In case you didn’t read it back in October, here’s a post about our fantastic, fabulous, *perfect*, babysitter/nanny Alex: Click Here Today was Alex’s last babysitting Wednesday for the fall semester. But not to worry! She (and her dog Cyprus) are going to be picking the boys up early from daycare two days a week (instead of just one) for the spring semester! The boys are psyched! Here’s Alex’s post from tonight as our Guest Blogger…
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Kyle and Owen are always a blessing and a half to baby-sit. Today was no surprise – we had a great time! I picked up the boys with my friend, Esther, whom the boys adore and remembered how she “hit the ball!” this past summer. We went to the grocery store, which is always loads of fun with the two most adorable kids in the world! They sat in the truck cart and would say “excuse me!” as we came down the aisle and when I would make driving mistakes and bump a cardboard box along the aisle they would never cease to remind me – “we’re crashing, alex!” One woman even stopped me to ask what company I worked for and I told her I didn’t work for a company I was simply a personal nanny to these beautiful boys. She didn’t like that answer, but she surely enjoyed saying hello to Kyle and Owen! Another woman asked if they were “ours” referring to Esther and I (I’m assuming she assumed we were a lesbian couple that had adopted) and I, of course, sadly told her “no,” I was only their nanny. We then went back to my house and played with Cyprus, colored with crayons and made the shape of our hands on paper, and played hide and seek in my big closets. We had a yummy snack of cheese and crackers and bananas! Someone then had a stinky diaper, which lead to adventure number 598! (exaggeration…) We went to the store again to buy diapers and pick up our dinner from Tulum. The boys didn’t end up enjoying their quesadilla, so instead we went back to their house and had “yummy in my tummy” pasta, as Kyle described it! When I asked if they wanted some water Kyle goes, “um, actually, I want coffee” – ha! Well, that certainly was not an option, but I told him he could pretend his water was coffee. “Okay!” he agreed. Then he was sure to remind me not to touch his cup because it was his coffee and “it’s very hot, alex. It’s very hot. No touching.” It wasn’t long after the pasta feast began when Cyprus realized if he sat quietly under the table little treats would fall in his direction from the boys’ laps!
After we had our pasta, bananas, and vitamins, we headed upstairs where Kyle went peepee in the potty and Owen did a massive poopoo in the kid’s potty!!! Woohooo!!!!!!! We all cheered and Owen got a yummy caramel Hershey kiss treat. Then we brushed our teeth and took a fun bubble bath with as many toys as one could possibly fit in a bathtub with twin boys! Sadly, Alex had to end the fun because it was story time, so the boys got their pj’s on and read three books with Alex and Cyprus, then curled into their warm beds awaiting for mama and papi to give them kisses while they’re sleeping. Owen awoke about thirty minutes later crying, saying that the puppy had run away. So I assured him that the puppy was still here and pointed to Cyprus and that everything was okay. I patted him to sleep, and here we are! Night Night Cutie-Pa-Tooties!!!!
Alex playing with the boys in our yard this fall
A photo that Alex took with her cell phone this past summer
Over the past couple of weeks I have been thinking a lot about what the four of us Johnson-McCormicks were doing two years ago at this time. In December of 2004, Kyle and Owen were seven months old, lying together in a port-a-crib in an orphanage in Haiti. They were usually unclothed, often unfed, mostly un-held, sweaty, and barely getting by. Braydon and I were making daily phone calls to the adoption-and-immigration-powers-that-be both in Haiti and the U.S., we were done with all of our “nesting” and overly ready to hold our babies in our arms, we were crying a lot and not sleeping much at all, we were spending hours staring at every detail of every photo we had of our boys, we were barely getting by. It is very hard for me to think about what Kyle and Owen were going through during that time. I’m not going to write about my thoughts on that here, because honestly it is just too painful for me to do that, and I also don’t want to publicize some of those details. So, for those reasons, in this post I’m going to conscientiously focus on my own perspective instead of what theirs might have been. But I acknowledge fully that their situation was much worse than mine, and not even remotely comparable in any sense.
There are a few reasons I’ve been thinking about our waiting. First, it was around this time two years ago that I was starting to really suffer and the waiting was becoming intolerable for me. I remember last year I started to think a lot about the waiting during December too. Enjoying the holiday season with our boys now, it is hard to not reflect back from time-to-time on how difficult it was for us to be apart from our babies during that first Christmas. And I think it is important to remember that history and to not erase that away. But other things are also happening now that make me think a lot about it. Friends of ours who are in the process of adopting their second child from Guatemala are really struggling with their waiting. I look at their blog (click here) and I can feel their pain resonate sharply with me right through the computer screen. Ever since we got Kyle and Owen home, the level of empathy I feel for any waiting family is intense. And lastly, whenever one of our boys is sick I think about the waiting. So Kyle’s recent stomach bug has brought it up to the surface. More about that later.
Adoption is a beautiful miracle. I truly believe that in my life it is the most genuine miracle I’ve ever experienced or witnessed. But many adoptions, if not all, involve some period of difficult waiting. We were a waiting family for eight months – from the time we saw our first picture of Kyle and Owen and agreed to adopt them on May 24, 2004, to the time we carried them out of the orphanage on January 31, 2005. During that time we had to fill out hundreds of papers and forms, and write many checks, and wait for the Haitian and U.S. adoption and immigration processes to complete. During that time we received periodic photos and updates on the boys. But we had little information and lots of fears.
The pain of waiting was almost unbearable. At least it was for me. The only thing that made it live-able was the hope that our babies would come home… eventually. But every day of waiting for Kyle and Owen was filled with indescribable heart-breaking pain for me. Especially in the end – the last couple of months of waiting for them – I was just consumed with heart-break over the whole ordeal. I still have not gotten over it. And it has been two years.
During those eight months of waiting we kept a journal. I have never read through that journal – mostly because I just don’t want to wallow in that misery. But today I took the journal out to have a look at what was going on at this time two years ago. In the journal for December 13, 2004 (exactly two years ago today), there is no written entry. Instead there is a newspaper clipping from the Boston Globe. I’m assuming my father sent it to me, since he’s a big Boston Globe reader. The title of the article is: “Violence, Political Feuds Cloud Haiti’s Hopes for Haitian Democracy.” The article starts with this statement: “Hopes for a peaceful road back to democracy have all but vanished. The country remains violent and polarized, rife with political killings and reports of persecution and terror campaigns.” The article is folded together with another one from December 2, that we apparently printed out from Haiti-News.com. It is entitled, “Gun Battle Erupts as Powell Visits Haiti.”
On November 28 I had written: “We have been a waiting family for six months. We are going crazy. We think about Kyle and Owen every hour of every day. We stare at their photos, watch our 90 second video, do whatever we can to prepare for their arrival, but the waiting is simply dreadful. We feel powerless and at the mercy of the adoption agency and the adoption workers in Haiti. We feel heartbroken for the people of Haiti. How can so much suffering be allowed on our earth? We are hoping and praying our boys are o.k. We are so anxious to get them to us so we can care for them and love them. We dream of our babies and talk about them and wait. This is very difficult – the waiting.”
On December 21 Braydon wrote: “Going into this we knew the waiting would be difficult, but it has become unbearable. The only solace, and it doesn’t even help, is knowing it will end and the boys will come home. We talk to the adoption agency daily now, hoping that our constant attention will make them press harder, but there has been no change. I am calling Mr. Cadet in Haiti now too, the head of IBESR. Calling Mr. Cadet and asking him about our adoption is like calling the U.S. Secretary of State and asking him to deal with this. It’s pretty crazy, and no one does it, but we are very determined.”
At another point around these dates in the journal is this entry, written by me: “We wonder what it will be like to be a family. We wonder what they really look like, feel like, what they’re like. Waiting is heart-wrenching. I can’t even write about it because it is too hard and it hurts too much. W aking hours are spent thinking of the babies. A re they o.k.? When will we get them? I s Haiti going to stay stable? Please stay stable. T wins! It is so exciting to imagine it! I n my heart I ache for them to get home. N o one seems to really understand the emotions of the waiting. G oing to Haiti to get them seems so far off – so surreal.”
Back to 2006 now: A couple of nights ago when Kyle was throwing up all over me, I was thinking about our waiting. At one point, I was holding his little body up so that he could throw up at least partially into the bathroom sink. He was vomiting violently, his body was convulsing, and he was starting to choke. He was scared. I didn’t know what to do, so I did what I remember my own mom doing for me: I rubbed his forehead at his hairline and I said as calmly as I could, “It’s o.k. Kyle, your mommy is here. Mommy’s here. I’ve gotcha. I’m here. It’s o.k. You’re o.k.” I could tell that he heard me. I could see that it soothed him. I could feel his body relax. And eventually the vomiting was over. I felt like a real mother.
After everything was cleaned up and he was in fresh pajamas, we sat in the big chair in Kyle’s bedroom with the lights dimmed and his music on. I had him wrapped in his cozy baby blanket and he held his honey bunny, but he was too exhausted to even suck his thumb. I tried to soothe him and I told him to close his eyes. Again, I was thinking about our waiting. I was thinking about how alone he had been. How surely he must have been sick at times in the orphanage – how scary that must have been to throw up as a baby and have no one to care for you. And how scary that must have been when his twin threw up next to him and had no one to care for him. As tiny infants in the orphanage, there was only so much they could actually do for each other. As we sat in Kyle’s room we could hear Owen outside the door with Braydon. It was keeping Kyle awake. He asked weakly, “Where’s my Owen?” And I said, “Owen’s with your Papi. Papi is taking care of Owen. Mama is taking care of Kyle.” And he closed his eyes.
I sat there for awhile holding him, thinking about what an honor it is to be able to be this boy’s mother. I couldn’t stop feeling overwhelmed with gratitude that my child has a mommy; that my baby has me to care for him; that my little boy is not alone in his sickness. All I could think was, “I have nothing in the world more important right now than to hold this child in my arms, I am so thankful that this child that I love has a mother, I am so grateful that this baby has a good home.” I laid him in his bed, asleep, and tucked him into his soft blankets.
A couple of hours later we heard Kyle coughing on the baby monitor. Braydon ran up the stairs jumping three steps at a time to get to his baby. I followed as fast as I could. Kyle had woken up in his bed and was wide-eyed and full of questions. “What happened?,” he asked. We talked about the throw up, about how scary it was, about how he had thrown up into the sink. And I carried him into Owen’s room to show him that Owen was sleeping soundly in his own bed. Satisfied, he asked for water. With Braydon on one side of him, and me on the other, we watched our precious toddler stand on a stool at the bathroom sink and gulp down a glass of cool water, then smile. In the dim darkness of the night Kyle turned and stared at Braydon. He said, “That’s my Papi.” Then he looked at me, and said with a small grin, “That’s my Mommy.” I said, “Yes, baby, you have a Papi and a Mommy. And we take care of you.”
The waiting is over. But we never forget.
These photos were taken of Kyle (top) and Owen (bottom) in late November, 2004 by the orphanage director. Two years ago today, these were the most recent photos we had of the boys and we were staring at them incessantly.
Now that we seem to be in the clear from our bout with The Daycare Plague, I can finally write about something other than vomit. My choice of topics for this evening: Our Home’s Outer Christmas Decor… or, as Kyle and Owen call it, our “Hallelujah House.”
Above, you’ll see what our house looks like right now on the outside after dark. Being originally a New Englander, it looks very festive and “lit up” to me. In fact, even after living these past five years outside of New England, I still feel like decorating a tree right out in front like that almost looks a bit “much” to me. But I like it. And thank god, since it took Braydon and I a long time to do it and we came close to a huge blow out of a fight in the process. Anyway… back to topic:
The reason we decorated the tree with lights is because Kyle and Owen kept asking us, “Where’s my hallelujah house?” and “What happened to my hallelujah house???” As I’ve previously noted on this blog, whenever we are in the car they sing the Halleljuah Chorus loudly every time they see Christmas lights (which means they’re singing it non-stop anytime we drive after dark now). Yes, we taught them to do this! No, we don’t regret it! (it is SOOO STINKIN’ CUTE!) People have incredibly extravagant things on their houses and lawns around here. Everywhere you go, literally from the wealthiest neighborhoods to the poorest housing projects, you see incredibly expansive light displays and lawn displays. I have come to get a big kick out of it. Braydon thinks it is hysterical. It is what it is. Not sure how to describe it exactly, but I can tell you this: My mother would say it is “not classy.” HER words, NOT mine (I study the sociology of social class for cripes sake!) (Hmmmm… Mom, maybe this phrase you always used is why?!) Anyway, back to topic:
Kyle and Owen really badly wanted for us to have a “Hallelujah House.” Especially when all the houses in our very own neighborhood started to get all decked out. They look around at our neighbors houses and point them out to us excitedly: “Mommy, see that one? Look at that hallelujah house! WOW!!!!!” and “Hey, Papi, you see that house? Wow Papi! You see that hallelujah house?!!!” Then they would look at us and say sadly, “Where’d my hallelujah go?” We have never put up outer Christmas decor. Well, I mean, in previous years we’ve always had a wreath on the door, and we’ve sometimes had white lights in the windows, but never any bushes lit up or huge blow up Santa’s on the grass. But we couldn’t take it any more, and we actually just felt sincerely sorry for our children, so we found some old lights (that were from our wedding reception actually) in the basement and we got them out and strung them up on a tree.
When we finished this project (which was, as I mentioned, a big task for us), we grabbed the boys and dragged them to the road and we all stood there to take our first long look at “Our very own hallelujah house!!!!!” (you can just imagine how psyched up we tried to make this whole thing) The boys were excited. Somewhat. To be completely honest about it, they were genuinely happy and contented to have their “own” hallelujah house. But quickly they turned and pointed out the two houses that stand on either side of ours: “Mommy, see that one? Look at that hallelujah house! WOW!!!!!” and “Hey, Papi, you see that house? Wow Papi! You see that hallelujah house?!!!” As Braydon and I looked at the houses that our sons were pointing to we couldn’t help but agree. I said to Braydon, “Wow, ours just sucks.” And he said, with complete sincerity: “Ours is nice, it is just understated.” Then we realized in that instant how ridiculous the whole thing was, and we just looked at each other cracking up!!! Take a look at these two pictures and you’ll have a better sense of it all! (the first is the house to our immediate right, the second is the house to our immediate left)… In order to get the full visual, you must do a “compare and contrast” with the photo of our house above.
After a long day of separation K & O were beyond thrilled to be back together again once Owen got home from daycare! The way they acted all afternoon and evening, you’d have thought they had been reunited after being abandoned on separate islands for months! All’s well that ends well.
We’re happy to report that The Daycare Plague was short-lived this time around!!! Kyle is all better and eating up a storm! Owen & Mama are both feeling great and hoping to stay that way! This photo of Kyle was taken this afternoon.
We made it through the night! Kyle seems to be out of the woods and on the mend. No throw up since last night. And so far so good with Owen — who was not thrilled about going to daycare alone today but felt better upon arrival when he saw it was his favorite daycare breakfast waiting for him: waffles. If desire to eat is any indication, then Owen is o.k., at least for now. We’re keeping our fingers crossed; theoretically it is possible that only Braydono and Ky Ky will get it and that Owen and me will stay healthy… theoretically at least, it could happen. We’re hoping for that. In the meantime, Kyle sits on the couch this morning absolutely delighted with the whole scenario: Mama all to himself, a big quiet house without his crazy brother running around, sheep honey bunny and an orange sippy cup of milk, and all the Dora the Explorer episodes a boy could want to watch. His attitude seems to be that all the puking was well worth it. (Definately not my perspective, but everyone is entitled to their own viewpoint.)
Reporting in from the Johnson-McCormick Home———————– I’ll spare the details, and you should be *thankful* our cameras are both dead so that I can’t capture any of this in photos… but I wanted to be sure to let all our readership know that we have officially come down with what my friend Laura and her husband John refer to as “The Daycare Plague.” It has been going around our daycare for the past week. Braydon seems like he’s in the clear – after a long night last night of unpleasantry in the bathroom (again, I’ll spare the details)… but our poor baby Kyle is now in the throws of it. (no pun intended). He threw up 5-6 times (we lost track) between 6:30-8:00 tonight. He’s now asleep, exhausted from puking. And Owen is asleep, exhausted from worrying about his brother. But we’re worried we may be facing a long, long, long night. Again, I’ll spare the details, but trust me: it is nasty. We’re having flashbacks to some of our worst nights when the boys were tiny and sickly and we were completely sleepless. Scary, scary stuff. Hope for the best for us as the next couple days unfold———————–
Braydon was sick this whole weekend with a cold that he caught from the boys. Today he was pretty miserable… which makes for a tough day (with twin two year olds as “active” as ours are, if you don’t have two fully 100% parents then things can be pretty sketchy – I don’t know how single parents of twins do it, but I highly respect them…) …
Here are some random moments from today.
Consider this a photo-journalistic account of our day.
8:00 am, Braydon is still sleeping (sick = get to sleep in), the boys are pretending that they are in “boats”, and are playing the drums, and singing very loudly.
10:30am, Heather & Kyle & Big Elmo are at the grocery store doing the week’s food shopping.
Noon, Lunch. Owen concentrates on his bananas.
3:30pm, after nap Kyle goes to town again on the drums… this time on the floor.
4:30pm, K & O discover the joy of piggy back rides from Mama. These are their first piggy back rides ever. Here Owen gets a ride.
5:00pm, Owen helping Heather make soup
6:00pm, Crackers & Cheese in the bath. (I told you this is random.)
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8:30pm, Boys are in bed, we’re exhausted, hopefully Braydon is on the mend.
We have three little handmade nativity scenes that we now have out for the Advent season. One is from Bethlehem/The West Bank, one is from Mexico, and the third is actually one of our most valued possessions on earth — it is a beautiful tiny clay nativity scene from Haiti. Of course the centerpiece of the Haitian nativity set is an itty bitty tiny little black baby Jesus lying in an itty bitty manger. The boys are enthralled with all three of the nativity sets, but seem especially taken with the Haitian one (probably mostly because they see Braydon and I covet it so). Anyway, a couple of nights ago I was looking at the nativity scenes with the boys. They are allowed to play with them, and move the little figures and animals around, etc. They love to point out the baby Jesus in each scene and try to figure out which of the people are his “mommy” and his “papi.” But the rule is that we have to be very, very careful. They were getting rambunctious and I kept reminding them –firmly– to be soooooo careful. Kyle was holding the Haitian baby Jesus when all of a sudden, caught up in his and his brother’s antics, he dropped it on the floor. It broke into three tiny pieces. Forget any symbolism of the holy trinity or any such thing — Kyle immediately burst into hysterical crying, utterly distraught, and totally upset with himself for breaking it. He cried for about 5 minutes straight (a long time for him). As a family, we’ve tried to just put that tragic moment behind us and move on with our lives, but Kyle won’t let us. He reminds us multiple times daily, at random intervals, by saying to us in a factual-yet-somewhat-still-shocked-tone: “I broke baby Jesus!”
I picked up the boys with my friend, Esther, whom the boys adore and remembered how she “hit the ball!” this past summer. We went to the grocery store, which is always loads of fun with the two most adorable kids in the world! They sat in the truck cart and would say “excuse me!” as we came down the aisle and when I would make driving mistakes and bump a cardboard box along the aisle they would never cease to remind me – “we’re crashing, alex!” One woman even stopped me to ask what company I worked for and I told her I didn’t work for a company I was simply a personal nanny to these beautiful boys. She didn’t like that answer, but she surely enjoyed saying hello to Kyle and Owen! Another woman asked if they were “ours” referring to Esther and I (I’m assuming she assumed we were a lesbian couple that had adopted) and I, of course, sadly told her “no,” I was only their nanny.
So I assured him that the puppy was still here and pointed to Cyprus and that everything was okay. I patted him to sleep, and here we are! Night Night Cutie-Pa-Tooties!!!!
Alex playing with the boys in our yard this fall
A photo that Alex took with her cell phone this past summer
At the playground
5:00pm, Owen helping Heather make soup
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