Tuesday, July 31, 2007
Not Quite Yet
I haven't actually started the new Harry Potter yet. I read about two pages into it when I realized that I had completely forgotten what happened in the last book, aside from one major thing, so I am spending today's naptime refreshing my memory about that before I dig into the new book. I will begin it tonight, more than likely. I am almost a little reluctant to begin because this is the last book, and finishing books or series of books that I have loved makes me very sad, as if I am saying goodbye to a good friend. You can't read it again for the first time, you know?
Monday, July 30, 2007
Best Husband Award
Goes to Brendan, because while running an errand (buying a wireless Internet card for the computer) he thought of me, and brought home the new and final Harry Potter book.
I'll be reading for a few days now. See you on the other side.
I'll be reading for a few days now. See you on the other side.
Thursday, July 26, 2007
I Met You
Two years ago today I sat in the airport in New York on a bench in a well-lit hallway with my husband. My hands were shaking, and I nervously looked to my left, to where they would come walking toward us. I fiddled with the camera strap, giggled nervously as we talked, and watched as families of all nationalities walked by us. The plane had landed; we were just waiting for him to come through immigration. It took a long time. The last 45 minutes of "The Wait" for our son to come home were possibly the most excruciating. We knew he was there, around the corner and beyond the desks. It was mere moments away. I pushed the diaper bag under the bench, then pulled it back out to adjust something or other. I stared at my feet.
And then suddenly our greeter came walking toward us, a wide grin spread across her face, and a small baby cuddling in close to her shoulder. He was dressed in a very feminine onesie with pink and purple butterflies, and wore a white Hello Kitty sailor's hat. My first thought was that there was some mistake, that a baby girl had arrived instead of our boy. But he was our boy, and when the greeter handed him to me I recognized his little face immediately. I held him so tight, fully enjoying the weight of his little body pressed against mine. I said "Hello, my baby" and kissed his forehead. I watched Brendan's eyes get teary as he said hello to his son, and felt a lump in my throat that warned of tears in my own eyes.
And we were a family, at last.
Two years later the memory of that day is sweet and sad. I now know what H went through that day before he came to us. I now know how scared he was, how his intense gaze was not keen interest, but stark fear. But I also know that he is 30 feet away from me now, sleeping soundly in the room he proudly claims as his own, tucked in and surrounded by love, exhausted from a day filled with swimming and running in the sunshine. I know, too, that he is beginning to be curious about how he came to be our son, and where babies come from, and a far away place called Korea that is somehow important to his story.
Two years removed from that extraordinary day I can only be thankful that I have been given the honor of being his mom. Two years. I am so glad I met you, Harrison.
And then suddenly our greeter came walking toward us, a wide grin spread across her face, and a small baby cuddling in close to her shoulder. He was dressed in a very feminine onesie with pink and purple butterflies, and wore a white Hello Kitty sailor's hat. My first thought was that there was some mistake, that a baby girl had arrived instead of our boy. But he was our boy, and when the greeter handed him to me I recognized his little face immediately. I held him so tight, fully enjoying the weight of his little body pressed against mine. I said "Hello, my baby" and kissed his forehead. I watched Brendan's eyes get teary as he said hello to his son, and felt a lump in my throat that warned of tears in my own eyes.
And we were a family, at last.
Two years later the memory of that day is sweet and sad. I now know what H went through that day before he came to us. I now know how scared he was, how his intense gaze was not keen interest, but stark fear. But I also know that he is 30 feet away from me now, sleeping soundly in the room he proudly claims as his own, tucked in and surrounded by love, exhausted from a day filled with swimming and running in the sunshine. I know, too, that he is beginning to be curious about how he came to be our son, and where babies come from, and a far away place called Korea that is somehow important to his story.
Two years removed from that extraordinary day I can only be thankful that I have been given the honor of being his mom. Two years. I am so glad I met you, Harrison.
Wednesday, July 25, 2007
Pigtails and Underwear
Emma has GREAT hair. It frequently stands on end in all of its wispy glory, and when you catch a glimpse of it glowing in a ray of sun you can't help but smile. It's just that good. But lately the front is getting too long to stand up, so instead it falls forward and into her eyes. Not being a fan of bangs (a.k.a. fringe) on little girls because they tend to start mid-head and then look funny when the little girl tries to grow them out years down the line, I am trying not to cut her hair. Barrettes slip right out of her silky locks, and she is not a big fan of hats. So we have moved on to pigtails, the ultimate in little girly hairdos. She wears them well. They make her look older, more like the eleven months of age that she reached yesterday. My baby isn't so much a baby anymore, already.
Harrison is making great strides in the potty training department. He is wearing underwear for part of each day, has few accidents when not overly distracted, and seems, in general, to like the idea of wearing "big boy pants". Only problem is that his tiny hiney won't keep his shorts up without the help of a bulky diaper, so we need to come up with some belts, post haste. I personally hate potty training, and now understand why so many parents opt to train later and later. It's not fun to spend all day asking if wee one needs to go, it's not fun cleaning up accidents, and it's decidedly not fun trying to keep track of how long it has been since the last trip to the toilet. But we trudge on, we persevere, knowing that the ability to use a toilet is a gift we give, both to ourselves and to our child. But it still isn't any fun. Let's hope this is the last box of Harry's diapers, shall we?
Harrison is making great strides in the potty training department. He is wearing underwear for part of each day, has few accidents when not overly distracted, and seems, in general, to like the idea of wearing "big boy pants". Only problem is that his tiny hiney won't keep his shorts up without the help of a bulky diaper, so we need to come up with some belts, post haste. I personally hate potty training, and now understand why so many parents opt to train later and later. It's not fun to spend all day asking if wee one needs to go, it's not fun cleaning up accidents, and it's decidedly not fun trying to keep track of how long it has been since the last trip to the toilet. But we trudge on, we persevere, knowing that the ability to use a toilet is a gift we give, both to ourselves and to our child. But it still isn't any fun. Let's hope this is the last box of Harry's diapers, shall we?
Saturday, July 21, 2007
Wednesday, July 18, 2007
Evening
I am sitting on my front porch, enjoying the last rays of sunshine; they just peeked through the clouds after a full day of hard, steady rain. The moisture in the air is so thick that I can see it drift by and it blurs the edges of the trees at the end of my driveway. Birds are singing loudly all around me, and a curious chipmunk just stopped mere inches from my toes, startled when he saw me, and took off running.
Too often I forget to take this pause at the end of the day, when the kids have been tucked beneath their blankets and the house is quiet (or quieter, at least, as a house with two dogs is never exactly quiet). Too many nights I spring from tucking in one child (we alternate nights of tucking in each child, so every other night I have Harry, and every other night I have Emma) to cleaning up the living room, or starting a load of laundry, or watching tv. Too often I forget that it is good for my soul to just sit on the porch and listen to the birds, watching the mist drift by.
And now the baby is crying, and the spell is broken. It was nice for the five minutes it lasted, though.
Too often I forget to take this pause at the end of the day, when the kids have been tucked beneath their blankets and the house is quiet (or quieter, at least, as a house with two dogs is never exactly quiet). Too many nights I spring from tucking in one child (we alternate nights of tucking in each child, so every other night I have Harry, and every other night I have Emma) to cleaning up the living room, or starting a load of laundry, or watching tv. Too often I forget that it is good for my soul to just sit on the porch and listen to the birds, watching the mist drift by.
And now the baby is crying, and the spell is broken. It was nice for the five minutes it lasted, though.
Saturday, July 14, 2007
Slices of Summer
Harry and Emma make each other laugh, whether they're in the bathtub, daydreaming beneath the kitchen table, or playing peek-a-boo around the couch pillows (which I know are totally ugly...I am in search of cool fabric to slipcover them with). After only knowing each other for three months, they are already great pals, incredibly tuned in to one another's moods and ever watchful of each other's whereabouts.
At Camp Mu Ji Gae, a Korean culture camp, Emma greets her new friend, CJ. We enjoyed watching the drummers (below) and the bulgogi was fantastic.
Harry played soccer with a bunch of other kids...no pictures because they were running around too much. He was by years the youngest in the group, but each and every other player took the time to make him feel included and welcome. We all enjoyed Family Day at camp, and next year I think we will sign the kids up for the workshops.
My hydrangeas are in bloom and they are spectacular this year. I took a chance two years ago at the Farmer's Market and bought a stick that was devoid of leaves for $1.50, with the promise that it would grow into a hydrangea bush. The gentleman selling the sticks was not fibbing, and the stick from two years ago has grown into a six foot high, five foot wide bush with more than 50 blossoms. These pictures were from my first bouquet of the season, and I am now on my third set of bouquets. The blossoms just keep coming!
Last week Brendan was on vacation. We stayed home and did a few things around the house, but one night we had an evening out, just the two of us. We ate dinner at the new Mexican restaurant two towns over, which was absolutely divine and made extra-special by the man serenading us with song and guitar. After dinner we headed up to the Lake and were treated to a lovely sunset while we watched the steam boats come in. We sometimes forget that we live in such a lovely area, that mere minutes from our doorstep we have beautiful mountains, rivers, lakes, and valleys to enjoy. After our evening out, we vowed to get out more and enjoy rich scenery that this area has to offer. The following photos are of our date night:
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