Roots

29 06 2011

On this blog I spend lots of time talking about where my son is from, Ethiopia, and how (I suspect) those roots will ultimately effect his life.  I do not pay nearly as much attention to where my daughter was born.  But I need to face the facts, her origin is bound to play a role in her future as well.  In fact, I think it might be showing already.  After all, fashion is culture.

You can take the girl out of Oregon, but you can't take Oregon out of the girl. Socks with sandals - yea, Baby.





Wordless Wednesday

29 06 2011

New Haircuts





Now I Know Why…

28 06 2011
she had the owl statue. Apparently small birds like to come into this house…
and drink your coffee.

Good thing it was my husband’s coffee and not my diet coke or that thing would be D.E.A.D. dead.

After the babysitter said, “there is a bird in your house” and I realized she wasn’t talking about our parrot, the next thing I thought was, “where did the kids leave the owl statue.”  I honestly thought I could show it to the bird and scare it out of the house.

Then I ran for my camera and said, “I need pics to blog about this.”

Finally, when the babysitter said, “How will we get it out of the house?”  and I stopped giggling like a third grader, I said out-loud, in what I hoped was a confident voice, “I can handle this.  I was an animal care professional.”

I guess the bird believed me because when I picked up a dish towel, he (she?) glided to the floor, hopped towards the laundry room, noticed the open door leading to freedom (my babysitter is SMART) and flew away.

My babysitter said she thought the bird looked terrified, I thought it looked crafty.  It better not ever develop a taste for diet coke.





I Am Here

27 06 2011

I am here.

Unfortunately I brought all this stuff and about 13 times more with me.

This came with the house. For a few days it was almost the only thing here. The kids kept leaving it different places, including the refrigerator. It was funny and a bit freaky.

Today my car needed repairs, tomorrow I get a root canal, there are still tons of boxes to unpack. The cats are locked in our bathroom and we can't get them out. As if I didn't have enough to do, apparently there was tissue in the bath last night. I will be picking it out of his hair for days.

But these are growing by our front walk.

And this is part of our backyard. Not very big, but basically private. And smaller means easier to fence. All in all, I have nothing to complain about. Time to go unpack more boxes.





Anniversary Post Or Its Best Alternative

20 06 2011

Today is my 13th wedding anniversary.  I have a post about this milestone mostly written, in my head.  But today has been a uniquely challenging day and that post will not be coming to a monitor near you tonight.  Instead you are receiving  “Woe Is Me, June 20th Edition”

Actually, I don’t feel sorry for myself, and should actually call this, “Whoa, is it me?”   Because I seem to be having a minor out of body experience.  I am looking back at the last 24 hours and thinking, really, that is what I have been dealing with?  Why aren’t I more stressed out?

Speaking of “out of body,” I would like to get either the  infection ravaging my face or my whole fricken’ tooth out of  my body, NOW.  Instead I will wait for the magic of antibiotics to take hold.  To help me with that wait I have the magic of Vicodin.  Both of those drugs will help me with the wait for next Tuesday when the nerve that is located in the root of my tooth will have its own out of body experience.  When your dentist starts a sentence with the words, “The best alternative is a root canal…” you probably shouldn’t bother to ask what the other alternatives are.

Beyond my dental emergency, today I  dealt with:

the semi-retired, infectious disease specialist who is going to help us address a small problem Little Dude brought home with him from Ethiopia.  We waited three weeks for this specialist to contact us and he was great on the phone.  Now we will wait a month to meet him in person.  I am trusting he is worth the wait.

the car dealer’s service station.  Our van’s 12 month warranty expires at the end of the month.  For the past 51 weeks the car has had an extreme shimmy when you step on the brakes especially if you are driving above 50 miles-per-hour.  I wish it wasn’t true, but sometimes I need to use the brakes when I am driving at speeds greater than 55 mph.  Time to get that taken care of.

the movers who will be taking our possessions from rental house a, to newly owned house b, on Thursday morning  Thursday morning  is less than 72 hours from now, but who’s counting?

the animal foster care volunteer who is helping me deal with Itty Bitty Kitty (IBK).  Apparently IBK has a rather large parasite living in her neck.  I could see said parasite yesterday evening through a hole that has developed on her throat.  I honestly thought I must be crazy because that is nasty and something from science fiction not something living in my home office.  But it turns out I have a pretty good gut instinct when it comes to disgusting stuff.  Fortunately, my husband hasn’t left me yet despite this stray kitten living in a dog crate right in the middle of us trying to pack up all our belongings.

All in all an average day for an average American mommy.  Parasites boring holes in baby animals, third-world diseases, car repairs, moving and the “Best Alternative” root canal, Happy Anniversary to me.





Please Not A…

17 06 2011

Every expectant parent, whether they are building their family through birth or adoption, has a huge list of worries, hopes, fears and dreams for the child they will soon hold in their arms.  Some of these are universal, “Please let him be healthy.”  And some are based on the individual parent.

For example, I once dated a guy who checked out the size of my hands on the third date.  He wanted boy babies, and he wanted them to be quarterbacks.  Apparently, long fingers are essential to making it to the NFL.  I can only imagine what his mantra was when his wife was pregnant (assuming he found someone with long fingers who was willing to marry him.)

Throughout my pregnancy, I developed three key mantras.  The first was, “Please let this baby stick.”  I had miscarried six months prior to becoming pregnant with her and spent my 40 week pregnancy as a nervous wreck.  The second was, “Please let this baby be healthy.”  No explanation needed for that.  And the third theme started once we found out she was a girl.  “Please NOT a girly-girl.”  I certainly got my first two wishes.  The jury is still out on number three.

On Wednesday night we went to our community’s monthly Family Fun Night.   PJ did some dancing and had her face painted for the first time.  We arrived late to see two local folk-singer/environmentalists wrap up their final song and bring their ambassador boa constrictor out of a bag and allow the kids to touch it.  PJ stood in line and waited patiently while the guy passed her over twice.  It was only when SAG said something, that she actually got to pet the thing.  Little Dude adamantly and animatedly declined.

On the ride home in the car, PJ started a conversation,

“In our new house we could get a real snake.”
“We are not going to get a pet snake, Honey.”
“We could.  In our NEW house.  A real snake.”
“Do you mean a snake outside?  We might have snakes outside at our new house.”
“No, I want a real snake.  In a cage.  At our new house.”
“I don’t want to have a pet snake that lives in a cage.”
“Yes, we could keep the cage under the bed.”
“Um, No, I don’t want a snake, in a cage, under the bed.”
“We could keep it under Daddy’s bed.”
“But I sleep in Daddy’s bed.”

Ever the problem solver…

“In the new house you could sleep in a different bed.  Then the snake could live under Daddy’s bed.”

“Well, that is an idea.  But I LIKE to sleep in Daddy’s bed, and we are NOT getting a pet snake.”

Of course the entire conversation took place while she was rockin’ blue eye-shadow, pink cheeks and a couple spectacular dragonflies on her face.

Checking herself out in the mirror - and liking what she sees.

Like I said, the jury is still out.





Thursday Toddler Trick

16 06 2011

Hey, what do you know?  It is another toddler trick brought to you by Little Dude whose motto must be something like, “It isn’t fun unless it is dangerous.”

C1rque du S0leil

Apparently riding in the baby-swings is getting boring.

So on Monday, Little Dude figured out if he brought his knees up and in they could be supported on the middle part of the swing thereby allowing him to lift his behind out of the seat.  His buddha belly is now above the edge of the seat making it highly unlikely that he will actually stay in the swing for long.  This is fun in-and-of-itself, but when he sees me get a panicked look in my eyes, that is when he knows it is really, really good.

First achieved:  Two years, Two months, One week