Ukraine Adoption

Settled in

I think we have finally found our groove for the fall. It has taken a while. I can seem pretty unreasonable when I'm directing one child to march off into two different directions at 7 a.m. ("Brush your teeth! Put your shoes on!")

My early September threats that "I'm getting in the car right now with or without you" have almost vanished by now. Hysterical Mom is not a good look.

There's comfort in routine. In the evenings, lunches are prepared, coffee is set up, clothes are laid out. In the mornings, I nudge Austin first, then Tara. Like robots, we head downstairs for the kitchen. Here is where some things can go wrong. A nudge by a big brother; a dramatic, exaggerated drop to the floor; an attack by a hungry cat; missing hair decorations; missing shoes; a plea to watch cartoons for just a little while; remembered homework that must be done.

Some will encourage me to get the kids to bed earlier so that morning routines will run more smoothly. But then, that means I have to get my act together at night too. My whole life can't be one big routine. (!)

Tara-isms Part XI

Tara is in the bathroom when she calls out to her brother: "Austin, can you do me a favorite and get me some toilet paper?"

"I have a lot of new friends at my new school," she says. Oh good, I say, what are their names? "I don't know."

It's time to go, I tell Tara in the morning. She looks at the clock and says, "I know, it's already 35!" Hey, if you don't know, you make it up.

Christmas in September? I tell Tara that we should get her a booster seat for the car. "Santa can bring that," she says. Another day, I am cleaning out her closet and tell her she will need new winter boots this year. "We'll just have Santa bring that for me," she says matter-of-factly. Thoughts of Santa already?! And is he rich??

I ask Tara what she wants to be this year for Halloween, she says butterfly princess. I say, but you're always a butterfly princess on Halloween. She says, "I know, because that's what I am." Indeed...

busy bees and bee stings

In the dark of the early morning, there was a quick knock on our bedroom door. I jumped out of bed still half asleep and darted across the room to open the door. There stood little Tara, holding her stuffed dolphin and a scared expression. I whispered quickly, What is it? What's wrong?
"I had a bad dream," she wailed. I hugged her as I escorted her back to her room. She fell fast asleep under an extra blanket, my hand rubbing her small back.

On the way to school, she told Austin about her bad dream. "It was about a bear and you and me Austin," she said, as though she was telling a scary story around a campfire. "We were in a cave."

Much later that day, John told me Tara's preschool teacher called: Tara was stung by a bee! Is she OK? I asked, trying not to sound hysterical. When did it happen, is she still crying??!! Are you going to pick her up right now??! Tell me the details! He didn't have any, really.

And at the same time, Austin was having his first piano lesson at our house with a new teacher, and we didn't want to leave him home alone with someone we didn't know all that well (hey, we read the papers). So what's a dad to do? Finally after the lesson, John scurried out to pick up Tara.

On my way home from work, I called Austin: Tell me about your piano lesson! Did you like the teacher? What's he like? Did you learn anything yet? Was he nice? (I think "unh, I don't know," was the answer for all of the above. Sigh.

John got on the phone. OK, how is Tara? I asked. He says, "she's fine." Where did she get stung? On the leg? The arm? "I don't know," John said. Like father....

I couldn't take it any more: Put Tara on! MUST HAVE INFORMATION!

"Hello Mommy, I got stung by a bee on my thumb today. I cried for 15 minutes. I got ice on it. When are you coming home?" (Her boo-boo report actually said she "cried for 10 seconds...she was very brave.")

Very soon, I told her, I just want to make sure you are OK. What did you do at school today?

"We played outside, we went to the gym and exercised, I made you a drawing, I played with Mallory." OK, I'll see you soon Tara. "No wait Mommy, I want to tell you something else...." and she went on and on in that sweet little cheerful voice. Ah, someone who likes to share details AND talk on the phone. A girl after my own heart.

T.G.I.F. Ramblings

--John's niece had a baby girl this week, a little sweetie named Mallory. Tara's closest new friend at her new preschool is named: Mallory. Coincidence? Karma? Maybe. But now I know exactly two Mallorys. Met them both within a week's time.

--Tara is used to me picking her up from pre-school, every day, for more than two years, always me because her school was very close to my work. But now, she is near our home and John does the pick up. John is finally getting used to the schedule, remembering to stop what he is doing to go pick her up. But Tara is not so ready to accept that particular change: She kicks him in the shins and says, "Don't EVER do that again Daddy, I want MOMMY to pick me up." Some thanks, eh? And we wonder what the teachers are thinking...

--Tara insists on wearing a skirt or dress every single day, and often it's the same skirt over and over again. We are tired of the same skirts! So we buy her a few more, she wears them constantly. She pulls them out of her dirty clothes hamper. Meanwhile, she has lots of adorable shorts, capris and long pants that I'm trying to get her to wear. Please wear pants sometimes! Why oh why.

A little Tara Time

We managed to squeeze in some fun down time with a stroll through the zoo last weekend, just Tara and me. It seemed like we needed the time to just hang out together. It was a busy week of stuff for her brother, so this was Tara Time. We noticed that our hair is now the exact same color. We noticed that we both walk fast. And we both like lemonade. She's a lovely companion, and she is fascinated with all animals. And science. Maybe she'll be a veterinarian?

Waiting to exhale

You know you're overbooked and too busy when:

--You want to hire a babysitter but your house is such a wreck you would be too embarrassed.
--You want to hire a maid, but see above note.
--Breakfast, lunch and dinner are all decided in about three minutes in a crazy-busy morning of waffle-toasting, lunch-packing and meat-defrosting.
--"OK, Tara (SIGH) wear whatEVER shoes you want to school today...."
--Who wants Taco Bell?
--Cereal for dinner doesn't work two nights in a row.
--You spend four hours of a day off running errands and barely finish by dinnertime.
--You can't possibly memorize a new door code at pre-school because your brain is full.
--You change clothes in your car in the parking lot, and you don't even care if anyone sees you.
--You take a moment to really look at your daughter and realize her clothes are covered in paint from her school day, which ended four hours ago.
--You keep the shower running between kids. "Quick, now! Hurry, bedtime!"
--You give your daughter a book to read at night and promise to return five minutes later to turn the light off and tuck her in, only to remember an hour later, and the little sweetie is sound asleep in the bright light, clutching her book.

School days

It's so hard to believe that the kids go back to school tomorrow. I know it is later than a lot of states, but it still seems to arrive during summer to me. It's 80 degrees and sunny today.

Austin enters seventh grade with new notebooks, a pack of pencils, some pens and book covers. Tara enters pre-K with some adorable new outfits and a Dora the Explorer notebook so she can do her "homework" next to Austin, who doesn't even want to hear that h-word right now. Tara has been off this past week and starts the school year in the Raccoon Room, where the certified elementary school teacher will prepare her for kindergarten next year. The same teacher she had in summer camp will be her main teacher, and some of the same kids will be in her class.

I know it's about time for them to get back to school, as they have become restless these last few days. There has been more screaming, teasing and overall crankiness. Or maybe that's just me.

My Mom used to sing that old song, "School days, school days..." and we five kids would cringe. But I know why she was a little bit giddy this time of year: you get the kids out of the house and doing something important like learning, and you get the family back on a nice routine. But I have a pit in my stomach today as if I'm going bck to school tomorrow.

We love summer. 'nuff said.