tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-286378442024-03-13T12:21:00.496-05:00Can I Get Another Bottle of Whine with my morning quiet time?I write humor and other crap.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04940266024306074097noreply@blogger.comBlogger126125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28637844.post-41560687870151549902014-06-02T07:11:00.003-05:002014-06-02T07:13:11.005-05:00I moved my blog!I moved! If anyone is looking for new posts on this blog, I have moved!…over two months ago. I'm at <a href="http://www.canigetanotherbottleofwhine.com/">http://www.canigetanotherbottleofwhine.com</a>. Same address, but without the blogspot.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04940266024306074097noreply@blogger.com15tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28637844.post-62211968317637756452013-06-02T21:07:00.001-05:002013-10-31T07:20:23.061-05:00Did She Steal That Kid?<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">So my weekend was crazy because Steve took the boys up to
Wisconsin to go fishing with his dad and I was left with Autumn. Sometimes I forget
how much she and the boys play together, until they’re separated and she wants
to play with me all day. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">We played and we partied. We ate frozen yogurt and/or gelato
three times, Autumn watched three movies, we went out to eat twice, we went to
the mall twice in addition to five other stores, and we cleaned all three of
our toilets. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">We were able to fit all that in because we skipped church. I
was planning to go, but then Autumn woke up late (because we were up past
midnight partying) and I still hadn’t showered by then and I had to make
homemade waffles, so we just couldn’t go.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">While we were on our second trip to Target for the weekend,
Autumn threw a tantrum. This was the first time I can remember any of my kids
throwing a tantrum in a store. I’m sure it’s happened before, but it’s been so
long, like five years, that I just can’t remember. Now, my boys just chase each
other around our cart until they catch the other and tackle him to the ground,
usually within arms-length of an elderly person leaning on a walker.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">So you know when your kid is having a tantrum and everybody
looks at you wondering if you stole the kid and the poor child is just trying
to fight off this psycho serial killer? Well the tantrum situation is taken up
a notch when your child looks absolutely nothing like you; I’m Caucasian, Autumn’s
Asian. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">I thought, <i>How can I get this girl to calm down? People are
gonna think I stole her</i>. (I could see them looking at me in my peripheral vision.) I started pulling out the threats. “Do you want me to put back this Hello Kitty
toothpaste? Hmm?” and “You want to look at the toys, right? We’re not gonna
look at the toys if you keep screaming like that.” She calmed down for a few
minutes then we approached another aisle and she began grabbing things off the
shelves. I pulled her arms in and she screeched loudly. The threats worked that
time.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">We went to the toy section. She picked up My Little Pony, “Can
we get this?” “No, we’re not buying any toys today.” I said. She picked up a
Cinderella doll, “Can we get this?” No, we’re not buying any toys today.” This went
on for at least 15 toys in four aisles.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Can I just say something on the side here? I was rather
disappointed, albeit not surprised, that I did not find one single Asian baby
doll while walking through the aisles. I may have missed a Mulan Princess
thrown in for good measure, but if it was there, I never saw it. They had white
babies with every color hair, black babies and Latino babies. But no Asian
babies. Just sayin’, Target. Okay, I’ll get off my soapbox now.</span></blockquote>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">So after we looked at the dolls we went to the Skylanders
section. Skylanders is a video game rated age 10+ for cartoon violence, but my kids are into it. According to Steve, the iPad version is more like SimCity and contains no violence.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">I needed to get a gift for Josiah for his adoption day. He
wanted this Skylanders portal-thingy or whatever. So I got that while Autumn looked
at the figurines for the game and decided she wanted to get one. These adorably
violent collectibles cost $10-15 each; they’re like jacked-up Beanie Babies. She wanted it so she could be like her big
brothers. For that, or to play with it in her dollhouse or push it around in
her stroller. The one she wanted was a blue and white eagle with a giant machine
gun that also acts as a vacuum to suck up all its prey. I said no, of course. Tantrum.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">While she threw that tantrum, I remembered I needed to get
birthday and Father’s Day cards. <i>Crap</i>. You know how long picking out cards
takes. So granddads and Steve, I
apologize that you’ll be getting the first things I grabbed. When you get your
Get Well Soon or Happy Anniversary card, consider it a sacrifice for the
tantrum I was dealing with. We’ll at least sign them and change the words to
fit the occasion.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">We made it through the checkout line and out of the store
and home, only after a trip to Trader Joe’s, for which she was surprisingly
cooperative. The lollipop waiting for her at the register may have had
something to do with that. Steve arrived home with the boys and the kids were
happy to be back together again, playing and fighting. And all was right
in the Hall house. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<!--EndFragment-->Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04940266024306074097noreply@blogger.com22tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28637844.post-87427060958520921472012-10-25T23:52:00.002-05:002012-10-27T07:54:42.522-05:00Hot-Diggity, New Blog-Diggity and My First Giveaway<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
Check out my new McBloggy! If you're reading this via email, you have to come check out my new digs (Mom, that means click this <a href="http://canigetanotherbottleofwhine.blogspot.com/"><span style="color: #0000f1;"><u>link</u></span></a> to my blog, so you can see it because I been pimpin' my crib and it's lookin' flyyyyyy.<i>)</i><span style="font-style: normal;">.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-style: normal;">And </span>I did it all by myself thanks to Desirae at <a href="http://sommerfugldesign.com/" target="_blank">Sommerfugl Design</a> who asked me to test and review her </span></span>Blogger Design eCourse.</div>
<br />
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" height="235" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-qtEtz806fHI/UIoG1RQ4utI/AAAAAAAACz8/weeXzj03T4c/s320/sphynxdm_468x347-tm.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="320" /></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;">Absolutely adorable. Can I get an Amen?<br /><a href="http://listverse.files.wordpress.com/2009/11/sphynxdm_468x347.jpg" target="_blank">source</a></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Have
you been toying with the idea of starting a blog? Have you been
looking at your current blog, thinking it looks uglier than a <b>tied-up,
hissing, Canadian Hairless</b>? Are you a moron with the mouse, but
really want to take your blog from suckin' to rockin'?<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="color: black;">Well,
now's your opportunity to change all that! </span>
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Enter to win a Blogger Design eCourse that takes you step-by-step through the process of designing your own blog. </span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">One lucky follower will WIN a spot in the Sommerfugl Design eCourse (a $25 value)! Just enter the giveaway below. The eCourse is November 15th, so mark your calendars
and enter away (should you enroll in her eCourse directly, then win the
giveaway, Desirae will refund your money)!</span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Off the top of my head, here are a couple <b>benefits of designing your own blog</b>: </span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
</div>
<ul>
<li>You <i>own</i> your design. It belongs to you, nobody else. You get the credit...or...get laughed at for your creation.</li>
<li>I learned a lot of things (see "what is taught" below) that I would never know if someone else designed my blog.</li>
<li>I learned a lot about html. I can now make future changes (with Desirae's included eBook close by) when I get sick of my new site.</li>
<li>I get to design it <i>myself</i>. I majored in Design in college. Okay, it was one design class...Interior Design, but I got an A...(pause for effect)...so, of course I want to use those same skills I used to create that sleek and modern man-cave to produce something that totally represents me on my blog. And I think I did that: feminine and simple (wait...), with a focus on my writing (I decided against the designs that represented me as someone who rarely showers and lives in a pig-sty, no matter how accurate they might be). </li>
</ul>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-LSoIzHoH250/UIneguS6AgI/AAAAAAAACy0/Y_EZjZcJ4O4/s1600/eclass-button300.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-LSoIzHoH250/UIneguS6AgI/AAAAAAAACy0/Y_EZjZcJ4O4/s200/eclass-button300.png" width="200" /></a></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: #0e0e0e; font-family: inherit;"><b>When is the eCourse</b><span style="font-weight: normal;">: The first course will start November 15th, with other courses to follow (you can sign up for December 15th as well).</span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="color: #0e0e0e;"><b>Price:</b></span><span style="color: #0e0e0e;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"> $25 (unless you're the lucky winner! Then it's free.)</span></span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="color: #0e0e0e;"><b>Length:</b></span><span style="color: #0e0e0e;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"> There
will be a number of lessons over a two-week period. You'll
have access to all lessons and personal help from Desirae for one
month.</span></span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="color: #0e0e0e;"><b>Size
of Class:</b></span><span style="color: #0e0e0e;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"> Limited
to 30 people.</span></span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="color: #0e0e0e;"><b>What’s included:</b></span><span style="color: #0e0e0e;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"> One
month access to the lesson site, an eBook with the general
lessons for future reference, free blogger templates,
resource lists, one-on-one
help from Desirae, peer feedback on your design, and video tutorials.</span></span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: #0e0e0e;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>What
is taught: </b></span></span></div>
<ul>
<li><div style="font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">The
basics of coding for your blog (CSS and HTML).</span></span></div>
</li>
<li><div style="font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">How
to design a great looking header image and blog button.</span></span></div>
</li>
<li><div style="font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Fonts:
How to install them on your blog, and use them in your designs.</span></span></div>
</li>
<li><div style="font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Backgrounds:
How to add them, and what works best.</span></span></div>
</li>
<li><div style="font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">The
blogger elements, and how to customize them. </span></span></div>
</li>
<li><div style="font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">The
Navigation Bar: how to customize it and how to create drop-down
menus. </span></span></div>
</li>
<li><div style="font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">How
to add social media buttons. </span></span></div>
</li>
<li><div style="font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Adding
additional widget areas to your blog. </span></span></div>
</li>
<li><div style="font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">The
little extras: post signatures, post dividers and more. </span></span></div>
</li>
<li><div style="font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">How
to install your new blog design.</span></span></div>
</li>
</ul>
<div style="font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="color: #0e0e0e;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Want to ensure you have a spot in the November 15th class? You can
purchase your place in the </span></span><a href="http://goodsie.com/store/sommerfugl-design-shopppe/ecourses" target="_blank"><span style="color: #194a93;"><u><span style="font-weight: normal;">Desirae's Design Shoppe by clicking here</span></u></span></a><span style="color: #0e0e0e;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">.
The December class is also currently on sale.</span></span></span></div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="color: #0e0e0e;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></span></span></span></div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="color: #0e0e0e;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Now, it's time to enter to win!!!</span></span></span></div>
</div>
<br />
<a class="rafl" href="http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/1734850/" id="rc-1734850" rel="nofollow">a Rafflecopter giveaway</a>
<script src="//d12vno17mo87cx.cloudfront.net/embed/rafl/cptr.js"></script>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04940266024306074097noreply@blogger.com26tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28637844.post-34226105392499241762012-09-20T22:39:00.000-05:002013-05-03T21:27:13.250-05:00Where Disobedience Really Shines. Or, A Six-Month Update<div style="text-align: left;">
After
the joy of embarrassing my husband with last week's <a href="http://canigetanotherbottleofwhine.blogspot.com/2012/09/my-husbands-make-out-tape.html" target="_blank">post</a>,
I decided to settle down and write a six month update since we
adopted Autumn. I really thought the five month update would be the
last, but BAM! Autumn started speaking
English. Like overnight. She's not speaking in full sentences, but
is putting together two to three words at a time. So, I figured
while I'm sharing that, I'll share some other tidbits.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-2QspQ7pWj10/UFvdqPtOQPI/AAAAAAAAB-g/tR0hqNp_nNA/s1600/Autumn+cowboy+hat.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-2QspQ7pWj10/UFvdqPtOQPI/AAAAAAAAB-g/tR0hqNp_nNA/s320/Autumn+cowboy+hat.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Howdy Folks!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: left;">
As
I've probably mentioned before, Autumn is pretty social. She's
living in a house with three introverts and an ambivert (it's a real
term), so all of this talking to other people stuff is taking us out
of our comfort zones – which is good...I guess. She regularly
greets people we pass <i>anywhere</i>. We were at McDonald's last
week and the kids were playing in the Playplace. I couldn't find
Autumn, so, being the good <strike>worrywart</strike> concerned parent, I started walking around looking for her. Oh me of little
faith. I found her at a table under the Playplace sitting down with a
family, dining on their french fries and ketchup.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: left;">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
As
also mentioned before, she's very active. I'm pretty sure her future
entails one of the following careers: professional skydiver,
missionary in the Middle East, Navy Seal, or human cannonball.
Here's just a little taste of life with Autumn: I heard her messing
around with the TV, so I went to see what she was doing. She had
turned the TV off via the wall switch, which we've told her not to
do, something like, 2,178 times. I reminded her not to turn off the
wall switch and turned it back on. She picked up a DVD, which she
knew she wasn't supposed to touch. I reminded her and took it away.
She grabbed another DVD and before I could take it, she licked it,
slammed it on the table, went behind me, wiggled her fingers in my
butt crack then took off running before I could grab her. She does
stuff like this at least 186 times a day.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: left;">
And me being behind a locked door is unacceptable. No matter whether I'm showering or takin' care of business. She wants to be. with. me. So, if I lock her out, that translates into a directive. Locked Door Directive: “Autumn,
please go into Mama's drawers and break, ransack, destroy, and blow
up all of her things. Thank you.” And she does.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: left;">
She's
getting better with the potty “training”. She's been letting me
know when she needs to go more often. She no longer flings her
diaper across the bedroom at night. Now, she simply removes the
flaps of her diaper, pulls the diaper down, pees all over her bed
like a fire hose, pulls the diaper back up, then repositions the
flaps. I know this because she wakes up in the middle of the night
every night, staggering into my room, with her diaper hanging low on
her hips like a loin cloth. I stagger into her room and change her,
then take her back to bed, check the sheets for wetness and splash my
hand in a puddle of pee. That usually wakes me up.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: left;">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
One
of many surprising blessings is how often Autumn says thank you. She
says it all the time, like every time I hand her <i>anything</i>.
“Thank you, Mama.” Hearing those three little words in that
precious voice just fills something inside me that's been empty for a
while. It's like a little message to me from God, saying, <i>I know
this parenting thing is hard; but I'm in it with you. </i>I <i>so</i> need that some days.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: left;">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<br />
The
kids started gymnastics a few weeks ago. This is where my children's
disobedience <i>really</i> shines. There are three separate groups
of kids, but all of my kids are in the same group. It's just plain
magical how that worked out. So, here's what I witness, when I'm not
hiding in the bathroom pretending they're not mine.</div>
<ul>
<li><div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: left;">
Josiah
beating Autumn over the head with a carpet square.</div>
</li>
<li><div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: left;">
Autumn
running to the window to wave hello to me every three minutes.</div>
</li>
<li><div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: left;">
Sheehan dragging Autumn like a cavewoman back to her carpet square every time
she runs over to say hello to me.</div>
</li>
<li><div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: left;">
Josiah
trying to use the plastic ring meant for standing in, as a
hula-hoop.</div>
</li>
<li><div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: left;">
The
teacher tells Autumn to sit. Autumn bounces on the trampoline. The
teacher says jump. Autumn sits. The teacher says, do a somersault.
Autumn runs off, looking over her shoulder, laughing and singing,
“nanny-nanny-boo-boo”.</div>
</li>
</ul>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: left;">
<div style="text-align: center;">
</div>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: left;">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-q8fCVT9dWPY/UFvdz_BP-tI/AAAAAAAAB_A/pGg9T7L5oTk/s1600/gymnastics.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="229" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-q8fCVT9dWPY/UFvdz_BP-tI/AAAAAAAAB_A/pGg9T7L5oTk/s320/gymnastics.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<div style="text-align: left;">
I was talking with a woman at gymnastics and she asked how things were going. And I told her it's challenging and the transition after an adoption can take six months to a year to get through. She said, “Oh, <i>every</i> mom has a transition like that.” I thought, <i>Wow. I didn't know there were so many six-month old infants running around climbing on toilets and breaking into locked medicine cabinets, then sticking their hand in your butt and saying “nanny-nanny-boo-boo”. </i><span style="font-style: normal;">I'm so clueless.</span></div>
</div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-g2UVEdM7Teo/UFuaG05R_fI/AAAAAAAAB8o/pybru50M_Vw/s1600/IMG_1041.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-g2UVEdM7Teo/UFuaG05R_fI/AAAAAAAAB8o/pybru50M_Vw/s320/IMG_1041.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
We
started homeschooling at the end of August.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: left;">
<i>Yeah.</i></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: left;">
Here's
how Day 1 went.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: left;">
<u><span style="font-weight: normal;">Day
1</span></u><span style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">
- </span></span>My Plan: Study the Arctic with the boys while Autumn
plays quietly in the basement. (don't laugh)</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: left;">
<span style="text-decoration: none;">What
Actually Happened: </span>
</div>
<ul>
<li><div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: left;">
Sheehan
made a spy notebook for his stuffed harp seal.</div>
</li>
<li><div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: left;">
Josiah
drew a giant hockey rink on butcher paper for his hockey figures.</div>
</li>
<li><div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: left;">
I
studied books of Arctic whales with <i>Autumn</i> as she smacked my
arm (hard) every three seconds because she thought I wasn't paying
attention (which I wasn't).</div>
</li>
</ul>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: left;">
End
of day: Josiah prayed, “God, thank you for homeschool.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-style: normal;"><u>Day
2:</u></span> We did everything I planned.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: left;">
End
of day: Both boys said, “We don't like homeschool.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: left;">
Needless
to say, I've made some adjustments and compromises to our homeschool
plan.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: left;">
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-hb-72A2uc3g/UFveRk4hEuI/AAAAAAAAB_I/OmPr8uQ9B2c/s1600/IMG_1068.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-hb-72A2uc3g/UFveRk4hEuI/AAAAAAAAB_I/OmPr8uQ9B2c/s400/IMG_1068.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Slacker parents letting their three-year old go too high on the spiderweb.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: left;">
We
were riding in the car the other day and Autumn was singing a song
<i>repetitively</i> and <i>loudly</i>. Sheehan shouted out, “She's
really <i>pissing</i> me off!”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: left;">
<i>Oh
crap. </i><span style="font-style: normal;"> I thought. </span><i>Did
he just say...? Steve's gonna kill me. I swear I've only said it
once...maybe twice...I think. </i>I quickly assured him that the
correct pronunciation was “Ticking. She's <i>ticking</i> me off.”
I explained how “<i>pissing</i> me off” probably wouldn't go
over well in Sunday school.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: left;">
Josiah
piped up, “Well, why do you say it, Mama?”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: left;">
“I've
said it twice, <i>Josiah</i>. And really it's not about the word, but
what's in your heart. When Mama says that, I've got some anger in my
heart and probably some discontent.” (Conviction pimp slapping me across the face) “I
guess I should probably pray when that happens.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: left;">
“Yeah,
that's a good idea.” Sheehan said.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: left;">
Which
ties into how well I'm doing with that whole not exasperating your
children thing. On multiple occasions I've caught myself screaming,
“Stop yelling!” And I found myself saying, “Stop talking
(garble, garble) with food in your (garble) mouth,” and then
accidentally shot two half chewed Raisinets across the table.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-7iaDzQGqyMA/UFvdzUj2jUI/AAAAAAAAB-4/m6haxiB1bvg/s1600/Autumn+sunglasses.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-7iaDzQGqyMA/UFvdzUj2jUI/AAAAAAAAB-4/m6haxiB1bvg/s320/Autumn+sunglasses.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: left;">
We
took the kids on a camping trip...to the backyard. We agreed to test
the waters before committing to anything bigger. Good thing. Autumn
ended up on the air mattress which left me in her Teletubbies
sleeping bag and Sheehan said he couldn't handle it and went inside
to his own bed.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: left;">
The
weird thing was that our neighbors, the ones we never talk to (Ha! Like
we ever talk to any of our neighbors; we're introverts), also camped
out in their backyard the same night. They had their tent up a day
ahead of us. And on top of that, the weekend before, they had a yard
sale on a Thursday and ours was on Friday. Of course you know what
they're thinking: <i>Those jerky neighbors that never talk to us are copycats! </i> Well, the following
weekend they bought a fire pit. But, we already have one of those
and had been smoking up the neighborhood with it for two years, so
mnaahh.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: left;">
Well, that about sums it up. Oh, in
case you missed it, I joined Twitter (@KateWhineHall is my handle.
Is it called a “handle”? Or is that just for a CB?) Don't miss
all the exclusive, never before seen on my blog or Facebook page
material...maybe. For example, “Modern Art = I could do that +
Yeah, but you didn't” - Craig Damrauer. See the great stuff you're
missing! Actually, I think that's the only thing you're missing.
I'm just not pithy. I mean look at how stinking long this post is!</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Don't forget to leave some love in the comments.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04940266024306074097noreply@blogger.com27tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28637844.post-69313744534945431282012-08-17T10:43:00.000-05:002013-02-20T16:26:51.351-06:00Five Months as a Family of Five Update<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;">It's
hard to believe it's been five months since we were sitting in an
office, waiting with butterflies in our stomach for Autumn to arrive.
She has changed our world and we are so blessed because of her. </span></span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;">Here's
what life is like after five months. By the way, I skipped the four
month update because not much had changed.</span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><b>Communicating
with Autumn</b></span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Kuk11eR5_gI/USVM_IYzY9I/AAAAAAAAGIE/XqQ7qPV7xmM/s1600/three+kids.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Kuk11eR5_gI/USVM_IYzY9I/AAAAAAAAGIE/XqQ7qPV7xmM/s1600/three+kids.jpg" /></a><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;">She
understands most English words we use around the house, but we still
don't understand a lot of what she's saying. We've been working on her speech together and she'll be starting speech therapy soon.</span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;">She's
begun <i>Operation: Intense Whining. </i> Even when she's trying to
say a word, it often comes out as a high-pitch whine. She's trying
so hard to communicate, but gets frustrated and therefore whines out
her request. Poor thing. ...I'm talking about me.</span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;">And
today, I confirmed that the Mandarin Chinese I spoke to Autumn for
the first three months we had her, was indeed her <i>third</i>
language learned. I met a woman at McDonald's today who was from
Shanghai, very close to Yangzhou, where Autumn lived. She spoke
Autumn's dialect, which is <i>not</i> Mandarin. Autumn had a lively
conversation with her in <i>not</i> Mandarin. Which explains why
Autumn gave me so many blank stares early on when I spoke to her in
what I thought was her first language. </span></span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><b>Autumn's
Activity Level</b></span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;">This
has not decreased. She still has to be strapped down to go into any
size store. She is never ever...ever...ever content holding my hand
and letting me lead her. When we don't go her direction, she
collapses to the floor and I have to drag her or pick her up. Lately
she's been casually letting go of holding my hand and folding her arms, as if
to say, <i>Thanks, but this is more comfortable for me.</i> Um...you're three!</span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;">Around
the four month mark I started feeling like I should begin seeing
signs of obedience. Well that mark came and went. In the mall the
other day, she took off running and I said, “Autumn, come back
here. Autumn! Lie. (Come, in Chinese). Lie! LIIIIIE!!!!! She
finally stopped. So yeah, that's encouraging. At least she obeys
when I scream.</span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;">Then
the other day I was working in the garden and turned around to find
her playing in the compost bin. Nothing like playing in a barrel of
rotting food. She really does get into everything.</span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"></span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;">Her grandpa took her fishing recently and she was leaning in too far and fell in the water.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-lGfL-Jzak5M/USVM-iCx_aI/AAAAAAAAGH0/yEcNoAF1k38/s1600/Kids+looking+up.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-lGfL-Jzak5M/USVM-iCx_aI/AAAAAAAAGH0/yEcNoAF1k38/s1600/Kids+looking+up.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Before she fell in the water.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-jqKZcEQqezM/USVM-pWJ0kI/AAAAAAAAGH8/o7t29uqscRw/s1600/Daughter+fell+in+water.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-jqKZcEQqezM/USVM-pWJ0kI/AAAAAAAAGH8/o7t29uqscRw/s1600/Daughter+fell+in+water.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">After she fell in the water.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"></span></span><br /><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><b>Her
cleft lip/palate</b></span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;">We
took her to see our oral surgeon and he said that she doesn't need
any work other than speech therapy for a few years.</span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><b>Potty
training</b></span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;">That's
a pretty lofty choice of words considering it simply means she's
wearing Pull-ups. Am I supposed to physically put her on the potty?
I mean, I could be playing SongPop or watching Project Runway or clipping
my toenails. So, I just tell her to let me know when she needs to
go. She hasn't yet. But at least she stopped the <a href="http://canigetanotherbottleofwhine.blogspot.com/2012/06/three-months-as-family-of-five.html">Pull-up
fling</a> in the middle of the night.</span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;">My
mom was staying with us for a few weeks while she recovered from
emergency gallbladder surgery. I was able to do a little organizing
and found a training potty tucked away that I had forgotten about. I
showed it to Autumn and thought I would up the potty-training a notch
by offering it to her to try out. I set it in the middle of the
foyer at the foot of the stairs. (And no, I don't know why I didn't
put it in the bathroom – hindsight is always 20/20.)</span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;">She
was excited and sat on it and after a few minutes peed! I helped her
pull up her Pull-up then tugged on the basket containing the pee to
get it out of the potty. Of course when I tugged it, it jerked out
and the pee went splashing across the floor. I ran to get a cleaning
wipe in the kitchen, only to find that the container was empty. So
I ran up the stairs to get some from the bathroom. When I came
down the stairs I was so focused on Autumn that I stepped right in
the pee! I looked up at my mom and said, "I stepped in
it," as if to say, <i>what do I do now, Mommy?</i> She
started laughing and then I started laughing, which made her laugh
more which wasn't good because she had just had surgery and it really
hurt when she laughed, and trying not to laugh always makes me laugh
more, which is what I did. She had to leave the room.</span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;">I
should probably be a little more aggressive with the potty-training
because one day last week I found poop on the carpet, the couch, the
wall (in three places), the furry Elmo chair, Sheehan's favorite
stuffed animal (and it wasn't his poop), streaked across the counter
of the bathroom sink, and on the remote control. Once that was
cleaned up, Josiah announced he had a bloody nose which dripped
across the same bathroom sink, floor, and couch I had just cleaned.</span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;">Is
anybody else out there a slacker potty-trainer like me? Someone
please say yes. Because really, I think I'm the only one. Did
I miss a class on this or something? You'd think that with all my
frugality that I would be more on top of this. But gosh, it's just
so much work.</span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><b>How
the rest of us are doing.</b></span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;">Do
you ever make a grilled cheese sandwich and forget the cheese?
No?...<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">um, me neither</span>. Last Monday the boys were to begin an all-day
summer camp. I packed their swimsuits, towels, and lunches, applied
sunscreen, lectured them on obedience to their counselor, and drove
them to camp. When we got there it looked like the Wally World
parking lot - empty. We were a week early. </span></span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;">I
didn't cry...outwardly. But, I did take them home and yell at them
to go in the backyard so I could have a temper tantrum in private. I
threw my tantrum then apologized for yelling. I had a scheduled
doctor appointment for Autumn that morning, so I had to drag the boys
along at the last minute. They sat in the waiting room playing with
toys while I took Autumn in to be examined. The first time I looked
out they were playing nicely. But the second time, Josiah was laying
on the floor across the doorway from the waiting room to the exam
rooms like he was laying on pillows waiting for someone to put grapes
in his mouth. When he saw me he said, “I'm soooo bored. When are
we going? Can I have something to eat?”</span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;">And
therefore, I find myself staying home a lot. Mostly to avoid public
humiliation. So I came up with a list of a few benefits of being a hermit:</span></span></div>
<ol>
<li><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;">Nobody
ever sees how <i>really</i> out of control your kids are.</span></span></div>
</li>
<li><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;">You
can catch up on all those episodes you missed of Project Runway.</span></span></div>
</li>
<li><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;">Vitamin
D gummies taste like candy.</span></span></div>
</li>
<li><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;">You
never get sunburned. Besides, the sunken eye look is in this season.
Like, sunken eye is the new black.</span></span></div>
</li>
<li><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;">It's
easier to focus on your narcissism. Nothing helps you think more
about yourself than being alone.</span></span></div>
</li>
<li><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;">You
don't have to have a heated argument with that other mom at the
McDonald's Playplace about whose kid is the bigger bully, especially
when you get home and find out that it was indeed your kid that
pulled the first punch.</span></span></div>
</li>
</ol>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;">I've
had a twitch in my right eye for the past three weeks. Lack of
sleep? (blasted Olympics!) or maybe stress? So if I'm shockingly
out of my house and you see me, I promise I'm not winking. It's
either from the lack of sunlight from my hibernation or it's my eye
twitch.</span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;">I
no longer where earrings. Somebody stole all of them. And the
culprit wasn't Steve, Sheehan, or Josiah.</span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;">Josiah
and Autumn are getting along very well. Josiah tackles her and she
screams. Then she takes off with his toys, laughing, and he screams.
The other night Josiah was dressing Autumn up in her dress-up
clothes and was bringing her downstairs and presenting her to us as
the Queen. A few minutes later he came down wearing Autumn's ducky
one-piece bathing suit. Uh...</span></span><br />
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<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;">Sheehan
is still the Hall House police officer even when mom and dad are
present. He reminds us of the rules, about every six nanoseconds,
that she is breaking or he thinks we are letting her break. </span></span>
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<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;">Steve
has found a new level of work/life balance since time at both places
are equally stressful and exhausting. He's stopped trying to find
peace and solace at either location and is simply cherishing his 25
minute commute with his Ipod. Which is why he wants to move to
Galena (three hours away).</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;">So overall, things are getting easier...but my expectations are getting higher, so really we're in the same boat as two months ago.</span></span></div>
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Cheers!</div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04940266024306074097noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28637844.post-65588496431232258302012-06-20T09:46:00.002-05:002013-02-17T16:43:18.106-06:00Three Months as a Family of Five<br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ADTGBkHhFJs/USFc0D4vlVI/AAAAAAAAF7E/6F7TQ5XfaiI/s1600/Daughter+on+adoption+day.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ADTGBkHhFJs/USFc0D4vlVI/AAAAAAAAF7E/6F7TQ5XfaiI/s1600/Daughter+on+adoption+day.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;">March 12, 2012</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-NyXEt6xGBXk/USFbRfZwKPI/AAAAAAAAF6U/N3aaXuAPBWk/s1600/Daughter+hanging.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-NyXEt6xGBXk/USFbRfZwKPI/AAAAAAAAF6U/N3aaXuAPBWk/s1600/Daughter+hanging.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Now</span></td></tr>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">Three months. Three months. I'm letting that sink in. Has it really been three months already? Has it <i>only</i> been three months? I find myself going back and forth like this, shocked that we have known her for such a short time and yet somedays I'm left wondering how long it will take before I'm not exhausted all the time...or maybe that's just what comes with being 40 and having three young children in the home. </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">Aside from being tired, things are going well. Autumn is doing great. She is such a blessing to us, even though her brothers may not agree with that right now or until adulthood. She's understanding a lot of English and speaking it more everyday. When I say a word in Chinese she will often correct me and say it in English. It's still a little difficult to understand her, however, because she leaves the ending consonant off of every word and will sometimes just improvise with sounds. She often screams, "Aaaaaaaaaa!" Which, I believe, and correct me if I'm wrong, is Chinese for "You misunderstood me, you bozo!"</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">She began swim lessons this week. Every kid was required to jump into the pool (10 feet deep) to a total stranger on their first day of lessons, two times. If you're interested in traumatizing your children like we have, check out <a href="http://www.swimwithsplash.com/" target="_blank">Splash Aquatics</a>. In spite of the intensity, she enjoyed it and didn't cry at all, which is unusual because sitting along the side of the pool you'd think the children were being tortured based on the screaming and wailing coming up out of the water. With that said, it's only taken each of my kids three days to learn to swim. They may be scarred for life and blame their future marital problems on the fact that mom put them through the American version of water torture, but at least they can swim, and all for the low price of $65 per kid.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-KfBB9MrC8Dc/USFbAkOJB7I/AAAAAAAAF6M/WVY0leJ5dW8/s1600/Son+thrown+in+pool.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-KfBB9MrC8Dc/USFbAkOJB7I/AAAAAAAAF6M/WVY0leJ5dW8/s1600/Son+thrown+in+pool.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;">Just ignore the sheer terror on Josiah's face.</span></td></tr>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">Autumn is regularly mistaken for a boy, so we've been trying to grow her hair out, but the back hasn't gotten any longer in three months. At least its a cute cut. I guess we'll just keep putting her in pink and more pink because she refuses to wear any of the thousands of hair accessories we've inherited.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">One particularly warm night, I sat with Autumn as she wrestled to fall asleep. I was absorbed in a book when suddenly I heard a tearing noise, somewhat like Velcro being undone. In the dusk I saw an object fly over the railing of her crib like a giant beanbag flung at a baggo board. It was her Pull-up. Full. Apparently, it was <i>hot</i> and full. <i>We had just changed her before bed. What was the deal?</i> So, maybe she ate a quarter of a very large watermelon that evening. And maybe I forgot that watermelons are made up of 92% water. And just maybe it was about 80 degrees in her room with no wind because I was too cheap to turn on the air. Don't worry, I learned my lesson. Now we give her watermelon only before 5 pm and we use the A/C on hot nights. But unfortunately, my lesson was learned too late. A trend was started. She does the Pull-up fling almost every night now, causing her to wake up whining in a pool of pee, forcing me to do daily laundry. I'll probably just go buy more crib sheets to support her Pull-up flinging habit.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">She continues to get into EVERYTHING. She's learned to open locks and regularly uses chairs to get to higher places. We took the little tea table chairs out of her room, so at least she can't access anything upstairs. We're running out of places to store things where she can't get to them. </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">She has no fears and still puts everything in her mouth. I apply at least three Band-Aids per week to some part of her body even with my "there must be blood" requirement. A few days ago </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">I caught her chewing on a fish oil vitamin. Gross. Even worse, is she seemed to be enjoying it. </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">I'm slowly getting more accustomed to having three children. I've become more lax, and even more laid back. When Sheehan was three I made sure he was well groomed, I fretted over getting him enough fruits and vegetables, I matched all his clothes, and kept all the game pieces with the appropriate game. With the introduction of each new child that high level of parenting has disintegrated to something like, "Oh, you wanna take up chain-smoking? That's interesting. Well, lemme get a 5-spot and we'll head on down to The Smoke Stack for a pack of Marlboros.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">We've seen a lot of progress with the boys over the past month. They are beginning to act like typical siblings - playing together and terrorizing their sister: sitting on her, taking her toys (just for fun), and sticking their finger up her nose - in a store no less - simply to antagonize (I can think of less gross ways to antagonize). But, this is great progress because a month ago there was no playing, no terrorizing, just complaining and heart break. </span><br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">A few weeks ago I caught Sheehan protecting Autumn from a 4 year old bully at the playground. He told him to stop then kicked the little boy in the eye. On the same day, there was another bully on the playground. He blocked the entrance to the slide so there was a line four kids deep waiting to get on. He wouldn't budge. As Autumn was climbing up the ladder the kid sized her up and snarled, "is she a baaaay-bee?" </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">I countered the little potato chip on his shoulder with the cow chip on my own. "She's three! How old are you (<i>punk</i>)?"</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">As haughty as a teenager, he replied, "I'm two." I sneered and thought, <i>Yeah, that's right you're two, you little twerp, she's older than you and she's tough and she'll take you down. Look at her. She's completely ignoring you because you're so nominal to her. That's right...That's right...Tough guy.</i></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">Note: For anyone preparing to adopt a child just assume that the first two point five months will be very, very, very challenging. Hey, but then it's all fun and games after that - kind of. Oh, but if it's your first child <i>ever</i>, I'd give it six months.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">In our attempts to encourage better relationships in the family we did something that wouldn't be considered one of our smartest family moves. We gave Sheehan the title of "Captain of the Kids". Our intention was to encourage him to be more responsible and to lead and protect his siblings. We had thought it through and talked it over...</span></div>
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<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">"Do you think the title Captain or Dictator would be better?"</span></i></div>
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<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">"Oh, definitely Captain. Although Dictator does have a nice macho ring to it."</span></i></div>
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<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">"Yeah, but Captain sounds so nautical, and since he's a good swimmer and all..."</span></i></div>
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<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">"Yeah, you're right. Definitely Captain." </span></i></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">Needless to say, it backfired.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">Josiah has quickly adjusted to his spot as the middle child. Like a little Jan Brady, last week I caught him wearing a wig and rubbing lemons on his face. He's drowned out by his older brother who demands attention and his younger sister who cries for it. He's particularly easygoing and doesn't always express his needs audibly; Steve sent him to the stool last week for a time out and accidentally left him there for 45 minutes or three days or something like that.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">Overall, I am so proud of the boys on the restraint they have, more often than not, exhibited when it comes to putting up with a little sister that messes with their things, is difficult to understand, and bangs on their backs with her fist when she doesn't get her way (she's so stinkin' cute!). Things are coming together and we are getting into a groove with a new normal. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">The house is noisy, but it's a nice noisy...most of the time anyway. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">Autumn is very funny and makes us laugh everyday. And I enjoy seeing her wake up with a big smile on her face every morning as she runs into my arms. A true blessing.</span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04940266024306074097noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28637844.post-38463070865875226852012-06-12T07:44:00.000-05:002012-11-04T20:34:05.549-06:00New Blog Title?<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">I've been toying with the idea of changing the title of my blog. I know, I know...why change it when <i>Welcome to the HOG (the Hall Blog)</i> rolls off the tongue so easily? Well, I don't know if I'll actually change it, but if and/or when I do I'd like to be prepared, so I scribbled a few ideas down. Let me know what you think.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">1. Me and My Family: Full of...Wit</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">2. Family Ties...Up Their Kids So They Can Get Some Peace and Quiet</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">3. I Hate Angry Birds...and Other Things My Kids (and Husband) Are Obsessed With</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">4. A Family Affair (Man, That Mrs. Beasely was One Ugly Doll)</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">5. Can I Get Another Bottle of Whine with My Morning Quiet Time</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">6. Happiness Is A Warm Puppy...and Low Expectations</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">7. Eight Is Enough...Actually, So Is Three</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">8. Dang, Which One of You Just Passed Gas?...Or Was That Me?</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">9. Just Let It Go and Love...and Then Go In Your Bedroom and Punch the Wall</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />I couldn't come up with a clean 10. Any suggestions? If you had a blog what would you call it?</span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04940266024306074097noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28637844.post-39287721194832215222012-06-06T10:11:00.002-05:002013-02-17T16:17:51.341-06:00Autumn's First Wedding<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
We
took Autumn to her first wedding a few weekends ago. My friend
Lauren was getting married in Indianapolis. The wedding was
outside at a beautiful nursery with creeks and ponds and lots of
flowers on display. It was a hot day, like 88 or 188 or
something like that. </span><br />
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<span style="color: black; font-family: inherit;">We
arrived about 15 minutes before the start of the ceremony and lobbied
for the box seats (in the shade), but my kid's sweaty heads and
somber faces weren't convincing enough to make the groom's family
move. </span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: inherit;">We
dragged ourselves back about five rows to the Hades seats
(appropriately named by us because they were somewhere in close
proximity to the white hot gaseous fire-spitting blazes of the sun).
Lauren's invitation said to dress for the weather, but I didn't
think it was appropriate to wear our bathing suits. </span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: inherit;">Steve
and I took turns walking the kids over to the shade about 15 feet
away from our seats (actually walking to the shade was more for Steve
and I and if I'm really honest, more for myself because Steve only
took one turn). The couple sitting in front of us offered the
kids Tic-tacs. The man held out a handful and I told the kids
to each take one. The boys each took one, and then Autumn took
the remaining eight and threw them in her mouth. The couple
laughed and said they had a three-year old at home...AT HOME!</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: inherit;">The
seating of the grandparents started and I looked down to see J-Man laying in the grass at my feet. He was flat out with his arms
behind his head like he was sunbathing or taking a nap. I
whispered for him to get up and sit in the chair, but my wide eyes
had a more threatening tone. </span><br />
<span style="color: black; font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: black; font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-YKd11K47rrw/USFWf_8uq1I/AAAAAAAAF5s/ooNCvgpTvds/s1600/Son+relaxing.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-YKd11K47rrw/USFWf_8uq1I/AAAAAAAAF5s/ooNCvgpTvds/s1600/Son+relaxing.jpg" /></span></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">
<span style="color: black;">He got back to his chair as Autumn began wandering back to the Tic-tac couple. She reached her arm
between the man and woman, holding her palm up, implying she was
ready for a second handful. I pulled her arm back gently and
tried to explain that they were all gone, which was a big fat lie
because she could see them as clear as day, but I didn't know how to
say, "you can't have anymore," in Chinese, I could only
say, "all gone." She made three more Tic-tac attempts
before the ceremony was over, and one time I caught both Autumn and
J-Man, on separate occasions, looming in the wife's purse that was
wide open showing off the Tic-tacs. They each leaned in to take
some before I grabbed their arms.</span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Q0uHyxxshAw/USFWikJxgKI/AAAAAAAAF58/Lgr7oRyk3sM/s1600/Daughter+grimace.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Q0uHyxxshAw/USFWikJxgKI/AAAAAAAAF58/Lgr7oRyk3sM/s1600/Daughter+grimace.jpg" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">Holy crap it's hot! ... can I get a Tic-Tac?</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
The
bride was ready to enter, so everyone was asked to stand. Both
boys started complaining loudly that they couldn't see anything, even though
Lauren was coming in through the side, a perfect view from our seats.
As I saw other children, sweetly sitting on their mother's
laps or in chairs next to their parents I started to wonder what
kind of manners classes they were sending their kids to and how in
the heck did I miss out on them. Because clearly, the
homeschooling version of Manners 101 is significantly lacking.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: inherit;">With
our seats in the sun with no breeze, the temperature, at that point,
was something like 212 degrees. I think I saw bubbles rising in
my bottled water. But this wasn't the hottest wedding we'd been
to by any stretch. In 2007, my cousin and Steve's cousin each
had weddings in separate states on the same day. Steve and I split up so we
could each represent. I took Sheehan with me. It was over
100 degrees for both weddings, one in Minnesota, the other in
Virginia (we still try to convince each other that the wedding we
each attended was the hotter one). Sheehan was only two and he
stripped off all his clothes down to his diaper in the middle of the
ceremony. Classy.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: inherit;">After
the bride was given away we were asked to take our seats. I
began to sit down and heard a sudden yelp a few feet away. I
looked over and Steve was jumping up out of his seat. Apparently Autumn moved her water bottle to Steve's chair while we were
standing. It was one of those small squatty bottles and was
standing upright...until it met Steve's rear end. Thankfully,
only the eight rows behind him noticed.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-b8NTPZQbzqg/USFWjwwEdFI/AAAAAAAAF6E/jy7aiMbh3xg/s1600/lecture+from+dad.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-b8NTPZQbzqg/USFWjwwEdFI/AAAAAAAAF6E/jy7aiMbh3xg/s1600/lecture+from+dad.jpg" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">Steve explaining to Autumn why a wedding is </span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">not the time or place </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">for a proctology exam.</span></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
<span style="color: black;">The
ceremony was hot and beautiful. Afterwards, we walked through
the gardens to the tent for the reception. They had different
flavored popcorn as appetizers, which I thought was really creative,
and kid-friendly to boot. (Although, you could tell which
flavor Sheehan chose because his white shirt was streaked all over
with orange fingerprints. We're still working on that whole
napkin thing. Who needs a napkin when you've got a shirt? Same
goes for a tissue.)</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
As
we waited for the bridal party to arrive after pictures we took the
kids out to the creek to look around and cool off. J-Man began
moving large rocks around from a display to build a dam. We
explained to him that the rocks were part of the landscape display
and shouldn't be moved. You'd think that we never get out of
our house by the way our kids act. I really shouldn't be
surprised by their behavior - I mean, they're just kids - but I
always am. My mom still shares the story of when I was a
teenager (a teenager!) and we went to a Christmas program at a
church, and at the time we didn't do church, so my mom was feeling a
little uncomfortable. Well, there was a sweets table after the
program with cookies and cakes and other goodies. I got a plate
and piled my cookies and cakes and truffle balls up like Mount
Vesuvius. My mom was mortified. And if that wasn't bad
enough, as we walked toward the steps to leave, with everyone
watching, Mt. Vesuvius erupted and my rum balls and truffle balls
rolled off the plate and bounced down the steps. My mom
couldn't get to the car fast enough. I don't think we ever went
back to that church.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: inherit;">By
dessert, Autumn was running around like a little maniac that only had
a five minute nap (which is all she had). I suddenly hit a
point where I thought, "We have to leave. I can't do this
anymore." Steve is always - ALWAYS - the one who wants to
leave anywhere first, but I've found that with three kids and one as
active as Miss Autumn, I'm ready to leave a place sometimes as soon
as we walk in the door. I am perpetually exhausted.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="color: black;">Before
we left, I found myself hanging out outside the men's bathroom like a
wedding crasher (I was waiting for one of the boys) and a man came
out, that I'd never seen before, appropriately dressed in wedding
attire. He looked at me like I was a wedding crasher. Then
he asked me my name. I thought, "this guy thinks I'm a
wedding crasher...and who is he anyway?...sizing me up like he wants
to know what I'm doing hanging out outside the men's bathroom at a
wedding. With a little "I'm NOT a wedding crasher"
chip on my shoulder, I told him my name and shook his hand. Then
he introduced himself as the Father of the Bride. How could I
not know that he was the Father of the Bride?! He only walked
Lauren down the aisle two hours prior. He was in the </span><span style="color: black;"><i>Top
5 Most Important People at a Wedding</i></span><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-style: normal;">,
and I didn't have a clue who he was. Plus, I had met him before
at a party for Lauren a few years ago. I backpedaled and
explained that I used to work with Lauren "at the church"
(which I stressed to show that I did indeed know Lauren and wasn't
just some weirdo out for free popcorn), and that I had been to his
house for a party, and blah, blah, blah. I looked like I was
lying, like I really was a wedding crasher.</span></span></span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: inherit;">As
we were leaving, we found Lauren to say good-bye. During the
goodbye, J-Man disappeared and when we turned around to look for him
he was on top of the railing of the gazebo. If we had stayed any longer,
we probably would have caught him leaping from table top to table
top like a gazelle.</span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: inherit;">In
the parking lot, one of the women I was talking to at our table
mentioned how hard it could be with three small children (she has
three that are 11, 10, and 9) just from the sheer exhaustion of
constant multi-tasking. I said, "That's it! That's
exactly it!" She said, even if all you're doing is
watching them, they're all going in three different directions and
you're trying to keep track of all three at the same time. She
hit the nail right on the head and what makes it even harder is that
we're still transitioning with Autumn and are still learning what she
may do next. There are so many situations where we can't even
predict how she's going to respond or act. We just move forward
and see what happens. And then sit back in total exhaustion at
the end because we've spent so much of that time chasing her.</span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-8ZU79NqlebY/USFWhWM0lBI/AAAAAAAAF50/tJWoWs2dj_A/s1600/funny+face+daughter.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-8ZU79NqlebY/USFWhWM0lBI/AAAAAAAAF50/tJWoWs2dj_A/s1600/funny+face+daughter.jpg" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">Ahh...guess we won't use this one for the 2012 Christmas card</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">...or maybe we will.</span><br />
<div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"></span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04940266024306074097noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28637844.post-86695302724325123092012-05-22T22:09:00.001-05:002013-02-17T16:02:03.608-06:00Two Month (and a week or so) Update<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-N6GYIxKoNrE/T7xRF7N-hzI/AAAAAAAABIE/sMNBh07YmvQ/s1600/IMG_0214.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-N6GYIxKoNrE/T7xRF7N-hzI/AAAAAAAABIE/sMNBh07YmvQ/s320/IMG_0214.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Helvetica;">I can't believe we have been Autumn's parents for over two months already. She fits in so well with our family, even as she tornadoes through the house like the Tasmanian Devil. She seems to have grown and blossomed so much in these two short months. In China, she was barely able to jump in place, now she's jumping off chairs and out of wagons...with wheels...and landing on her face. In China, she cried because I held her, now she cries when I don't hold her. In China, she learned to climb a small jungle gym, now she's learning to climb trees (I caught her 20 feet up in our pine tree today!).</span><br />
<div style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: none; font-family: Noteworthy; font-weight: bold; line-height: 24px;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Helvetica;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: none; font-family: Noteworthy; font-weight: bold; line-height: 24px;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Helvetica;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;">She is fearless. I took the kids to the pool last week and she kept pushing my hands away, so she could "swim". Of course she sank, but then she just shook the water off her face and pushed me away again. </span></span></div>
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-gv_3BvxEgcM/USFS60rQkqI/AAAAAAAAF5M/hKIIBPBDiNU/s1600/Daughter+and+dad+swimming.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-gv_3BvxEgcM/USFS60rQkqI/AAAAAAAAF5M/hKIIBPBDiNU/s1600/Daughter+and+dad+swimming.jpg" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Helvetica;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;">The boys are still struggling with her, but I like to think that it gets better every day. When Sheehan was recently asked what the best thing is about having a sister, his answer was, "nothing."</span></span></div>
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-5rXeV4Suilw/USFS60jBr5I/AAAAAAAAF5Q/1ZSn4wB8wJU/s1600/Son+in+goggles+sprinkler.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-5rXeV4Suilw/USFS60jBr5I/AAAAAAAAF5Q/1ZSn4wB8wJU/s1600/Son+in+goggles+sprinkler.jpg" /></a></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Helvetica;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;">Josiah is coming around much quicker. I've caught him playing Barbies with her. But, on more occasions I've caught him wrestling with her, pulling his signature "pancake move", which involves laying stretched out, flat on top of her, while she squeals and laughs, and sometimes cries. </span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Helvetica;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ydHPPxAxEtQ/USFS64dLfxI/AAAAAAAAF5E/L1o9uyjbFpc/s1600/Son+in+water.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ydHPPxAxEtQ/USFS64dLfxI/AAAAAAAAF5E/L1o9uyjbFpc/s1600/Son+in+water.jpg" /></a></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Helvetica;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;">But, she's a tough girl. When the boys take something away from her - that almost always belongs to them - she hauls off and punches them on the back as hard as she can, with her little fist. This has called for a lot of restraint from the boys and they've been successful about half the time in holding back on knocking the crap out of her.</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Helvetica;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Helvetica;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;">Her English is getting better. She repeats everything we say. She asks for water, her shoes, books, etc. Her favorite phrase is, "num-on," which is another way of saying, "come on." I never realized how frequently we say this in our house:</span></span></div>
<div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Helvetica;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Helvetica;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;">"Come on! It's time to go."</span></span></div>
<div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Helvetica;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;">"Come on! You have to go potty now?</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Helvetica;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;">"Come ooon! Don't lick your shoe!</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Helvetica;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Helvetica;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;">She uses the phrase very appropriately. I was trying to squeeze her size 3T legs into a pair of size 2T pants, and she squeaked out, "num-on." I've also caught her grunting "num-on," when on the potty.</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Helvetica;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Helvetica;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;">She says another phrase that sounds something like "gobb-ee-oh!" We have no idea what this means, probably something like, "stop it!" If I take away something she shouldn't be playing with or if Josiah plays the drums on her butt, she'll cry out, "gobb-ee-oh!" I took my phone away from her the other day and she said, "gobb-ee-oh!" and I said, "you, gobb-ee-oh!" Then she said it back to me again, so I'm sure I'm giving in to some form of Chinese sass talk that I can't translate.</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Helvetica;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Helvetica;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;">The best thing she does (they must have taught her to do this in the orphanage) is every time she sees a picture of Cinderella or picks up a Barbie, she says, "mama." Of course, she also says "mama" whenever we read Pajama Time and she sees the gray dog with floppy ears (I felt better when Steve told me that she says he's the rhinoceros).</span></span></div>
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-6HR1xwXsYlo/USFS7BhsCSI/AAAAAAAAF5U/fq2Eis-rOP8/s1600/kids+in+garden.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-6HR1xwXsYlo/USFS7BhsCSI/AAAAAAAAF5U/fq2Eis-rOP8/s1600/kids+in+garden.jpg" /></a></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Helvetica;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;">On the Serious Side...</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Helvetica;">The rest of the family is struggling. The boys are hurting. Not getting enough attention. You can see it in their acting out, in their whining, in their pained faces. I pray that God will give them what they need because I cannot. I am worn out, unable to give any more. Autumn gets it all. She does not take a break, cannot play with a toy for longer than 30 seconds, cannot keep her curious hands out of places I wish they weren't. Only when she sleeps, but by then I'm usually so exhausted that I am asleep. The boys get so little. But, Autumn has gotten so little for the past three years. We try to tell the boys that, but they don't understand, their little minds are unable to comprehend such lacking. Such lacking, that they too experienced when they were babies.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Helvetica;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;">Adoptive parents learn in class after class that their number one priority is to meet the needs of the child ("at every cost," is implied, merely because of the frequency you hear it). I'm coming to realize that this is a goal from the pit of Hell and Lucifer himself. I cannot meet all the needs of my children, nor should I. There is not enough of me to go around to meet even the needs of one child, so I surely can't meet the needs of three, especially when some of those "needs" are desires in disguise. Only God can meet all our needs. I'm learning that sometimes I have to let go and let God deal with my children's unmet needs or desires. I'm not even meant to meet those needs and can even be downright sinful as I try to usurp God's job. But, if I hear "I don't get enough mama-time" in an angry tone one more time, I'm going to slam some plastic plates in the sink and watch them shatter. Oh wait, I did that yesterday.</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Helvetica;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;">I found the following in my journal this morning from a year ago, but it felt appropriate for this week. This was what I felt like God was saying to me: "My child. I love you. You are going through some challenges right now. I see your pain. I am with you. I will never leave you. My hand is upon you. Even as you question me, I still hold you fast. Your heart is precious to me. You are my child. And I will never let you go. I love you."</span></span><br />
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04940266024306074097noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28637844.post-6586296622641283932012-05-10T07:17:00.002-05:002013-02-14T16:41:06.889-06:00First Visit to Chuck E. Cheese<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
I decided to take the kids to Chuck E. Cheese the other day because it was chilly and rainy and I was too lazy to be resourceful. Autumn's favorite activity was the Sketch Pad. The camera takes your pictures and prints it out like a sketch. Here's what we got...</div>
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Autumn (she looked away)</div>
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Autumn with Mama (she was looking at herself)</div>
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Autumn and Josiah (she was drunk)</div>
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Autumn and Sheehan (um...he was strangling her?)</div>
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04940266024306074097noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28637844.post-52306326348800642032012-05-07T13:05:00.002-05:002012-12-07T12:45:45.291-06:00Translating Whinese & Complainish<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;">I am daily overwhelmed by the whining and complaining in our house - as I'm sure any parent can relate. It just wears you down. Thank goodness, my husband is able to interpret Whinese and Complainish! I must have skipped school the day they taught these - it would have saved me a lot of heartache had I not played hooky. Here are some common examples of Whinese and Complainish, followed by my poor translation and then a more accurate translation:</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;">Whine/complaint #1: I didn't get enough "mama-time" today. (I hear this at least 6 times/day)</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;">What I hear: You didn't make enough time for me today. Can't you consider anyone, but yourself and "that" girl? You did nothing worthwhile for me today. You suck as a mother. Like, really suck. Your name should be Sucky McSuck-Suck.</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;">A More Accurate Translation: You are loved and accepted by Jesus as you are. I know you have a heavy burden right now and I'm sorry. We're all having to make sacrifices - mine is that I don't get to have as much alone time with the person I cherish most in this world - my mama. I would love to spend some time with you, when you're able.</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;">Whine/Complaint #2: Why do we have to have oatmeal <i>again</i>?</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;">What I hear: I am being tortured by your lack of imagination and planning. Even though I liked it yesterday, today I hate it. You never do anything good for us. You only think of yourself. You should get the Sucky Mommy Award for 2012.</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;">A More Accurate Translation: You are loved and accepted by Jesus as you are. I love your cooking. You make the best food in the world. I miss your scrumptious pancakes and waffles that you manage to make both healthy and delicious. You are the best cook. I can't wait until life is less hectic and we can have that yummy food again...and I'll help make it.</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;">Whine/Complaint #3: How come she/he gets to do that all the time and I <i>never</i> get to?</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;">What I hear: I hope you never plan to be a referee for anything because you are the most unfair person I have ever met in my entire life. It's 1 pm, isn't there a Parenting 101 class you should be taking? You cater to everyone else, but me. I get nothing - just left-overs. I should just lay down and die and let the others trample over my body posthumously, because that's how much you care about me.</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;"><br /></span>A More Accurate Translation: You are loved and accepted by Jesus as you are. Dearest mama, you have it so hard - trying to be a good mom. Don't worry, you already are. I am small and young and don't have the wisdom to see what you see. Forgive me for my lack of insight. I am blinded by my youth. Please teach me. I will be forever grateful.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;">So here's my parenting recap:</span></span><br />
<a href="http://canigetanotherbottleofwhine.blogspot.com/2012/04/family-update-home-one-month.html" target="_blank"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Just Let It Go, And Love</span></a><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><a href="http://canigetanotherbottleofwhine.blogspot.com/2012/05/keepin-it-low.html" target="_blank">Keep It low</a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;"> (low expectations)</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: inherit; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;">Learn To Translate Whinese & Complainish</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-AG5bHY76-7g/UMI4uBLPUhI/AAAAAAAADpQ/dI04IHLzs04/s1600/252235_396307527112034_925218717_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="224" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-AG5bHY76-7g/UMI4uBLPUhI/AAAAAAAADpQ/dI04IHLzs04/s320/252235_396307527112034_925218717_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.rufflebutts.com/" target="_blank"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-small;">source</span></a></td></tr>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;"><br /></span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04940266024306074097noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28637844.post-45142960358004513222012-05-04T17:11:00.002-05:002013-02-14T16:32:48.774-06:00Keepin' It Low<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Today was just another typical day with a toddler in the house. She scribbled in a library book, locked herself in the bedroom, ran around naked, and pooped straight up her back.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
I was hunched over the kitchen sink doing dishes when Sheehan said, in a too casual tone, "she has poop on her back." </span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
"What did you say?" </span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
"She has poop on her back." </span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
I ran into the living room, tripping over the couch pillows she had dragged into the kitchen earlier, and found her standing in only a diaper with poop straight up her back. There were streaks of poop all over the carpet and in one spot, it looked like she had stood on it and twisted, like she was trying to put out a cigarette.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
I took her into the kitchen and tried to clean her up, but she just dragged it in on her feet. So I picked her up, holding her out, like waiting for a jack-in-the-box to explode, and carried her to the bathtub for her second bath of the day. She had poop on her legs, her feet, her hands, and even in her ear.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
So, this our new normal. It's all about keepin' it low (low expectations). I consider the day a success if I can get through without any of the kids dying. Our house has never been so messy, but that's okay because I have low expectations. </span><br />
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Couch pillows and Legos all over the kitchen floor? At least its not poop. </span><br />
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Fourteen sets of flash cards all dumped out and mixed up? At least the house didn't catch on fire. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
Yesterday, Autumn collided with the outside edge of where two walls meet, leaving an inch long gash on her forehead. At least we didn't go to the ER. Besides, she's our third child, I just sewed it up myself.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
Jesus has brought me a long way since we adopted Sheehan. I used to flip out when he would mix the Play-doh colors. Now we just have a giant ball of brown, and I can be okay with that. I'm just singing the same song as before - <a href="http://babyhall.blogspot.com/2012/04/family-update-home-one-month.html" target="_blank">just let it go, and love</a>. But, I really would be singing a different tune if it weren't for Jesus. The tune would sound more like, maybe, a raging maniac.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
A few minutes ago, all the kids were chasing each other in circles in the basement, laughing. When I went downstairs, Sheehan said he's really glad to have Autumn as a little sister. Hallelujah! That's the first time since we've been home that Sheehan's expressed any pleasure about having a little sister. Of course, now they're playing with swords and guns and at least one kid is crying.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
Keepin' it low.</span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04940266024306074097noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28637844.post-3156687184612867192012-04-25T09:48:00.000-05:002013-02-14T16:30:47.594-06:00How many times do I have to tell her...<div class="mobile-photo">
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Night cream is for night time?</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04940266024306074097noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28637844.post-65620088546397288392012-04-24T17:10:00.000-05:002013-02-14T16:28:02.946-06:00Family Update - Home One Month<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Autumn's transition has been a breeze
so far. She's beautiful and happy, eats almost everything we
put in front of her (or sees in the garden, particularly chives –
major onion breath), sleeps well (once asleep), is helpful (she
screams, "Mamaaaaaaa!!!" like a bomb is detonating, every
time the microwave beeps and food is ready), is learning a little
English (could be more except Mama is practicing too much Chinese on
her daughter), has a shorter than we're used to attention span (4
minutes for a new toy, 30 seconds for an old one, and 10 minutes for
a video), loves going to Sunday school, is incredibly active (as
noted in previous blog entries), loves to be outside/go places in the
mini-van (if someone is leaving and she can't go, she cries and
hurriedly puts her shoes and coat on - sometimes she'll be standing
by the door crying in her shoes, coat, and only a diaper underneath),
she's smart and is working on how to unlock the doors in our house
(we've had to lock them all from the inside because she gets into so
much, but lately she's been carrying around an army guy like it's a
key, sticking it in the locks), and she jokes around a lot and laughs
at her own attempts at wittiness (just like Mama).</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">The rest of the family? A little
more challenging.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">The Boys - Everyday gets a little
better for them. They did quite well in China, considering the
circumstances, but when they got home to their own turf and realized
it was being invaded by a non-English speaking/understanding
half-pint, things changed. She was touching their toys,
breaking the house rules, and seemingly, getting away with them, as
she received drastically large amounts of attention that they had
been receiving prior to China. There have been days when I
wondered if they would ever love her and there have been days where I
have seen a gentle and kind side from the boys, I have not seen
before. Their adjustment is our greatest area of prayer right
now. We're focusing on getting them the attention they need, by
taking 30 minutes of one parent-to-one boy time each night to do
whatever they want.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Steve - He's struggling with balancing
attention among the three kids. After working all day, and then
trying to find time to cram in enough attention for each kid, he's
left doing the Nestea Plunge into bed at night. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Fuzzy-Kitty - Oh, wait, she's been gone
since last August.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Kate - I'm struggling to get used to
having a three-year old back in the house who, appropriately, loves
to get into everything, dump it out, and leave it for someone else to
clean up. The energy it takes to keep up with her and at the
same time, teach the boys how to be gentle and kind with her is
overwhelming. I'm hoping that as she learns more English and
the way things work in a family, that things will be easier. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">My new motto is "just let it go,
and love". </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">She climbs a chair and pulls down an
entire box of hair accoutrements and leaves them all over the floor?
Just let it go! Put on a smile and sing the Barney clean-up
song as you demonstrate picking them up, as she's walking away
looking for her next target. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">She throws a tantrum because she wants
her dinner in a bowl, not on a plate? Just let it go! Smile
a sympathetic smile and pull her meal away until she cries it out and
settles for the plate (this never would have worked for Sheehan - he
would have starved for two days before eating off that stinking
plate). </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">She sets off the elevator alarm at the
boy's school where they take speech, then runs down the hall, yelling
in delight that mom is chasing her (or screaming in despair because
she is strapped down in her stroller) and disrupts the entire
building? Just let it go! Smile and laugh, then blog
about it later.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">She closes every door in the house that
you want open? Just let it go! Smile and say, "open,"
and then when you come back later and see they're all closed, just
let it go again! With gritted teeth, force a smile, that you
hope miraculously connects to your heart, remind her "open"
and remember that she still doesn't know English. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">She opens all the doors you want
closed, loses all the remotes for the 12th time, and inadvertently
reconfigures your computer to do things you've never been able to do?
Just let it go! Go to your room. Cry your eyes out.
Beg God for mercy on your soul. Somehow, pick yourself up
off the floor as she wails outside your closed door. With
renewed empathy, give her a hug and a kiss and tell her wo ai ni (I
love you). </span></div>
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04940266024306074097noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28637844.post-83356197003140673392012-04-10T10:35:00.000-05:002012-06-01T20:50:42.169-05:00Videos from ChinaSince I wasn't able to post any videos in China (had something to do with my iPad and my inability to figure it out) I'm posting some now. Enjoy!<br />
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Three year old energy...<br />
at the airport - see post <a href="http://babyhall.blogspot.com/2012/03/china-day-8-purple-mountain-yangtze.html" target="_blank">Flying to Guangzhou</a></div>
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The cattle drive. I mean, the physical exam.</div>
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See post <a href="http://babyhall.blogspot.com/2012/03/china-day-9-physical-exam.html" target="_blank">Physical Exam</a></div>
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<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dyA_UJkA24M_fI-EtiXG2crMLqL9BNmi2d4PExtaejIP73KWO-4SwIqT325GS8J4y74ko2urqFSIUQ' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>
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What Mornings Looked Like in China</div>
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See post <a href="http://babyhall.blogspot.com/2012/03/china-day-14-ode-to-buffet-and-getting.html" target="_blank">Ode to the Buffet</a></div>
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Freaking Scary Lions</div>
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See post <a href="http://babyhall.blogspot.com/2012/03/china-day-12-autumn-update-and-zoo.html" target="_blank">Guangzhou Zoo</a></div>
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Save the Drama for Your...wait.</div>
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Cinematography courtesy of Sheehan. </div>
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I just thought Josiah flying through the room was funny.</div>
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<span id="goog_642026813"></span><span id="goog_642026814"></span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04940266024306074097noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28637844.post-43991774581903302132012-04-05T11:14:00.001-05:002013-02-14T16:26:27.221-06:00Home a Week<br />
A few people have emailed me over the
past week asking for an update on what we've been up to since getting
home. In a word: nothing. We've been up to nothing. If my identity
were at all tied up in my accomplishments as a mother, which, of
course, it's not (dramatic pause). My identity is tied up in Jesus
(second dramatic pause). Ok, well, let's just say that, absolutely,
without a doubt, <i>hypothetically</i>, IF some part of my identity
were wrapped up in my role as a mother – which, again, we know it's
not – then my title this week would be <i>Queen Nothing</i>.<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
I wish <i>Nothing</i> included lounging
on the couch, eating dark chocolates and sipping even chocolatier
mochas, while the boys played harmoniously on the floor, and Autumn
and I snuggled together building attachment, by looking longingly
into each other's eyes. (sigh) But our <i>Nothing</i> looked more
like this: I picked up blocks, and watched Autumn dump them; I
picked up plastic grocery items, and watched Autumn dump them; I
watched Autumn dump the contents of the diaper bag as my lower lip
and shoulders dragged on the ground because I was so tired of picking
up dumped items; I tried to read Autumn a book and she skipped every
page to the very end, then threw it on the floor; I listened to my
sons talk incessantly about Angry Birds and the three foot high green
pig towers they were building in their room because they weren't
allowed to play on the iPad except for (in a whiny vo<span style="font-style: normal;">ice)
one hour on the weekend; I broke up fights between Sheehan and
Autumn, Sheehan and Josiah, and Josiah and Autumn; and I relearned
that a quiet child is not a content child, but is a mischievous
child.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
But, I know deep down somewhere hidden
in the crevices between my liver and my gallbladder (which we all
know is a useless organ anyway...or am I confusing that with the
tonsils?) that I've accomplished quite a lot this week. I've played
with my children, I've loved them, I've trained them, I've comforted
them, I've gotten to know them better, and I've worked on that whole
bonding and attachment thing.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Other notable <i>Nothings</i> we did
this week:
</div>
<ul>
<li><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Watched way too much TV. In fact,
I've watched so much of that <i>Sid the Science Kid</i> that I've
developed an overwhelming distaste for every character on that show,
but especially pink-headed Gerald, who I want to punch in the face
because he's so annoying. Also, Elmo is Autumn's new BFF.</div>
</li>
<li><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Played on the playground –
discovered that Autumn likes the swings, but only so high before she
goes from giddiness to sheer terror.</div>
</li>
<li><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Got back to a normal sleep
schedule in a record eight days (Thanks Steve!). I missed the
Chinese cement mattresses so much that I found myself lured into
sleeping on Autumn's bedroom floor a few nights - to simulate that
not-so-soft feeling.</div>
</li>
<li><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Celebrated Autumn's 3<sup>rd</sup>
Birthday – I hate to say this is nothing because it's <i>so</i>
not nothing, but when you get back from the other side of the world
just five days prior and you're still jet-lagged, then birthdays
take a backseat. We did manage to pick up some cupcakes at
Dominick's and throw up some recycled decorations and blow up
balloons. We did it while Autumn napped and when she woke up and
saw it, she gasped in delight over and over again. It was very
cute.</div>
</li>
</ul>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Things we've learned about Autumn this
week:</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Autumn goes by the philosophy of
“Touchers, Keepers, Losers, Weepers. She believes that if she
touches something, then it's automatically hers. She pats her chest
and says, “Yu-way”, which is how she says her Chinese name. If
you remind her that the item belongs to someone else, she stamps her
foot and goes into tantrum mode. Items she has touched and therefore
claimed, have included: most of the boy's toys, my phone, everyone
else's plate of food, the iPad, Steve's shoes, and feminine hygiene
products.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
She has a great sense of humor and
likes to give and receive jokes. She will take something that
belongs to someone else and will run away and when you chase her, she
thinks it's funny and she runs all the faster, laughing at you and
herself.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
She has the gift of encouragement.
Every time I successfully use the potty, she shouts, “hao jie la”
which means something like, “great job!”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
She likes to run around naked. But,
who doesn't?</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Her two most favorite things in the
world are taking a bath and going outside. Taking a bath is liquid
heaven to her. She'd do it twice a day if I'd let her. I have to be
very careful about putting on shoes or a sweater near the front door
because when she sees that, she thinks it's time to go (anywhere, but
inside) and will start bringing me everything else that I might need
to go outside (sunglasses, gloves, purse, coat). If we don't go
outside, then she throws a tantrum. If she puts her coat on in the
morning (because she mistakenly thinks she's going outside), she
spends most of the day wearing it and refuses to take it off...unless
she's getting a bath.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Our biggest challenge since we got home
has been the adjustment between Sheehan and Autumn. They both want
to be #1 and are both stubborn. I made the mistake of leaving the
bathroom door open the other day while taking care of business.
Autumn ran in and tried to shut the door behind her. Sheehan ran in
and put his foot in front of the door to block her from closing it.
She started jumping up and down, crying and then screamed at Sheehan.
He was determined to not let her close the door. I sat, limp and
dumbfounded, at what was unfolding in front of me just out of arm's
reach. She started hitting him and kicking him. He tried hitting
her back. I leaned forward swiping at anything, and missing. I
yelled at Sheehan to leave the room and then got up and picked up
Autumn and placed her outside the bathroom with the door closed, so I
could finish. She cried and screamed even louder. I spoke
soothingly to her through the door. That didn't help. Then Sheehan
came back and tried to pull her off the door. Josiah was somewhere
in the background, singing his made up song, “bu yao (which means
“no”), bu-bu yao. Bu yao, bu-bu yoa.” Where was that stinking
box of Calgon?! When I opened the door, Autumn stopped crying and
shouted, “hao jie la!”</div>
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<br /></div>
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<br /></div>
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<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dzOBipm4x_fkWaJVP0ZcrW8rEqtcwsstWf7EaZWAdCP0aJb9b6ShbUQ-Hr-4Sor5LZqcQbeMrpVG6Q' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>
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Video from China</div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04940266024306074097noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28637844.post-6666341857553282132012-03-28T05:58:00.000-05:002013-02-14T16:25:24.732-06:00Welcome to the World of Jet Lag<span style="font-family: inherit;">They
(the jet lag experts) say it takes one day to make up for every hour
of time difference between the location you came from and the one
you're now in. So that means it will take us 13 days to get back to a
normal sleep routine. Steve is determined to disprove that
theory by using large quantities of coffee (in the adults) and Angry
Birds, DVDs, and any other form of entertainment to lure the kids
away from sleep during the day. I think we're actually getting
worse though.</span><br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; margin-right: -0.01in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; margin-right: -0.01in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: inherit;">Here
are the times each family member woke up in the last 13 hours (it's
now 4:33 am):</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; margin-right: -0.01in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: inherit;">Autumn:
woke at 12:50 am</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; margin-right: -0.01in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: inherit;">Josiah:
woke at 4 pm (yesterday)</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; margin-right: -0.01in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: inherit;">Sheehan:
woke at 11:30 pm (yesterday)</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; margin-right: -0.01in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: inherit;">Kate:
woke at midnight</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; margin-right: -0.01in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: inherit;">Steve:
woke at 2 am by the entire family piling on top of him in the guest
room bed, begging to go to Denny's for the third time in the past 36
hours (which we did end up doing)</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; margin-right: -0.01in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; margin-right: -0.01in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: inherit;">Here
are the locations we've slept/tried to sleep, at various times over
the past 24 hours:</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; margin-right: -0.01in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: inherit;">Each
in their own bed, except Steve</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; margin-right: -0.01in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: inherit;">Steve,
Sheehan, or Josiah on a couch or love seat</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; margin-right: -0.01in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: inherit;">Steve,
Kate, or Autumn in guest room bed</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; margin-right: -0.01in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: inherit;">Steve
in Josiah's bed</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; margin-right: -0.01in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: inherit;">Steve's
head on Autumn's toddler bed, his butt on the floor</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; margin-right: -0.01in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: inherit;">Kate,
Autumn on floor in playroom (Autumn laying across train track)</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; margin-right: -0.01in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: inherit;">Kate
curled up on two kitchen chairs pushed together to form a bed</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; margin-right: -0.01in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; margin-right: -0.01in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: inherit;">Lack
of sleep causes you to do things you don't typically do. For
example, allowing your six year old to babysit your newly adopted two
year old while you sleep and pray that nobody will fall down the
stairs (like she did on Day 1 back home), turn on the stove, or exit the house.
He did a pretty good job because I never heard any screams (just a lot of bu yao's) and the
CO and smoke detectors haven't gone off yet. Autumn crawled into bed
with me around 8:30 pm.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; margin-right: -0.01in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; margin-right: -0.01in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: inherit;">At
11 pm, Josiah came into my room, where Autumn and I were sleeping
(Autumn on a mound of blankets and pillows on the floor which broke
her anticipated fall from the bed) and began talking to me at
Superbowl Party level and shining a flashlight in Autumn's face.
Then he started running around the room like Tai Lung, the evil
snow leopard from Kung Fu Panda (he imitates this character by
running around on all fours with his shirt off). I hissed at
him to get out. Then I heard him fumbling with his flashlight
in the hall and I felt bad and I asked him to come back in. I
apologized for being so rough, then asked him to go downstairs to
play.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; margin-right: -0.01in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; margin-right: -0.01in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: inherit;">An
hour later, Steve walked into the dark room. I said, "what's
up?" as I was typing on the iPad. He said in a
frustrated tone, "I'm up. That's what's up! Everywhere
I go, I can hear Josiah's voice." Immediately after Steve had
moved from the guest room to the couch (which wasn't far enough away
to tune Josiah out) to Josiah's bed, Sheehan and Josiah moved
upstairs to their room to play. So, Steve moved back down to the
guest room and then the boys proceeded to go back to the playroom
(next to the guest room in the basement) to play. Josiah may as
well play his drums if he's going to talk because he's not capable of
a whisper or remembering to whisper. A little later, I heard
Josiah in the kitchen eating fruit loops, discussing which puppets
are indeed Muppets with Sheehan, but he was talking so loudly that it
sounded like he was having a conversation with me.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; margin-right: -0.01in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; margin-right: -0.01in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">And trying
to get any sleep while a two year old is awake is nearly impossible.
Here's what it looked like, the night before last, when I tried to
sleep and watch Autumn at the same time: I laid down a couple of
sofa blankets and a pillow to create a bed on the floor of the
playroom. The carpet covered cement slab even felt good at that
point. Autumn saw me laying down, which automatically meant, climb
on top of Mama and begin bouncing up and down like on a horsey ride
at Chuck E. Cheese. After I stopped laughing and distracted her off
me with a toy, I closed my eyes, but in a few minutes sensed her near
me. I looked up and she had a drum stick in her hand. She started
playing the drums on my head and laughing! I put a stop to that, but
then she decided to lay her 34 pound torso across the side of my face
with her knee holding down my hair. I started laughing at the
absurdity of it all, while trying not to suffocate. She was so
heavy, that I couldn't lift her body to get her knee off my hair. We
were both laughing hysterically. I could not get her off me and I
could not stop laughing. Finally, she rolled off my head and onto my
hip for another round of horsey rides. Is being a human jungle gym
in that <i>Attaching in Adoption</i> book? Because I don't remember
that section.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; margin-right: -0.01in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; margin-right: -0.01in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Other
happenings from yesterday that aren't directly related to jet lag and
sleep deprivation, but are worth mentioning: At about 8:45 am we
decided to go to the playground to stay awake longer. We put Autumn
on the swings for the first time (with us) and she laughed a very fun and contagious laugh while we pushed her. Then she moved onto the
slides. One time she went down the slide and missed her footing, so
she tripped and went down head first. She looked like Super Toddler
with arms straight out in front of her. She did a face plant into the
wood chips. I went over to console her crying (she wasn't really
hurt), but I couldn't stop laughing because of how funny her slide
looked. I almost peed my pants because I was laughing so hard and
had just had a grande mocha, as part of Steve's anti-jet lag
regiment. I should totally be nominated for worst mom of the year
award for laughing at her nose-dive. But, it was just so
funny-looking. Super Toddler.</span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04940266024306074097noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28637844.post-46825112426683854662012-03-26T06:07:00.001-05:002013-02-14T16:24:57.255-06:00China Day 17 - Going Home<div class="mobile-photo">
</div>
<div style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: none; font-weight: bold; line-height: 24px;">
<span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: inherit; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;">I don't know how many of you are stupid like us, I mean adventurous, enough to travel with all your kids to the other side of the world. It's not something I would ever recommend, unless you have a DVD player, a tablet loaded with Angry Birds, and Valium. And onDemand in the back of the headrests is a bonus (which we didn't have on the return flight) - and even then, I would only recommend it if absolutely necessary.</span></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: none; font-weight: bold; line-height: 24px;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: inherit; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: none; font-weight: bold; line-height: 24px;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: inherit; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;">Within the first 65 minutes of our flight coming home, I looked at my watch three times to see how much time had passed. By that time, Josiah had made a fast enemy of the man next to him, with his Beanie Baby dalmatian dog repeatedly crashing into his tray, with sound effects, and the hogging of their shared armrest. Autumn had stood up on our armrest, fallen on the floor, and kicked the seat in front of us, 10 times each. She had also pulled Atilla the Hun's (from the U.S. Women's Rugby team) hair, who was sitting in front of us. Atilla jerked her head forward and gave Autumn a dirty look. I apologized, then had a fight with Atilla in my head. I was yelling obscenities at her for giving my daughter a dirty look, but then she punched me in the face with her big meat hook and siced the entire team on me, which were all on the plane - which of course made me think the plane was going to go down in flames, just for the purpose of irony. But, then I realized I couldn't take care of the kids for 12 hours while nursing my broken nose, so I kept my obscenities to myself. </span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: none; font-weight: bold; line-height: 24px;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: inherit; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: none; font-weight: bold; line-height: 24px;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: inherit; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;">I have let my not-so-nice side show on an airplane before. We were on a flight from DC to Chicago once, and I had reached the end of my rope with the boys. I was dishing out McDonalds, while waiting for the plane to take off. They had messed up our order. Sheehan was crying on his McNuggets and Josiah was banging on his tray like a drum - rhythmically, yet annoyingly. The older lady in front of him turned around and asked if I could quiet him down. I told her to shut up and I hoped he banged and cried the entire flight - I knew I could take her because she was a grandma. </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: inherit; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;">About 30 minutes later, I felt really bad, plus I knew she was talking with her seat mates about the big B-word mom, who probably beats her children, behind her. When she got up to use the lavatory, I swallowed my pride and apologized. She was very gracious and understanding. I doubt I would have been. I probably would have held a grudge and then had to pray over my lack of forgiveness for two years.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: inherit; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;">After Autumn pulled Atilla's hair, I asked Steve to switch seats with us. We had a row of three seats in front of two other seats. So if Autumn stood up to pull hair, after the move, it would only be Steve's. There was another adoptive family behind us, so they understood, and when their kids kicked my seat, I understood. </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: inherit; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;">Our seats were the coachiest of coach. You couldn't get more coach, unless you put us on the wing or in the lavatory. We were 2nd and 3rd from last row. I think every noise and vibration is magnified in the back of the plane. Oh, first class, you felt a little blip? Well last seat in coach, take this - SLAM!</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: inherit; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;">The bathroom is its own comedy show - trying to do your business when the plane is bouncing around. I won't go into details because this blog is rated PG, but it's a challenge, nonetheless. Then trying to change the diaper of an almost three-year old in that stinky capsule of an outhouse is the ultimate in doing big things in small places. I strategically left that job to Steve. </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: inherit; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;">Every single time I use a plane lavatory I think of big guy Chris Farley changing his clothes in that scene in <i>Tommy Boy</i>. His tie got sucked into the toilet when he flushed. I always close the lid before flushing the toilets now. RIP CF.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: inherit; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;">Then lunch came at the two hour mark, along with turbulence. I was balancing two trays of food on the pull down tray, along with my water. The food was hot, and the water was wet, so I wasn't going to let them go. But Autumn kept grabbing things off the tray to eat, like the salt and pepper packets, while my hands were otherwise occupied. Every time I lifted my hand away from the water, it started vibrating and sliding toward the edge. The turbulence wasn't stopping. What in the heck was I supposed to do? I started saying that out loud, like I was a little crazy. I prayed inside. A few minutes later Autumn fell asleep, mid-chew.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: inherit; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;">Hour six of the trip was when I lost it. Autumn knocked a full cup of water out of my hand. It went all over my lap, my seat, and down into my socks. I started crying. I couldn't stop. I knew we weren't even half way through the flight, and this was always the hardest part of the entire trip to China. Steve consoled me and Autumn gave me her trademark bewildered look. A flight attendant came over and pulled out my entire seat cushion and said he would take care of it. He brought back a new seat cushion, blanket, pillow, and first class toiletry kit, including ear plugs, eye cover, and toothbrush. So, if you ever want first class treatment without paying first class prices, just spill something on yourself, stand up, and cry about it.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: inherit; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;">The adoptive mom behind us, Veronica, got up and gave me a hug. She knew how I felt. I ended up talking to her for an hour, while my pants dried, about our trips. Autumn was surprisingly content, opening every single item in my first class kit, including the earplugs, which she thought were candy and began to eat. But after hearing about Veronica's two weeks, I felt like a giant wuss for crying over spilt water. She and her husband had adopted 10 and 13 year old girls. They endured a 40 hour flight ordeal on the way to China, plus many struggles with their agency, guide, and hotels, and still had another 10 hours to go after landing in Chicago! That's when I taped the "cry baby" sign to my forehead.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: inherit; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;">Autumn slept for the last two to three hours of the flight. I thought she would cry at the landing because we would have to wake her up to put her seatbelt on. But she slept through it all. The boys, on the other hand, woke up right at landing time and were so exhausted that they were both sobbing, which wasn't good at all because they were going to have to walk (not be carried off) the airplane with their backpacks.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: inherit; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;">We got in around noon on Sunday and went through immigration, so Autumn is officially, a US citizen. Steve's dad picked us up. I made it until about 4:30 pm, and started feeling vertigo because I was so tired. I fell asleep until about 11 pm, when Autumn woke up. The boys woke up at 12:30 and 1:30 am. I made eggs and quesadillas. Steve woke up at 3:45, with four hours of sleep, so I could take a break and try to get some sleep. But here I lay propped up in my bed with the convenience of this stinking iPad keeping me awake. I'm going to miss my sleep window, eventually Steve will want his turn sleeping. I'm hoping the kids will fall asleep again while it's still dark. Doubt it. I think we'll go to Denny's instead - its a tradition.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: inherit; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;">By the way, I think we lost our camera. The good news is that all the pics up till Hong Kong are stored on the IPad. The bad news is that we lost the camera and don't have any pics of Hong Kong.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: inherit; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;">One more thing I wanted to mention: since about day 14 of our trip, Autumn has been giving me random kisses. She holds her arms up, indicating she wants to be picked up, then when I do, she smashes her face into mine (rather roughly) and makes a sucking sound with her lips. So cute.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: inherit; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;">Ok, one last thing. When we got home I examined Autumn's coat that they brought her to us in, more closely. I can't read all the words, but the ones I can read say, "killing nightmare death love" and there is a cute picture of Minnie Mouse next to it.</span></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04940266024306074097noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28637844.post-63350361260857251452012-03-24T09:58:00.001-05:002013-02-14T16:23:29.820-06:00China Day 15/16- Hong Kong<div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;">I said farewell to the Garden breakfast buffet with moistness in my eyes. We packed up and were ready to leave an hour and a half early, so we sat around in the hotel room and waited for 10:30 to come. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;">Finally, the time came and we met Connie in the lobby. We were a little concerned about having to get all of our luggage on and off the train and to our next hotel, along with the boys and Miss Run-in-the-opposite-direction-or-drop-to-the-floor-when-you-go-the-way-I-don't-want-you-to-go-Autumn, especially since we didn't have a stroller.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;">Connie took us to the waiting area for the train, then we said good-bye. We had decided that we would give Autumn some Benadryl as a test on the train to see if we should give her some when we fly on Sunday to get her good and tired. It was recommended that we try it out to make sure it doesn't have the adverse effect. Let's just say, she won't be getting any Benadryl on Sunday. She was her typical, active self. No real adverse effects, but didn't tire her at all either. It takes all of one parent's attention, entertainment skills, and muscle strength to keep her either seated, or in close proximity to her seat, and not throwing water bottles over the seat, nor screaming (just because it's fun and gets a reaction out of mama and baba).</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;">There weren't any major issues with the train. Nobody stole our luggage. We piled into one of the smart car cabs with our thousand pieces of luggage and drove to our hotel. Our hotel is located on the south side of Hong Kong island. The north side of HK island and Kowloon face each other on the harbor, which is where all the action is. But, when we tried to get a hotel in the happenin' part of town, everything affordable was booked because of some huge rugby tournament. So we're on the backside. I would say its beautiful, if not for the construction. I think the entire south side of the island, every street, is under construction. </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;">When we arrived at our hotel (L'Hotel South) there were throngs of teenage Hong Kong girls standing behind barricades with their cameras, apparently waiting for someone famous. We assumed maybe it was a rugby player...or us. </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;">This hotel is über posh and chic (their subtitle is "Chic South"). Our room looks like an Ikea catalogue. There are a lot of perfect-looking, tan Europeans walking around in their ultra-cool fashions, that I would never be caught dead in because they're not functional enough. No fanny packs anywhere, except on me. Unfortunately, once you get past the chic, it's pretty standard Holiday Inn-ish. Plus, the breakfast buffet was overpriced and about a quarter of the size of The Garden (cue the whining). They did, however, have cocoa crispies on the buffet, I think to appeal to the 20-something crowd they serve.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;">After check-in, we took the free shuttle to the harbor. We rode the Star Ferry across to Kowloon (where we stayed in 2008). The boys enjoyed the ferry. We didn't have a stroller for Autumn (we borrowed one from The Garden), so that was kind of a pain - actually a lot of pain, because she has a propensity for running away from us. The building lights were just starting to light up, which is cool to see because they're all different colors and they dance and then perform to music. </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;">We walked the promenade along the harbor for a short time then set off to find dinner. We ended up at Shakey's Pizza. I can't believe I ate at Shakey's in Hong Kong, or that they even had one for that matter. I used to celebrate my birthdays at Shakey's as a wee lass, and used to skip school as a teenager to go to Shakey's. But now almost all of them are closed, except maybe in California. So I was totally psyched, for nostalgia sake. </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;">By the time we were done eating, the kids were tired, so we couldn't go to Kowloon Park, which was our original destination. We rode the ferry back and found the shuttle for our hotel. </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;">Autumn shared the bed with Steve and me. That was awful. In the last two hotels, Sheehan either slept on the sofa or on the floor, in his sleeping bag, while I shared with Autumn, and Steve shared with Josiah, but this hotel is smaller, and the floors are parquet, not carpet. We got a crib, but Autumn wouldn't stay in it. Autumn kicked all night long. The room was freezing, but apparently Autumn was hot because she kept kicking off the blankets and pushing the blankets down so her legs were out. We got a little sleep in there at some point.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;">We woke up and realized that there is no place around to get food except the hotel, so we ate the buffet. I already wrote about that, so I'll spare you of my complaints.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;">After breakfast, we went to Ocean Park, which is similar, I guess, to Sea World. We watched a dolphin and sea lion show and rode a few kiddie rides. The highlight was when we first arrived, we took a gondola ride up to the summit of the park where the rest of the park is located. The ride was beautiful! It was right along the ocean, overlooking a lagoon. The ocean was dotted with small mountain islands. We all loved that. </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;">The rest of the day was about the same as our entire trip. The kids whined about being tired and hungry and hot. We thought it was supposed to be a high of 63 today and it turned out to be 70 and sunny. We were all dressed for 63. Sheehan came back with a little sun burn. Overall, it was fun. We were glad the park wasn't terribly expensive. We got back to the hotel around 8 pm. </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">The boys are watching Toy Story 3 as I type. Our flight is around 11 am tomorrow. Thirteen to 14 hours later and we'll be home - noon-ish on Sunday. Thanks for following our trip! I'm exhausted. Off to bed.</span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04940266024306074097noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28637844.post-43113985421036137962012-03-22T09:46:00.001-05:002013-02-14T16:21:24.555-06:00More Pics from Qing Ping Market<br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04940266024306074097noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28637844.post-47067208716086478252012-03-22T09:30:00.000-05:002013-02-14T16:20:06.763-06:00More pics from previous days, that are worth sharing<div class="mobile-photo">
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small; text-align: -webkit-auto;">One of, like, 20,000 bead stores at the Pearl Market. Every store looked like this, but might have had their green beads on the bottom shelves and their white beads hanging.</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small; text-align: -webkit-auto;">Albino frogs?<br /></span></td></tr>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04940266024306074097noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28637844.post-43266586398273316202012-03-22T08:59:00.001-05:002012-06-03T15:38:46.206-05:00When in Rome...<div class="mobile-photo">
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This is what 85% of the balconies look like in China.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04940266024306074097noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28637844.post-51889542323617457042012-03-22T08:57:00.001-05:002013-02-14T16:05:59.230-06:00China Day 14 - Ode to the Buffet and Getting Lost<div class="mobile-photo">
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">On Shamian Island yesterday</td></tr>
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Every morning since we've been here, I've sung the Folger's song (sing with me!): the BEST part of waking up, is...and then I'm stumped because its definitely not Folger's, but the 150 item breakfast buffet, and I can't think of anything that rhymes with up, and the coffee is so thick and sludgy, that it can't possibly be what's in my cup. <br />
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We'll be sad to say good-bye to the buffet tomorrow. I'll be sure to eat a plate full of Middle Eastern mutton - I should ask for the recipe. I think I've gained 10 pounds on this trip. Probably because I'm eating like the title of our blog. Can I get a side order of croissants with my bacon? Does having chocolate sauce and whipping cream on your waffles count as breakfast? Or does that count against my daily dessert limit?<br />
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Anyway, after the best part of waking up, we packed up most of our stuff to leave tomorrow, then walked over to the Friendship Store, the big mall across the street, which Steve said should more appropriately be called, The Hoighty-Toighty, Everyone Stare Condescendingly at You, Except the Toy Section Where They Demonstrate Every Overpriced Toy and Stick Them in Your Daughter's Hands, Thereby Causing Multiple Tantrums Store. <br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;">The Hoighty-Toighty Store</span></span></td></tr>
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We only lasted about 10 minutes before accidentally exiting into the back alley that led to the Trust-mart. We headed in that direction instead of going back the way we came. I said, "oh, I'm sure this road just loops around back to our hotel." Forty-five minutes later, through Chinese backstreets, being stared at by men hunched over bowls of noodles, we emerged on a busy road. I turned around and said, "What an adventure! That was the REAL China." Steve was seething.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Typical apartments you might see in China anywhere, <br />or when getting lost.</td></tr>
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Then we went to a Mexican restaurant called Tekila, across the street from our hotel. Surprisingly, it was really, really good. I don't know why I think only Americans can make good Mexican food.<br />
Then we went back to the hotel and Steve and the boys played Angry Birds and I played with Autumn, and even sang some songs, out of sheer boredom. I realized that it's good for me to be bored sometimes. Because, a) it forces me to be creative (singing songs), and b) it makes me appreciate work. I actually looked forward to hand washing all our laundry because it gave me something to do. Even though I still played the martyr and sighed a lot for sympathy, and whined because the kids kept needing to wash their hands, I was glad to be productive. <br />
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Then at 4:15, we got Autumn's visa, then went for a walk in the hotel gardens, and took the kids to the mini hotel playground and the kiddie pool again, which was still the temperature of a recently melted Slurpee on a hot day, just not as sticky. Then we ate ramen in the room for the 2,768th time, and bathed - separately, well except for the kids.<br />
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Off to Hong Kong on a noontime train tomorrow, with sightseeing in the afternoon, hopefully.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04940266024306074097noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28637844.post-9089305270558257912012-03-21T17:42:00.001-05:002013-02-14T15:57:51.078-06:00China Day 13 - When Do We Get To Go Hommmmme?<div class="mobile-photo">
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I'm borrrrrrred. Can you carry meeeee? I'm tired of noodleeeeeees. I want my own beeeeeed. When is it MY turn on the iPad? I'd love to say that these were phrases from Sir Whine-a-lot, but all this went on in my head today, and Steve admitted these thoughts started for him on day 4. <br />
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I probably wouldn't bother posting about today, but I want to confirm that we're still alive and didn't die from inadvertently drinking the water or eating some uncooked animal tripe, as well as to document our experience for our children, who will probably one day say, "Why'd you record all that boring crap on those boring days? This is really boring stuff, mom. You probably filled up a lot of people's inboxes with this stuff and the poor people probably couldn't figure out how to unsubscribe. Gosh."<br />
We had our US consulate appointment at 8:30 am, so when we get home, Autumn will immediately be a US citizen. We couldn't take a camera, so there are no pics of that. <br />
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Then I spent the rest of the morning hand washing our clothes for the next 4 days, so we don't have to pay $50 to have it done again. After laundry, we went to Shamian Island again, and had lunch at Lucy's again, and the kids played on the playground again. We spent about four hours there before taking a cab back. <br />
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At one point, Josiah said to me, "don't speak Chinese to me," because while he was dilly-dallying while the cab waited for us in the middle of a one lane road, I was screaming at him to "lai!" (come). I've said the words lai, ni hao (hello), xie xie (thank you), and bu yao (no) so many times in Chinese, that they now come out naturally to everyone around me.<br />
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Josiah got cornered by a Chinese woman on the island who didn't speak any English. She kept going on and on in Chinese. I said, "tell her wo bu dong," which means I don't understand. He said it, but she wasn't convinced. She kept speaking to him in Chinese as we walked. He just gave her a weird look. She asked him his name and said a bunch of other stuff I didn't understand. I kept telling her he didn't understand. I was glad he didn't understand because sometimes they say stuff you don't want them to here. Telling them how lucky they are to have parents. I hate that. The whole family's lucky to have each other, not just the kids. Heck, it's not even luck, it's God's providence.<br />
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Tomorrow, we're going to walk the mall across the street. It's called The Friendship Store. We get Autumn's visa in the afternoon, then we take a train to HK on Friday, Ocean Park on Saturday, fly home on Sunday. The home stretch.<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04940266024306074097noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28637844.post-79324679852050041152012-03-21T04:22:00.001-05:002012-06-03T15:38:10.430-05:00I chose not to use this restroom.<div class="mobile-photo">
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