Vacation?

In theory, I am on vacation right now. I am resting and relaxing with extended family.

In reality, I am tearing my hair out. The kids are behaving like animals and Peter is not feeling well (and when he feels even slightly ill, he becomes slow and passive). I feel very much as though I am in charge of a traveling zoo.

The kids are awful, as far as we can tell, for three reasons. One: They're short on sleep because family dinners run late and they're not napping well. Two: They're strongly influenced by their beloved older cousins, who are great kids but are allowed to do "big kid" things that ours aren't. Three--and this is the biggie--they're homesick. Yep. Victory! They miss our house and consider it home.

I suppose I should be glad. Right now, all I want to do is smack Peter and drink a pitcher of margaritas.

Sheesh.

Drive-By Beadings

Life with a five-year-old girl:

I went to put my iPod in its fleece storage bag and discovered that the bag had been filled with heart-shaped beads. Then I put my feet in my clogs. Ouch!

Half?

I asked M how many boys are in his group at camp. He said, "Six and a half."

I had to ask, "Which half?"

He wasn't quite sure what I meant, but after some conversation he decided that the boy is from the waist up.

I, of course, cracked up the camp staff the next day by inquiring after transgender 4-year-olds.

Back Home

This week it's business as usual: I'm home with the kids and Peter is back at work. While the kids are at their long camp days, I'm as industrious as the bee I'm named for ("Deborah" is Hebrew for "bee"). Since Monday, I've already assembled three IKEA bookcases, unpacked the remainder of books in my office, traded in our old vacuum cleaner, found an after-kindergarten program for K, reduced my email queue from 1300 to 300, and started sorting hand-me-downs. My task list remains awfully long, but I am SO glad to get going on it.

I feel much better than I have ever felt about being a writer in the midst of parenting, perhaps because most of the faculty and attendees I got to know happened to be about my age. In one of the faculty panels, there was a discussion of how to balance writing with non-writing activities, and the panel was unanimous: it's possible, but something has to give. I've been trying to pinpoint what I give up in order to do this, and here's the list so far:
-watching television and movies
-reading anything that doesn't feed my writing (save the comic section!)
-going beyond "clean and orderly" in decorating my home
-shopping, as much as possible--I rely heavily on bulk buying and doing without

I know there's plenty more. But the conversations I get left out of the fastest are about TV, movies, and mothers' book clubs; and what I notice most in others' homes is beauty and clutter.

Peter did not get done nearly as much as he wanted to during his week at home. He seemed surprised at how little time he had. He chose to hit the gym every day after drop-off, like I do, and to do errands on the way home. Then he'd have lunch at home and do chores all afternoon, but "all afternoon" really meant "until it's time to pick up the kids." Not long enough for him to, say, completely clean up his home office. He caught up on his sleep a bit. He learned how to get the kids out of the house on time and to bed on time. We agree that he ought to take more time off in the future. Now that he's not hoarding vacation for trips to Russia, he has plenty to use.

How about the kids? Well, they've been happy to have me back. I've made sure we haven't needed to rush anywhere this week so we can hug and cuddle a lot and take time to talk. I feel relaxed and happy to be with them, and of course they can sense my feelings.

M has been angry this week. He has hit Peter twice. When he cheerfully trotted off to his time-out this morning--during which Peter holds him in a chair--it dawned on us that he might be angry with Peter for returning to work. In other words, he misses Peter so much that he's willing to risk his anger in order to feel Peter's arm across his chest for four minutes. I know that Dad's return to work after vacation is hard on a lot of boys. Anyone out there know a children's book on this subject? I've explained to M why Papa needs to work, that earning money for the family is Papa's job just like going to school is his own job; and Peter is great about saying and showing how much he loves being home. As I write this, it occurs to me that Peter and I might start talking about how much we like our jobs, how people go a variety of things when they grow up including childrearing and work, and how we expect that they'll work too someday.

One last note: I got to spend an afternoon last week with Peter at an art museum. It was our first day alone together since we'd adopted. It reminded me of how much I love him and sometimes miss him just like M does.

Unusual Week

I'm attending a local writers conference this week, the Solstice Summer Writers Conference. I drive in every day, attend the events, and come home. Peter is off this week to support my being there.
I see the kids a little in the morning and even less in the evening, if at all.

I'm not yet sure what to make of being so removed from parenting for so long. I do know that the events of the conference seem much less important to me than conference events used to. (I'm skipping a panel right now to write this entry!) I'm still avidly interested in meeting new teachers and improving my craft, but sitting all day listening to people discuss nothing but writing makes me feel as though I am looking through the wrong end of a telescope. Yes, I do always crave grown-up conversation these days. But I realize I also miss conversation with my kids. M's little arms around my neck. K cuddling into my lap.

Covenant

Many months ago, M was looking for a favorite toy and couldn't find it. I asked him where else he thought it might be. He said wistfully, "Maybe Papa take away."

A lump still rises in my throat as I think about this statement. I don't remember what M was looking for, but i do recall that there was no reason Peter would have removed it. But M knew he was at the mercy of Peter's whim.

The thing is, he is. So is K. And at the mercy of my whim too.

Why did God set in motion such a fallible method for raising human beings? We have failed K and M thousands of times in just the 18 months we've had them, and we will keep failing them. And they have no choice but to keep loving us, keep coping with our inconsistencies, lies, anger.

I have a sometimes morning ritual of washing my hands, holding them out to God, and praying, "Guide me, for I have no clue." I need to get back to it.

DIY

K wants to go to a local woodworking shop with me. Why? To build "lots of little cribs."

Me: "What for, honey?"

K: "To put in all my babies. Lots of cribs for all the babies."

Me: (after a moment's thought): "Like in Borya and the Burps [a children's book about adoption]?"

K: "Yes."

Me: "Are all your babies waiting for their forever mommies and daddies to come get them?"

K: "Yes."

Me: (choking back tears) "So are you going to take care of them all, like Mama A. took care of you?"

K: "Yes."

Different Creatures

I'm pounding away at my keyboard for the first time in weeks: K and M are down for naps, and my need to write is overpowering my urge to clean, cook, sort, fold, file, find, wrap, sign, or schedule something.

Naps are now an endangered species in our family, and the kids are responding by acting like animals. In a bad way, I mean. The way that makes child-free adults feel glad they don't have children. Here are some tidbits from the last two weeks, as K and M have had shorter or no naps:

Injuries. (I knew this would happen.) Falling off things, tripping, stopping too short.

Crying with injuries, even slight ones. This rarely used to happen, and never for as long as it does now.

Flat-out disobedience MUCH more often then previously. Also, behaving as though they haven't heard Peter and me.

"I want that!"
[some sort of compassionate "No" from a parent]
"But I want it!"

M belching more and more loudly until he is removed from the table. Then refusing to come back to the table.

K marching into the kitchen, grabbing food out of the fridge or cupboard instead of waiting for an adult to serve her.

K running at least 10 yards ahead of me wherever we shop.

Leaving a restaurant because M couldn't keep his voice down.

M yelling at K whenever she speaks.

M telling me, "I disappointed in you" or, "You doing bad to me." (His reason is usually not discernible to me.)

Once, K stomped off to her room screaming, so I put her down for a nap ("You must want quiet time if you've shut yourself in here"), and she kept screaming so long and so loudly that I barricaded myself in the master bedroom and called my mother for advice.

Yes, our formerly well-behaved children are much less pleasant to be around than they used to be. My mother reminds me that times like this, hellish as they are, provide lots of information to parents because they get to see the how little machines work when they're not functioning optimally. (I think back to my career as a software QA engineer, when I deliberately poked at software to see whether it would break....) I suppose I should be pleased that K and M seek Peter and me out for comfort, demonstrate their worst behavior only with us, are unfailingly kind to other children--especially younger ones--and to animals, show remorse when scolded, desire to behave well, and articulate their feelings in words as often as they are able. When I remember they are doing the best they can while not feeling 100%, I find it easy to have compassion for them. Therefore I wait until after they go to bed to bang my head against a wall.

Before this period, I had originally said that the kids would be learning to give up naps. I was wrong. They are responding in a very sensible way. Peter and I are the ones doing the learning...of their fatigue signs and how best to cope. Not having had them as babies, and having given them a great deal of sleep time until now, we had never needed to learn these things.

Hebrew Names

We have not yet had the kids' mikveh (Jewish conversion ritual) or given them Hebrew names. If they'd been born to us, they'd be considered Jewish from birth, and they'd have received their names shortly thereafter (M at his circumcision, K at her naming ceremony). But, because we adopted them, we have to do a ritual conversion and give them names now.

Our rabbi isn't concerned that we haven't done these things yet. However, I'd like to get on with them. I've been hearing questions like, "Mom? What's Dash and Violet's Hebrew names?" Further, K will need to know her Hebrew name next year when she begins religious school.

We expect that the mikveh will be fun and easy, since there's a beautiful, progressive facility a few towns away and the kids love water. I've both experienced and witnessed the ritual, which entails a thorough scrubbing beforehand in a bath and then immersing three times in the ceremonial pool. I think the only difficulties will be scheduling it and getting the kids out of the pool afterwards.

So the complicated part is figuring out what our kids' Hebrew names ought to be. M and K's American first names are their Russian first names; then they each have two middle names. One of these memorializes a beloved relative; the other is my last name. Their own last name they share with Peter. Yes, that's right: Peter and the kids have one last name and I have another. We gave each kid my last name as a middle name because we'd read that adopted kids, especially older ones, worry about the commitment of the family member not "on the team."

So--we have passed on some family names in English and passed on both last names while still keeping the Russian names. We hope M and K will feel a loving combination of claimed and respected when they understand our reasons. But the Hebrew names? What to do about those? Our rabbi suggests we let them be"son of" and "daughter of" Peter and me, not of Abraham and Sarah, the way adult converts are named. But we're still hashing out the rest. Should we name them for more relatives? How about honoring their birthparents somehow? Their caregiver Mama A? We're still working on the problem.

Summer Planning

Here are our goals for our kids for the summer:
1. Wean them off naps, since naps are interfering with their nighttime sleep and their availability for play dates. K might have afternoon kindergarten in the fall, so this is especially important for her.
2. Get them accustomed to doing things separately, including, if possible, developing separate friendships.
3. Get K accustomed to the idea that the school where she will attend kindergarten is "her" school. Get M used to the idea that he, too, will go there one day.
4. GIve them social time with friends and, if possible, future classmates.

And here are my own goals for the summer:
1. Finish unpacking and organizing the house from our move last summer.
2. Finish up legal and financial tasks we've let slide since adopting 18 months ago.
3. Spend enough time in the sun, working at our CSA farm, to maintain my mood during the winter months. (A lifetime depressive, I know that I need this.)
4. Re-establish the social relationships I need to stay healthy.
5. Resume my weight loss, now that my self-care skills are coming back. (They seemed to vanish when we adopted.)
6. Research literary journals for submitting my short writing. If they're accepting work this summer, submit now. Alternatively: Turn out another book chapter or two and start hunting for an agent.

I'm willing to let goals #4-6 go until fall if I have to. I do not know Peter's goals, and I suspect he hasn't had time to think about them. He is taking two weeks off: one for our trip and one to cover for me while I'm at a local writer's conference.

Our original plan had been to have the kids in day camp for parts of the summer at the children's center they've always known. We were going to craft a short-day-long-day schedule for those parts, to mimic the schedule they'll have in the fall. We were also going to pull out first one kid, then the other, for a few weeks of shorter days at a different camp. The intended result: rested kids with plenty of unscheduled afternoons for casual play and an inkling of what it's like to be separated for entire days. Adopted kids typically have a lot of issues come up during school year transitions, so we devised this plan to help K & M encounter them at a leisurely pace.

Our plans were impossible to implement. It turns out this year's children's center's camp schedule won't permit a mixture of long & short days. It also turns out that EVERY camp in our vicinity has the same starting time as the children's center--meaning I'd have to drive both kids in different directions at the same time every day. The one exception, which has a half-hour offset, closed for enrollment before we even inquired. There are camps that provide their own transportation, but we can't afford them.

*sigh*

Therefore, our current plan is to have the kids at the children's center for the full day, 9-4, the entire summer. They are working up to this longer day right now by attending the end of the center's preschool program on a complicated schedule of alternating long and short days, and we're shifting to an earlier bedtime. During camp, I'll take one kid out for a "Mom Day" one entire day each week. My current plan is to pull out one kid per week, so I lose only one day of cleaning-farming-writing time. The children's center staff are intrigued by and supportive of this plan.

I keep trying to remind myself that we can change this plan if it doesn't work. We can cancel some children's center weeks. We can still enroll in a half-day local sports camp, hiring Nancy for some of the driving. But I'm also aware: one of the reasons I want to keep K & M scheduled is that I've never had them home for an entire week on my own. When we first adopted them, Peter took time off, and the four of us hung around together for three weeks. Since then, K and M have had varying numbers of hours per week of preschool and camp. And they've napped. I've never had them 5 days/week, all day, with no down-time. I feel guilty because I'm letting my own fear be a factor in planning the summer. Ours is the only family I know where both parents don't work 9-5 that the kids are so scheduled. And yes, I do know the value of unsupervised play.

What I know of other kids' summers: The kid (there's always only one preschooler per family) will be in half-day camp for a few weeks, and that's it. I imagine each mom happily playing in the sprinkler with her kid, gardening, hanging out with another mom and kid at the beach, etc, until the older sibling(s) come home from full-day camp at end of day. The kid has self-directed fun, learns to cope with boredom, has spontaneous playdates with neighbors. The mom has no goals of her own & isn't trying to write a book; since they haven't moved recently, her house is in perfect shape; she is fulfilled simply being with her little one 24/7. I think, "There's a dedicated mom. I'm such a wimp."

The reality, I'll bet, is somewhat different: around here, families often travel for a month at a time, own a summer home, or have a nanny who will drag the older siblings to sports lessons while the little one tags along. My vision of the ideal mom might not be the local reality, but I feel guilt anyhow.