Let It Snow, Let It Snow, Let It Snow

Some parts of the country are sick of the white stuff already, but we love a good snow day.

We woke up Christmas morning to an indoor snowstorm, but this would be fun any fine winter’s day.

1. Hang lots and lots of snowflakes from the ceiling on white ribbon. (Don’t toss them when the snow “melts.” Save them for next year!)

2. Cover the steps and hallway in styrofoam packing peanuts.

3. Go to the dollar store and buy boxes of instant potatoes flakes. It makes for awesome snow and fun pictures.

4. Have an indoor snowball fight using everyone’s rolled up white socks.

5. Use kitchen scissors to make flour tortillas into snowflakes. After the designs are cut out, brush the tortillas with melted butter and top with cinnamon sugar. Pop them into a 350 degree oven until brown. It’s dirty snow you can eat.

Around these parts….

• We think that wheelchair ramps make awesome bike ramps.
• We can be overheard saying things like, “If you want to help me cook, you need to wash your feet.”
• We make rules like ‘no slinkys on the wheelchair’s joystick.’
• You can hear a little girl say, “good night, pink wheelchair” at bedtime.
• We’ve been engaged in The Great Shred of 2013. Even though we have 2 finalized adoptions, we had piles upon piles of forms, form instructions, and even the envelope that the form’s receipt confirmation arrived in. It was time to let them go; the shredder has been running non-stop.
• We’re cheering on Rep. Tammy Duckworth. You can, and should, see her in this video.

Filling a shoebox: Operation Christmas Child

For as long as I can remember, my family packed shoeboxes at Christmas. It’s a tradition that carried over once I became an adult. It’s also a tradition that has come full circle. We learned that, in the past, some of the older children at Ying’s orphanage have been the recipient of Operation Christmas Child. Nothing will make you pack a shoebox faster, and with more love, than knowing that.

 

So as a family, we packed shoe boxes this year. Little hands and little feet filled plastic baggies with leftover Halloween candy. (Certain persons were initially more reluctant than others but were soon filling their baggie to the brim). We went to the store and asked our kids to pick out socks and puzzles. Some little girl will be the recipient of Ying’s love for pink.

This is such a small thing. But it means something. It does.

When we were in the Hmong village last year, we took gifts. Several of the gifts came off a suggested list. Things like a small winter coat, hygiene products, etc… We also took a few fun gifts. Things like bubbles and a travel size Hungry, Hungry Hippo. Do you know what gift was exclaimed over the most? School supplies. Pens, pencils and erasers were remarked on by the adults, interpreter and children alike. That’s stuck with me.

Most of us don’t think of a yellow #2 as a gift. I’m not sure what I would do if I found it in my stocking, much less my kids. Yet for children in a school house with no electricity, it was a wonderful present.

Find some pencils. Bag up some candy, stickers and toothpaste (more ideas and details on filling a box here).

Love can’t be contained, but Christmas can fill a box.

PS – The shoeboxes are now hightech. When you donate online (suggested donation is $7/box), you will get a printable barcode that you put on your box. Once your shoebox is delivered, you’ll get an email telling you it’s destination.)  In years past, we’ve gotten these emails. I love knowing where our shoebox has gone.

Smashing Pumpkins and Let’s Hear It For The Boy

Luk Chaai is a boy’s boy. He wiggles and squirms and worms. He’s loveable and loud. In spite of our best efforts, numerous times a day he’s asked to be still, stand still, or sit still.

I don’t want that to be our legacy for him, that we tried to change who he is. But some days … dude.

So when we find something that celebrates who he is and what he likes to do, well, we’re on it.

Our pumpkin was already ooey and gooey by this weekend, so we let Luk Chaai climb a ladder and plop Mr. Jack-o-lantern on down. He thought it was great. The pumpkin turned into water balloons and a two wet, messy kids, but nonetheless it was fun.

Here are a few more ideas for a guy or gal who needs to just be:

• lego balloon car
• baby powder ghost bombs
• just about anything from this site

National Adoption Month

November is National Adoption Month. That means there will be a lot of adoption “speak” buzzing about. It will be common to hear things like: orphans, being called to adopt, Gotcha Day and the least of these.

We don’t use a lot of adoption “talk” at our house. There is nothing necessarily wrong with the lingo I mentioned above. But I think it can be overused, misused, and in our personal circumstances, not completely honoring of my children or their circumstances.

That being said, adoption does get talked about a lot in our house.

We talk about the children who wait, about our children’s lives before they came home to us. We pray for foster mothers, for nannies at the orphanage and for their birth families.

It’s a topic I hope that I’m completely comfortable with, that my children are completely comfortable with.

But I get that not everyone is comfortable talking about adoption or even asking questions about adoption. So I’m going to do it for you, ask the questions and give the answers. 

Let’s get started.

1. How long did you wait for your children? We waited 29 months for Luk Chaai - from the day we mailed our application until the day we met him. Ying was a waiting child, so the wait was a little different. We waited 18 months - from the date of application until the day we met her.

2. Do you receive any kind of state or federal assistance? No. That being said, Ying does get therapy through a state-funded agency. She started getting PT through our private insurance, but we subsequently switched. Private physical therapy was expensive and very limited. The insurance company only approved roughly 18 sessions initially. As you can imagine, we needed a lot more than 18 sessions! Ying was eligible for therapy through the state because of her adoption and the extent of her needs.

All the DME (wheelchair, ramp, etc…) has been purchased through our private insurance. We independently purchased the wheelchair-equipped van.

3. How long will Ying receive physical and occupational therapy? As long as she needs it. Initially, she was getting PT and OT, each, twice a week, for half an hour each. She is now receiving OT 1x a week and PT 2x a week.

4. Is adoption expensive? Yes. There are many, many articles and posts that deal with paying for adoption, grants, etc… For us, we found most helpful sites like: moneysavingmom.com and chieffamilyofficer.com.

5. What birth parent information did you receive? All the information that was provided to the agency was passed on to us. We are grateful for every shard of it. As is common in international adoption, the medical information was limited.

Here’s a related post on children of our own. 

Do you have more adoption-related questions? Stefanie from Ni Hao Ya’ll is also answering questions here (which inspired this post).

Read This, Eat This, Play This

Nothing says fall like these Pumpkin Oatmeal Scotchies. Buy 2 bags of butterscotch chips. You’ll need them. This is a recipe you’ll make again and again. This recipe for Pumpkin Pie Dip has also been a winner. And it’s slightly healthier because apples dip nicely in it. Although graham crackers do too. Lastly, we love mini bananas. They’re perfect for snacks and school lunches.

I’m only partway through The Whole-Brain Child by Siegel and Bryson, but I wish I’d read it sooner. One really good take away is to explain to children that emotions are like clouds. They aren’t permanent. They roll by.

Luk Chaai’s teacher recently asked me about our snake. Our snake? The closest we have to a snake is a now-deceased caterpillar that got taken to Share Day in a pickle jar. So when I can across the suggestion to play 2 truths and 1 make believe with yours kids in The Whole-Brain Child, I knew this was a game for us. It’s actually been a lot of fun. We pared it down to one truth and one make believe though to make it slightly easier.

Here’s an example of how I played it with Luk Chaai: I once had a banana cut out of my mouth with a samurai sword or I’ve eaten alligator. (Just ask my summer camp roomie who volunteered me for an “activity”, which one is true.)

Happy eating. Happy reading.

The Wheelchair Minivan, Part III

So the wheelchair is now a full-time addition to our family. We even had family pictures taken with it recently. Ying loves her wheelchair, loves it.

Who could blame her? It gives her a freedom she’s never previously had. She can go up, down and around all by herself. And, trust me, she does! Watching her zoom over to the light switch and turn it on and off has been a beautiful thing.

While having the wheelchair has been a huge positive change for Ying, it’s also meant a few changes for the rest of us. There was a bit of furniture rearranging inside the house as well as the ramp and a wider door. But the bigger change has obviously been the car.

As much as I never wanted to be a minivan mom, I’m so grateful for this car. Ying drives her wheelchair straight up the ramp and into the car. We had the Permolock C3 installed, so she can ride in the wheelchair, instead of a car seat. (She hasn’t done this yet though, because I’m waiting for the safety vest we ordered to arrive.)

The Permolock is manufactured by Permobil and can only be installed on Permobil chairs. There is a second option, however, and that’s the EZ Lock.

 

Permolock C3

The Permolock is a 2-pin locking system. (EZ Lock is a one-pin system.) That means that if both pins aren’t lined up with the locking base properly, the chair won’t lock. We put taped guides down on the floor to help Ying learn to properly get onto the base. There is a light on the release button that lets you know if you’re properly locked in. Green means you’re good, red means you aren’t. We had our locking mojo pretty well down at first but seem to have lost it. I contacted Permobil and they think that we may need our base shimmed up, so I’m going to be visiting the dealership again soon.

A few more tips:

- You can’t have the Permolock installed into your vehicle until you have your wheelchair because the installer needs both the wheelchair and the locking base to line everything up properly.

- The locking pins for the Permobil K450 are not retractable. But that hasn’t been a problem. We haven’t scratched my hardwood floors or gotten caught in the grass outside.

- If you have an automatic ramp, your keys get bulkier. You’ll have a separate ramp remote from car remote. Hello bulky pockets!

- All the major vehicle manufacturers offer rebates for mobility adaptation/wheelchair conversions. The rebates range from $1000-$1500. Toyota wanted to see a doctor’s note/RX regarding the disability, but luckily I still had the note the DMV required and photocopied that. Go here for a full list of rebates and mobility programs.

- We’ve had to develop a new routine. Getting two preschoolers (and their school bags, water bottles, etc…) and a wheelchair backed out of the car safely and efficiently takes a little getting used too. But like everything, this has simply been about practice. Because we take the wheelchair everywhere, we’ve gotten a lot of practice in a short amount of time.

I can’t sing the praises of this chair enough. It really has been life changing. And, everyone loves the hot, hot pink.

Go little girl in the hot pink chair!

Why Christmas Was Never Meant To Be A Celebration

  Mount St. Helen, 2008

The air is crisp, the leaves are crunchy. That can only mean one thing – Costco has begun selling Christmas wrap. Cue the collective groan.

Don’t get me wrong, I’ve done my share of griping about the rushing of the seasons and the fact that a silent night can be blown-up and put in your front lawn for $99 and a handful of cents.

But for those of us who believe Christmas to be the holiest season, we have only ourselves to blame that it has been made tawdry with tinsel and tacky singing lights.

We try to get back to the true meaning of Christmas by eliminating St. Nicklaus or by limiting gifts to the number of magi. Yet we barely have joy for the world for a day, much less a whole month.

How is it we send cards proclaiming the hope of the world yet stand in the post office line to mail them feeling hollow and haggard?

Christmas was never meant to be celebrated. That’s not what the wise men, the shepherd boy or the weary mother did. They bowed down. They worshiped.

There, wrapped in swaddling clothes, lying in the-almost-assuredly-not sweet smelling hay, illuminated by the eastern star was an Extinguishing Light.

You visit a tear-stained mother in the NICU, her tiny child in an incubator fed the breath of life by tubes and wires; the outcome etched on the doctor’s face. You don’t take candles and a cake.

Yet we dress up Christmas like this year the story may have a different ending. Like we can glitz away, just for a day, Gethsemane or a tomb.

I don’t want to forgo the carols, the lights or the presents under the tree. It was the magic of my childhood, and I want it to be my children’s too.

But I also want to celebrate Christmas like I know the ending. This season, I want to admit that sorrow was born because of, and for, me.

Stay tuned for more. I don’t actually know what the more is, just that it’s coming.

The Power of Yes

I’ve talked about it before. About how one little ‘yes’ changed our lives in a great big and beautiful way. But sometimes I neglect to add that the ‘yes’ continues to change our lives. That the ‘yes’ was a snowball, not a snowstorm.

The funny thing is that while that initial ‘yes’ felt so big and so scary, everything since has felt pretty much  felt like a natural extension of our lives. Don’t get me wrong, we’re still afraid of change. Sometimes really afraid. And, sometimes we still shrink back when we should be forging ahead. But we’ve also learned that courage is not the absence of fear.

We’ve also learned that 'saying ‘yes’ should never be an insolated incident, a once-in-a-lifetime experience. Instead, it should be a way of life.

She’s says it far more beautifully here. Don’t miss it, especially where she says “This should not be a unique story. Our story should not be special. This story should be all of ours.”

When It Comes Undone

Whenever changes are afloat, I start out sailing smoothly. But after days of uneven waters, I tend to lose it.

I make headway on the To Do list. I call and email all the needed people it takes to get things done. But then a moment comes. It’s that moment when I’m stirfrying but I can’t find my stirfry spoon or it’s when someone, who has been asked not to screech repeatedly, screeches a little too loud and too long. In that moment, I come undone.

In that moment I forget that the issue is a cooking utensil or a kid being a (crazy) kid. Instead I hear “Really, you think you can do that? You can’t even do this.” or “You don’t get to whine and complain. You’re the one who thought you could have it all.”

The self doubt, the emotional exhaustion, the patience of a gnat – it doesn’t come from someplace good.

We tell ourselves and our kids to always give 110%. Malarkey. If we’re going to embrace this life and not endure it, then sometimes you just can’t. Some days you need to do enough to just get by. Some days you need to pack it in long before quitting time.

You need to build your strength back up. You need to be able to get back to a place where you can feel the rush of the water between your fingers, even when you’re just doing dishes. You need to be able to feel the warmth of the sun on your cheek and to know that it shone for you.

You need to get back to the place where you can put it back together when it comes undone.

I Love To Tell The Story

Some days I feel like I have nothing to say. That everything has been said before. On those days, I question if I write because I actually enjoy it or if I’m just something of an egomaniac.

But I also know that stories are powerful. That people’s personal tales, including people I’ve never met, have helped bring me where I am today.

This is especially true of our adoption story and our limb different story. I’ve done my fair share of 2 AM other-people-in-the-same-boat story reading while nail-biting through the next chapter of our own.

But it isn’t just the stories of the similarly situated that connect us. Stories are common connections that transcend time. We all know the one about George Washington and the cherry tree and that one isn’t even true.

Some days I read blogs because I’m looking for advice or a good recipe. Other days I just want to know that I’m not in this thing alone.

I think that’s what we want. Everyone using social media, whether they’re posting cute pictures of their kids or their pooch, whether they’re knuckle-headed enough to be documenting the crime they just committed or what they had for lunch is seeking the same thing, connection. Don’t believe me? Then why does Facebook have a “Like” button? Why do blogs have followers? People are seeking different types of connection - validation,compensation, commiseration, a shared laugh - but we’re all ultimately seeking the same thing.

Maybe the guy typing out #atebadburrito isn’t just a twenty-something self-absorbed technology addict. Maybe he just needs a hug, virtual or otherwise. Or maybe he just needs to be heard.

Maybe so do I. Maybe so do you.

When It Isn’t Black and White

I used to think the world was so black and white. Life was easier when I believed that something was either right or wrong.

I used to make choices according to “the rules.” Consequently, I was more sure of the decisions I made.

These days I still believe in Absolute Truth.

But I also believe that Absolute Truth has a whole mess to say on the merits of long-cut detours, seemingly impractical decisions and getting our hands more than a little dirty.

My life is not as black and white as it once was.

The safety net of a reflexive “yes” or “no” has been replaced with angsty soul-searching and the joys of tossing and turning.

Yet, strangely enough, I eat and drink a song of peace.

 

PS – Did you vote for Love Without Boundaries today at Intuit’s Small Business, Big Game site? LWB is in the running for a professionally produced commercial to be aired during the Super Bowl. Go here to vote.

Linking up with Sunday Snapshot at Ni Hao Yall.

Literacy of Life

Are you literate? Not can you read, but are you literate in the language of life?

Are you well-educated and learned when it comes to the transforming power of pain, to still reverence, to the quiet whisperings of grace?

We tend to think of ourselves as either literate or illiterate. But there is a third possibility: aliterate.

An aliterate person can read and write but has little interest in doing so, whether out of indifference to learning in general or from a preference for seeking information and entertainment by other means.

Today, which do you choose to be?

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Here's an interesting podcast from two adult amputees about how they deal with children staring at their prosthetics. My favorite part is when the mom says her child wanted to take her prosthetic leg to career day.

The Luxury We Can't Afford

There's a phrase that irritates me. It's "I did the best I could with what I had/or what I knew at the time." It's that qualifier there on the end that gets me. It's like saying "I love you, except when...." or "I'm sorry, but...".

It's understood that you did the best with what you had or what you knew. That's the whole point of doing your best. If you had it all or knew it all, you wouldn't need to do your best. You'd just do it. 

 If you did your best, own it. You gave it all you had. Period. End of story. 

But sometimes we add that qualifier not as an inartful turn of phrase but as a means of justifying ourselves. It's the out we give ourselves when we choose to turn away from inkling, intuition or the hardwork of digging deeper and learning more. It's far easier to claim no outright knowledge than it is to go through the looking glass. We are afraid to cross the point of no return, knowing that we will be charged with what we've seen and heard. 

The luxury of ignorance is a luxury we can't afford. 

All that is necessary for the triumph of evil is that good men do nothing. --Edmund Burke

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Here's something you can't claim ignorance of today. Love Without Boundaries is an organization whose vision is "to provide the most loving and compassionate help possible to orphaned and impoverished children in China, and to show the world that every child, regardless of his or her needs, deserves to experience love and be treated with dignity and care." LWB is in the running for a professionally produced commercial to be aired during the Super Bowl. Go here to vote for LWB. You can vote daily.   

Keep Calm and Sing On

A piercing scream let out, so I went running. Given the decibels and duration of the scream, I expected to find blood or grey matter on the concrete. Instead I found water. Ying was trying to pour water from a cup into a spray bottle and lost hold of the cup.

After I refilled the cup I told her she HAD to stop screaming when she was frustrated, remarking “we’re going to have to teach you how to curse instead.”

Grandparents of Ying, fear not, we won’t turn her into a salty sailor. But after I made the offhanded remark, I actually thought about what I’d just said. Ying gets legitimately frustrated and she needs away to work through that frustration. My telling her to quit yelling isn’t helping. I need to show her what to do with that frustration.

We have a calming jar. I actually made it for Luk Chaai but both kids like to look at the falling glitter, particularly when they’re already calm. Thus defeating the purpose. But as fond as I am of the calming jar, I don’t really think it works in this situation. 

Because I have one child who frequently gets compared to a “spider monkey jacked up on Dew,” Ying, Luk Chaai and I do yoga for kids together sometimes. (That’s a Talladega Nights reference,  courtesy of my husband).  So I’m going to try having Ying doing breathing techniques in place of screaming.

But I think the best technique may be to teach her a little song she can hum or sing when she gets frustrated. We’re going to find a song just for this situation and we will sing instead of scream.

I sure hope it works. Of course, if it does, my ears will be kicking me that I didn’t think of it sooner.

Read This, Eat This, Watch This

We were at a nationally recognized children’s hospital last week and I was struck by something. There were no books in the waiting room. None. There was a tv playing a kid’s movie, but that was it.

I’m all for a quiet wait at the doctor’s office, but it made me a little sad. Where was the Highlights for Kids or those books whose stories all had a moral ending? Those modern day Aesop’s fables made a real impression on me. In one story a greedy girl grabbed the biggest cream puff only to discover that it was full of air, not custard. She, of course, learned to be less selfish and more considerate.

I learned something too. To this day, I never take the largest donut or pastry on the off chance that, it as well, may be devoid of gooey goodness.

But all that to say: I love to read and fewer things make me happier than seeing my kids lost in a good book. I’m always looking for book suggestions. Maybe you are too.

Here’s what we’re reading, eating and watching right now.
Reading: Me – Bellow Stairs, Wild Thing: The Art of Nurturing Boys
Them – Families Have Together (this was a library stumble-upon, it’s especially great book for adoptive families); And I Mean It, Stanley

Eating: This zucchini bread (you sugar the pan!), these Asian Pork Sliders and popcorn, the old fashioned way (we skip the staple and just double-fold the bag)

Watching: Life ( tv show about a wrongfully convicted police detective who, when exonerated, rejoins the police force but with a Zen attitude. It’s from 2008 so I’m watching via Netflix).

When You Can’t Be There

Because it’s a new school year, both Ying and Luk Chaai have had emergency preparedness drills at school. Luk Chaai explained all of the components of a fire drill to me in the spirit of grand adventure. “When the bell rings, you walk, not run,” he admonished me. “You stand on the line and wait for your name to be called,” he explained. You couldn’t help but admire his enthusiasm in the face of pending doom.

Ying was late coming out of school one day. We had a drill, her teacher explained. My initial reaction was to be glad that she too was having the complete school experience. Then the potential seriousness of the situation dawned on me. What exactly did you tell her to do, I asked the teachers. For days I was nagged by ‘what ifs’ and ‘how cans.’

Should there ever be more than a drill for either child, it goes without saying that I’d want to be there. I’d also like a Marine, a fire fighter and an officer in SWAT gear standing next to me, regardless of the situation. Wouldn’t we all?

But life doesn’t work that way. My presence is not a shield. There have been bumps and bangs whether I stood two feet from a child or two cities over. Children have acted rudely before my very eyes and when my attention was elsewhere. It’s the nature of life. 

As a nation, we grapple with difficult questions of being the world’s policeman; as a parent I must acknowledge that I’m not.

We can prepare and pray and plan, and then we must release.  Otherwise we bind ourselves and our children with the silken strands of the dark unknown.

Instead I chose to believe that when help is needed, someone will be there.

It’s two o'clock Christmas morning and food poisoning strikes. Someone was there.

Shortly after we came home with Ying, we spent the day with friends. Sensing our exhaustion, they insist on pushing the stroller. Someone was there.

After a long thankless day, I phone a friend. Someone is there.

The car alarm went off and the neighbors called to check. (Some little people got a hold of their father’s keys.) Someone was there.

My child was in an orphanage and I wasn’t. Yet, someone was there.

Psychiatrists tell us that the best indicator of future behavior is past behavior. I chose to believe that someone will be there when they need to be, because someone has always been there.

Someone is always there.

Along Came Then

Sometimes people like to tell me how enviable my current set-up is. I don’t disagree but after while it grates on me.

Our current circumstances aren’t the result of us winning life’s luck lottery, although there was certainly a fair amount of that involved (and an unmistakable amount of providence). But in many ways, we spent our whole lives preparing for where we are today. We just didn’t know that’s what we were doing.

Many years ago we were fresh out of college and green at marriage. My husband’s dream internship was supposed to turn into a dream job. But it didn’t, not for anyone.

Instead he took a job in retail. As it turns out, he turned that filler job into a successful career.  At the time, we were sure that job, the one we thought not worthy of his not-yet-hung college diploma, was a temporary place holder. It wasn’t, it was a stepping stone. Little did we know that he was working for a company that years later would be one of the few remaining to offer an employer adoption assistance program.  Or that we would use it, more than once.

Five years ago, if you had asked me for my five-year plan, I would have rattled it off to you. It wouldn’t have included speech therapy, a wheelchair, or petitioning Congress to change disability laws. Yet here we are.

What I didn’t know then was that my job was teaching me skills I would later use to advocate for my kids. Yet here were are.

It’s beautiful here.

That boring meeting at the thankless job you’re sitting in today, that dinner out that you’ll forgo this weekend, in favor of leftovers in, that coupon for two quarters or less off that you’re clipping when it seems pointless – it all means something.

It’s not just for the here and now, but also for the Then.

Because, when you least expect it, along comes Then.

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Have you read Jeff Goin’s new book, The In-Between: Embracing the Tension Between Now and the Next Big Thing? If you haven’t, you should. It covers this very topic.

It’s All In Your Mind: Growth vs Fixed Mindsets

The set up, the swing, the guys who have been roped into retrieving the ball

I was cooking this weekend and enlisted Ying and Luk Chaai’s help snapping the ends off of green beans. This wasn’t the kind of task Ying could complete with just one finger, so I suggested she bite the end off. After one chomp of raw green bean, she found my suggestion lacking, in, well, taste. Instead Ying asked for her scissors and snipped the ends off. Solution found; problem solved.

Again and again Ying personifies the adage if at first you don’t succeed, try, try again.  I’m fascinated by this relentless determination because it’s not the result of anything we’ve taught her. Additionally, this attitude seems particularly prevalent among congenital amputees. Where do Ying, Richie Parker, Kyle Maynard, Nick Vujicic, Jessica Cox (to name a few) get their resolve? I’ve been reading Mindset by Carol Dweck, and I think I have the answer. People that repeatedly and persistently work to overcome have a growth mindset versus a fixed mindset. 

To define the different mindsets, Dwerk asks when do you feel smart? Is it when you don’t make a mistake, when something is easier for you than others or is it when you work on something and figure it out? People who feel smart when they’re flawless have a fixed mindset. People who feel smart when they’re learning have a growth mindset.

I will admit to falling smack dab into the first camp in many areas of my life. I feel more successful as the hare than the tortoise. I prize speed and perfection, in myself and in others. If I’m not careful, I’ll certainly convey this to my kids. And, I don’t want to. Speed and perfection are not the hallmarks of a life well-lived. As Dwerk points out, they are also the enemies of difficult learning.

Can you reform a fixed mindset and hone a growth mindset? Dwerks says yes and gives some practical, helpful examples on how. She says to offer children encouragement such as: “That homework was long and involved. I really admire the way you concentrated and finished it.” or “It makes me really upset when you don’t do a full job. When do you think you can complete this?”

Another suggestion from the book that we will be immediately incorporating will be to discuss a mistake we made or something we worked to overcome each day. We’re going to try doing this at dinner time. I see a huge advantage to doing it at this time of day. If my dinner is not well-received, I know what my ‘fail of the day’ can be. 

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The green beans I was making can be found here. They were delicious.

I’ll Take Tinkering For A Dollar, Alex

Luk Chaai is a taker-aparter. If something can be undone, he’ll undo it. Permission not required.

The other day I came upstairs to find that he’d hoisted his Little Tikes car up so that he could work on the undercarriage. He’d used the cord from his sister’s blinds to do it.

On the one hand, I’m proud of his ingenuity. On other, I’d prefer to that the bulk of our household items remain as they were – working and intact. I think that second part is what Spike Lee was referring to when he said “parents are the biggest dream killers.”

So when we saw a neighbor’s yard sale this weekend, we knew this was our chance. Luk Chaai, Ying and Daddy went. They came back with a DVD/CD combo thing.

Look, Dad, I did it!

Luk Chaai did not work alone.

Luk Chaai was given screwdrivers and the purchase. He was told “have at it.”

It might be the best dollar we’ve ever spent.

 

Three Tips That Border On Brilliant

 

You are my sunshine. – Ying is a pretty neat eater, surprisingly so. But when we have a tomato-related incident, I put the clothes out in the sun. The sun bleaches the stain right out, no stain remover needed. Magic!

Point and shoot - Frequently I find self portraits of Luk Chaai’s feet on my phone. While I’m typically amused, I prefer to use my phone for a more practical purpose. I take pictures of paperwork: party invitations we receive (so now I have all details beyond what I entered into Cozi), quotes I like, books I want to read, recipes, etc… It’s not as fun as a story board of feet, but it is useful.

Parlez-vous LanguagePod101? – If you’re trying to learn a new language, check out languagepod101. They offer a number of languages including Spanish, Chinese, Cantonese, Thai and Korean. A seven-day trial is free. I much prefer this to Rosetta Stone. It’s language lessons but each lesson also includes a different cultural insight. I download lessons onto my phone and then play them during school pick-up and drop-offs.

Tips shared. Duty done.

Over and out.

When Life Singles You Out

Do you ever feel like life is picking on you? I do.

I made two trips to the DMV over our new wheelchair mini-van. I had to have that brand-new bad boy smogged, taxed, and VIN verified.

Initially the DMV wasn’t going to give me handicapped plates because Ying isn’t on the car’s registration. I pointed out that’s because minors aren’t allowed to be on a vehicle’s registration. The DMV finally relented when I explained that the only reason I bought this car was for the wheelchair and signed a sworn statement acknowledging that this was Ying’s primary transportation. Two separate DMVs signed off on this and I walked out the door with the plates. (They only wanted to give me a rear-view mirror placard, which I’d have to hang each time I parked. FYI, you’ll likely need a doctor to sign off on either the placard or plates.)

Then today I got a letter from the DMV telling me to make an appointment to surrender the plates because Ying isn’t on the registration. Grrrr!

Whenever life confronts me with these aggravations, I lie. I tell myself that once I get past this hurdle that life will be smooth sailing. This isn’t true. Something new, and if possible, more inane always crops up. Why hello, adoption credit tax audit or an attempt to correct a name spelling error causing the insurance to drop said misspelled person altogether.

Life’s little tribulations are not a phase. Unlike a new pair of shoes, they do not pinch at first and then wear well. No, these blood suckers have tenure and rent-controlled housing. They are here to leech the life right out of us if we let them.

I want to be a better student of life, able to handle whatever comes at me. Fastball, I’m ready. Curve ball, I’m going to hit it out of the park. Slow pitch, come to momma.

Batter up, baby. Life’s all about the slide.

The DMV has yet to mess with this car.

Preparing Siblings For The Adoption Of A Brother Or Sister

This post could alternatively be titled Making Way For An Interloper, but let’s focus on the positive, shall we?

There’s no recipe for adding another person to the family. You’re adding a living, breathing, potentially kicking person into the mix. This means a time of transition for everyone. Here are a few suggestions to help ready siblings on what’s to come:

Make a book – I made Luk Chaai this book that talks about handling change and ways he could deal with everything that was happening. Even though he isn't a 50-something-year-old woman, for him, this was The Change. And, let’s face it, even if he got nothing from the book, it made me feel like I was doing something.

Give a gift – My brother is six years younger than I am. When he was born, he paid me the proper respect an elder sister deserves and he brought me a gift. I still have it.  The day we met Ying, Luk Chaai gave her a doll; she brought him Legos. Did it help pave the way? I don’t know, but hopefully they’ll still have their gifts well into adulthood too.

Talk about emotions – We did a lot of talking with Luk Chaai about his own adoption. We talked about things like: remember how you cried when you met us? You sister may be scared and she may cry too. We tried to emphasize that his ready-made friend may not always feel very friendly.

Pick a travel spot – Luk Chaai was excited about a return trip to the land of birth. There were many reasons to be excited. He was going to meet his long-awaited, much-talked about sister; he would be visiting his foster mother; and he was staying in a hotel with a pool AND a breakfast buffet. Can you say win-win?

To help make sure that he maintained that level of enthusiasm, we asked him to pick a travel destination. He picked “a train.” Luckily we were able to find one, and it turned out to be memorable, if hot, day for everyone.

Countdown with a paper chain – As we got ready for “airplane day,” each night we tore a link off of a paper chain. It was a good visual for all of us as we counted down.
There were a few more miscellaneous things that we did in preparation of travel. We’ve always traveled with Luk Chaai’s pillow case, so we packed that. I also really wanted to emphasize to Luk Chaai that he was coming home with us. He didn’t seem to show any concerns that he might have one-way ticket, but given his age and the fact that he was being reunited with his foster mother, I really felt the need to drive home to him that we were all coming home . 

In an effort to do that, before we left the house, we said good bye to his bed and room, saying ‘see you in a few weeks, see you soon.’ I also made a calendar for him that showed our daily activities and when we would be coming home.

Our transition wasn’t smooth. There were days with jagged edges and raw feelings. But there were also days when a little girl sought out her brother’s hand. Days when a big brother bounced and banged around, impatient for his sister to wake from her nap. Glory graced those days.
May it grace yours too.

Hungry, Hungry Kiddos: School Lunch Box Ideas

Luk Chaai’s idea of a truly decent meal.

 

My kids are good eaters, embarrassingly so. At the court hearing for Luk Chaai’s adoption, the deputy commented on how “sturdy” he was. Last weekend at a party, Ying ate four bowls of chow fun prompting comments of, “Geesh! Don’t you ever feed this child?” I can assure you that the people who get a kick out of watching our kids eat are the people who don’t foot the grocery bill! Some people worry about a run on the banks, we worry about a run on the Asian food market.

Here are a few lunch box ideas for hearty and picky eaters alike:

- egg salad with sun dried tomatoes (a favorite of mine)
- seaweed
- edamame
- banana chips
- Persian cucumbers and hummus
- pasta salad
- gyoza
- quesadillas
- mangos and strawberries
- pepperoni and cubed cheese
- ham and pineapple chunks
- bagels with cream cheese
- pita chips with white bean spread (white beans in the food processor with EVOO, salt, pepper, garlic)
- apples and peanut butter
- Craisins with pretzels

How To Effectively Advocate For Your Special Needs Child

If you have a differently abled child, you will undoubtedly spend a large portion of your days making sure that child gets what she needs. It will be exhausting and seem never-ending. It will feel messy, because it is.

You will run out your cell phone minutes, and your patience, dealing with the insurance company. You will encounter doctors who say things so dumb that you question their medical degrees. A government “official” at the US Embassy where you are trying to get your child’s visa paperwork may question your ability to parent your child.

Do not give up.

Here are a few suggestions for dealing with these trying moments:

Wait before you draw battle lines – Your child’s situation, like him, is unique. You may be dealing with people who are unfamiliar with your child’s diagnosis, treatment, etc… Some people are lazy and uncaring and won’t want to help you because it means more work for them. But other people are simply uneducated or uninformed and therefore will default to a “no” or “we can’t do that” position. These people can, and will help you, you just need to give them the information they need to do it.

You are an expert on your child because you live with him, watch him function daily, watch him overcome and adapt. The stranger on the other end of the line doesn’t. Find a point of reference to explain your situation. For us, it’s almost always encouraging people to Google Nick Vuijcic or watch his Youtube videos. Even though Nick and Ying don’t have the exact physical limitations, we find it’s a great starting point. 

Think bulls eye, not buck shot – You aren’t going for a scattered approach here, you’re aiming for dead center and you want to hit the target every time. You believe your child needs 5 classroom adaptive devices? Make a list and prioritize the needs. When they ask about them at the IEP meeting, start with need #1, explain why it’s needed, where to get it and how much the item will cost.

Learn the lingo -  If the issue with the insurance company is the seat elevation system on your daughter’s wheelchair (and I can assure you, it will be!) and you’re slugging it out with them over said seat elevation system, speak their language.  Know that the assigned billing code for the seat elevation system is E2300. Insurance companies bill and are billed using a standard set of alpha-numeric codes called the Healthcare Procedure Coding Systems Code or HPCSC. You can find the applicable codes on your insurance company’s website, in your policy, or here.   A few more insurance terms to know: EOB (explanation of benefits) and OOP (out-of-pocket).

Look like you mean business -  If you mean business, then look like it. There’s no need to go to an IEP meeting in a 3-piece suit, but know that everyone in the room will, at a minimum, be in business casual. Therefore, you, at a minimum, should be too.

Take it to the top – Sometimes the people helping you simply don’t have the power or knowledge base to get you what you need. In that case, the magic words are, “may I speak to a supervisor, please.” Still not getting what you want? Google the email or telephone numbers for a consumer advocate or the CEO of the company. 

Phone a friend -  It’s hard to stay unemotional and factual when talking about your child. You don’t want to recite that her arm is only 2.5 inches long, you want to say things like, she has deep soulful eyes and blast you, you’re making those beautiful eyes cry.

While your passion for your child propels you, it also can work against you in certain situations. If you find it difficult to articulate your position without getting extremely emotional or that your objectivity is skewed by your zeal, then step back. (Remember the most skilled advocates can see both sides of a situation, thus allowing them to more forcefully argue their position.)

In insurance appeals and IEP meetings, you have the right to appoint someone else to speak on your behalf. If you need to, do this.

You’ll be amazed at the number of doctors, therapists and friends who are willing to get down in the trenches with you. People are willing to get their hands dirty and their hearts bruised if you let them.

You do not walk this road alone.

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Did you hear about the British Airways passenger who bought tweets to recover his father’s lost luggage? Apparently it worked. You can read about it here.

A Limited Return to Domesticity

On a wholly unrelated note, I found this in the toy chest at my parents house. A few years ago, I would have said, ‘what happened to her hand?’ Now we just call her limb different Barbie and move on.

About seven or eight years ago, I was having dinner with my Nana and her old lady friends. All of the women were at least in their eighties, a few in their nineties. The women started peppering me with questions. "Do you sew?" one of them asked. "No, ma 'am," I replied. "Bake your own bread?" another one inquired. Again, I shook my head. I think the ladies were starting to feel sorry for me, so one of them pitched me a softball, "How many children do you have?" At the time, we didn't have any, so I was forced to admit that to these ladies. "I work," I weakly eeked out. I don't think they were impressed.

This was a generation of women who had sewn many of their, and much of their children's, clothes and canned their own tomatoes. Contrary to what one might expect, most of these women at some point also held down jobs outside the home. They talked back and forth amongst themselves for a few minutes, reminiscing about baking and sewing, what they enjoyed, what they didn't. "I always did like creating something with my hands," one of the women commented before the conversation moved on.

I nodded along obligingly, secretly glad that I wasn't born to that era. I have always enjoyed cooking, but most days, I left early and got home late. The making of dinner wasn't for the enjoyment of the process but for the eating of the results. There was no need to darn socks or "put up" preserves, that's why the good Lord gave us Amazon and Trader Joes.

This summer our garden produced an abundance of zucchini and cucumbers, and we passed them out routinely. We literally handed them over the fence to the neighbors and loaded them in the car to give away while at church and school (all with my non-zuchinni loving husband shouting good riddance).

I got a strange sense of satisfaction from sharing something I'd grown with my own hands. Somehow it felt different than delivering casseroles or even our Yuletide gifts of homemade pot stickers. I think I finally know what my grandmothers' friends were talking about - they were talking about being more than a consumer.

I'm not about to end my relationship with the UPS man. We have a good thing going. He delivers directly to my door, tells me about the best Christmas lights in town and delights my kids by honking when he sees us out walking. But I am going to give a lot more thought to creating with my own hands. One-click purchasing with the mouse isn’t really the only skill I want to pass down.

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Want an easy create with your own hands project? These were both quite good.

10 minute homemade pickles

Homemade peach jam

Plus Ashley Ann talks about this same topic here.

When Am I Ever Going to Use This?

In their book Made to Stick, authors Heath and Heath talk about a high school math teacher’s response to the age-old question, “When are ever going to use this?”.  “Never, he told his students, you will never use this…. You do math exercises so that you can improve your ability to think logically, so that you can be a better lawyer, doctor, architect, prison-warden or parent.”

What a great answer. Why didn’t any one ever explain it to me like that before? I might have let go of the grudge I’ve held against my math teacher long before now. (And am I the only one who thinks the career choice of prison-warden or parent side-by-side is funny?)

So often in life, the most difficult moments are the whys. Why did this happen? Why am I going through this? Why won’t this ever end?

I think a high school math teacher has given us all the answer* - so that we’re better prepared for the rest of life.

Not once since school have I had occasion to use Trig or Algebra II.  Thankfully, not once. But all those times when I thought I just couldn’t go one step further, I’ve learned from those moments.

Hindsight and the perspective of distance are a curse, and a beautiful gift. Because of them, we watch seemingly random dots connect and we exhale a collective ‘Ahhh, so that’s why. This was the reason.’ We nod sagely with our newfound insight and we congratulate each other on “unanswered” prayers.

Then the next time we are in so deep that we can see neither the beginning or the end, we moan and sigh at the unhappy fates that have befallen us.  We forget that those moments are the aligning of the stars, the shifting of the planets and that they are just for us.

*Jeremiah 29:11 also contains the same answer, in a different format: “For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the LORD, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.”

The Postman Only Rings Once: Care Package Suggestions For Adopted Children

When I was in college my mom sent me fairly regular care packages and my dad gave me monthly access to his credit card. College was a good thing.

My kids are no where near college-age, but as is common in adoptions, received care packages from us long before we met them. If you get graded on your care packages, then I totally flunked the first time around with each child.

The clothes I sent my man-child were quite snug. I went to the opposite extreme and sent Ying clothes that swallowed her and fell off her left shoulder. (I have since learned how to dress her.) Each time I saw pictures of my kids in their ill-fitting clothes I wondered if the caregivers questioned the competency of the parents coming for these kids. There were no raised eyebrows when we met Luk Chaai and Ying, so perhaps our care package missteps were forgotten and/or are a common occurrence.

The care packages we were permitted to send had to meet with some pretty stringent requirements: flat, silent, fit in a gallon-sized Ziplock baggie and weigh less than a pound. That meant for some pretty creative shopping.

1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6. 7. 8.

Here are a few suggestions if you are planning a care package:

For both – photo albums, photo blocks (not sure if you can get this to squish flat though) disposable cameras, bi-lingual books, lift-the-flap books, crayons, sun hats, sun glasses, stickers, bubbles, wooden stringing beads (especially good for kids with a  hand/arm limb difference), anything you can record your voice (Build-A-Bear,  K K’s telephone).

For little boys – cars and trucks, plastic slinky

For little girls – nail polish, bracelets, hair bows

Happy shopping!

Yanking Out the Weeds, Pulling Up the Grass

So Ying and Luk Chaai like to do “yard work.” 

It mainly involves cutting the grass and the spider plant with scissors.

Their poor father though, he’s going to have so little to do now this weekend.

Luckily, I bet I can come up with something.

Tedium: Public Enemy Number One

Photo bombed photos make life worth living.

It’s been another week of fighting with the insurance company, there have been two trips to the DMV and the bog of paperwork keeps getting boggier.

To top it off, the sun is baking and I feel uninspired and unimaginative. 

I’m my own worst enemy and I know it.

When I hear people say things like live every day like it’s your last, I’m always a little lost. If it were indeed my last day, I wouldn’t be doing laundry or taking out the trash. Yet I’m pretty sure that there would be a general outcry if tomorrow there are no clean underpants. It’s hard to mourn properly when you lack washed skivvies. Just saying.

I think the message that the  ‘live every day like it’s your last’ people are trying to send is that every day matters,  even the days that are longer than they are deep.

When the muck is knee high and the devil is whispering black nothings in your ear, I find it helpful to chant something.  Here’s my new favorite: Saints are sinners who kept on going. Robert Louis Stevenson

Keep going friends, keep going.

We’ll get there yet.

Love: The Standard Operating Procedure

My Nana is 98. She’s well, old, and sometimes it shows. For example, she thinks Luk Chaai, who is a rather energetic, all-boy, four-year-old male, is a girl.

Nana also has a tendency to repeat things. Ying, who is three, shares the same tendency. It makes for an interesting visit sometimes.

On Sunday, Nana kept asking what happened to Ying’s other arm. Before we got there, Nana had torn apart something. So, Ying, for her part, kept asking why Nana had shredded the item. Apparently my answers satisfied neither of them because they both kept asking. It was good times, especially because about fifteen minutes in Luk Chaai got bored and made no secret of the fact that he wanted to GO. As we were packing it up, I wanted to ask myself why we do it.

But I know why we go. I go because I love my Nana. But I also go because I was taught to. Sometimes it would be a heck of a lot easier to skip visiting, but Nana gets a kick out of seeing Ying and Luk Chaai. Plus, I want my children to know something: love is a policy. 

Shortly after I was married my grandfather became quite ill. I flew home, leaving my new groom solo for our first Thanksgiving (thankfully friends invited him over). I went to my grandfather’s nursing home to pick him up. I hugged him and told him I was there to take him to Thanksgiving dinner. “I can’t go with you,”  he told me. When I asked him why not he said said he’d already told the woman in the yellow sweater he would go home with her. I looked around. There was no woman in a yellow sweater.

Love is a policy.

This wasn’t the first time my grandfather had become confused. Many months before he’d mistakenly believed that his neighbor, John, was acting nefariously. When the neighbor came over to speak to my grandfather, my grandfather snubbed John. About 20 minutes later, my grandfather’s lucidity returned and he realized what he’d done. He asked me to go next door with him, where he apologized to John.

I learned something that day.

Love is a policy.

When things aren’t easy, when life gets complicated, when getting out is easier than staying in – love is a policy.