Where Disobedience Really Shines. Or, A Six-Month Update

After the joy of embarrassing my husband with last week's post, 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.

Howdy Folks!

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 anywhere. We were at McDonald's last week and the kids were playing in the Playplace. I couldn't find Autumn, so, being the good worrywart 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.

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.

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.

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.

One of many surprising blessings is how often Autumn says thank you. She says it all the time, like every time I hand her anything. “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 know this parenting thing is hard; but I'm in it with you.  I so need that some days.

The kids started gymnastics a few weeks ago. This is where my children's disobedience really 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.

• Josiah beating Autumn over the head with a carpet square.
• Autumn running to the window to wave hello to me every three minutes.
• Sheehan dragging Autumn like a cavewoman back to her carpet square every time she runs over to say hello to me.
• Josiah trying to use the plastic ring meant for standing in, as a hula-hoop.
• 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”.

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, every mom has a transition like that.” I thought, 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'm so clueless.

We started homeschooling at the end of August.

Yeah.

Here's how Day 1 went.

Day 1 - My Plan: Study the Arctic with the boys while Autumn plays quietly in the basement. (don't laugh)

What Actually Happened:

• Sheehan made a spy notebook for his stuffed harp seal.
• Josiah drew a giant hockey rink on butcher paper for his hockey figures.
• I studied books of Arctic whales with Autumn as she smacked my arm (hard) every three seconds because she thought I wasn't paying attention (which I wasn't).

End of day: Josiah prayed, “God, thank you for homeschool.”

Day 2: We did everything I planned.

End of day: Both boys said, “We don't like homeschool.”

Needless to say, I've made some adjustments and compromises to our homeschool plan.

Slacker parents letting their three-year old go too high on the spiderweb.

We were riding in the car the other day and Autumn was singing a song repetitively and loudly. Sheehan shouted out, “She's really pissing me off!”

Oh crap. I thought. Did he just say...? Steve's gonna kill me. I swear I've only said it once...maybe twice...I think. I quickly assured him that the correct pronunciation was “Ticking. She's ticking me off.” I explained how “pissing me off” probably wouldn't go over well in Sunday school.

Josiah piped up, “Well, why do you say it, Mama?”

“I've said it twice, Josiah. 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.”

“Yeah, that's a good idea.” Sheehan said.

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.

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.

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: Those jerky neighbors that never talk to us are copycats! 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.

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!

Don't forget to leave some love in the comments.

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Five Months as a Family of Five Update

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.

Here's what life is like after five months. By the way, I skipped the four month update because not much had changed.

Communicating with Autumn

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.

She's begun Operation: Intense Whining. 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.

And today, I confirmed that the Mandarin Chinese I spoke to Autumn for the first three months we had her, was indeed her third 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 not Mandarin. Autumn had a lively conversation with her in not 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.

Autumn's Activity Level

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, Thanks, but this is more comfortable for me.  Um...you're three!

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.

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.

Her grandpa took her fishing recently and she was leaning in too far and fell in the water.

Before she fell in the water.

After she fell in the water.

Her cleft lip/palate

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.

Potty training

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 Pull-up fling in the middle of the night.

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.)

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, what do I do now, Mommy?  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.

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.

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.

How the rest of us are doing.

Do you ever make a grilled cheese sandwich and forget the cheese? No?...um, me neither.  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.

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?”

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:

1. Nobody ever sees how really out of control your kids are.
2. You can catch up on all those episodes you missed of Project Runway.
3. Vitamin D gummies taste like candy.
4. You never get sunburned. Besides, the sunken eye look is in this season.  Like, sunken eye is the new black.
5. It's easier to focus on your narcissism. Nothing helps you think more about yourself than being alone.
6. 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.

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.

I no longer where earrings. Somebody stole all of them. And the culprit wasn't Steve, Sheehan, or Josiah.

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...

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.

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).

So overall, things are getting easier...but my expectations are getting higher, so really we're in the same boat as two months ago.

Cheers!

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Three Months as a Family of Five

March 12, 2012

Now

Three months.  Three months.  I'm letting that sink in.  Has it really been three months already?  Has it only 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.  

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!"

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 Splash Aquatics.  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.

Just ignore the sheer terror on Josiah's face.

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.

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 hot and full.  We had just changed her before bed.  What was the deal?  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.

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.  

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 I caught her chewing on a fish oil vitamin.  Gross.  Even worse, is she seemed to be enjoying it.  

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.

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.  

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?"

I countered the little potato chip on his shoulder with the cow chip on my own.  "She's three!  How old are you (punk)?"

As haughty as a teenager, he replied, "I'm two."  I sneered and thought, 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.

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 ever, I'd give it six months.

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...

"Do you think the title Captain or Dictator would be better?"

"Oh, definitely Captain.  Although Dictator does have a nice macho ring to it."

"Yeah, but Captain sounds so nautical, and since he's a good swimmer and all..."

"Yeah, you're right.  Definitely Captain." 

Needless to say, it backfired.

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.

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.  The house is noisy, but it's a nice noisy...most of the time anyway.  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.

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Two Month (and a week or so) Update

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!).

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.  

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."

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.  

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.

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:

"Come on!  It's time to go."

"Come on!  You have to go potty now?

"Come ooon!  Don't lick your shoe!

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.

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.

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).

On the Serious Side...

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.

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.

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."

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Family Update - Home One Month

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).

The rest of the family?  A little more challenging.

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.

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.  

Fuzzy-Kitty - Oh, wait, she's been gone since last August.

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.  

My new motto is "just let it go, and love".  

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.  

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).  

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.

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.  

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). 

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Videos from China

Since 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!

Three year old energy...
at the airport - see post Flying to Guangzhou

The cattle drive.  I mean, the physical exam.

See post Physical Exam

What Mornings Looked Like in China

See post Ode to the Buffet

Freaking Scary Lions

See post Guangzhou Zoo

Save the Drama for Your...wait.

Cinematography courtesy of Sheehan.  

I just thought Josiah flying through the room was funny.

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Home a Week

 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, hypothetically, 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 Queen Nothing.

I wish Nothing 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 Nothing 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 voice) 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.

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.

Other notable Nothings we did this week:

• Watched way too much TV. In fact, I've watched so much of that Sid the Science Kid 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.
• Played on the playground – discovered that Autumn likes the swings, but only so high before she goes from giddiness to sheer terror.
• 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.
• Celebrated Autumn's 3^rd Birthday – I hate to say this is nothing because it's so 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.

Things we've learned about Autumn this week:

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.

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.

She has the gift of encouragement. Every time I successfully use the potty, she shouts, “hao jie la” which means something like, “great job!”

She likes to run around naked. But, who doesn't?

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.

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!”

Video from China

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Welcome to the World of Jet Lag

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.

Here are the times each family member woke up in the last 13 hours (it's now 4:33 am):

Autumn: woke at 12:50 am

Josiah: woke at 4 pm (yesterday)

Sheehan: woke at 11:30 pm (yesterday)

Kate: woke at midnight

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)

Here are the locations we've slept/tried to sleep, at various times over the past 24 hours:

Each in their own bed, except Steve

Steve, Sheehan, or Josiah on a couch or love seat

Steve, Kate, or Autumn in guest room bed

Steve in Josiah's bed

Steve's head on Autumn's toddler bed, his butt on the floor

Kate, Autumn on floor in playroom (Autumn laying across train track)

Kate curled up on two kitchen chairs pushed together to form a bed

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.

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.

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.

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 Attaching in Adoption book? Because I don't remember that section.

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.

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