Trust and Pretty Shoes

Trust is a funny thing.  You kind of don't notice it, until it is gone... or was never there.

I think the sword and shield is the universal symbol for
"I don't trust you yet!"

Me:  Okay Ping, we have to run into my work for a second, then we will go home.
Ping:  Okay.  Can I see where you work?
Me:  Of course.  Here we are...
Ping:  Oooooh, you have a lot of computer.
Me:  Yes, yes I do.
Co-Worker:  Hello, you must be Ping!
Ping:  How you know my name?
Co-Worker:  Because your Daddy has told me all about you.
Ping:  What?!  Are you joking me?
Me:  I talk about you all the time.  I tell everyone how beautiful you are, and how nice...
Ping:  I KNOW you are joking me!
Me:  No really, I do.
Ping:  Uuuungh.  Daaaaaad!
Me:  Okay, Ping, this is Daddy's friend Miss Y.
Co-Worker:  You have very pretty shoes.
Ping:  WhaaaAAAAaaaat?
Co-Worker:  I like your shoes.
Me:  Miss Y has a bit of a shoe problem.  She has a whole drawer full of shoes!
Co-Worker:  WHAT?!  I DO NOT!
Ping:  What?  You joking me again?
Me:  Nope, look in the bottom drawer of her filing cabinet.
Ping:  *looks at drawer*  That is a big drawer.
Me:  Yes it is.  And it is FULL of shoes!
Ping:  *looks at Miss Y*  Do you has shoes in dere?
Co-Worker:  No.  No I do not.
Me:  Hey!  You can't lie to a little child!
Ping:  My Daddy is joking me.  Right?
Co-Worker:  Right.  You are so smart!
Me:  Hey!  Don't tell her I'm lying!  You want my daughter to think I'm lying to her?!
Ping:  *thinks hard, looks at me, looks at Miss Y*  You got shoes?
Co-Worker:  No.
Ping:  Daddy joking me, I know'd it!
Me:  *siiiiigh*

... two weeks later while having breakfast ...
Ping:  Mommy, Daddy joked me.
Wife:  What?
Ping:  He say, his friend have shoes in drawer.  But I know'd he joking me.
Me:  Ungh, its Miss Y at work.  She has a drawer FULL of shoes, but she won't admit it to Ping.  So Ping thinks I'm lying to her.


... a while later ...
*ring* *ring* *ring*
Me:  Hello, you've reached the Yeti at work.
Wife:  Hey, we're just passing by and Big D needs the bathroom, can you let us in?
Me:  Yea sure.  Is Ping there?
Wife:  Yea, why?
Me:  I want her to come in and see Miss Y's shoes.
Wife:  ... really?
Me:  Yes!  She can't continue to think I'm lying to her!
Wife:  ... really?!
Me:  Okay, Miss Y, Ping is coming in a couple minutes.  I need you to show her your shoes, because she thinks I'm lying to her...  and that is not good.  We don't need more attachment issues.
Co-Worker:  Oh fine.  I'll show her.
*Ping comes bounding in*
Me:  Hey baby, look, do you remember Miss Y?
Ping:  Yes!  You don't have any shoes in your drawer!
Co-Worker:  That's right!  I have no shoes in my drawer!
Me:  What?!  No shoes?!  Ping, just go open the drawer, you will SEE them all!
Ping:  Daaaaaad, stop joking me.  I go see Mom now.  Bye.


... a few weeks later ...
Me:  Hey Miss Y.
Co-Worker:  Hey, oh, hi Ping!
Ping:  Hi.  Do you have shoes yet?
Co-Worker:  How do you remember that?
Me:  It is very important to her.  You know, because she thinks I'm lying and all that.
Co-Worker:  Okay, Ping, come here.  Look.  *she cracks open her drawer a little*
I'ts like in some cheesy movie where Pandora's box is opened - light comes streaming out of the drawer, illuminating both the girls faces...
Ping:  WAaaaaOOOOWWWW?!  YOU HAVE SHOES IN YOUR DESK!
Co-Worker:  Shhhhhhhh!
Ping:  DADDY!  YOU NO JOKING ME!
Me:  I told you I wasn't joking you.
Ping:  Can I see all your shoe?
Co-Worker:  Sure.
And the two girls spent the next 1/2 hour reviewing all 30 pairs of shoes, in the drawer, hidden under the desk, and behind the computers...


See, trust takes time.  Love, you can't rush it, but you can help it along... maybe, after all, I know a thing or two about da ladies.  You can buy flowers, bring chocolates, stand out in the rain holding a ghetto blaster above your head while playing Extereme's "More Than Words" outside your beloved's window... ghetto blaster... no, it is a real word.  It was something for playing music.  Kind of like an iPod.  But bigger.  A LOT bigger.  Yes, it was portable.  You could put it on your shoulder.  No, not your pocket.  Yes, it had batteries.  About 12 D-Cells.  What's a D-Cell?!  Oh c'mon!  I'm not THAT old.  Where was I?

Oh yea, but back to trust, how do you help advance it?  How can you build it?  I'm not sure.  I mean, I can be as steadfast in my love, and as trust-worthy as one can possibly be... but trust is really out of my hands.

See, with the shoes, I was tell the bang on 100% truth.
Ping, just simply did not want to believe me.
There was nothing I could do to change her mind.

In love, in attachment, I could have read any number of books... okay, I could have had my WIFE read any number of books, and there would bee different ways to address love and attachment.  I'm sure there are ways to try to encourage the growth of trust as well... but I haven't read anything on it... or, my wife hasn't read anything on it and told me all about it.

But what can you do for trust?  I had thought of pointing out every trust worthy thing I did in a day...

• Hey Ping, remember when you were on the stairs, and I did NOT push you down them!?  Yea, see, I'm trust worthy!
• Ping, remember when you came home from school, and were banging on the door to let you in?  Yea, I totally let you in.  I didn't have to.  But you can trust me.  I opened the door.
• I TOTALLY didn't eat your Skittles!  Your Mom did.
• Remember when I said you were driving me crazy?!  Well, look!  I'm CRAZY!

Maybe that's a bad idea.  Maybe trust is just something that grows with time.  I can't force it.  Goodness knows I want to.  But each day, she trusts me more and more.  I'll just keep bring trust worthy, and maybe she will eventually believe me... you know, over some total stranger that she just met like Miss Y.

What's not to trust?!

But in the end, I know it is hard for her to trust, it is hard for anyone to trust who has been hurt before - sometimes a "wounded" perspective makes it hard to see how people may love you.  So am I going to worry about it?  Nah.  Will it hurt when I can see it plain as day that she doesn't trust me?  Yup.

But then I'll choose to see past that, to adjust MY perspective to see where she can and will be able to trust me.

Like when she gets scared at night, and calls out "Daddy, I'm scared of the dark!" - trusting that I will make it better.  I just remembered, before I started this post, she was crying about the dark saying she was scared... a great opportunity to help her confront her fears head on, and help her over come them, to build that bridge of trust between us... or, I may have simply told her something along the lines of "suck it up, you're fine!  Get back to bed."  

Hmmmm... and I wonder why we have trust issues... just... can't... figure it out...

Sleepless in Beijing

So the wife is currently in China, and I'm still here in Canada.
The Wife, BigD (our 2nd eldest son) and our new son Lukai are about 5 days away from coming home.
There have been a great many thing which I've learned over the last few weeks.  Some of them related to adoption, most related to our new son, and even a little about myself.

So instead of coming up with a comprehensive, well written, insightful and thought provoking blog post today (like my other blog posts have been really deep and insightful, I know), I'm going to walk though many of the emotions and "things" which have come up over the last few weeks.

I think this is a good idea, mostly because I am grotesquely sleep deprived and forming any coherent though feel well beyond reason and possibility... but also because it is my hope that everyone reading this either has, or will have had the opportunity to have an energetic little boy (or girl) throwing die-cast cars at their spouses head while you yell in vein over Skype (in chinese) to stop throwing said die-cast cars at their new mother... er, wait, what I meant to say was "I hope everyone gets to experience the joys of adopti... er family!"

Special Needs be darned!
See, I was expecting and prepared for SpinaBifida.  But just a couple weeks before we left, he was diagnosed with a 2nd previously unknown special need - Vitiligo.  Now, we don't really care about the Vitiligo - it could be as trivial as a cosmetic issue, or as severe as a thyroid or auto-immune deficiency.  What we were scared of was *someone* deciding that the adoption was no longer allowed.  Our provincial government could have decided that this special need was not "on the list" and therefore, the terms of adoption are no longer valid.  Someone in China could have decided that it was no longer in the best interest of the child to be adopted.  It was a few days of complete emotional panic as we tried to re-assure our adoption agency, our province and China that we still wanted to adopt little Lukai.

1st meeting between Mom and Lukai

But the bottom line was, we already loved our child, even though he was not home yet.  And if tomorrow any one of my children were diagnosed with Vitiligo, it would not have changed my love for them.

Little Boys are Energetic!
It has been a while since we've had a little boy around the house.  I think its been about 9 years since we've had a little high energy, rough and tumble little ball of AAAAAHHHH stop throwing things at my head!!!  But that is OK.

Looks happy, but apparently dosn't like swimming

Well, it is OK for now, because he is still in China, and I am safe and sound over here.  My wife however, is looking a little tired.

When the 1st Words out of your Child's Foster Mother's mouth are "He is Such a Naughty Boy"
... take it at face value.  :-)  Oh cute for sure.  Little at that smile.  Those rose coloured cheeks!  How could he ever be so Naugh... hey, hey, put the car down!  No, don't you smile at me like that.  Finger wagging and head shaking is universal.  Wipe that smile off your face.  Don't you DARE throw that OWWWWWW!

That is the foster mom in the middle

She did happen to say that he was a naughty boy in the loving, endearing way that only a Mother can, where you know you are loved, but oh so close to getting into serious trouble!

Being Stuck at Home playing "Mom" for 3 Weeks is NOT fun
I don't know how you Moms do it.  I really don't.  I mean, I now understand why my wife yells at the kids.  I mean, being a Dad, you sometimes see your wife snap at the kids with the old "Oh I have told you a THOUSAND times!!!", but I didn't really understand it until now.  Until the 12th day of getting them ready for school as they run outside in their bare feet and no coats... and I'm standing in the door way, yelling like a crazy person "GET YOUR COATS ON!".   Oh, and I understand too why when I come home after work and am all "Hey, how YOU doing?" she isn't at ALL interested in how I'm doing.  She wants to sleep.  I get that, now, more than ever.  Because I'm not even interested in how I'm doing after a long day of work, children, cleaning, laundry, and all that stuff.

Never Judge a Foster Parents by their Picture
... even if they look so very unhappy.  My wife was able to meet Lukai's Foster Mom (you can read about it here), which was AMAZING.  And WAY better than we expected, after THESE photos.   But I just finished an hour long Instant Message (via QQ) chat with them, and their hearts are breaking.  I know that in China, if the foster family wants to adopt the child they are fostering, that they have to come up with the orphanage donation - which is something like 35,000RMB.  Or roughly two years wages for the average worker.  I do not know what happened with their family, if they tried to keep Lukai, if they wanted him to get a home, but I DO know that they love him deeply.  They said repeatedly that they are happy he is with us, but they miss him.  My Chinese will never be good enough to express my thanks to them, and pay them the respect and honour they deserve ... and it is not because I suck at Chinese, it is simply because words can not express things adequately, regardless of language.  However, if I knew Interpretative Dance, I think I could have nailed what my heart wanted to say!

See, my child is still 1/2 a world away.  And that is all I care about.  Getting him home, holding him in my arms, hearing him laugh (Skype just doesn't cut it), and dyes, even dodging the odd die-cast car launched at my head.

All the Special Needs, pain, troubles and worries pale in comparison to my desire to simply hold my child for the 1st time.

Now, my next post might be asking the best way to bandage head wounds inflicted by flying die-cast cars...

Oh no, they are just like me!

Waiting at midnight for StarCraft II to be released...

Son #2 (D):  Daddy!  DAD!!!
Me:  What?  Is something wrong?
D:  No.  I just need to know how to say something.
Me:  Oh, sure.  What are you trying to say?
D:  Your mother has a smooth forehead.
Me:  Your mother has a what?
D:  It's Klingon!
Me:  Yes, I know that.  It's also a pretty big insult in the Klingon language.
D:  Yea!  I know!  Look at this website!  Its called the Klingon Learning Institute.
Me:  Aaaaaah... memories.  Yes, when I was young, I used to goto that web site to learn how to speak Klingon.  I had a couple of guys in College who could speak it better than me though... good times.

... begin wavy flash back ...

Wife:  I'm so scared for our kids.
Me:  What?  Why?!  We're great parents!
Wife:  You promise you won't get mad?
Me:  Of course not.  What's wrong with the kids.
Wife:  Well, I'm afraid... oh never mind.
Me:  No no, tell me... what's wrong.
Wife:  Well, I'm afraid our kids are going to grow up to be geeks!
Me:  Oh, I see.  And this is MY fault?!

... end flash back ...

Me:  Huh... I guess it IS my fault.
D:  What is your fault Dad?
Me:  Oh nothing.  Go practice your Klingon.

Fighting over the StarCraft II game on the way home...

I love the fact that children study us parents.  We don't always know that they do.  But as much as we study them, they are studying us.  Sometimes, this is a good thing.  Sometimes, it causes them to want to learn Klingon.

Now I am more than happy to take the credit when our children display good behavior.  In fact, I would say that they learned their empathy, love, compassion, patience, long suffering, were learned by watching me.  I'm also pretty sure that all the bad behaviors are learned from their mother.  :-)

I was overwhelmed with geekish pride that my boy wanted to learn an Alien Language.  But at the same time, I was horrified that I apparently really WAS turning my children in to geeks!

What is going to come of my girls?!  Are they going to grow up enjoying Star Wars, Star Trek, Paintball, Computer Programming, String Theory, Physics and literary works by Hofsteader?!?!  Oh my!

Are they all doomed to be like me?

I can see their teen years unfolding now...
Some Greasy Boy (SGB):  Hey baby!  How YOU doing?
Ping:  Are you talking to me?  Ewwwww...
SGB:  Wanna come back to my place and see my car?
Ping:  Uh, no.
SGB:  Come to the football game?  I'm the star quarter back!
Ping:  Nah.
SGB:  Ummm, want to see my new AMD Bulldozer based computer system with 1333MHz overclocked RAM with 7-7-7-9 timings and a overclocked 2.2Ghz Hyper Transport Bus?!
Ping:  WHAT?!  Yes I DO!
SGB:  And then maybe after that we can watch the original Stargate Series!
Ping:  I think you are my soul mate!

Oh thats not good.  My work as a father is not done.  I still have a long way to go with my kids.  But hopefully at the end of my career as a father, my children will be able to look back on many wonderful things I taught them, even if I'm never aware of what those things are.

All the teaching, preaching, talking, yelling and such I do to help "teach" my children how to behave, or how to be polite well adjusted members of society is probably useless in comparison to what they learn simply by watching me.  I think with our adopted children (especially those who are older children), this is even more true.  They are being dropped into our lives unable to speak our language, without years of history being our children... all they can do at times IS watch us.  Hopefully while watching us, they will learn that they can trust us, and eventually love us.

Old picture, but you can see there is a history of my child trying to stab me with pointy thing...

When Ping came home with us, she was smart enough to hear what we were saying, and understand it.  But she was also wise enough not to trust what we said until she saw us live it out.  There was this gap between saying "I love you", and getting it at a head level, versus being told "I love you" and truly grasping it at a heart level.  I think the heart level becomes established when our children can actually SEE us living out what we say with our words.  I think Ping finally understood that I loved her, not when I told her for the 1000th time, but when I simply scooped her up in my arms instead of getting mad at her when she attacked me with the pointy stick.  Or when I let her curl up in my lap and cry after she tried to push me down the stairs...

Now, I have to go, teach my son how to insult an alien from the one of the Neutral system in their native tongue, and let him know just how proud I am of him.  All while making sure he doesn't tell his Mother what I'm teaching him...

How I Stopped Worrying and Learned to Love the Chaos

Wife:  I have to head back to Winnipeg for a couple of weeks.
Me:  Sure, no problem.  Here, let me help you pack the bags for the kids.
Wife:  Oh no, the kids are staying here.
Me:  hahahaa... oh, for a second there, I thought you said the kids were staying here.
Wife:  They are.
Me:  hahaha... oh, that's funny.  Oh, wait... you're serious?!  Me?  12 days?!  ME!?  KIDS!  12 DAYS?!

Looks cute... wait till Mom is gone!

How many of you ladies have a husband?  Lets see your hands.
Right, great.  Now, how many of your husbands are actually CAPABLE to take care of the kids... alone... without your help?
Okay, a few hands went down.  Now, how many of THOSE husbands can take care of the kids for more than 2 days?
Few more hands go down... and how many of those husbands can do it while still keeping the house clean, and the kids dressed, and bathed and fed, and to school on time and all that good stuff?
Hmmmm... interesting.  Not many hands left in the air.

Well, I did.  4 kids.  12 days.  No wife.
The kids had 3 good meals a day, all got to school on time, bathed routinely, house kept clean, I even got the kids to play dates, drama clubs, hosted a Chinese New Years party...

Yup.  I was pretty darned proud of myself.

See, totally in full control here.  :-)

Now, I know probably 98% of the readers here are women... I'm sure I'm not getting any sympathy, or "Oh wow, you did all that?!"... because I'm pretty sure this is what you guys do every day, all day, without credit*.

So, if I'm not out here looking for sympathy, where am I going with all this?  Good question.  A better question would be, how many of you still have your hands up?  And why did you guys ever raise your hand in the first place... its not like I can see you.  :-)

See, I felt confident that I could mange 12 days with no wife.  My wife however?  Well... by the 2nd day she was gone, I had strangers from some Internet Forum she is a part of emailing me to make sure I remembered to bath the kids.  I had someone else call whom I don't know, to remind me that the kids needed to be bathed at least once a week, my neighbour came by to remind me that the kids had skating on Thursday for school and needed to bring their ice skates.  I had another neighbor driving by the house and called in to make sure everything was OK because the "... cars looked funny in the drive way, and your wife told me to check on you."

Don't get me wrong, there were times where my little Ping pushed me to the limit - right from the moment the door closed behind the wife Ping started fighting about everything.  Things which she has not fought over for months, all of a sudden were a problem for her.  She was back to stomping her feet, and getting angry at the slightest thing and looking for something to hit me with.  But thats not really the point I'm rambling about today... but a good one to remember: although our children may seem "ok", they can regress at anytime because of some significant changing in their world (ie: the Mom leaving for 2 weeks).  That might be a good topic for a later post.

A fight about to start?  Thankfully, no.  6 months ago?  Probably.

What I really learned from these 12 days of Wifeless living (and surviving with passing colours) is:

• My wife had quite happily already decided what I was and was not capable of handling (my wife had placed limitations on me)
• Although I am *cough* *cough* years old, there are still things I'm learning to do, or at least learning to do better (I am still learning what my limitations are)
• My wife can get people from Flordia, USA to check on me in Ontario, Canada - yet unable to get out of bed to turn off the bathroom light (she can however get ME to get out of bed to turn off the bathroom light)
• No matter what age we are, we can grow and do things others did not think we were capable of (limitations change, can be over come, or might not have really existed)
• I was right, my wife was wrong
• What my wife thought about my abilities to handle the household were not important - what was important is how I did handle the household (limitations are only limitations if we choose to listen to them)
• Sometimes, you need to be challenged to realise what you are capable of
• If my wife isn't here to tell me to, I can go 4 days without showering, 3 without changing clothes, 2 without eating and 1 without coffee

When we look at adoption, how many limitations are we placing on ourselves, our children, or possible children?
Do we look at our adopted child and say to ourselves that they will never be "whole", or that they will always "suffer with attachment issues"?
Do we look at ourselves and maybe think "will I be able to truly love our adopted child?"
Do we look at a child with cleft lip and think "they will never be accepted?"

Are those valid fears/questions/concerns/limitations?  Sure.  Absolutely.  I had every right to be scared to be left alone with 4 children... they are scary.  They make strange noises.  Eat strange things.  They stay up all night, or wake up at weird times of the day!  The can bite, colour on walls (or Dads... hey, its happened!), tie you up with duct tape and leave you in the back yard for the wild animals of Canada to attack... I mean kids are scary stuff!  Anyone who tells you different, isn't a parent.  :-)

Don't let the cuteness fool you - they can be scary!

But I refuse to be limited by fears... because I think thats what all those questions, concerns and limitations really are - fears.  What would have happened if I was to afraid to watch the children for 12 days without the wife?  Well, my wife would have missed her fathers funeral.  And it is easy to look at a death in the family and say "suck it up for 12 days you wuss".

But... what would have happened if I was to afraid to adopt a child with Spina Bifida?  What if I listened to that fear that said "you can't do it", "that child is going to have problems", "she must have a better suited family out there somewhere", "we can't adopt a child that old", "we can't afford to adopt", and the list goes on.  What if I listened to all my concerns and self imposed limitations?

Well, I would have missed out on one of the the single greatest experiences of my life - my beautiful daughter Ping; and she would have missed out on us**.

* Thank you, by the way.   We men and children might forget to say it, but you make everything "work".
** If you are a regular reader on our family blog, you would know that her missing "me" might not be that big of a deal.  I'm still wearing her down.

Sink or Swim

Our daughter Ping has Spina Bifida.  Normally her Special Need doesn't impact her day to day activities.  There have been the odd emergency trip to the Spina Bifida Clinic... and the numerous check ups, and test, and MRIs, and neurology type things... but other than that... her Spina Bifida has not been on the forefront of our minds.

Her Spina Bifida affects some of our decisions of course... we learned the hard way that slapping her on a thin sheet of plastic and sending her shooting down a steep 40 foot hill covered in a thin layer of snow and ice with no protection for her massive head and back was, for lack of a better description, a "poor parenting choice".  Huh, who knew.  Go figure.

Getting ready for our 1st Swim

Anyway, one of the physical activities which she enjoys (and is good for her Special Need) is Swimming.  It is a great way for children with Spina Bifida to get physical activity with low risk of injury, and it is something which can help their mobility and strengthen their core muscles... and it can help attachment issues.  :-)

Lets travel back to Nov 2009 - courtesy of the Yeti Way Back Time Machine(tm) 

Me:  Why is she still glaring at me?

Wife:  She just doesn't trust you yet.

Me:  Really?  Why not?  She's been with us for like, 36 hours.  You think she would be OK with me by now.

Wife:  Ya, you'd think that.  I think you still scare her.  She doesn't seem to like your hair.

Me:  No, thats not it.  Its cuz you gave her the sucker when we 1st met her.  I only had Cheerios for her.

Wife:  Right.  4 years of "life" and "memories" are replaced instantly by 1 sucker.  It couldn't be that she is scared, terrified, and being chased by some huge lumbering hairy white man.

Me:  I'm pretty sure it's the sucker.

Wife:  You are such a moron...

Me:  Wait!  She's looking at me!  She's gonna say something!

Ping:  你带我回家大吓人的雪人。你吓我，我恨你。

Wife:  Do you think that was a happy thing she said?

Me:  Ummmm, no.

Wife:  Look, she will love you - she just needs to trust you.  Oh!  Take her swimming!

Me:  Really?  You think thats a good idea?

Wife:  Oh yea!  It will be brilliant!  She will be forced to hold onto you!  If she lets go, she will drown.  It will force her to bond with you.

Me:  Uh, I'm not sure that putting our newly adopted child into a life or death situation where she will be torn between the complete and abject fear of me and the troubling sensation of drowning is really the best way to create a wonderful loving bonding moment.  I'm not sure that will foster the spirit of trust and love of which we are seeking.  I'm pretty sure you can't force bonding...

Wife:  Oh what do you know about adopted children!  You didn't even read the books about attachment disorders!

Me:  Okay, we'll try it your way.  I'm sure it will be great.

Ping:  可有人递给我一刀子，所以我可以杀死雪人？

So me, our 10 year old son K and Ping all go to the swimming pool.  After the very confusing "swimming cap" experience, we find ourselves in the pool... which (un)fortunately did not have a shallow end.  It looks like my wifes cunning plan is going to work.

Me:  Ping Ping, come here!  Come to Ba ba!  I'll hold you in the water!

Ping:  没有来

Me:  Look, water!  Swim?

Ping:  我会杀了你，你的立场

Me:  Alright, Ba ba is going to pick you up, and put you in the water now.

So, with her in my arms, facing out from me, we slipped into the water - and for 42 seconds, she clung to my arm while we started wading though the water.  Her little face lit up with a wide smile as she splashed her little delicate hands and feet in the water and giggled with joy!

It was around the 43rd second mark where she glanced over her shoulder and was reminded that I was holding her...

Ping:  让我走

Me:  I can't let you go baby.  You will sink.

Ping:  让我走!

Me:  I can't put you down!  You can't touch the bottom.

Ping:  让我走!   让我走!

Me:  Okay... I'll put you down.

It is around this time, as her little face slipped slowly below the surface of the water that I realized a couple of things...

1. she wasn't reaching up for help, she made her decision - drowning was better than reaching out and taking my hand for help
2. she has a bit of a stubborn streak to her
3. maybe this attachment thing is going to take more than 36 hours
4. those stupid swim caps are really uncomfortable

I reached into the water, took her gently under the arms and lifted her out of the water.  Thinking "surely now she realizes that she can not touch the bottom, that she needs me, that she will happily stay in my arms now and hold onto me and let me help her".  Boy... was I wrong...

Ping:  让我走!!!

Me:  Really?!  You still want down?   Didn't you notice you just about drowned?

Ping:  让我走!!!

Me:  Okay, here we go again...

And once more, my daughters beautiful face slipped silently below the surface...  I did get to hold her, eventually.  She stopped fighting me and let me lead her around the pool and had fun splashing her big brother.  :-)

Me:  Hey, we're back!

Wife:  How was swimming?

Me:  Oh great.  It went really well.

Wife:  See, I told you it would work!  And what are you wearing on your head?

Me:  Swimming cap.  Apparently, you need them if you want to swim in China.

Wife:  Good to know.

Me:  Yea.  Hey, quick question.  If you had to choose between drowning and being stuck with me... what would you choose?

Wife:  She will love you.  Eventually.

Me:  She would love me quicker if I gave her the sucker.

Catch a Grenade For You

Daughter #1 (G):  Daddy, why did that man say Grenade?
Me:  Huh?  What?
G:  In the song Daddy.  Listen.  He says Grenade.
Me:  Okay... let me turn it up...


I’d catch a grenade for ya (yeah, yeah, yeah)
Throw my hand on a blade for ya (yeah, yeah, yeah)
I’d jump in front of a train for ya (yeah, yeah , yeah)
You know I'd do anything for ya (yeah, yeah, yeah) Oh, oh
I would go through all this pain, Take a bullet straight through my brain,
Yes, I would die for ya baby ; But you won't do the same
(Bruno Mars - http://www.directlyrics.com/bruno-mars-grenade-lyrics.html)

Me:  Hmmmm... um, I really don't know baby.  It doesn't make much sense does it.

That song got me thinking (a dangerous thing, I know)... how many times in moves or music do we see or hear,  these overly romanticized acts of self sacrifice to show our love to someone?  And then, in how many of these movies do the people change their minds 1/2 way though and want out of the relationship... 

Me:  ... well G, its a love song, kind of.  The boy in the song is trying to say how much he loves the girl, in that he would catch a grenade for her... to save her...
Son #1 (K):  I like grenades!  (can you tell he is 12?)  I'd catch a grenade!
G:  Oh.  It still doesn't make any sense.
Me:  Yea, I know.  I mean, if you are so close to the girl, catching the grenade isn't gonna help.  Same thing with the train... If I jump in front of a train, I'm not going to stop the train.  The train would just run me over, and then run the girl over.  Now, I could PUSH the girl out of the trains path... that would be helpful.  And a bullet through the brain?!  Really?  Nope, thats just foolish.  Again, if I know someone is trying to shoot my girl, maybe I should get her the heck out of there.  I mean, after I'm shot in the head, I haven't removed the girl from danger... the shooter is still out there...
G:  Daddy, you're not making any sense.
Me:  Maybe not... but neither is the song.
K:  Can I have a grenade?!
Me:  No.
K:  But I LIKE grenades!  (seriously, 12 year olds... ungh...)

She might be little, but shes still not buying what I'm selling...

Love is hard.  I mean, it is hard work.  Not for my wife though.  I'm sure its easy to love me.  I'm rough and rugged, and funny and all that... I must be easy to love!  But for others, I am sure it is hard work.

I think we often fall into this trap thinking that our children want huge shows of affection, that they want us to break down walls, or jump in front of trains, or even catch grenades for them.  But really, what I think they want, is steadfast love.

What is the point of showering our children with lots and lots of affection like toys, gifts and everything they ask for, if we get all angry with them every time they don't behave the way we think they should?

Extravagant shows of affection are easy!  Thats why us men will come home with flowers and chocolate when we do something stupid - because it is easier to buy a box of chocolates than to try to string together a thoughtful sentence like "I'm sorry, I'm an idiot for doing _____________."  There is a while diamond industry built around extravagant shows of affection...  but last time I checked, no amount of diamonds can save a marriage*.

True love is lived out daily, and in the small ways and the small things.  Its giving our children the consistent love, patience, genteelness and acceptance that they need.

Reeeeeally not buying it...

This is especially true when Adopting an Older child.  They have history.  They know love... their knowledge of Love may be skewed and incorrect - but to them it is love.  They may not trust love.  They may have years of "stuff" they are dealing with.  We have to understand how our children process "love".

I like asking fathers some simple questions... questions like...

• where do you want to be in your career 5 years from now?
• what type of car do you want to be driving in 10 years from now?
• where do you want to live when you retire?

What kills me, is that the fathers will have answers for these types of questions.  They will say "I want to be into upper management", or "I want to be driving a BMW 350i(?)"...

But ask them questions like...

• what do you want your marriage to look like in 5 years?
• what are you going to do in the next 6 months to be a better father?
• what is the love language of your child?

And all you get are blank stares...  Do we honestly believe that we don't need to plan to be better fathers?  husbands?  How are we going to handle the hard times if we don't have a plan?  Do we expect to be able to ride in on a White Horse and save the day like in so many cheesy Hollywood movies?  To bring it back to the overly romanticized songs... do we expect to be able to fix all the pain, and past experiences of our children with 1 big act of selfless love - especially one which doesn't address the real love issue (ie: catching that grenade didn't save the girl, you're still standing there beside her, but now with a grenade in your hand)?

No.  Not in 1 act.  1 act can start the healing process... or 1 act can begin the love relationship...

This was the 1st step, there are many more to come...

I think often we try to show our adopted children that we love them with the big things...
...when really, what they need are our hearts.  Everyday.

* = But apparently there is no harm in trying.

Older Children Available on Shared List: Take a Peek!

Are you looking for your child? Have you considered an older child, between the ages of 7 and 13?

Here is the direct link to the blog of Pearl River Outreach. They are advocating for some very special children. This POST highlights SEVEN older children available for adoption NOW on the shared list. GO TAKE A LOOK (yes, you can see them). You may just find your child there. They are all beautiful.

This I Can Give Her

Since my daughter's birthday, I have been thinking long and hard about what she lost to be part of our family. After blogging about it, I received a number of emails asking if I feel guilty for taking my daughter from a loving foster home. The answer to that is complicated. In a perfect world, Cheeky would never have been separated from her biological parents. She would not have been in foster care in a country where family size is mandated by law. She would not have been on the shared list, and she would not have become my daughter.

But this is not a perfect world, and Cheeky's story, like all of ours, is filled with imperfections and little and big sorrows. That is part of who she is, and to effectively parent my daughter, I must acknowledge it.

There is a picture of my daughter sitting in her first grade classroom in China. It was taken the day my husband and I arrived in Chongqing, just hours before we met Cheeky. She is at the front of the classroom, looking at the camera. My eyes scan the photo each time I look at it. I see the other children - little boys with round cheeks and glossy dark hair cut short, little girls with pigtails or ponytails. And there is my daughter, right at the front of the class, her hair clipped boy-short. She wears a half smile, but I know that she is not happy in the photo, and I think that while I paced a hotel room, sick with dread and fear, she sat in her classroom, filled with the same emotions.



Since Cheeky's birthday last week, I keep going back to that place and those days when we barely knew each other. Cheeky came to me as a seven-year-old. She walked into my arms on June 22, 2009. There has been no turning back for either of us since then. Cheeky accepted us as easily and quickly as we accepted her, and our story has been one filled with joy and discovery and very little drama. Often, I feel guilty for the ease at which we all transitioned into a family. And then something happens, like the March 31rst phone call between Cheeky and her China Mom, and I am reminded that there has been drama and grief. The fact that there has also been joy does not negate what was lost and does not take away the sorrow of that.



I blogged a few days ago about how it hurt to parent Cheeky. Not because she is a difficult child or because I mourn the time we didn't have together, but because I cannot give her back what she has lost. As much as I love her, that love can never replace the love of her China family. It should never replace that love.

To feel the truth of that is to understand the paradox of adopting a child from a loving foster home. We know that these children must have a family name to call their own. We know that they need the stability that only a forever family can give. And so we bring them home. We give them the best of ourselves. We pour it into them...all that love and care and acceptance. If we are fortunate, as I have been, our children lap it up, drink it down and thrive. Trust builds, love grows, we move into an easy rhythm of togetherness that is called family.

But, as much as we give and love and accept, there are always pieces of our children's hearts that belong to other homes and other families.

To sit with Cheeky and talk about how she misses China Mom breaks my heart, the reality of her loss sweeping over me. To not talk about it would break Cheeky's heart, and so we must look back even as we move forward.



Cheeky's world has expanded since her years in China. Now, it includes two mothers, two fathers and a host of siblings. On days like today, when Cheeky mentions China family frequently, I boot up my laptop and pull up the photos that China Dad uploaded while we were in China. I sit with my daughter, pointing to the photos, naming the people who were once her entire world, and listening as she tells me stories about a past that we did not share.

"There you are, Cheeky," I say, "Getting a piggyback ride to the taxi that will bring you to meet us. There you are, waving goodbye. There you are, in the taxi with the ladies from the orphanage."

There you are....



coming to me, while I am coming to you.

And sometimes, I have to hide my tears.

But Cheeky is never sad when she talks about her China family. She simply wants to look and share and remember, and I must remember with her. No matter the hurt it brings. I cannot give my daughter what she has lost, but I can give her this.

There you are, Cheeky, coming to me while I am coming to you.

That is the triumph of this story. Because there is not simply sorrow at my daughter's losses, but joy in what we both have found. Two people with separate pasts, separate loves, separate families, looking into each others eyes and realizing they are home.

Not So Different

At church Wednesday night, there was an argument between several girls and my older daughter. I was home sick with a migraine, and I heard about the problem Saturday morning while driving to a meeting with the pastor's wife. Hearing about Sassy squabbling with an entire group of girls over rules to a game they'd made up wasn't the way I wanted to start my day. But hear about it I did, and I returned home an hour later with my patience worn thin and the desire for an explanation simmering in my gut.

I barely managed to keep the anger out of my voice as I asked Sassy to tell me about the problem. Sassy is, after all, sassy. She tends to speak first and think later. She has quick-fire responses to everything, and she isn't one to let an affront (perceived or real) go unchallenged.

In a nutshell, I believed that the problem and the resulting argument was her fault, but I wanted to give her a chance to prove me wrong.

To my chagrin, she did.

You see, the argument was about Cheeky.

There is a wonderful little group of eleven and twelve-year-old girls who have taken Cheeky under their wings. They adore her, and I appreciate the sweet attention they send her way.



Wednesday night, those girls decided that the rules of the game they were playing needed to be adapted to suit Cheeky's visual impairment. They outlined the new rules, and Sassy went along with them until they decided that no one could toss a ball to Cheeky. The ball had to be walked to her and then handed over.

Sassy wasn't keen on this idea. "We can toss the ball to her," she said.

"No. She can't see it," was the response.

"She can see it fine. Just throw it gently," my daughter replied.

And that's when things heated up. Sassy, according to these sweet young girls, was mean to not consider Cheeky's special need.

I asked my daughter what her response to that was, and she said, "I told them that Cheeky isn't any different than any other kid. That she wants to play the game the same we do and that she doesn't want people always talking about how she's different. Just because her eyes aren't so good doesn't mean she's different."

And I could see the tears in my daughter's eyes. She was angry and hurt and confused about all the extra care and attention paid to her little sister.

You see, we don't treat Cheeky differently at home. Everything the other kids do, she does. She jumps, climbs, runs. She plays ball, tennis, badminton (albiet poorly). She does chores and is expected to do them well. There are points when we must consider her visual impairment, but we never make a big deal out of it. We expect that she will be able to achieve anything any other child can achieve, and Sassy knows it.




As I looked into my oldest daughter's eyes, I felt two things- pride in her ability to let everyone know that Cheeky isn't so different and relief that we'd discussed Cheeky's SN and people's responses to it with our older kids long before we brought her home.

Adoption, you see, is not only about the bond between parents and child. When there are other children in the home, it is as much about the bond between siblings. Bringing home a child with a very noticeable special need puts the entire family in the spotlight. It isn't only Cheeky who is impacted by the stares and comments of others. It is all my children. Before Cheeky entered the home, I talked to the other kids about the questions they might be asked. We role played different scenarios and practiced responses to comments and questions. I wasn't sure until this week that the things we talked about and the plans we made had sunk into my children's brains.

But they had.

And Sassy was prepared to stand up for her sister's right to be treated just like anyone else. She was prepared to be labeled mean in order to give her sister the chance to be labeled normal. She was prepared to argue her sister's right to be seen as typical rather than different. At just a week past her ninth birthday, Sassy handled a difficult situation with courage and passion.

She has learned what many never do - that physical differences don't limit a person's ability to achieve great things.

And I have seen once again how knowing and loving Cheeky has changed us all for the better.