Ukraine Adoption

Which way is up

In our state, and our state of mind, we suffer through the winters by staying indoors in the cold, dark evenings. Exercise is limited to walking in the wind, scraping the ice off our windshields, and driving in slow, slippery traffic.

But when the shade comes up for spring, that glorious season, we run around like crazy people trying to jam in as much fun and sun and outdoor activities as humanly possible all the way until Thanksgiving, if we're lucky. We work a whole year's worth into about 7 or 8 months.

Which brings me to today. After a full day at work, I will rush home to take Tara to her second-ever soccer practice and game at 6:30 p.m. How will she do after her stellar debut last week? Only time will tell.

Afterward, I will rush her home to a sitter, the girl next door whom Tara adores, and I will scurry off to Austin's baseball game that starts at 8 p.m. and is about a 35 minute drive from my house. That's right, a ballgame under the lights for a 13-year-old's baseball team.

And the crazy thing about all of this is: I'm looking forward to it. Bring on spring!

Run Tara Run

The sun was setting and the chill returned to the air. Moms and dads on the sidelines were bundled in winter coats and vests. I grabbed and hugged Tara one more time before sending her off to her first ever soccer game. "Remember to kick the ball that way!" I whispered in her ear. She nodded and ran onto the field, her ponytail bobbing. Did she really understand?

Off they went, a clump of kids chasing the ball. What a sight! Some kids were kicking dandelions, others were looking up at the sky. Tara was timid at first, following along with the crowd. Her friend Mallory is on the team; Mallory's dad is a coach. After the first few minutes, they had a quick break. I pulled her aside: Get to the ball! Kick it down the field! Chase it!

Then she got the idea. Little Tara Vika kicked that ball again and again! She ran after it, turned it around and kicked it toward the goal. She stuck her leg in the mix, again and again. Before long, I could hear others yelling her name. Two different moms asked, "Who is the little girl in the blue socks??" That's Tara, I said. "Has she played a lot of soccer?" One asked me. Why no, this is her first game ever, I said. They couldn't believe it.
She was in constant motion, zipping this way and that, sometimes actually making a difference in the game.
In the middle of the game, her coach looked at me and said, "She's fast!" Another coach told me: "Tara really gets it. She knows the game. She knows to turn and go the right way. Not a lot of kids get it like she does."

Alas, she didn't score any goals. And she did cry once, when she got kicked hard in the shin--just above the shin guard. The cold air made it sting. But she recovered quickly.

Just wait until next week...

See the light

It's warm and sunny and Tara and I are actually starting to crawl out of the sickness that darkened our doorway ALL week. We are both still suffering from colds and coughs, but hopefully past the multiple days of fever. I've been told that lots of kids in her school were out sick last week from a fever. Let's hope this is the last wave of illness before summer.

Today we are both still in our pajamas, hanging out and watching movies. Sure, that sounds fun, but it would be a lot more fun if we weren't sniffling, coughing and weak!

So I finally found a few minutes to read other families' blogs. It's so sad to see some have gone home childless, others have been spending weeks and weeks in Ukraine. What is going on?!? It's just so frustratingly sad.

I have just learned that a few days ago, Ukraine's president signed a law that prohibits singles from adopting in Ukraine, and also allows only 45 years between the age of the oldest parent and the child they are adopting. Message boards say some singles and older parents who are in Ukraine and met their children aren't getting court dates now because of the new law. This is tragic! Not only for the families (suffering an indescribable pain and sense of loss I'm sure), but the children who were bonding with these families and preparing to leave the orphanage for good. What happens to them now?? They will feel abandoned. Again.

Meanwhile, we have just passed our "Gotcha Day" with Tara. Three years ago I carried her out of an orphanage in Kiev. We only celebrate it silently now. Her transition and assimilation into our family is rather seemless these days. In other words, she has always been a part of our family.

Still down and out

Today we are both home sick. I caught the fever.
Tara's doctor checked her out this morning, it's apparently a virus and not strep throat or anything.
A little time and TLC and she'll be fine. Now how long will it take ME to get well, when I don't have time to be sick??

Down and Out

Little Tara Vika rarely gets sick, so when I saw her crumpled up on the floor in the hallway outside my bedroom door early this morning, I knew she was not over the virus that struck her late Saturday night.

Poor little thing, her cheeks were flush and damp from tears, her hair tangled and in her face. She was angry at me, as children blame their parents when the world isn't quite right.

Her forehead was hot. "I need medicine and you were taking too long!" she screamed at me. I scooped her (ahh, this must be why my back started hurting yesterday). We headed downstairs where I set her up on the couch with a blanket. I gave her some medicine. You will start to feel better in just a little while, I told her and kissed her head. It's nice that John works from home; I don't have to scramble to try to figure out my work situation.

Seeing her on the couch with a blanket, it reminded me of the days when I got to stay home sick. There's something so comforting about skipping school and lying on the couch all day. I should have bought some ginger ale, that's what my mom always gave us. But Tara likes to have popsicles when she is sick or injured.

When I was ready to leave, Tara seemed to be feeling better. She sat up a little straighter and managed a weak smile. Then asked: "How many popsicles can I have today?"

Remember when...

Three years ago today we were stuck in Ukraine, trying to figure out how to re-do our fingerprints with the FBI so that we could get a Visa and take Tara home to the good ol' USA. It's so hard to believe that it's been three years already since Tara's adoption. But then again, we can't imagine our lives without her.

If you want to visit or revisit this crazy day in our 2005 adoption story, you can click right here.

So this means I must file another annual report on how Tara is doing and send it along with 10 photos to the Ukraine Embassy in Chicago, and they are supposed to send it to the adoption center in Ukraine, and maybe even forward it to Tara's actual orphanage in Kyiv. I always wonder if the pictures ever reach her orphanage and whether her former caregivers get to see them. They would be amazed at her smile these days!

So this is a shout-out to my dear cousin Sally, who was with me in Ukraine three years ago this week. It was an adventurous, frustrating, exhausting time. But having Sally there made it so much better. Plus, she could speak English.

Tara is SO ready

Kindergarten, look out. Tara's pre-school teacher says Tara is "more than ready" for kindergarten in the fall.

We had a parent-teacher conference this morning and her teacher described Tara as: artistic, creative, always raising her hand with the answer (sometimes they tell her someone else needs a chance to answer), always excited to learn, willing to try new things, has learned to be "less sassy" than she was in the fall (my girl, sassy?), and is very well acquainted with letters and numbers.

There's more: Her classmates come to her to tie their shoes, she gives her teachers so much art work that they have some posted to the wall in the front of the room and throughout the bathroom (all with her signature of course). She has a lot of friends and she plays well on her own. "When she's doing artwork, she gets in a zone," her teacher said. "She's so creative!"

And the rest: Her language has improved, even in just the last few months where she'll say COMputer instead of puter. "I think if she slows down, she'll use the right words," her teacher said. She's apparently just so excited she blurts things out and sometimes you can't follow what she means. But she's learning...

OK, so I realized that her teacher did NOT know that Tara was adopted from Ukraine. I told her today that Russian was Tara's first language until she was two years old. This surprised her considerably. (the director knew, I assumed the teacher was told.)

So, she was evaluated exactly like her American peers. My baby. My big girl.

Kindergarten, look out.

Tara's teacher

Tara's teacher is going to tell me Tuesday about Tara's skills and readiness for kindergarten in the fall. I'm anxious to hear what she has to say about the little princess. She has been able to write her name, and mine, and John's, for more than a year. She can double-knot tie her shoes, sing the ABCs and we all know about her charm. Does charm get you into kindergarten?

Give me an "S"

OK, we did it. We signed Tara up on a soccer team. I'm officially a soccer mom, though I don't have a van. I know that the kids are just going to all run after the ball all over the field in a big clump, with no real offense or defense plan of action. But isn't it just hysterical to watch?!

We signed up in the YMCA league and they already gave Tara her red and blue reverseable jersey. She wears it after school. A lot. And the games or practices haven't even started yet. Add this to Austin's travel baseball schedule and we'll be pretty busy. But it's outdoors stuff and you can't beat that. If spring ever actually arrives.

In the quiet of the night

Tara is tucked in bed, at last. I took today off to get some things done, but in the afternoon after pre-school, we rode bikes through the puddles at the park, picked up some dinner at Boston Market, watched a movie, she took a shower, I read her a story, I rubbed her back in the dark. While she was in school, I took Austin to a matinee. We were the only two people in the show, but we still whispered.

I was going to say that I can't believe I haven't even had a few minutes this week to update this blog. But just the last few hours are pretty indicative of how the whole week has gone by. It seems like some activity filled every waking moment.

I told John last week when I was hiding Easter eggs in the pool table pockets in the family room, like I do every year, that holidays are very important in our lives, even if they seem repetitive. They are the landmarks of time, they help us remember. Where were you Feb. 5? Ok, where were you on Easter Sunday? Or Hannukah? See what I mean?

But then what about those days that aren't big celebrations but are just as important? And how can we make sure we remember them too?

In the quiet of the night, that's when I really catch my breath. We watch our favorite shows and snack on ice cream or fruit. John and I try to have private TV time, when the kids are asleep or at least pretending to be. It is then, at the end of the routine days, that I remember the things Tara did or Austin said. Or the way they make each other laugh so hard. Or cry. Or scream. But always laugh again. Nothing amazing about these last few days, really, just remembering the sounds of Tara squealing when she flew through a deep puddle on her bike, or screaming when she got stuck in the mud. I remember being alone with in the movie theater with Austin, chuckling in the dark, sipping his frozen Pepsi.

Aren't these the times that we want to remember most?

Tara questioning authority

The photo session last weekend was so much fun, you'd think Tara was a professional.

Here is one picture that we aren't getting copies of but I love. She had practiced raising one eyebrow in that "question authority" glare, and she used it quite well that day.

I'll post a few more when I get them back, along with a plug for the awesome photographer, Amy.

Happy Easter to all!

Famous Grandma

My Mom, "Grandma Jeanne," has been a loyal reader of this Ukraine adoption blog since the beginning, so I want to give her a shout-out today. She wrote an essay about how much she loves her city for a big marketing contest----and she won the grand prize! That's a whole bunch of gift certificates for things like a massage, dinner for two at three different restaurants, a carry-on bag, money to spend at the mall, season tickets to the symphony. The list goes on and on. All of this was presented to her by the mayor at a special breakfast. How cool is that?!!! Congratulations Mom (Grandma)! She'll be on the local cable TV sometime soon. We're all so proud of you, the way you went up to the microphone and said a few words after the mayor introduced you. You didn't even seem nervous at all. And you're so kind to say you'll share some of your prizes. OK, now about that massage...I can't believe my sister beat me to it!

Two words

Yes, two words: Crazy busy.

We've been running from morning until night lately, mostly with fun stuff but even that can wear you out.

It seems like the warmer it gets, the more plans we make. I think that even a hint of spring in the air has given us all springs in our steps. The days are longer, we are seeing sunshine, kids are playing at the park.

I took Tara to a professional photographer yesterday, we have never done that with her. It will be interesting to see how the pictures turn out. I will try to post one or two when we get them back. She smiled on cue every time. We were changing her outfits, putting her hair up, then down. She was a good sport. But then finally, after more than an hour (!) she declared: "OK, that's enough. Just two more pictures and we're done."

John took Tara to a cousin's 3-year-old birthday party on Saturday evening, I had to take Austin to a mandatory baseball practice. Tara went kicking and screaming, I had to buckle her into the seat in John's car. She wanted me to go, too. Five minutes down the road, she apparently stopped fussing. She had a fabulous time, John says, and wasn't afraid to talk to people. When her cousin was opening his gifts, Tara just sat right up front so she could watch. This is good, she needs to get out with John more and not be so dependent on me. But frankly, I don't always mind...

Tara-isms Part XXI

Tara and Austin were goofing around in the back seat of the car (he is 12) All I could see in the rear view mirror was arms flailing, fingers grabbing, a foot trying to kick a brother. Lots of laughs. And then Tara squealed, "Let go of my arm ankles!" (um, wrists? we call them wrists.)

Tara has more recently picked up some kind of southern-speak, even though she was born in Ukraine and we live in the midwest. She has been saying, "I was gonna about to..." (I cringe) When we lived in Atlanta, pre-Tara, people used to say, "I might could do that."
Now Tara stops herself and says, "I was gonna about to...GOOO-EEEENG TO." OK, catching on. But we can cut back on some of the vowels there. And the volume.

On a particularly cold Saturday when four people in the house can wear on each other's nerves, I finally scooped Tara up and took her to run some errands. Five minutes into the drive, she burst into tears. Apparently, Austin ate the little bag of crackers she had wanted, that she had left on the kitchen counter for four days. Yes, four days untouched. So he ate them. "I WANT A DIFFERENT BROTHER!" she belted out. It's not so easy sister, I told her. We're all stuck with each other. Thank goodness.

How does this happen

They don't know me and I don't know them but I'm trying to make sense of what has happened to an American family in Ukraine right now that had three bad referrals in a row of children mostly too sick or mentally ill to leave the orphanage. Their files did not come close to explaining their actual conditions. The family traveled across the country and back.

It is heartbreaking. They will be shown no more files. They were told it's illegal. Illegal? They were told that it must not have been God's will. There are 100,000 orphans in Ukraine and somehow there was not one child available for them to take home and raise as their own. Is that God's will? They were open to ages, gender, even siblings. This is simply devastating. They did everything exactly the same as the other families---the documents, the doctor's appointments, the home study, the updates.

Many families are arriving home in the U.S. with their new children, others are getting referrals, some are waiting to travel to Ukraine, their high hopes tangling with their fears.

And this family, emotionally drained and physically spent, was given such a raw deal that it's unimaginable how they must feel right now. But as they prepare to leave Ukraine, they are thinking not so much about themselves but of all the children waiting for families. And the one or two children that they could have taken in and raised as their own. They would have given them a good life.

Drew and Rita did all they could.

A lot of dreams were dashed today. Too numerous to count.

How many shots?

"I'm getting a shot in this leg," Tara proudly told us this morning. I didn't know how to break it to her that she would actually be getting more than one. Perhaps even three. Today was her exam that is required for kindergarten in the fall, which includes updates on immunizations.

In the office, the friendly doctor looked at Tara's file and then said in a sort of hushed tone, "She's five." Yes, yes, right, I said. She's five. She turned five in January. "I'm five!" Tara said.

The doc strained her smile and tried again, "No, I mean, she needs five..." OH! I said. OH! Right. OK. Um. C'mon Tara, hop up here on the table. The doc handed me five sheets of paper, each explaining the purpose and the risks of each of the immunizations. She needs another chicken pox shot? I asked. "Yes, a booster shot." The word booster sounds like they use a giant contraption and punch you with it. I never liked that word.

Tara was brave. Tara is always brave. The most painful one was the pinch in the back of her arm for the chicken pox shot. She clenched her teeth but didn't cry. She rarely cries at the doctor's. (Remember she laughed at the flu shot?)Then she got two shots in the front of each of her thighs. Boom boom boom boom. Like that. She was very still. She watched every part of it. "You are the bravest girl I have ever seen," the doctor said.

Tara sat up. I saw her little chin start to tremble. She was fighting it but she finally hit a breaking point with a very quiet whimper. I picked her up and hugged her, she hid her face in my neck, It's ok to cry honey, even big, strong grownups might cry from five shots, I told her. "Will I get 5 stickers for this?" she asked, one tear streaming down her cheek.

At the check-out desk, the sympathetic clerk let Tara pick out five stickers. Walking back to the car, Tara said, "I want to share these stickers with my friends at school." Today is a snow day, so we'll share those tomorrow, I told her.

So the doctor says Tara's height, weight, development, blood pressure, etc etc etc: "Perfect." The doctor used that word. Tara is ready for kindergarten. But we knew that, didn't we?

Hanging out

We're looking forward to the weekend so we can just hang out. Sure, we're not in Florida any more, but we can cherish our memories.

Back to reality

We're all in our places today. Our daily routine is back and I was surprised that the kids actually got up on time this morning without much fuss. This is not an easy task after sleeping in for nine straight days. We got out of the house with our lunches, my coffee mug, Tara's school bag. Austin made it to the bus stop on time. Life was good.

I was on automatic pilot driving to Tara's school when I bumped her chocolate milk right into her bag, covering her blanket with brown streaks. Don't trust the sippy cup tops. Ugh. We turned around and headed back home to get another cotton blanket, which I found jammed under some towels in the upstairs linen closet. At the pre-school she insisted that I put four little braids in her hair, pouting when I said I was in a hurry. The braids took 10 minutes. I have a hard time saying no to her, especially when I am dropping her off and the working mom guilt thing kicks in. Plus, I know I will miss her throughout the day, those silly things she says, the hugs for no reason.

Finally, I was driving to work, sipping my coffee, the radio blasting some 1980s tunes and suddenly, a car pulls up alongside me and the woman is waving for me to open my window. This is never a good sign. She is pointing at my back tire: "It's low," she shouted. OK< thanks, I said, closing my window and then gripping the steering wheel for four miles to the next exit. Now my knuckles hurt. I turned off the music as though I might hear a warning signal before a tire blows.

I pulled into a gas station at the air machine and hopped out of my car. Sure enough, the back tire was very low. Oh, 75 cents for air. I dug in the bottom of my purse for some change, amidst the fuzzy Skittles and Tara's chewed gum in a tissue, and plugged in the money and pumped some air into the tire. There was no gauge to check it, so I just pushed on it with my fingers, like you do with a bike tire. Good grief. I need to check it again before going home today.

So when I got to work a little bit late, I felt like I already used up a whole day. Anyone else ever feel like that?

Heading home

Tara and her friends. So long for now, beach. Hello winter, here we come.

Busy doing something close to nothing

It's so easy to fill a day as you go: Get up and stroll across the street for Crispy Creme donuts and a cup of coffee, read the paper and watch cartoons, stroll a block across the street to the beach.

Today we actually got in the car and drove to Lakeland to watch the Detroit Tigers practice during spring training. That was pretty cool. We managed to get a lot of autographs of the players. I gave Tara a ball and a pen and held her up to some of the players, who couldn't resist the blue eyes and smile of a five year old girl amidst a lot of middle age and older guys who are baseball memorabilia collectors. Catcher Vance Wilson asked Tara her name; she told him and he smiled and said, "what a cutie."

We get worn out after our long days of doing something close to nothing. And we only have one day left. We go home on Friday. Is the snow gone yet?

ahhh

Tara on the beach. Is it snowing somewhere?

A little R & R and some sunshine

This is it, we're heading south to spend a few days in the sunshine and ocean air. Tara has been so giddy all day, she has been driving us, well, crazy!

Sometimes she acts like our cat---she climbs in the suitcase while we're packing, she jumps on the bed when we're laying out what we're taking, she walks so close behind me talking all the while that she bumps into me when I stop, she hops up and down the hallway inside a pillowcase like she's in a potato sack race. Yes, this is all true. And bless her little heart, she clearly needs some outdoor playtime too!

Time to go, I'm still looking for my water shoes. I think they're somewhere under my boots and snow pants...

Tara-isms Part XX

We're sitting down to eat dinner last night and Tara says, "Oh no, not chicken again! It's so annoying!"

She still can't quite get the hours, days, weeks situation down. Last night we were picking out clothes for her to wear the next day, she said, "I'm going to wear that yesterday." I reminded her that yesterday already happened. "OK, I'm going to wear that in five days." You are? "Yes, for five minutes." Ok...

She told me that a boy in school named Nate is her boyfriend. We were watching "Hannah Montana" and a teen boy kissed a girl and Tara said: "You have to be married to kiss. Right Mommy?" Right! I said. :-)

Bathing suits and snow pants

Tara walked into the family room yesterday in her new blue one-piece bathing suit, sat down and watched TV. That's right, her bathing suit. In February. It is 12 degrees outside. The countdown to Florida has, apparently, begun.

Let no one get in the way of a 5-year-old anticipating the beach. We leave in a week for five sun-filled days in Florida. It might as well be this afternoon, as far as Tara is concerned.

I ordered the Beach Beauty to change into something warmer. Sometime in the afternoon, we went to the pharmacy to get a few things. Tara was dressed much more appropriately in her purple pants and matching hoodie sweatshirt. On the way to the store, she got a bit antsy. "I have an itch! I have an itch!" she yelled. Bundled up in a down coat, she couldn't quite get to the spot to scratch. "Hurry!" she said. "Hurry!!"

We pulled into the parking lot and I quickly opened the Drama Queen's door to help her out. She frantically pointed to a spot on her back as though she was covered in bugs. I pulled up her coat and her sweatshirt to reveal, what else, her bathing suit.

Why are you wearing this??! I asked. "Because I like the way it feels," she said. Indeed...

Tag I'm it

I have been "tagged" by my friend Susan, mother of Rachel from China, to reveal 7 things about myself, and then to tag other bloggers to do the same.

I'm not usually an Internet game player, but I can't say no. You don't want to make adoptive moms mad, we are a very tough group.

OK, so here is my Top 7 List of Previously Mostly Unknown Things About Me.

1: I usually forgive but I never forget (I'm not proud of this one.)

2: I'm decent in a lot of sports but I'm not great at any one in particular.

3: I'm a writer but I've always felt my sister was the better writer even though she did not study this in college. She's also better at sports (see number 2 above).

4: I can probably hold a conversation about anything for 10 minutes. This is a specific skill that journalists learn in school, I think. That, or the degree in liberal arts only goes so far.

5: I'm a Scorpio. But I guess most of my friends already know this (and see number 1.)

6: Family and friends mean everything to me. I could walk away from anything else--a job, a town, an expensive car. I would throw myself in front of a bus for my two kids. If I had to. Not that I want to.

7: I'm the youngest of five kids. My mom always told everyone that I was the baby of the family. When I'm around all of my siblings, I feel like I'm 14 years old.

I'm supposed to tag some fellow bloggers. I'll pick Greta and Wendy.
Enjoy!
Check out their blogs to see if they played. Leave them a message to let them know you visited.

"This is the one"

The journey was long, the skies were gray and the wind was cold. Inside, the scene of families crammed in the waiting room and government workers walking briskly through hallways was surreal. It was finally our turn and we sat down at the desk with wide eyes and big hopes. John and I opened the large binder and saw page after page of photos and descriptions of children who need families. Many of the pages had sticky notes attached to indicate various illnesses recently diagnosed.

Our facilitator was speaking to the psychologist in Russian and then told us that a little girl just became available a few days ago. We stared at her file. We saw a smiling 10-month old with a sweet face. She had just turned 2 and lived in a Kyiv orphanage. We could stay in the big city instead of having to travel 17 hours by train or 6 hours in treacherous car ride to some far-flung region. Her report said she was healthy. We stared at her some more. "This is the one," we said.

That was three years ago today.

Birthday, braces, baseball, kindergarten?

Indeed, it's been a busy week in our house.

Tara's birthday party on Sunday at the gymnastics center was awesome. We had the place all to ourselves. A teacher led the kids through obstacle courses that included a balance beam, stuff to crawl through, jump over, hop on, bounce on and roll down. One of the biggest hits was a big sponge pit with a giant rope ladder that went to the ceiling. The kids climbed, crawled, jumped, rolled. And the finale was a big rope swing like the kind they use on stage to make Peter Pan fly. One by one, each of Tara's friends took a turn flying around while the teacher pulled and dropped the rope. We parents hoped to get a turn, but I guess they ran out of time. Or strength. Hah.
I can't believe my baby Tara is 5.

And my other baby who is bigger, Austin, got braces on his teeth this morning. I sat and watched this rite of passage, the dentist's careful hand dabbing glue on each tooth while Austin held so still under the bright light. I squeezed his ankle a few times to let him know I was still there. Afterward, I walked into his school with him to sign him in late. The receptionist told me I didn't need to come in. I told her that yes, I really did.

Tonight he has indoor conditioning for his baseball team. He goes twice a week already. I don't know how some boys play on football teams and go five or six days a week.

And finally, tonight is Kindergarten Round-Up at the elementary school that Tara will start attending in the fall (!) It's for parents only. We'll register our little ones and meet the teachers and hear the shpiel about how they teach, what your kids should already know. We wonder if she will end up with the same awesome, nurturing teacher that Austin had 7 years ago.

And to think that today is only Tuesday...

Tara turns 5

Happy Birthday to our sweet little girl, Tara Vika. We can't believe our Ukrainian princess turns 5 on Sunday. This video was taken the night before her birthday.

Their three sons

A Knoxville couple brought home their three new sons from Ukraine this week and a TV crew greeted them at the airport. This is a must-see.
Check it out: Melissa and Steve.

Winter blahs?

We smile and joke about how we don't have enough time in the day to get everything done. Sometimes people ask us how we manage. We don't always take the time to think about it, probably for fear that things would fall apart. Just because we stop, it doesn't mean the clock stops, too.

If you are nodding your head, you might be a working mom.

I know all moms work because there is so much to do at home and with the kids. But then there are the moms with jobs outside the home too. There are a lot of us out there. We have an unofficial support group, though no one really has the time to meet.

But find comfort in this: We all know what you are going through. We all know that your house doesn't have to be perfect all the time, your kids don't always have to look like they stepped out of a magazine (especially when you gave up the battle over what they will wear that day.) We know that meals in the car and frantic stops for last-minute cupcakes for the class party are the norm. But it's ok: we're all sisters in this life and we support you.

I rarely do this and please don't call me Oprah but I'm recommending a book. It's called Take Time for your Life. I bought it a few years ago and it sits by my bedside so I can read a few chapters every once in a while. It tells you to slow down, pick your priorities, cut off people and things that suck your energy, take some time to do nothing but sit and think. It's not touch-feely, it's matter of fact. You will find some clarity in your life choices, your family will appreciate your calmer demeanor.

And sisters, this is what we need sometimes. Someone to tell you to take time for your life. Everyone wins.

The easy decision

I'm throwing money at the situation. That's right. I waited too long to really plan a birthday party for Tara, and I didn't want to do something at our house because I'm worn out from the holidays, so I scrambled around and found somewhere to host it. A gymnastics place. It feels like a brilliant idea: About 10 of Tara's adorable little energetic pals will get to do all of those fun rolling and jumping and climbing activities with a teacher for more than an hour in a kids gym. Afterward, the hungry and sweaty children will be served pizza then cake. If there's time, Tara will open gifts.

And all the while, I will stand by and enjoy the festivities. Right after I cut them a check.

The countdown

A handmade calendar is taped to Tara's closet door. It is only the month of January. Because in the mind of a 4-year-old, it's the only month that matters right now. In less than two weeks, little Tara Vika turns 5. Every night before she climbs into bed, she puts a pink heart sticker on the day. She can see that we are moving closer to Jan. 27. She is ready to burst with excitement.

Meanwhile, I don't have a thing planned. I don't want to host another adult/kids party at my house, and I'm not real keen on some of the popular kids party places like Chuck E. Cheese. Screaming kids, loud music, scary mascot. No thanks. There isn't enough Excedrin to handle that. So what's a mom to do. And what's a last-minute mom to do. I'm checking out a few places like our local athletic club. They host kids parties, but they probably cost a lot. Sigh.

When I was a kid, we had our siblings and maybe one friend come over and sing Happy Birthday with a cake. That was about it. I had just one party, in sixth grade, a sleepover and it was awesome, except when my sister dropped me on my head when my friends were all lifting me horizontally with their fingers in some kind of voo-doo seance thing.

But kids today...well, now I sound like my Mom and others in her generation. It just seems like we all created this crazy birthday buzz and now our kids are bursting with anticipation for their next party. OK Tara, this year's party is the last one. Riiiiight.

TGI Friday for whom?

We have rainy/snowy and overall gloomy weather here today and it's so hard to get excited about anything. So I browsed through some of the blogs of families who are in Ukraine right now and it reminded me that no matter how dreary our days might look, at least we're here in the good ol' USA where there's hot water, American TV and a language that we can recognize (most of the time.) And say what you want about the U.S. government, but you don't know the hassles and delays of bureaucracy until you've tried an international adoption.

And I hope my sister doesn't mind, but I'm quoting her comment from a previous blog when I wrote about waking Tara Vika up every morning, because it really says it all:

I pray for all the mothers and fathers out there: Stay with their adoption process, no matter how difficult and frustrating. Don't give up on a child who is waiting for you to gently wake them up. Don't give up on a child who is waiting to find their dream is real.

If you know Tara

...you have seen her dimple when she laughs.

...you know that she doesn't give up until she gets what she wants.

...you might have noticed that she talks. A lot.

...you may have noticed that sometimes she is very quiet, like when she is riding in the back seat on a rainy day, listening to the music and gazing out the window. You would always wonder what she is thinking. Or what she remembers.

...you know that she knows she is adopted, but she probably doesn't like when people talk about it extensively, in front of her, as though she doesn't know what they are saying.

...you have figured out that she wants to be like everyone else. And no one else.

Back in the groove

In the darkness this morning, I pushed open the bedroom door covered in Dora stickers and slinked over to the small bed to get a closer look at the little lump under the butterfly blanket. She was so snug. I leaned in to kiss her warm head, her messy morning hair in a swirl around her face. "Time to wake up sweetie pie," I whispered in Tara's ear.

She pulled the covers over her head and flipped over, her knees tucked in and her bottom straight up. I knew how she felt. Austin felt the same way. He was in the next room trying to slick his hair into place with water. Can it really be the day to go back to school and work after 11 glorious days off for the holidays?

It seemed like we had so much time to do a lot, or nothing at all. To visit family and friends, or stay home and get cozy on the couch. We didn't even always answer the phone (sorry). What a luxury.

Now I sit in my office, actually missing those little buggers. Co-workers come by with post-holiday cheers and the courteous questions about how vacations were spent. But we are all carrying the dark clouds over our heads: the holidays are over. Now it's time to get crackin' on 2008. But can't we pull the covers over our heads just one more time?

Here's to 2008

Three years ago in January, we received a letter in the mail that took three weeks to arrive, announcing our appointment at Ukraine's adoption center on Feb. 2. Our first reaction was, oh no, not in the dreadful winter. Actually I think John's very first reaction was, oh no, we're going to miss the Super Bowl.

I reassured him that we would be able to find a television somewhere in Kiev that had a satellite dish. And we did! But the game started at midnight Ukraine time, and that would mean walking home in the blistering cold down dark alleys from the Irish pub at 3 a.m. and our appointment with the orphanage inspector was the next morning. We ended up not watching the game...

Reading other blogs is like a trip down memory lane--glitches, delays and frustrating paper chases and all. It was a risk, and very difficult some days, and we almost turned back a few times, but for some reason we kept moving forward. So 2005 will be a year that we will never forget.

But we look forward to 2008 as Austin becomes a teenager (gasp) and little Tara Vika turns 5. She will start kindergarten in the fall. She continues to amaze us every day with the spark in her eyes, the things she says, the love she gives. Sometimes she is defiant, often she is determined, and always she is courageous.

May you all have a happy, healthy and adventurous 2008!

Happy Christmas to all

An interview with Tara:
What do you like about Christmas: "Getting pictures with Austin. I like my gymnastic Barbies."

Who do you like to see on Christmas. "Santa. And Grandma. And the whole room of people that I know."

Why do you like your picture taken? "I like to look pretty in a picture. And that's it. I don't want to say anything more."

Holiday happenings

Shopping, wrapping, cleaning, preparing. Trying to take a few moments here and there to absorb it all, to really feel the Christmas spirit. It's hard to imagine it is only a few days away.

This picture was taken at Tara's ballet class last week when they could wear any costumes they wanted. Most of the girls showed up as princesses.

Yesterday Tara was whining about something when John said to her: You sound like a little baby. She replied, defiantly: "I'm NOT a baby, I'm a sweetie pie." Indeed.

The gift of time

The television was off and I was in the family room folding laundry last week, a magazine perched on the couch next to me. After a few minutes, I noticed something peculiar: Silence. No one was asking me for something, or fighting over the TV, or telling me they were hungry.

I listened again. Nothing. Concerned, I went upstairs and found every one in their rooms (John in his office) and they were all busy with their own activities. I slipped back down to the family room, unnoticed. Without even realizing it, my family had given me the gift of time. Peaceful moments, and I wasn't even stealing them.

As Tara gets older, I notice that I'm getting little pockets of time when I least expect it. And it's simply lovely. She will be 5 years old next month and has definite interests. This does not mean she has stopped following me around when I'm cleaning until I spin around and bump into her by accident. In fact, last weekend I was trying to squeeze in a 10-minute power nap and she came in my room with her automatic keyboard and announced that she was going to play my favorite song for me while I "rested." It was kind of loud...

However, I remain optimistic that these pockets of time will continue to increase and some day I will wish I saw her little face waiting for me as soon as I exit the bathroom door. But for now, I'm going to enjoy the occasional gift of time.

Say what? Part XIII

So we're driving to school today and Tara blurts out: "It's hell!" Startled, I asked her to repeat. She said it again. It's always funny when kids repeat stuff they hear, but this sounded bizarre coming from her. I asked her to say it again. She says, "Everybody's going to hell."

OK this freaked me out, I was thinking about those scary movies when the kids are possessed. Then she points: "Right there, another hell. We're going downhell." OH! I say, "HILL." Yes, hell, she says. Whew. We can stop blessing ourselves now.

We went to get our flu shots recently. Austin was disappointed that they didn't have FluMist, the painless nasal spray. I got my shot first, then Austin as Tara watched each time. And finally, Tara pulled up her sleeve and that tiny, pale arm was showing. "OK," said the nurse, "this might just sting a little bit." Tara was watching so closely that her nose was almost jabbed by the long needle. Austin and I both gulped when we saw it pierce Tara's flesh. But there were no tears. Instead, Tara giggled. "That tickles," she said.

The nurse was rather surprised: "That's the first time I've ever heard that! I'm going to go home and tell my husband about her. He whines about getting shots." Yes, my sister insists that Tara is going to be a doctor someday. Anyone need more proof?

We went to the dentist this morning to get our teeth clean. Tara was on one end of the room, I was on the other. We couldn't see each other and I was a bit worried about her. The hygenist said she did a great job of opening her mouth and sitting still.

She asked Tara if she liked going to the dentist or the doctor better. Tara replied: "The doctor!" In the car afterward, I asked Tara if the hygenist asked whether she flosses every day, which she doesn't. "Yes, she did ask," Tara said. And what did you tell her? I asked, reluctantly. "I told her yes!" Good girl.

Santa's list

Some friends and family are asking me what the kids want for Christmas. This always feels a little weird to me, to tell people exactly what to buy for our kids. I know it makes things much easier for the well-meaning buyers, but it still feels like it's a bit removed from the true meaning of the holidays.

OK, so now I'll admit that it's pretty fun to send my brother off into the Barbie aisle at Toys R Us, or my brother-in-law in search of pricey X-box games in crowded electronics stores. Time to go work on those lists...

It's beginning to look a lot like ...

It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas
Everywhere you go
There's a pile of broken lights
Wrinkled bows and snowflake tights
We never are quite ready for the snow.

It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas
Soon the lists will show
Lots of toys and expensive stuff
But it's never really enough
They must want me to spend all of our dough.

It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas
My gas tank is running low
I even tried to shop online
But that took even more time
Can't we just donate to charity and let it go?

It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas
Everywhere you look
The cat chewed on the holiday wrap
The kids used the cardboard roll as a bat
And now those paper balls fill my kitchen nook.

It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas
Time to to hug your mate
Just buy the children some simple things
Don't jump up every time the phone rings
Because soon enough it'll be 2008.

Happy holidays to all
Play more, stress less.

Flashlight!

So Tara and I pulled into the Target store parking lot the other night to buy some new snow pants and she began to scream, hysterically. Oh my gosh, what's wrong? I slammed on the breaks in the parking spot.

"I forgot the soundcan at school! I needed to bring it home! WAAAAHHHHHHHH!!" Tears were streaming down her cheek. I couldn't figure out what she was talking about. Soundcan? What is that? Did you just remember this right now? "YEEESSS! It's all DADDY'S FAULT!" she wailed. John had picked her up from school a few hours earlier. She was so upset she was shaking. This wasn't her typical cry.

Do you put stuff in it to shake and make a sound? I asked. "NOOO!!" After many questions that frustrated her more,I finally figured out that the kids are taking turns bringing home a can and they are supposed to put things in it that start with a particular letter, a sound. For Tara, it was the letter N.

I told her not to worry, that we will arrive before the teachers and fill the sound can and they won't even realize we didn't take it home. This calmed her down (though I think she still sought out John and yelled at him when we got home, to which he replied, "A soundcan??")

So that night we hunted for some items that start with an N. N-n-n Napkin, n-n-nail polish, nickels. I think it's a pretty cool school project, teaching the pre-schoolers to sound out letters in words. Then Tara excitedly proclaimed: "I know! N- N- N- flashlight!"

We have been retelling this one at dinnertime, it still makes us laugh. N N N flashlight!

Tara's World

In Tara's drawings, there are rainbows and sunshine, her and her brother, her mom and dad, her cat and sometimes the dog she never met. There is a house and grass and some flowers. There are a few clouds next to the sun, with a few rain drops falling.

She draws the nearly identical picture over and over again. Sometimes she staples them together and calls it her book. These are all over the house, they are slid under our bedroom door on weekend mornings. Sometimes she tells me to take one with me, when she is being left behind. Sometimes she asks me to draw her a picture, and then dicates its familiar subjects: A rainbow, first red then orange, then yellow...right down to the last color. She shows me where I go wrong when I improvise with the colors.

She does other drawings and has big explanations for each line, each person, each square cut out. A few times, her art came back from school and it was all black finger paint blurred together like a scary night. I asked if she had a bad day or a nightmare. She said she didn't and that she just felt like painting something all black. But always, she goes back to drawing rainbows and her family under them.

I suppose a child psychologist could have a field day with this. Me, I just smile and hug her every time she hands me one.

Much to be thankful for...

The tables were set, the candles lit, the turkey nearly finished when our guests arrived for Thanksgiving. Timing is the key when you have so many side dishes, coffee and dessert. I told my brother that one year, after all of our family had left, I found a side dish of green beans in the microwave. We had a good laugh over that.

This year, after everyone left, I opened the refrigerator and realized I had forgotten to prepare the ham I bought for dinner. Good thing there was enough turkey to go around...!

So this is the time of year we stop and think about what we are all thankful for. Close family, good friends, our children, however they arrived here. And now is also the time to think about the children that are less fortunate. For me, that's all of the orphans we left behind in Ukraine. It's so hard to imagine the children that Tara spent her first years with may still be living in that same orphanage, waiting and hoping for a family to come and get them. And as they get older, even 5 or 6 years old, their chances of adoption become remarkably less.

So for anyone in a mood to improve the lives of a child without a family, I'm providing this link to an organization called Life 2 Orphans. They help the children of Ukraine. There is a list of orphanages that they specifically help. There is one in Kyiv for ages 7-16, which may have been the one that Tara would have ended up in if she was on the typical path of orphans. After 16, the children are set out to make it on their own. If you know a 16 year old, just try to imagine that!

Here is the link to Life 2 Orphans. You can choose an orphanage to help and send actual items, or make a monetary donation, or purchase something in a fundraiser. If it's something you feel the need to do this holiday season, please remember Tara's native land and the little people who are in such need. With her generous soul, I know that she would appreciate it.

Holidays on the horizon

We are getting ready to host our family on Thursday and no one is more excited than Tara. She wanted to set the table yesterday.

Before we get caught up in the crazy Christmas rush, it really is a good time to think about what we're thankful for. I have a lot of things, mostly people. And here is one of them...

Shake shake shake

We are all being slammed with advertisements on TV and huge catalogs with awesome toys and beautiful people in must-have outfits. And Thanksgiving isn't until next week, here in America.

I started to feel a tad anxious last week and went online to buy some toys for Tara, some gadgets for Austin. I looked for good deals, the best toys possible, the hard-to-find items that are already getting all the hype.

But just as I was about to check out and pay all of this money, I stopped. And I thought about it. And I deleted the file. It is so easy to get caught up in the fray. I really hope we can all be reasonable about our holiday purchases. We say this every year, but we still run around like crazy people trying to get just the right gifts, spend just the right amount of money.

The teachers, the hair stylists, the lawn guys, can't forget any of them.

And apparently it's never too soon. Tara's preschool sent home a note this week about holiday giving. Actually, it was the parent group that sent it, but it was obviously endorsed by the school because the office assistant is in charge.

Parents are "asked" to drop off $25 cash that will be collected and evenly distributed in gift cards to every single person on the staff. OK, that makes it easier, and we really like this school, but I can't help feeling a little like someone turned me upside down by my ankles and is shaking the money out of my pockets. And it isn't even December yet.

Say What? Part XII

"When I'm 37, you can live with me," Tara said today while mixing the banana bread dough. "And if you need to go to the hop-sital, I'll take you there."
(At this point I joked with Austin, who was in the other room, that if I'm ever in a nursing home, she'll probably actually visit me, to which he smirked.)

"Draw me a picture, Mommy, and make a rainbow. And my whole family. And the kitty. And draw a house, and some grass, and dirt, and a sunshine, and draw some water, and a gold pot , and , and........"

"You're mean, Mommy, I'm serious. You're really mean," she shouted from her time-out chair...

A sick day

Tara stayed home from pre-school yesterday with a cough and stuffy nose, though no fever. Today, she looked and sounded much better and wanted to return to school.

And now I am home sick today. I have realized that this is the first sick day I have been home without kids in 2 years and 7 months. This is because Tara's pre-school was near my work, which is far from home. So when I stayed home, so did she.

Now, I can drop her off at classtime and crawl back into bed. The house is quiet. Should I feel guilty for feeling like this is a luxury?

Halloween cheer

OK, here she is. This is Tara on Halloween. She loved being a cheerleader. But I must say, this outfit was given to her by my friend who is also a Michigan State grad like me, (Go Green) so what was she thinking? Of course, it didn't matter to Tara who she was supposedly rooting for. In fact, she cheered: "Go Blue, Go Purple!"

The brave cheerleader

This was Tara's third year trick-or-treating as an American and I must say she gets it. She marched up to houses in her cheerleading outfit, leaving the pom poms in the wagon every time. The new pom poms that I had to chase around to different stores for after she lost one of her old ones at the park a few days ago. (Why do we bother??!)

Her brother Austin chose to run with a pack of friends this year. Groups of neighborhood kids were all around, but at each house, Tara waited for the other goblins and fairies to step away from the porches and then scurried up on her own. Someone at work told me she probably did this to increase the cuteness factor and therefore generate more candy for herself. Now I'm thinking that was indeed her strategy.

They both got enough candy to last through Christmas. Great.

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.

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.

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 G