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Feb 10
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Food Intake

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I don’t write much about my boys’ food intake. It isn’t that I purposefully avoid the subject, it is just that the subject is kinda boring for me at this point. The subject, of course, being: the huge amount of food that they consume. I mean, it is just always the same old thing: “Oh good golly!!?! They eat sooooooooo much!!!!!!!” It has been like this from Day One with them. They have always eaten a ton. Especially now, with Meera being about the age K & O were when we brought them home, the comparisons are always looming. She eats very well, and she eats plenty (just look at any photo of her and you’ll see that she’s not lacking in the chub department, that’s for sure!!!)… but compared to Kyle and Owen… she eats like a bird. At first, for obvious reasons (i.e., malnourishment), our baby boys just couldn’t get enough. They’d eat and eat and eat and then pound down a full 8 ounce bottle of formula like it was nothing. People who witnessed it would be astounded, just watching in shock as these tiny babies ate more than you could imagine. I remember calling our pediatrician when the boys were about 11 or 12 months old (one of many phone calls about their food intake), asking her, “How many bananas should I let Kyle eat per day?” She ended up giving no limit (that was her philosophy and it worked well for us), and neither boy ever once ate so much that they threw up (although that was astounding and shocking in itself if you could see how much they’d sometimes ingest). But there were a few months there, from about age 11 months to about age 15 months, when I was buying bananas in bulk each week because Kyle was averaging 3-4 bananas per day. And Owen wasn’t too far behind him. You do the math. (That’s a lot of bananas.) Anyhoo…. they are now 4 1/2 years old, and, although I’m quite accustomed to the insanity that is the food-production-project for them (note: I am the sole food provider/preparer for the family, Braydon does none of it. Also note: I do not do laundry. ever.), there are still times when even I am truly astounded. Last night was one of them. During dinner, Kyle singlehandedly ate an entire 16 oz bag of baby carrots (with nothing on them, simply steamed). That is in addition to a nice size piece of fish, a huge helping of rice, and some spinach salad. The rest of us ate not one carrot. He ate all of them. He had seconds, thirds, fourths, and then finally just pulled the serving bowl over next to his plate and started just eating them straight from the bowl. Until none were left. And Owen… last night Owen ate so much fish I kinda felt sick to my stomach just thinking about it. I know how much I bought (a full 2 pounds), and I know how much Kyle, Braydon, and I ate (I dished it out). Thus, I know that Owen ate at least 3/4 pound (if not a full pound) of fresh tilapia. Granted, I prepared it his favorite way (blackened, with lemon butter sauce). But still. That is a lot of fish for a little boy. Especially when you consider he had thirds on the spinach salad, ate a mound of rice, and a big chunk of bread heavily slathered with butter. Seriously, whenever I get on this topic, I always circle ’round to the same thing: If they eat like this now, what on earth will they be eating when they’re 16??? (and more to the point: how on earth will I keep up with them from the kitchen?!??) But don’t get me wrong– The Kyle-Owen-food-production-project is a problem that I love. There is nothing better than watching my boys devour a meal that I just cooked up at the end of a day. I’m pretty sure I’ll feel the same way as I do now when they’re 16.
Feb 09
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"Earning It" – Giggleberry Fair

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A couple of months ago we finally caved in to the whole sticker-chart-parenting-rage and started to experiment with it here in the J-M home (the only other time I’ve blogged about it was here). Like every other parent in the universe already knew, we have discovered that the system works pretty darn well. We never did this for potty training or anything else, but now we’re dabbling in using it for bedtime when need be (i.e., you get to choose a sticker and stick it on your chart the next morning if you go to bed nicely with no tantrums, no goofing-off-with-your-brother, no calling-us-back-into-your-room-a-million-times-after-we’ve-tucked-you-in, etc.). We call them “earning charts” and K & O are way into “earning it.” What they are working toward earning is determined by them (within reason, of course— “going on a big jet plane to Africa,” for example [which they have suggested multiple times as what they want to work toward earning], is not within reason. A couple weeks ago we started new Bedtime Earning Charts and the agreed upon thing-to-earn was a trip to Giggleberry Fair (click here; the boys absolutely love this place and we very rarely go). We set it up so that they’d have to do good behavior at bedtime for 13 bedtimes in a row to earn Giggleberry Fair. 13 in a row is by far their longest earning charts yet. And truth be told, I never in a million years imagined they’d actually be able to pull it off. Especially not both of them (Owen has always, always his whole, whole life hated bedtime and has forever pulled every trick in the book to get out of it). But sure enough, would you believe it?!, they both did it. 13 bedtimes in a row of near-perfect behavior. Sweet, smooth, easy, peasy bedtimes for 13 nights in a row. SHOCKER! So, we had to follow through. Giggleberry Fair it was. We went on Saturday. Icing on the cake was that we invited Zoe (and her moms) too — which just made the whole thing even more fun for K & O (and definitely more fun for H & B). We love getting together with the Petsch family… even in a hyper-over-stimulating-environment and even when you feel like you might puke (from riding the merry-go-round a hundred times in a row). Now, seriously, that’s good friends! They always get to their blog before we do (oh how we love you L & S!!! you are such better bloggers than us!!!!!!!) — you can read their post here. Here are a few photos from our camera:
Feb 07
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Date Night

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Our beloved Alex came last night to babysit so that Braydon and I could go out for dinner for a long overdue date night. We try to do date nights pretty regularly — and always have — but for the past few months Little Miss has been cramping our style. So we were especially happy to get out together alone. And K & O were very happy to have Alex come last night. When I first announced the plan to them, however, they were pretty perturbed. They were annoyed that Mommy and Papi were going out to a restaurant without them (since they love restaurants so much). I explained (like I always do) that Mommy and Papi love each other very much and we need to be able to have some “alone time” together every once in a while, just us, nobody else. “Plus,” I said, “we’re going to a Grown Up Restaurant.” I had never tagged that part on the end before and it caught their attention. “Oh!” said Kyle, “a Grown Up Restaurant? Only grown ups are allowed there?” “That’s right,” I said. “They don’t let kids go there?” asked Owen. “Not really,” I said. (We were going to our favorite wintertime date night restaurant, Blue, and it genuinely is not a kid-friendly restaurant). This concept — of a “Grown Up Restaurant” — seemed to make the whole idea of us going out without them more palatable. Pondering this new idea, Kyle asked, “What do they have there?” [meaning what kind of food] But before I could answer he quickly jumped in, “Wait, I know, it is a caffeine restaurant, right Mama? They have caffeine there.” Owen chimed right in: “Yes! That’s right Kyle, it is a caffeine restaurant! Caffeine and wine. Right Mommy?” I said, “Yup!” And that was it. From that point on there was no complaining about us going out without them. By the time Alex arrived they were waving us out the door to go get our caffeine and wine. ;0

Feb 05
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K & O’s Latest Twinspeak

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  • a “headbird” = a quarter (as in the coin; not ‘heads or tails’ but ‘head or bird’)
  • a “flying sausage” = a flying saucer (as in the type of sled)
  • a “barracuda” = a big wave (as in ‘the big kahuna’)
  • an “invitation party” = a party that you get invited to via a formal, on-paper, invitation
  • a “big crunch” = a big chunk of parmesan cheese (note: parmesan cheese only; if speaking of any other type of cheese –or any other of anything for that matter– they say, a “big chunk”)
  • “lickitty” (as in, “Let’s make it lickitty!”) = to stir up your ice cream until it is liquidy/soupy

(for a couple examples of other posts on K & O’s twinspeak click here and here)

Feb 04
0

Drop off redux

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This morning we had a two hour snow delay for school.  We got about 4 inches of wet snow. In New England this would be a joke, but here it’s not. And honestly, I was slipping all over the road.  Of course, the boys had insisted we take the back way, so maybe that was it.  Or maybe it was that we were playing “On the road again” at full volume and singing along. Who knows.  

But on days like this, it’s extra, above normal, a little more challenging to get both of them into school, their coats off, their “indoor shoes” on, and kissed and into their classroom.  To be fair, it’s always challenging.   But on days like today it’s just a bit “more”. Here is a normal example in the hall way:
Me:  K & O, get your coats off, boots off, and in-door shoes on please [note that they are in different classrooms and down the hall from one another – adding to the fun]
O (acting like a monkey):  hooo hoooo ha ha ha ha (while toddling off like a penguin). 
Then he disappears into some other classroom.  I go and pick him up and his legs and he sticks his legs and arms out and says “Look!  I’m and ‘X’!”  His body in the shape of an X, while I walk down the crowded hall with people laughing.  Fortunately that was pretty funny – although when this kind of thing happens 10 times before you leave and every day you drop off, it does get a little tiring.
However, recently Kyle has been pushing that he wants to be dropped off at the front door of the school “like the big kids”.  Owen is right there with him on this one. They are really into it.
So, I have been using this as an incentive to help them get ready and into their classrooms. If they do a good job consistently, then they will be able to be dropped off and I will park and come in to check on them. In typical driven Kyle fashion, he is singularly focused on doing it.  To the extent that he won’t even let me help with his shoes, even when the tongues get stuck down into the toes of the shoes and he can barely put them on.
Owen does not remember as well what the stakes are.  So, today I reminded him while he was acting like a monkey.  And this is what transpired:
Me:  O – please get yourself ready now and go into class.  And remember, if you want to be dropped off like the big kids you need to do a good job.  
I go on to help Kyle a bit and return.  Owen is sitting doing an excellent job getting ready.  I sit down next to him.  He climbs into my lap and with just a little twinkle in his eye says:
O:  “Papi, my sillies are broken today.”  and then sprightly:
O: “Ok, Bye!”  and hops down and runs into his class.
Feb 03
0

MorMor Visits

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MorMor was here for five sleeps. Five sleeps = five glorious days of help and camaraderie. Anyone who has been reading this blog for awhile knows about MorMor’s visits. Having her here cuts our work in half (at least) and doubles our laughs (at least). Mostly the work involves her doing tons of things around here that we don’t even know need to be done (seriously). Mostly the laughs involve us cracking up at how insane it is around here all the time (seriously). Seeing our life through her eyes makes us laugh our tushes off round the clock. She’s let in as a true insider (so she sees it all), and yet having her here allows us to see the craziness-that-is-our-life through the eyes of an outsider-looking-in. It is hard to explain. I don’t think I do our life justice on this blog. I don’t think I’m able to represent just how CRAZY –in so many ways, on so many levels– it really is around here. The stuff that goes on is just off the wall. You’ve just gotta see it to believe it. And MorMor sees it. So we laugh and laugh (or else we cry).
Anyway~~~ this trip involved much sewing. Ever since they started at the Waldorf school the fall before last, K & O have an inability to keep a pair of pants longer than 3 months MAX without getting holes in the knees. I am not kidding. We cannot get a pair of pants to last longer than about 12 weeks. So MorMor brought her sewing machine this time to patch up ten (count them, TEN!!!!!!!!!!) pair of K & O’s pants. I’ve tried just about every brand of boys’ pants on the market. They are not tough enough for these boys. MorMor wants to try Carhart next — and she plans to buy some pants to test out ASAP. We shall see. In the meantime, she was patching up knees like you wouldn’t believe. While she was at it, she gave the boys their first sewing lessons. Now that was interesting (we laughed and we cried during that one).


She cooks for us too whenever she’s here. I know, I know, we are beyond lucky. One of the things she made this time was lamb stew. The boys loved it. Kyle, in particular. He devoured his first bowl and then enthusiastically requested that he have “lamb suet” (he insisted on calling it ‘lamb suet’ instead of ‘lamb stew’…. ??????) in his lunch at school the next day. And he ate every last drop from his thermos at school (and believe me, I packed a lot in there). Lamb suet was a huge winner!!!!!!! (Among lots of other things she cooked too). Whenever MorMor’s here, though, the big excitement where food is concerned (at least for K & O) is ICE CREAM. Lots of ice cream eating goes on when MorMor’s here (and pretty much only when MorMor is here). This time, MorMor gave Meera her very first ice cream. I have pictures of MorMor feeding K & O their very first ice cream too, when they were babies. Meera didn’t like it nearly as much as I remember the boys liking it. But she’ll learn to love it. MorMor will be sure of that.

Oh, and did I mention… when she’s here she sets up office in the guest room and MAINTAINS HER JOB TOO??????????????????!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Seriously, she’s the original, the best, the *real* SUPERMOM.
MorFar came for just the last night of the visit. Here he is with his boys (after playing baseball in the driveway, of course).
They left this morning. We are sad. And now we’re back to twice as much work (at least), and only half as many laughs (at least). Luckily for us, that is still a lot of laughs and we have skype (and have already chatted on it once tonight).
Jan 30
0

Thinking About Tomorrow, And The Past

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Tomorrow we will celebrate our 4th Adoption Day. And it is on our minds.

In our house, Kyle usually wakes up first and comes to snuggle with Braydon and I in bed. He is such a sweet sweet sweetie pie. Anyone who knows Kyle well will attest to this: he’s a dreamy cuddly love bug, sweet as can be (sometimes excessively so!!!). The other morning, he snuggled into our bed, as usual. Bleary-eyed and still half-asleep, holding his Honey Bunny close, he looked into my eyes. Just staring at me, his big brown eyes peering into mine, his very first words of the day were, “Mommy, why did you pick me?” I was stunned. Because we have never talked about adoption in terms of “picking” someone. We have talked about how we “chose” to adopt, and we’ve talked about how K & O’s birthmother “chose” for them to be adopted, but we have never implied that we “picked” Kyle and Owen nor told stories of other adoptions using that language. And the truth is that, unlike many Haitian adoptions, we did not “pick” K & O; we said we’d take any baby and then waited for a referral. We were matched with K & O by our agency and the director of the orphanage. So, lying in bed, half-asleep myself, my mind was quickly jump-started, and then spinning fast, with Kyle’s question.
H: What do you mean?
K: When we were in Haiti with the birthmother. Why did you pick me?
H: Because we wanted you.
K: Oh.
H: Why did you pick me?
K: Because I wanted you.
I understood Kyle’s question better a few days later. He was up on the kitchen counter trying to get something out of the cupboard. A photo on the side of the refrigerator caught his eye and he called me over to look at it with him. It is a photo sent to us three years ago by an American couple who went to K & O’s orphanage to get their son. In the photo the couple are sitting on steps, surrounded by about 40 kids from the orphanage. K & O know what the photo is.
K: Look, mommy, there are lots of babies.
H: That’s right.
K: But you just wanted us.
H: That’s right.
K: Because you dreamed about us everyday.
H: That’s right.
Recently, sitting on my lap after dinner, Kyle whispered in my ear, “When I was in my birthmother’s belly I was just wishing and wishing and wishing you’d come get me.” I responded the same way I always respond to these types of comments from my boys, “We came as quickly as we could,” I said. “But I was waiting for you for so long.” “Yes,” I said, “and we came as quickly as we could.” “Yes,” said Ky Ky, “but it wasn’t quick enough, we needed you and you weren’t there.”
Another day, before school, Kyle ran up to me and whispered in my ear, “I will live with you forever!!!” And then ran off to put on his boots.
A couple of days ago, playing in the playroom, out of nowhere, Kyle asked, point-blank: “Mommy, why did you adopt me?” We talked about it a bit and then he said, “Before I was born, when I was with God, I saw you and Papi, and I told God that I wanted you to be my parents.” This is all very interesting, especially because we have never talked about God as playing a role in our adoption. Although many adoptive families do talk about it that way, we have not. We don’t talk about it having been “God’s plan” or about us being “chosen by God to be together” etc., etc., etc. We have always been very matter-of-fact about the adoption process as we see it, in a very simplistic, age-appropriate way. But Kyle continually puts God into the picture.
For the past month or so, Kyle has been saying basically the same prayer every single night at bedtime. Huddled together, I hear him say this: “Dear God, thank you that I can have this mommy and this papi. Thank you for giving me this house. I really appreciate it God. Amen.”

For Owen, all of this plays out seemingly completely differently. They’re twins but they never let us forget how very unique they each are. Owen, the little rascal, is such a riot and keeps us on our toes –and laughing– all day every day. One of his latest strange-little-funny-twists is that he has taken to calling me and/or referring to me as “Birthmother” in reference to Meera. “You’re her birthmom and her mom!!!” he regularly proclaims. He says it in an up-beat, cheery way. And it always cracks me up. The other day, for example, I stubbed my toe. “Ahhh!!!” I exclaimed, “I stubbed my toe!!!” Owen instantaneously ran over to Meera and said, “Sorry Meera, bad news! Your birthmother stubbed her toe!”
But for all his funnies, deep down inside Owen has a profoundly impacted adopted heart. He has lots of questions. Deep questions. Probing questions. Heartfelt questions. He wants answers. Real answers. Not sugar coated. He wants the truth. His stance is very different than Kyle’s at this point in their lives. Over the past month or so he’s received quite a lot of new information from us, because of the very real questioning he’s been doing.
Owen’s most recent questions revolve around his birthmother, and he is talking a lot about wanting to meet his birthmother. We tell him that someday we will go to visit Haiti (being careful about our wording here, after the “Send Me Back” exchange a while back), and we have assured him that when we do we will try to find his birthmother. Because of some circumstances surrounding our boys’ early histories, we are quite unconfident that we’ll ever be able to find her, but we have promised Owen that we will try. He has asked about when we’ll be able to go. We’ve told him, simply, “when he’s older.” Notably, he does not question that or ask to go at any given time, so we believe he’s comfortable with that answer, and we leave it at that. But he talks a lot about what will happen when (and he is confident it is when, not if) he does meet her. His thoughts about meeting her are always the same: “When I go visit my birthmother I will say, ‘Birthmother, let me go back into your belly!’ Then, if she was sitting down, I’d climb up right onto her lap.” He sometimes adds, “And I will say, ‘Birthmother hi! I love you Birthmother!'” And recently on a couple of occassions he’s added, “And then I will say, ‘Birthmother thank you for my mommy and my papi!'”
But the biggest challenge with Owen right now is trying to assure him that he won’t be abandoned by Braydon and I. Owen has the classic textbook adoptee deep fear of abandonment. There is a hole in his heart that we continually to try to fill, but that seems –at least so far– truly infinitely deep. “I was so worried,” he said to Braydon and I one night, after getting in trouble at bedtime, “I was so, so, so worried that you would call the fire department and tell them to come and the fireman would come here in his firetruck and he would spray fire on this house and he would spray fire on my door and he would burn our whole big house down and I would be in it and I would not be able to get out and he would keep making the fire until our whole house was burned down and I would burn too and Papi and Mommy and Kyle and Meera would be standing outside and nobody would come and get me and I would be burned and dead forever and ever.”
Another day he said to me, “Mommy, I had a dream — actually, it wasn’t a dream, but it was just in my imagination — I had in my imagination that you put me in the road and a big car hit me and deaded me and I was dead forever and ever.” And just yesterday, standing in the kitchen early in the morning, throwing away the wrapper to his cereal bar, he said, “See this trash Mommy?” “Yes,” I said. “I was just thinking in my imagination that you and Papi could just put me in this trash. You could just put me in this trash! And then the big trash truck would come and take me away. I would be dumped! Dumped into the trash truck! I’d be taken away forever and ever!”
We tell him over and over and over and over and over that we’ll never leave him; that we’re a family forever; that we will never, ever do these things to him, etc., etc., etc. We hold him, we love him, we pour out our reassurance upon him in what we say and what we do. We respond and we act proactively. We do these things every day. But Owen’s fears run deep. And a lifetime of reassurance still may never assure him; that we must know as adoptive parents. And yet we still must try to assure him. We must never stop trying. And so we keep going and he keeps questioning — questioning with questions, questioning with his behavior, and questioning with his statements, daydreams, and dreams. He has nightmares regularly; he always has. And his nightmares now, as he articulates them, are so transparent — his fear of abandonment; his fear of re-abandonment. And so, although it is earlier than I ever expected, we have been truthful with him in cold-hard-world terms. “Yes, Owen,” I said to him one night sitting on his bed with Braydon, after another long and hard-fought bedtime battle, “yes, it is true, your birthmother left you. She left you. She did. But you know what baby? She could have put you in the road and let a car hit you. She could have just put you into the trash. She could have put you in a fire and let you burn. But she didn’t. She didn’t. She didn’t do those things. She didn’t do those things because she loved you. She loved you so much and she wanted you to have a good life. So she did the right thing. She put you in a place where you would be taken care of, and she chose for you to be adopted so that you could have a good life. She was a good, good birthmother. She did the right thing.” The look on his face can only be described as peaceful relief. “You know, Owen, because we’ve told you many times Owen, that your birthmother could not take care of any child. And that’s why she decided for you to be adopted. Because she loved you and Kyle so much and she wanted you to have a good life.” Nodding he simply says, “I know.” “And here’s the thing, Owen, your Mommy and Papi, we can take care of children. We can take care of three children. And we will never, ever leave you. Never ever.”
And that’s all we can do. Express to him daily, through our words and our deeds, that we have the capacity to do this and that we’re in this for the long haul. And still, he questions. And that is o.k. It is hard — for us all — but it is o.k. And we try to remember too, that although Kyle’s vantage point on all this seems to be quite different, he needs the assurances just as much. And so we try to parent as best we can.
There are books about these things. I’ve read a bunch of them. I understand it all intellectually and emotionally. I think I ‘get it’ about as much as any non-adoptee probably can. But still, I am not an adoptee (and furthermore, as Kyle and Owen themselves prove, adoptees each experience adoption uniquely). Like Meera, I’ve been nurtured by my mom for my entire life. My boys know they are loved and valued… just as much as Meera is, or any other child is. But they also know that they had a life before us. And that we were not in it. And that other people were in it. We know that too.
As we get ready to celebrate four years together tomorrow, we can’t help but think about everything that adoption has been, and is, for each of us.