Ukraine Adoption

Say what? Part VIII

We must watch what we say around young children--for a lot of reasons. One being that they repeat things...

--Tara to her 3-year-old friend Annabelle: "Don't give me that, I'm not a garbage can."

--Tara to me: "Watch your mouth."

--Tara: "Look Mommy, he's kind of chubby."

--Tara when something doesn't work right: "AARRRRGGH."

--When I ask her to go upstairs to get something: "No, I'm too tired."

--Tara to Austin: "Your room is a mess."

--Tara to her neighbor friend: "Don't be a tattle tale."

--When I want her to move on to the next thing: "I'm trying to do something here."

And lastly: "I just need two minutes."

Listen, do you want to know a secret

I feel her warm breath on my ear: "Mommy, I want to tell you a secret." This is the latest trend for my four-year-old daughter, secrets. Most of the time, she just says a bunch of gibberish. Sometimes, she actually tells me something, like we have a kitty.

I can see the secret sharing going on at Tara's pre-school. It cracks me up because how many secrets can these little ones actually have that mean anything?

I try to tell her that she should not share secrets about other people, that it is not very nice. But I don't think she has even thought of that yet, so I probably planted the idea in her head. I wonder if this is how we get started in the art of gossip.

Stealing moments

My mom told me long ago that if I ever find myself running to my car, then it's time to slow down. How many of us have done that? I saw a mom today at pre-school do this, and I was about to shout the words of wisdom to her, but she was trotting too fast.

You think you can trim a moment or two off your drive so you dash through a parking lot to your car. But this is not a good way to embark on a journey. Do you want to be near someone who runs to their car and squeals off?

And then there's the multi-tasking: I'm on the phone, I'm on the computer, I'm eating lunch. If I had yet another arm, I'm sure it would be put to use as well.

I think most of us, when asked about our perfect day, would include a lot of down time, relaxation and possibly just sleep. So why don't we slow down? I asked my friend Greta yesterday if she knows when our lives will slow down. She told me I already know the answer to that. She just adopted a little girl from Ukraine and her life is rather hectic now. I'm sure we are both thinking the same thing: When the kids move out!

But we don't want that yet, we really don't. We just want to be able to steal a few moments to rediscover ourselves. To read a book, see a movie, hang out with some girlfriends, go on a date with our husbands (who?)

At our house, we tend to do a lot of tag-team living. I go to the store, John stays home with the kids, I get home, he goes for a run, he gets back, I take Tara to swim class, and on and on. Some couples do everything together, you know, like shop at Meyer or Home Depot. We feel like that wastes valuable time. Why have two people shop? (I know you are thinking this is good family time, but I'd rather spend "family time" on a boat or at someplace fun.)Plus, have you tried to drag kids along on errands lately? Not fun!

I would continue this entry because I have lots more examples, but I have to run to my car now.

Music memories

When we were in Ukraine in the cold winter months of 2005, and John would be working on his laptop in our small efficiency apartment in Kyiv, sometimes I would just sit on the brown couch with my head back, eyes closed, and listen to music in my headphones. Over and over, I listened to a band with three young men from England called Keane. Their melancholy music and lyrics are wise beyond their years; they seemed to hit the mood that I was in.

I did this during our endless hours of down time--between trips to the notary, ventures out in the cold to find food, and daily treks to the orphanage to visit a 2-year-old little girl who seemed baffled by our interest in her.

Music makes memories, and you have it forever. So these are the songs that are in my heart and my head that remind me of our wonderful and often difficult journey to find Tara Vika.

On Saturday night, Keane was in our town for a concert. John and I went to this old, beautiful theatre to see them. He probably wondered why I pushed my way to get closer to the stage, but the music brought back the whole experience for me--two years later, but it felt like yesterday.

Some day I will give the Keane CDs to Tara and she will probably think I'm just a silly, sentimental Mom. But that's ok, I will always remember those early days.

Some lyrics from two of my favorite Keane songs:

"Somewhere Only We Know"

I walked across an empty land
I knew the pathway like the back of my hand
I felt the earth beneath my feet
Sat by the river and it made me complete
Oh simple thing where have you gone
I'm getting old and I need something to rely on
So tell me when you're gonna let me in
I'm getting tired and I need somewhere to begin

Listen to Somewhere Only We Know

"Everybody's Changing"

You say you wander your own land
But when I think about it
I don't see how you can
You're aching, you're breaking
And I can see the pain in your eyes
Says everybody's changing
And I don't know why

Watch video of Everybody's Changing (click on Watch it Now)

The bike story

So we put Tara's training wheels back on her bike. She is so much happier now. Today she told me that she was sorry that she didn't learn to ride without them. It was the sweetest apology, like she disappointed me. I reassured her that she can take all the time she needs to learn how to ride.

We had her parent/teacher conference yesterday. Her teacher told me that Tara is very attentive in class, raises her hand to give answers (not always right, but gets an A for effort!) and she is socially and physically mature enough for kindergarten, though she has another year of pre-school because she won't be five until January. She showed me some drawings and writings by Tara, including one in which the teacher asked her what she wants to be someday. Her answer: A doctor. Woo hoo! So I asked her today, what will you be when you grow up? Her answer: A teacher.

She can be anything she wants, as far as I'm concerned, and I have no doubt that her determination will bring her much success.

In celebration

Mother's Day is always a special day for us to celebrate our moms. We know that we can never actually give the perfect gift that says it all: Thanks Mom for putting up with us and supporting us and always being there for us through all these years. We hope flowers and other gifts make her smile, at least for the day.

As a mom, I have some observances of my kids that have made me smile these last few days:
--Austin making Easy Mac n Cheese for himself and Tara, using the little Dora bowl for Tara.
--Tara climbing a fence for the first time, with the intensity and determination that I see so often in her. Austin trying to help to make sure she doesn't fall, but she won't let him near her.
--Austin throwing Tara's shoe over the couch; Tara screaming like she's in a horror movie (oh wait, this is one of the things that annoyed me)
--Austin going outside to check on Tara when she is playing with the neighbor kids.
--The two of them watching Spider-Man on TV with me on Saturday morning; Tara cheering when the bad guys got whalloped.
--Tara drawing little pictures for me and sliding them under my bedroom door in the morning.

These things remind me of what's important in life.
Happy Mother's Day to all the moms and those who are waiting to be moms. Your time will come! (Don't give up.)

A random act

Tara and I stopped at this little party store yesterday on the way home from her school. It was small, tucked away, in a modest part of town. I realized that I didn't have any cash on me, just some change at the bottom of my purse and my credit cards and I knew she really wanted a snack and a drink for the drive home. I pulled into the bumpy lot next to an older-model Buick that was sitting low.

We went inside and and she was looking at and touching a lot of different candies and treats, asking if she could have this or that. I kept explaining to her, "Tara, mommy is cash poor today, you can only get one snack and one drink." "I only have $1.70 in change, pick something small."

So we get in line to pay and she is still picking up little things from the aisle right by the register. "Put it down, honey, I don't have enough money on me for all of that," I said.

The woman at the front of the line turned around with her newly purchased items and came right up close to me and placed 45 cents into my hands. "For your little girl," she whispered. At first, I thought it was maybe some money that I had dropped, then I realized her random act of kindness and I just smiled and said thank you so much.

I looked at Tara and me, wondering why this woman thought we needed her 45 cents, and then, I had to chuckle. Tara was wearing her spare clothes from school because she got her original fancy outfit dirty---her daisy pants were way too short, her sparkle shoes were all scuffed up and her pink Tigger the Tiger t-shirt was worn out. My work blazer was in bad shape, too; I had spilled coffee on it and tried to get the stain out with soap and paper towels so the dried up stain was big and bad. I also got caught in the rain earlier in the day so my hair was a mess. Imagine how we looked in this little store off the beaten path.

We paid for our stuff and went outside and there was the kind lady in her car with the window down, starting up the engine. It was the older-model Buick that sits low to the ground. I picked up Tara and told her to thank the nice lady for helping pay for her snack. Tara delivered her sweet smile. The lady returned the smile and said you're welcome.

Training wheels

Tara has been begging me for months to take the training wheels off her bike, so finally last night I took them off, padded her up, and ran with her down the driveway and on the street.

She started screaming/crying and wouldn't stop.

I said I'd put the wheels back on. She screamed louder. I tried to help her walk the bike back home, she stopped and hollered at me. Finally after a lot of tears, she said quietly: "I'm scared." I told her it was OK, she could learn later. We finally made it back to the garage and put her bike away. The prep work took a lot longer than her actual attempt at riding.

So Austin tried it with her a little later, put all her pads on her, same result: tears and screams. But she doesn't want her training wheels back on!

Babies in tummies

Tara's pre-school teacher pulled me aside Friday afternoon and said, "Can I ask you a question?"
Sure, I said, smiling.
"Is Tara adopted?"
Yes, she is, from Ukraine, I told her. I explained that I was going to share this at the parent-teacher conference in a few weeks. But I knew where she was going with this inquiry.

Just for the past week, Tara had been talking at school about having two mommies but now just one. Her teacher and friends didn't know what to make of it.

Her teacher is very pregnant--due in June--and they are talking about babies in tummies. Tara had recently asked me about it. She already knew that she did not come from my tummy, but she was trying to make sense of it.

I told her she grew in another lady's tummy but she couldn't take care of her and now I'm her mommy forever. "Why couldn't she take care of me?" she asked. (Boy, this is hard). During one drive to pre-school, she tried to explain things back to me and that story included her "first mommy" dying, which was kind of freaky but I said I don't know if that's true. I think she is filling in some of the gaps to help herself understand why someone wouldn't keep her.

So her teacher went on to say she is completely shocked by the news because "Tara looks like you! She acts like you! I would never have guessed it." I told her it's pretty crazy but she looks like her big brother, too. Her teacher said Tara is very well adjusted, that she keeps up with all of the other kids, and, as a matter of fact, she is ahead of some of the children who are going to kindergarten in the fall. Tara starts kindergarten in the fall of '08.

I wanted to see how she would be evaluated on the same playing field with her American peers. So leave it to Tara to spill her own news before the parent-teacher conference!

After this conversation on Friday, I kneeled down and gently asked Tara: How many mommies do you have? "One!" she shouted back. "You!" Then she hugged me.

She fits right in with our family. I told her teacher that I don't tell everyone anymore. Now, it's Tara's news to tell.

Crazy busy

It's been a crazy busy time of year for us, at work, school and home. So much to do. I can feel the stress affecting all of us at home, the time crunches, the rushing from here to there. I find a lot of comfort talking with my friends and relatives who swear that their houses are just as topsy-turvy these days; jackets on the floor, dirty clothes mixed with clean in the baskets (admit it), toys scattered about.

Tara is a collector. She has little lumps of items all over the house; shoes from a doll, a set of keys, a broken Barbie brush. Sometimes I toss things out and hope she won't notice. She always notices. She asks for things constantly. I keep thinking she will forget about these discarded items, but she asks for several days. "Have you seen my (broken) stroller?" I am too cowardly to admit that I threw it away, so I play dumb. And then as the days go on, and she keeps asking, it is too late for me to go back and admit it.

I was telling my friend about this today and it reminded me of a situation when I was little. My sister and I realized our cat Sandy was missing, and we were very upset. He was getting older, but he seemed fine to us. So every night, we called out the front door, "SAAAAANNNNDDDYYYY." We made posters. Day after day, week after week, we called for that cat.

Many years later, when I was in my 20s, my parents admitted that my Dad took Sandy to the old "farm." My Dad told me, "I thought you girls would forget about that cat after a few days, but for weeks you were looking for it!" Apparently, then, it was too late to tell us about his deed. Ah, history repeats itself. OK, so it's a stroller that Tara is missing, but I don't know what I'll do if she starts putting up posters for it.