Ukraine Adoption

Little red Mustang

So I finally sold my toy: a 1992 red convertible Mustang with white leather interior. I couldn't even watch as the man drove it down my driveway to its new home somewhere in the next town. Sometimes I still glance into the garage expecting to see it there. I was a newlywed without kids when I bought it brand new in Atlanta.

It makes perfect sense to sell it, but when should logic ever factor into a fun sports car? Especially a convertible. I drove this when I had my first born, strapping his little car seat backwards in the front seat. My son was cool before he even knew it.

Alas, with two kids and a highway commute to work, the little red car was relegated to a hobby car, and barely driven at all. It was worth more to me than the money that changed hands, but how do you put a price on great memories? And who is going to pay for that??

It's been a few weeks and I'm kind of healed from the experience, as time is a cure for many things. So I was driving home from work yesterday in my green mini-SUV and when I stopped at a red light, a little red sporty convertible pulled up along the left side. I think it was a Mazda. I couldn't help staring at it, the man and woman probably in their 50s didn't even notice my gaze. They were too busy chatting and enjoying the fresh air at their faces. I felt a little nostalgic for my Mustang. Will I ever get to have a convertible again?

Then they peeled in front of me and my question was answered when I looked at their license plate, and I'm not making this up. It said: "KDSRGONE."

A little religion

Kids try to figure things out, and they take what they learn and apply it to their own expanded explanations. I have found this to be most true when it comes to religion, especially when we grownups kind of make up stuff because we can't really explain everything, particularly on their level.

So this brings me to little Tara Vika's World of Religion. Today, when we drove past a cemetery, she tried to explain what happens to people when they die. "They are at the cemetery in the ground and they can't see or hear anything and people bring them flowers," she said. Pretty good, I thought. Then she went on: "And then they peel their skin and go to heaven." Ewww.

What happens in heaven? "People say to each other, 'I died,' and they do stuff," she said. "My Grandpa is there and so is my dog."
Who is God? "He watches us," she said.

An interesting point: Every time I asked Tara a question, she didn't hesitate to come up with an answer. Sometimes she was twirling her hair, as if in deep thought. I couldn't resist. I kept going. Who is Jesus? I asked her. "He died and then he waked up," she replied.

Whose birthday do we celebrate at Christmas? "Mine!" she said. (Her birthday is in January) Try again, I told her. "God, no Santa, has a birthday!"

A side note: Today Tara told me she can speak "English, Spanish, and a little Russian because that's where I was when I was a baby." Wow, she remembers everything I tell her, like a little sponge. Now if I can just figure out where she got the "peel their skin" explanation... (see above)

House of Kids

This week has been particularly fun and busy, as my 16-year-old niece has been here to help with Tara while I'm at work --- John returns tonight from a business trip. So that's three kids in my house! There is never a dull moment, especially when some of the neighbor kids come over too. I like having an active house. Yesterday I noticed so many pairs of shoes by the front door, it just made me smile.

So this is an entry about nothing, really. Except to make note of the piles of really cute teen girl clothes all over John's office (cleaned up by now!); the trip for ice cream at night; the shopping for clothes; the lotions and hair products in the bathroom; the frequent laughter of three kids; the stories I hear when I get home from work.

OK, also the screams from Tara who got caught messing with her brother's stuff in his room, the loud noise of Guitar Hero (who THOUGHT of that game??); the snacks gone in just days.

Hmm. Maybe I should have had three kids? Or maybe two is enough.

Home again

What a lovely getaway, a week at the beach with family and friends. Alas, vacations must come to an end. We were crabby and sad as we pulled away from our beach house this morning, our minds already thinking about the things to do at home, at work.

We had a little bit of time to kill before we headed for the airport so we stopped at another island on the way and walked along the shore to get our toes wet one last time. It was appropriately called Sunset Beach. I put a handful of white, powdery sand in a baggy, a weak attempt at stealing a little bit of paradise for the journey home.

And so here we are, unpacking our clothes and the memories that go with them. Tara took eight outfits but wore the same three over and over again, I'm not sure why. She insisted on wearing only the skirts the entire week. A fancy girl, I suppose. Thankfully the house had a washer and dryer.

It's always good to be home, to sleep in your own bed again. Just wish we had one more week at the ocean, though. Maybe next year...

Just hanging out

My friend Amy's son summed it up yesterday when he said: "I wish we could live here."

Don't we all wonder that when we go on vacation? Like, hey, I could probably get a job out here somewhere, the kids can go to school...

The sun, the sand, the rainbow...

There's nothing quite like a little vacation to recharge your batteries. We're getting plenty of sunshine and warm ocean breezes this week as we enjoy our friends and family at a beautiful beach house on the east coast.

Tara loves everything about this vacation, and even a quick shower today brought a lovely rainbow that we could see from our balcony facing the ocean.

We have crafts for the kids to do every day, we make family dinners every evening. And there's plenty of private, get-away time, too.

I want to say, thank goodness it's only Monday--but we all know how quickly time flies when you most want it to slow down. So we're doing our best to really relax and enjoy each day. We definitely love summer.

Reaching for the sky

Tara had a check up at the doctor's the other day. The doctor was surprised to see how much she had grown. He said that two years ago, she was in the 10th percentile for height, which means she was in the lowest 10 percent of kids her age in height.

He looked at the chart, looked at Tara, and then said: "She's in the 50th percentile now for height!" Which puts her right in the middle of average. This is good. She has come a long way in a short time. When she came home from Ukraine in 2005 at the age of two, she was 33 inches tall. Now, she is 42 inches.

So I asked about her weight, she is still on the lower end of the spectrum, but, he said, it is obvious that she is getting enough nutrients because it has all gone into her height. This is apparently her genetic makeup, he said, tall and thin. I guess time will tell on all of this. I was so proud of her, I gave her hugs all the way to the car.

She says she wants to be "tall like daddy." Well, maybe not that tall. (6'4")It would be hard to find clothes to fit her. And imagine her shoe size...

Tara-isms in the sweet summertime

How old are you? someone asked Tara.
"Four going on 20," she replied.

I tucked Tara in for the night, after two stories and a back rub, I told her she has to go to sleep. "You're not the boss," she told me. "Daddy is the boss."
Is that so? I said. John is notorious for the quick bedtime routine. There is no caving in to just one more story or another cup of water. He's efficient: "Go to bed, DON'T get out."
So I'll go get Daddy then, if he's the boss, I told her. "NO! NO! You're the boss! You're in charge!" she said.

I was filling out a form for Tara's fall session of pre-school and it asks some questions about your kid so they can get to know her personality. One question was: What is your child afraid of? I thought long and hard, and Tara is such a brave girl, I just couldn't come up with anything. I mean, she'll take tissue and kill a bug without hesitation. She sleeps in a room with no night light and the door closed (her choice).
So I walked into the other room where she was drawing pictures with markers and I said, "Tara, what are you afraid of?" She looked up at me, blinked her eyes, and simply stated: "Monsters." Then went back to coloring. Well, who isn't afraid of monsters??

The beach?

Every day, Tara asks me if it's time to go to the beach house. The trip is about a week away and her pink Dora the Explorer suitcase on wheels is mostly packed and sitting near her bedroom door. "It's too early," I have told her. "You don't need to put clothes in there yet."

Ah, I might as well be speaking another language to her. She is strong willed. She is ready for the beach.

This is a girl who for the first two years of her life lived in an orphanage in Ukraine. Now, she is the go-girl. She always wants to go to the store, or the park, or to Grandma's house, or to her friend's house, especially to a party. Any party.

"We need milk," she tells me. "We need shampoo."

And now, this little Go-Girl wants to go to the beach. "Let's not wish our summer away," I tell her. "It'll be time to go soon enough. And then it will be fall."

This doesn't bother her, because there are lots of places to go in the fall: Apple orchard, pumpkin patch, trick-or-treating. Maybe she is making up for lost time when she was stuck in one place as a baby. Maybe she is a natural explorer. We know that she is very brave.

But now I must go and unpack her socks; I think she put 10 pairs in the suitcase. And two pairs of goggles. And three pairs of sandals, four bathing suits...