother). My mom's kitty passed away and we are all very sad about this. Tara heard the news and thought for a few moments and said: "I can share MY kitty with Grandma." I tucked her in to bed tonight after not giving her enough attention because Austin had some crucial homework that he needed help with. And I knew that I was going to sneak out as soon as she dozed off to go to the store for some much-needed basics like bread and milk. She patiently waited in her bed for me, looking at books about ladybugs and rainbows. I finally slipped in to tuck her in and turn off the light. I plopped down at the end of the bed, in the dark. It's one of my favorite moments of the day. I just stay for a few minutes sometimes, quietly. I think I am comforting her but maybe I do it more for me than for Tara. She clutched her two precious stuffed dolphins and snuggled into her pillow as I closed my eyes for a few moments. Then I heard this sweet little voice: "Mommy, do you want one of my dolphins? I can share."

Tara-isms Part X

Driving to pre-school this morning, Tara points to airplanes in a clear sky, flying really high. I tell her they are not stopping nearby, they must be going far away. She thinks for a minute and says, "There are a lot of peoples on that plane and they are going home." Perhaps in her mind, a long plane ride faraway means going home.

Despite saying "peoples," Tara's vocabulary has really expanded in the past few months. The other day, she wanted to go play outside and I told her OK but it was kind of cold out. She said, "that's ok." So we walked to the front door and she stopped and said, "ACTUALLY, I don't want to, it's too cold outside." I had to laugh. Actually?

If you ask Tara a question, she will answer, even if she doesn't know you very well. She won't get close to strangers, but she will lean against me or look to me for assurance, and then answer to the best of her ability. Someone at a party on Monday asked her if she likes school. She glanced at me, then replied, "Yes, I do. I have a lot of friends."

Little Tara Vika turns 4 in three weeks and she just can't wait. She starts swimming lessons again this Saturday and she can't wait. She is also getting her teeth cleaned on Saturday and she can't wait. At the party on Monday, she kissed my arm, hugged her daddy's leg and jumped on her brother to kiss him on the cheek. This former orphan from Ukraine embraces life. No doubt about that.

Happy New Year

My New Year's resolution: Play more, stress less.
Tara's resolution: play all the time.
John's: Make a million, retire happy.
Austin's: He won't say. He is a pre-teen.

Happy New Year!