Before bed the other night, all cuddled up with her fleece "flowers blanket" and the giant stuffed bear, K asked me, "Why did Mama A-- decide to have you adopt us?" (Mama A--, if you'll recall, is our children's foster mother in Russia.)
I refrained from answering, Because no other people on the planet were dumb enough to adopt a 2-year-old and a 3-year-old at the same time.
She hadn't asked this question before. I started by answering the way I always tell her life narrative: "Your birthparents loved you but couldn't take care of children, so Mama A--took care of you until Papa and I could come get you."
I had a feeling she'd ask again, and she did. I forget her exact words, but it was clear--as I'd expected--that my answer didn't satisfy her. She seemed to be wondering why Mama A. didn't keep her. So I gave her two more answers. One of them I'd previously given: "It is Mama A--'s job to love and take care of children whose parents can't come get them yet." The other I hadn't ever given, and I'd dreaded the day when I would need to: it concerns the fact that orphans are still second-class citizens in some parts of the world, including where our kids were born.
I hate chauvinism. I hate making generalizations about an entire country. Peter and I make conscious efforts in word and deed to drill into our kids that all cultural ways, religions, skin colors, etc are worthy. So it had been troubling us that we would one day have to explain that some cultures just don't value orphans.
What follows is paraphrased from every orphanage worker we met in Russia, including Mama A. herself. If I'd had a few more minutes to think about it, I might have come up with something better. "In some parts of the world, people think that children who don't live with their birthparents aren't as good as children who do--"
"But I am good!" K interrupted. (God bless her self-confidence.)
I said, "Of course you are. We think It doesn't matter who your birthparents are, but some people think it does."
"Like in Russia."
Sigh. "Yes. In Russia, most children who don't live with their birthparents can't go to good schools or grow up to be what they want to be. Mama A-- told us that, if you stayed in Russia, you probably would not get to have as good a life as you can have here with us. She loved you so much that she wanted you to grow up well, even though it meant you couldn't grow up with her."
I expected tears or confusion from K. (And from M, who had snuck into K's room.) Instead, she threw her arms around me and said, "You're my mommy now, forever." I hugged her and said yes, I was.
The trick part of the question? I didn't realize until later that Peter and I might do well to think of Mama A. as our kids' birthmother, not as their foster mother, as far as why-did-she-give-me-away questions are concerned. They seem to have no memory of their birth home, so all their questions of this nature are going to refer to the orphanage.
And it is a hard line to walk, teaching kids to love the country that gave them away. Anyone out there have an experience to share?
Monday, February 08, 2010
Treasures
M drew a picture at school of "pirate treasure." In his treasure chest he put the following:
-necklaces
-pieces of gold
-Mom
-necklaces
-pieces of gold
-Mom
Thursday, February 04, 2010
A New Insight On Parenting With Depression
An insight that's new to me, anyhow. I got it from a friend. Her 7-year-old daughter states that she fears her own bad behavior overstresses the adults responsible for her. (This girl suffers from multiple behavioral disorders.) My friend--her mother--happens to be clinically depressed. If I understood everything right, it seems that the girl feels responsible for her mother's depression.
This reasoning makes sense if you're a child. Something deep within you knows that you must depend on adults for survival, so you monitor their health, including their emotional health. If you see they're sad, or at very least not engaged with you, you try to cheer them up and make them aware of you. You try to solve their problems so they'll be capable of taking care of you.
I had long been aware that kids who are neglected, abused, or adopted within their memory keep especially close tabs on their grown-ups. It hadn't occurred to me that children of depressed parents would do the same.
My depression hasn't been especially bad since we adopted. Even at my worst, I've been able to take care of my basic needs and tend to the kids. I have learned to say, "I feel sad today, but not because of you. I just feel sad. I'll probably feel better later." My temper gets shorter; I have learned to apologize immediately for my outbursts and explain what's going on. Odd as it might sound, I wonder whether depression improves my parenting by giving me reason to keep tabs on my mood and take responsibility for my behavior.
This reasoning makes sense if you're a child. Something deep within you knows that you must depend on adults for survival, so you monitor their health, including their emotional health. If you see they're sad, or at very least not engaged with you, you try to cheer them up and make them aware of you. You try to solve their problems so they'll be capable of taking care of you.
I had long been aware that kids who are neglected, abused, or adopted within their memory keep especially close tabs on their grown-ups. It hadn't occurred to me that children of depressed parents would do the same.
My depression hasn't been especially bad since we adopted. Even at my worst, I've been able to take care of my basic needs and tend to the kids. I have learned to say, "I feel sad today, but not because of you. I just feel sad. I'll probably feel better later." My temper gets shorter; I have learned to apologize immediately for my outbursts and explain what's going on. Odd as it might sound, I wonder whether depression improves my parenting by giving me reason to keep tabs on my mood and take responsibility for my behavior.
Friday, January 29, 2010
School: A First Hot Button
In many ways, it's easier for me to be a mom now than it was at first, three years ago when we brought K and M home from Russia. For example, communication is easier for me now that the kids and I all speak the same language; the kids need less hands-on physical help than they used to; I have established myself as someone worth pleasing, so they try to meet my expectations; I have learned ways to take care of myself amidst the daily scramble of parenting, so I'm less apt to do dumb things because I'm drained.
However, being a mom is harder for me in one significant way: the kids being school age, they now have the reasoning ability to get into trouble that really pushes my buttons. Parenting is harder for me because it's harder for me to stay detached.
By "detached" I don't mean "uncaring." I mean "able to let my kids own their own failures and successes." I find it easy to stay detached when K decides to carry instead of wear her coat in 0-degree weather; she'll either put it on or she won't. But I find it hard to stay detached when, as this morning, she tells me she doesn't want to study her spelling words because she doesn't care about today's test. (She does very badly on these tests unless she studies.) Dumbfounded, I spluttered, "Honey, school is your job! You have to treat it with respect!" K said, "Sorry, Mama," but--as I learned from my teaching years--being sorry is a far cry from studying.
K was very motivated last year in kindergarten. A couple reasons why she's less motivated this year might be that the tasks are harder and she's too impatient to keep at them; the teacher isn't connecting with her in some say; K's figured out that loving her teacher (=performing well) causes deep, old pain to surface when the school year ends.
I have never not cared about school. Peter has never not cared about school. We are going to need tons of coaching if this attitude of K's continues.
M still loves school, but he's a year behind K.
Stay tuned for more on this subject.
However, being a mom is harder for me in one significant way: the kids being school age, they now have the reasoning ability to get into trouble that really pushes my buttons. Parenting is harder for me because it's harder for me to stay detached.
By "detached" I don't mean "uncaring." I mean "able to let my kids own their own failures and successes." I find it easy to stay detached when K decides to carry instead of wear her coat in 0-degree weather; she'll either put it on or she won't. But I find it hard to stay detached when, as this morning, she tells me she doesn't want to study her spelling words because she doesn't care about today's test. (She does very badly on these tests unless she studies.) Dumbfounded, I spluttered, "Honey, school is your job! You have to treat it with respect!" K said, "Sorry, Mama," but--as I learned from my teaching years--being sorry is a far cry from studying.
K was very motivated last year in kindergarten. A couple reasons why she's less motivated this year might be that the tasks are harder and she's too impatient to keep at them; the teacher isn't connecting with her in some say; K's figured out that loving her teacher (=performing well) causes deep, old pain to surface when the school year ends.
I have never not cared about school. Peter has never not cared about school. We are going to need tons of coaching if this attitude of K's continues.
M still loves school, but he's a year behind K.
Stay tuned for more on this subject.
Tuesday, December 22, 2009
In the Kitchen
I am a good, though utilitarian cook: i can make just about anything edible, though little of it would pass a food critic's muster. My usual method is to check the vegetable bins for whatever has been there longest and then concoct something out of it.
M and K love to be in the kitchen while I am cooking, sometimes hanging out and sometimes helping. Sometimes I set up M at the sink on a step-stool and give him utensils or vegetables to wash--remember, he was the one who played at the bathroom sink for hours when we first adopted him. K insists on helping me, and she enjoys measuring, so I set her up with spoons and cups, and I resign myself to a slightly overspiced or lumpy dish.
M and K had apparently cooked before we adopted them. The first time I baked cookies with them, maybe 2 or 3 months after we brought them home, they rolled up their sleeves and ran to wash their hands as soon as I took out the baking sheets. They explained that Mama A. had baked with them. K has also told me they made meatballs together. They did understand from the first that you have to wait for something to be ready once you put it in the oven or on the stove.
My own secrets for cooking with kids are, first, to do as much prep as possible before they help; and, second, to keep them busy. Because I cook with more than one child, to create a series of simultaneous tasks and to divide up single tasks so both kids can do them (e.g. dividing batter into two bowls for mixing).
I suppose my last advice for anyone wishing to cook with kids is to be ready to take over when they lose interest or get stuck on one particular operation. When I baked bread with M & K two weeks ago, they got so caught up in the kneading that I ended up having to do the rest of the steps myself.
M and K love to be in the kitchen while I am cooking, sometimes hanging out and sometimes helping. Sometimes I set up M at the sink on a step-stool and give him utensils or vegetables to wash--remember, he was the one who played at the bathroom sink for hours when we first adopted him. K insists on helping me, and she enjoys measuring, so I set her up with spoons and cups, and I resign myself to a slightly overspiced or lumpy dish.
M and K had apparently cooked before we adopted them. The first time I baked cookies with them, maybe 2 or 3 months after we brought them home, they rolled up their sleeves and ran to wash their hands as soon as I took out the baking sheets. They explained that Mama A. had baked with them. K has also told me they made meatballs together. They did understand from the first that you have to wait for something to be ready once you put it in the oven or on the stove.
My own secrets for cooking with kids are, first, to do as much prep as possible before they help; and, second, to keep them busy. Because I cook with more than one child, to create a series of simultaneous tasks and to divide up single tasks so both kids can do them (e.g. dividing batter into two bowls for mixing).
I suppose my last advice for anyone wishing to cook with kids is to be ready to take over when they lose interest or get stuck on one particular operation. When I baked bread with M & K two weeks ago, they got so caught up in the kneading that I ended up having to do the rest of the steps myself.
Wednesday, December 09, 2009
Tools For Doing It Alone Efficiently
If you've been reading a long time, you know I'm married to an amazing man who works long hours outside the home. I have it easier than the single parents and many of the partnered parents I know, so I try not to complain too much, but complain I do. Here are my challenges and some of the tools I use to meet them.
Peter's basic work week, including commute, is Monday through Thursday 7:15AM - 7:00PM, with the exception of one night when he gets home around 10:00 so he can catch up on paperwork at the office. He's a doctor, so he is on call one night a week. At those times, even if he doesn't have to see anyone at the hospital, he only looks like he's home: he's really not paying attention to anything but his pager. Because he might have to go in to the hospital, I can't count on his being able to stay home if I want to go out. As far as I'm concerned, he might as well be at the hospital.
In addition to his basic work week, Peter often has meetings before or after his office hours. The early morning ones are invariably when several household things have to happen at the crack of dawn, so I have to do them alone. Then there are the Fridays, supposedly his day off, when he often goes to the office for meetings or paperwork. And of course there are the weekends--averaging every 7th--when he is on call from 5 PM Friday to 8 AM Monday. He spends most of those weekends at the hospital. When he's home, he's on the phone.
Peter's average number of work hours is somewhere between 55 and 60, which is light for a doctor. The difficulty for me is the timing of them: he is either coming or going during the kids' transitions. Every day but Friday, he leaves as the kids are getting ready for breakfast. He is not a very routinized person, so he doesn't always leave at the same time or cross our paths in the same places. The lack of predictability fires up the kids. Every day but Friday, he misses dinner and makes it home just before the kids' bedtime--same problem. Most nights he brings home a box of charts to dictate, which he must do behind a closed door.
How do I manage with him gone so much? Two big answers: I make checklists for the kids. I use automated tools.
About the checklists: These I base on Microsoft Word templates . Right now, each kid has a "morning jobs" checklist on his or her bedroom door. I cold-laminated the lists on a home laminator so they can be checked off and erased every day. Each item is represented in words and pictures. We have used used similar checklists ever since we brought the kids home, because, being orphanage-raised, the kids were accustomed to routine. We also found it helpful to have pictures to represent what we couldn't communicate about in words. If anyone out there wants more information on how to make these checklists, let me know.
About the automated tools: These save my butt big-time. I have long known that lacking personnel, one must spend either more time or more money to get the same amount of work done. I have neither. So I save time without spending money by doing subscription-based shopping online at, for example, Amazon.com. Most of the moms I know spend hours driving around shopping; I do not.
To keep track of my other chores, I use a task list manager that syncs automatically from my iPhone: Remember The Milk. I set reminders for recurring tasks to save myself the time of re-entering them. I look forward to Peter's coming on board with this tool, but it's going to be a while. (He uses paper checklists, and he loses them.) Peter has, however, joined me in using Google Calendar, which we love because it syncs with iCal on our Macs. (Another time-saver: As our household IT staff, I set us up with Macs because they maintain themselves so well.)
Once in a while, I actually check how much time I am spending in each different arena of my life--sorta like watching one's caloric intake. To do this, I use a time-sheet called TSheets that automatically syncs from my iPhone.
It'd be ideal to have Peter around more. But I am pleased to be teaching the kids greater independence and using cheap or free tools to get tasks done.
Peter's basic work week, including commute, is Monday through Thursday 7:15AM - 7:00PM, with the exception of one night when he gets home around 10:00 so he can catch up on paperwork at the office. He's a doctor, so he is on call one night a week. At those times, even if he doesn't have to see anyone at the hospital, he only looks like he's home: he's really not paying attention to anything but his pager. Because he might have to go in to the hospital, I can't count on his being able to stay home if I want to go out. As far as I'm concerned, he might as well be at the hospital.
In addition to his basic work week, Peter often has meetings before or after his office hours. The early morning ones are invariably when several household things have to happen at the crack of dawn, so I have to do them alone. Then there are the Fridays, supposedly his day off, when he often goes to the office for meetings or paperwork. And of course there are the weekends--averaging every 7th--when he is on call from 5 PM Friday to 8 AM Monday. He spends most of those weekends at the hospital. When he's home, he's on the phone.
Peter's average number of work hours is somewhere between 55 and 60, which is light for a doctor. The difficulty for me is the timing of them: he is either coming or going during the kids' transitions. Every day but Friday, he leaves as the kids are getting ready for breakfast. He is not a very routinized person, so he doesn't always leave at the same time or cross our paths in the same places. The lack of predictability fires up the kids. Every day but Friday, he misses dinner and makes it home just before the kids' bedtime--same problem. Most nights he brings home a box of charts to dictate, which he must do behind a closed door.
How do I manage with him gone so much? Two big answers: I make checklists for the kids. I use automated tools.
About the checklists: These I base on Microsoft Word templates . Right now, each kid has a "morning jobs" checklist on his or her bedroom door. I cold-laminated the lists on a home laminator so they can be checked off and erased every day. Each item is represented in words and pictures. We have used used similar checklists ever since we brought the kids home, because, being orphanage-raised, the kids were accustomed to routine. We also found it helpful to have pictures to represent what we couldn't communicate about in words. If anyone out there wants more information on how to make these checklists, let me know.
About the automated tools: These save my butt big-time. I have long known that lacking personnel, one must spend either more time or more money to get the same amount of work done. I have neither. So I save time without spending money by doing subscription-based shopping online at, for example, Amazon.com. Most of the moms I know spend hours driving around shopping; I do not.
To keep track of my other chores, I use a task list manager that syncs automatically from my iPhone: Remember The Milk. I set reminders for recurring tasks to save myself the time of re-entering them. I look forward to Peter's coming on board with this tool, but it's going to be a while. (He uses paper checklists, and he loses them.) Peter has, however, joined me in using Google Calendar, which we love because it syncs with iCal on our Macs. (Another time-saver: As our household IT staff, I set us up with Macs because they maintain themselves so well.)
Once in a while, I actually check how much time I am spending in each different arena of my life--sorta like watching one's caloric intake. To do this, I use a time-sheet called TSheets that automatically syncs from my iPhone.
It'd be ideal to have Peter around more. But I am pleased to be teaching the kids greater independence and using cheap or free tools to get tasks done.
Recovered from Thanksgiving
It's been a challenging few weeks.
The kids's strep kept them home from school two of the three weekdays before Thanksgiving. They were maddeningly underfoot.
We had Thanksgiving dinner locally, not at our house, but I had to prepare food for it with the kids underfoot.
We had a second dinner the next day at our house with my in-laws: two lovely people with multiple food allergies. They brought turkey and cake. I made everything else. And of course we had major cleaning to do, what with the kids having been underfoot all week.
The following week--last week--Peter came down with strep. He'd been feeling unwell for some days prior and had been unable to pull his weight with the daily housework and child-wrangling, so I'd been doing more.
The middle of last week, I suddenly caught a stomach bug. It wrecked me for 12h and slowed me down for the following 72.
The following 72 hours, while I was still weak and slow, were an on-call weekend for Peter.
This week, Peter was out Monday night and Tuesday morning.
I hired Nancy to cover for me with the kids tonight so I could get out and write this. But I had to do grocery shopping and Hanukkah gift shopping before I could come into this nice quiet Starbucks.
The kids's strep kept them home from school two of the three weekdays before Thanksgiving. They were maddeningly underfoot.
We had Thanksgiving dinner locally, not at our house, but I had to prepare food for it with the kids underfoot.
We had a second dinner the next day at our house with my in-laws: two lovely people with multiple food allergies. They brought turkey and cake. I made everything else. And of course we had major cleaning to do, what with the kids having been underfoot all week.
The following week--last week--Peter came down with strep. He'd been feeling unwell for some days prior and had been unable to pull his weight with the daily housework and child-wrangling, so I'd been doing more.
The middle of last week, I suddenly caught a stomach bug. It wrecked me for 12h and slowed me down for the following 72.
The following 72 hours, while I was still weak and slow, were an on-call weekend for Peter.
This week, Peter was out Monday night and Tuesday morning.
I hired Nancy to cover for me with the kids tonight so I could get out and write this. But I had to do grocery shopping and Hanukkah gift shopping before I could come into this nice quiet Starbucks.
Thursday, November 26, 2009
Three Big Questions
1. Not long ago K called me from downstairs: "MOM! MOM!" like she was on fire.
i ran downstairs to her room. "What? What?"
She was sitting on her floor contemplating a pair of panties. She pointed to the pattern. "Are these butterflies or puppies?"
2. This morning Peter and I were sitting at the kitchen table, actually face to face for the first time in two weeks, desperately trying to make a battle plan for the weekend. M was waving his hands and jumping around. "Excuse me? Excuse me?"
Wearily, we said, "Yes, M--?"
He asked, "When can we go parachuting?"
3. I asked M, quiet a long time in the back seat, "What are you thinking about?"
He replied, "I wonder what the moon tastes like."
i ran downstairs to her room. "What? What?"
She was sitting on her floor contemplating a pair of panties. She pointed to the pattern. "Are these butterflies or puppies?"
2. This morning Peter and I were sitting at the kitchen table, actually face to face for the first time in two weeks, desperately trying to make a battle plan for the weekend. M was waving his hands and jumping around. "Excuse me? Excuse me?"
Wearily, we said, "Yes, M--?"
He asked, "When can we go parachuting?"
3. I asked M, quiet a long time in the back seat, "What are you thinking about?"
He replied, "I wonder what the moon tastes like."
Wednesday, November 25, 2009
Dizzy
Both kids stayed home yesterday to let the antibiotic work. It's making them dizzy today, so I will reduce the dose by 25% tonight. (The pediatrician said I might have to do this.)
Speaking of dizziness, the other day K stunned me by saying she wanted to have a sleepover with her birthparents--"the people I lived with before Mama A--."
She had never mentioned them before. We had, of course, but she had never initiated a conversation about them. As far as we can tell, neither child can remember them. We have their names and last known address, and we have enough information about them to begin explaining why our kids don't live with them. But we haven't started searching for them, having been advised by our Russian friends not to do so. We have talked as a family about returning to Russia in a few years.
I had no idea what to say to K. I finally asked, "How do you think it would be?"
She said, "Fun," and changed the subject.
Then last night, K told me, "Sometimes I forget I'm home. i think I'm at Mama A--'s."
This was the first time I had heard this from her. I had no idea what to say, so I asked, "Why do you think this happens?"
"Because you look a little like her."
I thought about that. Mama A. was much older than I, and heavier. But her eyes looked like my mom's, so I guess they might have looked like mine, too. I said, "Do our eyes look similar?"
"You both have brown eyes. Yes."
Over this coming weekend, we will talk more.
Speaking of dizziness, the other day K stunned me by saying she wanted to have a sleepover with her birthparents--"the people I lived with before Mama A--."
She had never mentioned them before. We had, of course, but she had never initiated a conversation about them. As far as we can tell, neither child can remember them. We have their names and last known address, and we have enough information about them to begin explaining why our kids don't live with them. But we haven't started searching for them, having been advised by our Russian friends not to do so. We have talked as a family about returning to Russia in a few years.
I had no idea what to say to K. I finally asked, "How do you think it would be?"
She said, "Fun," and changed the subject.
Then last night, K told me, "Sometimes I forget I'm home. i think I'm at Mama A--'s."
This was the first time I had heard this from her. I had no idea what to say, so I asked, "Why do you think this happens?"
"Because you look a little like her."
I thought about that. Mama A. was much older than I, and heavier. But her eyes looked like my mom's, so I guess they might have looked like mine, too. I said, "Do our eyes look similar?"
"You both have brown eyes. Yes."
Over this coming weekend, we will talk more.
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