Very Merry, Indeed

Ah yes, Christmas morning at our house. Most of the pictures are of the kids getting their "Santa" presents. We must have missed the big moment with Abby. She got a Nintendo DS. This was one of her three under the tree gifts--three presents because the Christ child only received three gifts and they sure do not need/deserve more than He got. Anyway I digress...Abby is holding a dress pattern and fabric for her to use with her new sewing machine (birthday present). All I've heard since her birthday is, "When can you teach me to sew, Mom?" So a good learner pattern was a must have for Christmas. Randy got a Fisher Price Barn. An absolute necessity for toddler hood, in my opinion. We had one, but I believe it was on the recall list. It lasted through the first four kids just fine, but one of the daycare kids (read hooligans) managed to find the flaw and completely destroyed it, so Santa had to bring us the new, improved model. For Marina we went with a mini-trampoline. Several of my parenting books on sensory integration/RAD/and prenatal drug exposure recommend small trampolines with handles. I didn't get why the handle was stressed until I watched her play on it. She can really put a lot of force behind her jumps with a handle for leverage. It should prove to be a great way for her to relieve anxiety, anger, aggression, etc. I thought at first that is was going to be a dud present. You can see that she doesn't look particularly thrilled in the picture. But after the others climbed on and showed her how to use it, she loved it. She is so put out with me today, because I've moved it to its storage spot in the shed. I suppose she thought it was going to stay in our kitchen? The two older boys followed a blood trail (cut up red styrofoam plate) from their stockings, out of the house and into the garage to find two beginner bows. Yes, I know, we're sick. But what can I say? This is Texas.

I have a few kids in care today, but I just got them down for a nap. Everyone had said they would probably just stay home with their kids, but then it started to rain. And I'm guessing they started to get a little stir crazy, because along about 10:00 a.m. three mommy's showed up at my door toting toddlers. Part of me (the professional) is fine with it because this is what I do, and I am being paid for it. But part of me (the fellow mommy side) wants to tell these women, "Look, you don't have to go to work today. You need to parent your children. Sunny days and rainy days. It can be done! Get a sheet, a chair, and a clothespin....sit down and play one of the dozens of new Christmas games with them....mix up some shaving cream and food coloring....The possibilities are endless. Buck up. YOU CAN DO THIS!" But I guess that would put me out of a job, right?

Rewards

Last night, the master's office celebrated there annual Xmas party. And yes, I have replaced "Christ" because--trust me--He would not want His name associated with it. But, every year, the boss buys some really nice gifts for a round of Chinese Presents at the close of the party. The master learned that for the last several years, the most sought after gift was a big screen t.v. We were hoping he would win it. Our 16 inch RCA my aunt gave us ten years ago when we were married, is on its last legs. Sometimes the on button works and sometimes it doesn't. We're not big t.v. people (we don't even have channels), but we all enjoy the occasional movie, and the kids would love the movie-theater feel of a big screen.
The original date for the party was Thursday. Then, they decided to move it to Wednesday. Um...we teach the children's group on Wednesday. But the party was supposed to be from 4:30 to 5:30. So, he could make it to the party, win the tube, and still make it on time. BUT at 5:00 he called on the cell. He was leaving the party. Everyone had started to hit the liqueur and the boss hadn't even brought out the gifts for the game. No new t.v. for us.
On the way to church, the master used it as a teachable moment for the kids. He told them about how he could have stayed and maybe won the new television or some other neat thing, but he had made a commitment to the church body, so he had to leave. They talked about how doing the right thing isn't always easy. Everyone agreed that a new t.v. would have been great. Then he said that when you've done the right thing, but it seems you don't have anything to show for it, just remember that God sees and knows and He will store up for you rewards.
He was finishing up his lecture as they arrived at the church building. No sooner had he come in the door than another church member made a bee-line for him. The first words out of her mouth: "Bro. _____, I have something at my house that is taking up too much space and I need to give it away. Would you like a big screen t.v.?"
No fooling. All the master could do was laugh. The kids' mouths dropped open. I think the lesson on rewards is LEARNED.

Truth Hurts Follow Up

I had a lot of response from the last post. Some in the form of phone calls and some in comments. Thank you all for your concern and encouragement. It is a difficult thing for both of us--but especially for Marina--and I am trying to handle it in the best way possible. You will be happy to know that she has not brought up our conversation again. Doesn't mean she won't. Could be next week, or next year, or next decade, but themes of abandonment/grief/adoption are issues we will need to approach and process for a lifetime. To answer some of the suggestions and insights:
Cari--I'm sure it comes as no surprise to you that we often tell Marina God planned for her to be in our family. There have been times that well meaning, but misguided persons have asked, "How did you choose her?" or "Did you pick her?" To which we always say, "We didn't. God did." The difficulty with saying, "We were together in the mind of God," lies in the fact that a three year old child cannot grasp, "in the mind of God." Nor can any of us, come to think of it! Yes, it sounds nifty, but I'm afraid all that Marina would hear is, "We were together." It might make her feel better for the moment, but it is not true (our being physically together, which is certainly what she meant), and ultimately would not soothe her hurt. I've mentioned before that Marina adores Randy. She has always been a very loving big sister to him. However, in his infancy, Marina had moments when she absolutely loathed me. At times when I would nurse him, or tickle him, or stare lovingly into his eyes and coo at him, she would regard me with a degree of hatred and sorrow that I would never before have believed were possible of a two year old. Somehow, someway, buried in her heart, is the knowledge that those things were not done for her when she was a tiny baby. She knows. If/when it comes up again, I will assure her that God was watching over her during that time. That is a promise and cannot mislead her. He is father to the fatherless.
Mom, sisters, and non-bloggy friends--As painful as our conversation was last week, I am grateful that she is now beginning to express with words her confusion and sadness. At least she can begin to match up her heart ache with the truth. It is sad for her to know that she was alone. Hell, I cry every time I think about it, and I'm a grown person. Every baby should have a parent who bounces them in the seat, replaces their binky, tickles their feet and pats their back until they fall asleep. But wouldn't it be sadder still to think that your mommy had been there all along, but did not do those things for you? That she did them for all your brothers and sisters--and does them for every other baby that arrives on her doorstep--but not you?
Kim--I think you are right. Last week's comment confirmed a suspicion I had for some time. Marina can tell you that she is, "a-dop-ed," and that she was born in "Wussia." But 'adopted' is a meaningless adjective and 'Russia' is a place that we (Mommy, Daddy, and Marina) went to on a plane and had an extended vacation. It is just beginning to dawn on her that living in an orphanage means that you do not have a family. She is confused and frightened by this new idea--that is why she followed me into the kitchen and restated her assertion about my being with her.
I want to keep posting our adoption moments. Not because I get off on making you wonderful ladies cry, but because I need to emote and also for Marina. So that she can read a record of her journey one day. It helps to remember that Marina's story--unlike millions of others--has a happy ending even if there are some pages missing.

When the truth hurts

I am keeping a tiny baby here at Sunnyside Kids. She is only three months old and on the small side. Sweet. Like holding a loaf of bread. She has quickly become the daycare mascot, and we all dote on her. The last few days she has been unimpressed with the Randy's state of the art light-em up bubbling aquarium bouncy seat. It wasn't doing anything for her. Luckily a few months ago, I had rescued a bouncy seat from my neighbor and squirreled it away in the garage knowing I would soon be opening my own daycare. It was the old kind with no fancy toy rod or interactive screen. Just a seat. With a Disney Dalmatians print--so you know its got a few years on it. But it held her up at a better angle for watching the other kids, and she was delighted. The others gathered round as I gently bounced her and she smiled. I happen to keep the youngest child of the very same neighbor who gave me the bouncy seat, so I remarked, "Luke, this was the seat you played in when you were a baby."
Luke: I not a baby.
Me: No, you are a big boy now, but you were a little baby like this at one time.
Sunnyside Kid: And I was a baby!
Sunnyside Kid: And me!
Marina: And I was a baby, too!
Me: Yes, everyone starts life as a baby.
Marina: And you were with me.

I just let it go and didn't make a comment but replaced the the baby's binky and started to get lunch ready. Marina followed me into the kitchen.

Marina: And you were with me.

Clearly she was wanting some validation for her statement. Sigh. This is when the truth hurts.

Me: No, sweetheart. I wasn't with you. But Mommy came just as soon as she could.
Marina: angry NO! You were with me!
Me: No. When you were a tiny baby like _________, you were in the orphanage in Russia. The caregivers took care of you. Mommy and Daddy came when you were a little smaller than Randy. And we adopted you, and brought you to our home to be our little girl forever. Maybe they had a bouncy seat like that one in the orphanage.

Because not having something is a huge trauma trigger for her. We had a hard time over items for babies when Randy was born. As each new item was introduced, (baby tub, crib, pacifier, mobile, etc.), she would just dissolve into hysterics. We had to explain to her that it was for a baby, and why. We had to go over and over that she was not a baby and she did not need those things. She has better things--things for a big girl. But the grief was there in her eyes. We found that telling her that she had played/used that when she was a baby helped. Some of the things we know for sure because we had them for her in those first few months after she came home (like teethers and play yards). And some of the things we know she had in the orphanage (like a crib). And yes, for others we have said, "Maybe you played with one like that in the orphanage," even if we are quite sure that they did not have any such thing. I thought she may be having an issue with the baby obviously enjoying a baby seat that she could not. But I don't think that was all this time.
Because after a few moments she said again, quietly and with pleading in her voice, "And you were with me?" Of course, I could no longer trust my own voice, so I just shook my head 'no,' and hugged her. Afterwards, she went into the living room and sat down on the couch for a while, subdued. I heard her say, "Maybe in orf-nage, I have one." And then she went off to play. What I wouldn't give to be able to tell her, "Yes, I was with you every day." To be the keeper of her story from the beginning--with no pages missing.