Ukraine Adoption

ballet butterfly

What a lovely sight at ballet class today. The girls wore costumes. Imagine 12 four-year-olds tip-toeing and flowing as butterflies, bees, a kitty cat and even a super girl.

Such lovely fun! There is a German family with twin girls in Tara's class and this is their first Halloween in America. They are so excited about all of the costumes and mystery. And especially the trick-or-treat part. They will learn that it never gets old, does it?

Tara-isms Part XXV

--I was trying to get everyone in the car in the morning, that usual hurry-up fussing that parents do. Tara hustled out the front door and said to me, "OK, just calm down, Mommy. Just be calm."

--They had live bats in cages visit Tara's pre-school this week, what a thrill for the kids. I asked her about this: "They had little eyes, and they had vines in their wings!" (huh? oh veins)

--When we walk by the beer cooler at the store, Tara shouts: "Hey! Look! That's what Daddy likes!"

--The cable guy was over the other day, Tara was in the bathroom off the foyer with the door open, shouting to me: "Mommy! Come in here and help! I don't want to have to wash my hands after!"

What's old is new again

So I have been staring at this beige, textured wallpaper in the foyer of our home for years, wanting to tear it down and paint the walls some welcoming, warm color. But then we would want to change the railing on the stairs too, the light fixture is outdated, the hall closet is looking sad. Together, this is a costly job. So we do nothing. And years go by. We are frozen in indecision. It's too daunting to take on.

Day after day, it crosses my mind. Finally on Saturday afternoon, I was walking through the foyer like I do a dozen times a day and I stopped at the corner, leaned forward to get a closer look at the wall, and tugged at the paper just a little. And a little more. Then I called out to Austin and Tara: C'mon guys, help me tear this wallpaper down! And so we did. John didn't know what to make of us when we were laughing and pulling and falling down. Tara took a long sheet of it and made a makeshift slide on the stairs. Austin thought she was crazy, but she convinced him to sit down and give it a try. By now even John was laughing. "C'mon Daddy, slide down!" Tara pleaded. But he's tall and he didn't want to risk injury.

We rolled up the old wallpaper and stuffed it into big garbage bags. There's sort of a catharsis when you start such a project. We all stood there looking at the blank walls, what's old is new again.

And now we have no choice but to plow forward. Painters will give us estimates for the job, we'll browse through colors with cool names like pumpkin, cookie crumb and first anniversary. Yes that's a color in the brown family. We'll do one project at a time, over time. This process symbolizes so many things in life. You can't get what you want until you finally get started. Take is slow, but take the first step.

I can get really sentimental and remember the time I filled out the very first form for Tara's adoption from Ukraine. It was fall of 2003 that we were talking about adopting. By the following June, we turned in all of the paperwork overseas. We found her in February 2005. The process was very intimidating, but once I filled out that first form, I kept right on going.

ghost and goblins oh my

This is my favorite time of year. The fall air is crisp, the threatening clouds move quickly overhead. Halloween is coming soon and there are so many fun and spooky things to look at in the stores and even on front lawns.

Today, Tara went on a field trip to a petting farm. I couldn't wait to get home from work to hear all about it. She went on a hayride and picked out a little pumpkin. When she told us she "milked a cow," we figured she just watched a farmer do it. But then she explained in detail how the milk splashed on her pants. Wow! She actually milked a cow today. How many of us can say that?

Now we are trying to decide on a Halloween costume. She's pretty sure she wants to be a cheerleader, but a friend at school is going to be a ---yes it's true---butterfly princess. So now Tara is uncertain. She was that last year, but it always sounds good to a pre-school girl. Stay tuned. I promise this will be exciting.

Children with hope

Many families are in Ukraine now or heading there by the end of the year, hoping to find children to become part of their families.

Some are trying desperately to adopt a child they met through a hosting program; others are traveling "blind," they will learn about some available children and try to choose when they get there, based on very little information and an outdated picture.

Some of their stories are posted in the column on the right. They are hopeful, frustrated, emotionally drained, physically worn out, yet most remain optimistic through all of the craziness. The documents that keep cropping up that need notarizing, the long lines, the delays, the unanswered questions, sitting in a car for hours while you wait for something from someone, you don't even know what. There is no "complaint department," there's no suggestion box, you can't ask to speak to someone's superior, you just have to sit there and take it. Day after day, week after week. What do we need now? I thought we already did that? It's brutal.

Yet, there they are, traveling across the ocean, schlepping their way through the international adoption system that is basically a blurry, moving target that seems to take longer with each family.

And why, you might ask, do they do this? For lots of reasons, different and the same.

And they probably saw something like this video from a family in the process of trying to adopt a little girl they hosted in 2006. They met these children on a mission trip to Ukraine.

After you see this, if you suddenly feel an urge to adopt, I'll let you know how to get started...

Here is the video.

Caterpillars--an update

I was sweeping the porch this morning when I came upon a caterpillar crawling up the brick next to our front door. Tara was so excited when I spun her around to see the brown and black fury critter. I think it's trying to ring our doorbell, I told her. She dashed inside to get her little caterpillar/butterfly cage. She picked it up gently and placed it inside its new home. Then she gathered leaves and sticks for her new friend. She did everything with such care.

I had told Tara just last week that we might find one near the front porch, but when does something like ever actually work out?

Tears and caterpillars

Sometimes we race through life and miss the little things that are really the most important.

A few weeks ago, little Tara Vika caught a ladybug and a caterpillar and put them in a jar. I poked some holes in the top for air. She filled the jar with leaves, sticks, acorns and a splash of water. She carried that jar around with her a lot. She took it in the car sometimes, and even on a road trip to Grandma's house. She put fresh leaves and splashes of water every so often.

She'd shake it, peer inside, and get so excited to see her little friends. We were always relieved when we spotted them actually moving.

Then Sunday came along, and Tara realized she hadn't changed the leaves or splashed them with water for days. Panic was upon her little face. She took her jar outside and slowly poured out the icky contents; black leaves, sticky acorns, and a live ladybug (!) She set the ladybug free to go back with her family. We don't know when she decided to do that, or even why.

But there was no sign of the caterpillar. And Tara had just picked out a small butterfly cage at the store. She wanted to transfer the furry critter into her cage and watch him in the weeks to come. Tears streamed down her face as she told me she couldn't find her little friend. I was thinking the dark smudge stuck on the bottom of the jar might have been all that was left, but I wasn't certain and I didn't let on.

Tara was genuinely upset, tears and sobs and a little anger, too, when I tried to console her. Finally, I suggested that we go back outside and look for another one. Surely there are more out there, and I even remembered seeing one on the porch before. This cheered her up. The two of us, her clutching the little butterfly cage, walked outside and began looking for caterpillars. I knew this was a longshot, but the possibility made her feel better. We each got a stick and poked around near the porch. No sign of a caterpillar, but she was optimistic.

This was when I got one of those moments that you freezeframe into your memory: Tara and I outside at dusk, dragging little sticks through the grass and leaves near the porch, hunting for caterpillars. All the while, we could see Austin through the living room window, practicing at the piano; we could hear the music, the mistakes, the improvements. John was in the back yard grilling dinner. It is these moments that matter, not the chores and work and errands. But these simple moments.

Little notes

Tara likes to write little notes, cut them out, and leave them in various places around the house. Sometimes on my pillow, sometimes in my chair. I don't know what they say, they are random letters. I didn't know where she got this idea until today, when it dawned on me.

Her pre-school left me a sticky note in her lunchbox earler this week: "Tara does not like the sauce that comes with this pizza lunch."

Today when I dropped her off, her lunchbox from the day before was still hanging in the hallway. A sticky note on it said: "Please remember to check Tara's cubby every day when you pick her up." It should just say, "Don't forget to take her lunchbox home, dummy."

And in her cubby was a bright yellow note, saying we were late picking her up and we now owe $18 (yes, it's $1 per minute...)

Come to think of it, there are signs at my office--"Don't pour coffee in this sink," "Keep microwave clean," "Lock door behind you." We get used to these. Are there too many signs?

Signs, signs, everywhere a sign. Anyone remember that song?

In the darkness

I was sitting in the kitchen reading the paper Sunday morning when Tara walked by briskly, twice. What are you doing? I asked.
"There was a spider so I got tissue and squished him and flushed him down the toilet," she said.

OK. I still squirm when I do that.

I put a night light in Tara's room a few weeks ago because she was having bad dreams. But last night she told me it was too bright in her room. So I took the light out. She wanted the door closed, too. So there's a 4-year-old sleeping in the darkness with the door closed. It doesn't get much braver than that. This morning she told me she had a dream but it was a good one. It was about two bears but they were very nice.

Sometimes she wanders through the house, searching for me. She'll go down into the basement--alone--even at night. I still struggle with that.

What scares this child? Not much. But maybe:

Fear of abandonment. She doesn't think I'll leave her for good, but she doesn't like to miss out on any trip to anywhere in the car.

Fear of missing out: If you are working on any kind of project, she's all over it like a curious cat.

Fear of not getting her share: There better be enough to go around, when Tara is in the mix.

Fear of no more popsicles in the freezer: Oh my, don't even go there.