The Edge

I made Brendan drive us all out to Wellfleet last week during our vacation in Cape Cod.  It was out of the way and took awhile to get there, but I insisted and he relented and even agreed that perhaps it was a good idea.  I just felt this strange need to be there, in a place where I had once stood decades before; I felt as though my soul needed to breathe in that particular air and gaze upon on that particular stretch of sand. 
While standing at the edge of the water, at the point where ocean meets land, I was reminded of some things that seem important and noteworthy.  Before me the sea spread out, wide and expansive, reaching as far as nowhere and more powerful than anything.  The sand dunes, like mountains, plunge down steeply to meet it and in between the two I realized this: we are nothing.  Insignificant.  A mere blip on the radar that is this time on this earth in this universe.  The feeling that came with this realization was one of immediate and overwhelming peace: no matter what I do in this life, the world is much, much bigger than my circumstances, choices, mistakes, or ideas at any moment in time.  It will all go on whether I am here or not, wave after wave will pound the shore and grains of sand will move in the water and wind and rain. 
Then I turned around and saw this:

and this:

Two shivering kids waiting for their mama to finish with her crazy picture taking so they could run on the open expanse in front of them; one husband, knowing his wife needed to see this for some reason that stretches back in time to another family trip that was clouded with grave sadness, waiting patiently for the time to be enough, for the ocean to soak into her pores and restore her.
Seeing them there, waiting for me, I realized that we are bigger than the sky, our actions are broader reaching than any ocean, more grand than any sand dune.  The connections we have with the people around us are the biggest thing I know; I remembered that as much as we are nothing we are also everything, entirely significant.  All I have to do is look in their eyes and I can see it:  we are bigger than we know.  Being at that edge, on that particular stretch of sand, refilled my soul and brought back to the forefront all that I know about life and family and friends and connection: slow down and be, give each other a little room and time when it’s needed, live with intention and listen with an open heart.  Allow them to grow and change, and bend like the dune grass in the wind when they need me to change and grow.  Enjoy this push and pull of life.  Dream bigger than the ocean, but remember my own insignificance in all of this. 
Perhaps this is why the ocean calls to me, why it calls to so many people across time and religion and state and country and continent: to realize that we are everything and nothing all at once.  Maybe we need this reminder as much as we need food and  water, air and shelter.    Maybe we just need to be able to stand on the edge of something and find an inner peace and a reserve within ourselves that fills whatever emptiness the rest of the world and life carves out.  Maybe we just need that reminder to be human again. 

The Summer List

“We write things we want to do over the summer.” says Harrison of
The Summer List.  Oh, but it is so much more than that!  The summer list is my saving grace in an otherwise uncharted, weeks long stretch of time that, admittedly, sometimes scares me.  The Summer List has plans to make, ideas to toss around when the inevitable I’m bored! starts to rear its ugly head, and lofty goals that might never be met but are fun and interesting to talk about.  For the past four summers we have brainstormed as a family all of the things we wanted to do over the summer, both grown-up and child friendly ideas fill out the page and we cross off our achievements as we go.  At the end of the summer, we have proof of our escapades and our kids are armed with plenty of ventures with which to answer that classic first day of school query, What did you do all summer?  This is the best sort of to-do list, with only fun things!
Here, the beginnings of the 2011 version, to be updated as we go along:

• go to Crandall Library
• go swimming in our pool
• go to camp (our family’s camp)
• go to the Great Escape (Six Flags)
• another tour of the beaches at different Lakes
• go out for ice cream
• go fishing
• go to the drive-in
• try making hypertufa troughs
• go to the movies
• start a cutting garden for flowers
• dig in Pie and Mike’s compost pile for worms
• learn to ride bikes without training wheels
• go to concerts in the park (Shepard’s Park, City Park, Crandall Park, etc.)
• go to Crandall Park and play
• go kayaking
• go for lengthy after dinner strolls
• Farmer’s Market!
• go to a baseball game
• play tug of war with Ginger (this from Miss Emma)
• go to the ocean…Cape Cod!
• tie dye t-shirts
• make our own hula hoops
• make a worm bin for compost purposes (and little boy worm digging purposes)

Just A Moment

I was having a moment tonight, a moment in which I just needed to stop the world for a second and be still. 
Two cases of strep throat, fevers so high that his little hand seared my leg through my jeans, sad little whimpers in the dead of night that jolted me from my bed.  One case of diverticulitis and an entirely different sort of pain and fear.  A week’s worth of nights without sleep, listening to him hurt beside me while I kept my other ear trained on the doors down the hall, torn.
One kitchen in a state of progress, but looking more like despair.  With everything out of place, piled in the corner: boards full of nails, half of a cupboard, a desk drawer, school papers everywhere.  We move the construction pile to the garage between his pains and there is still an enormous pile of whatnot.  This morning, a slight reprieve from the heat and humidity (can I even complain about this yet?) and I want to mow down the lawn that is now a good 12” deep.  The mower starts, then stalls.  Starts, then stalls.  I wanted to kick it, but turn and walk away instead.
In my email box, happy reports from a couple of families with our adoption agency: they received updated pictures and reports on their children in the mail today.  We did not.  Our pictures and information are now seven months old and our hearts ache just a little more.
This had been our week and tonight I just wanted to cook dinner.  I wanted them all to eat something, to take care of them in the most basic way, but with a fridge being emptied out and dietary needs changed due to new doctor’s orders, there just wasn’t much to work with.  The kitchen was too hot, the kids were overly hungry and tired, each wanted to sit next to the parent they were not next to, and I started to feel myself sink. 
When they all scattered off to various new activities, I grabbed a box fan, climbed over the mound of junk to the banquette, and lay down with the coolest of breezes blasting over me.  Amazing, how a fan can drown out all of the noises in your house, the fears in your head.  I lay there and looked up at the clouds like a little kid on a lazy summer afternoon and I swear to you, every cloud shape was a face, and every face was smiling.  Then a robin, harbinger of spring and late-winter beacon of hope, landed on the wire above my head and turned his plucky head this way and that.
Somehow in the space of what amounted to four minutes, peace was restored to my world; my moment was over.  Calm and patient, I went upstairs, read stories about kindergarten and sea turtles and  tucked my little strep-free sweethearts into their beds.  Tomorrow holds new appliances, an abdominal CT scan, and a lawn mower oil/sparkplug change but tonight, tonight I am ok.  And Brendan will be ok, too.  And someday our littlest boy will come home.

A Few (Woeful) Things

• We celebrated Joon’s birthday last week.  Without him.  That was hard, but I only cried a little.  You’ve heard of Flat Stanley?  We have Flat Desmond, a picture of our littlest boy that I cut out.  We propped him next to the cake and then we blew out his candle for him.  It was fun in the most bittersweet sort of way.
• Brendan worked nights last week, 6:30pm to 6:30am.  Please, let’s not do that again anytime soon. 
• We all got some horrible fever/head cold/chest congestion thing that has made us miserable.  Or maybe it just made me miserable, working in conjunction with Brendan’s night shift and Joon not being here for his birthday.  I guess I’m just saying that I have been miserable.  And then this happened:
• We found out that our adoption agency’s partner agency in Korea, ESWS, will hit their quota and run out of Emigration Permits (EP) soon, as in any referrals made after December 1, 2010 will not travel until 2012.  This is very bad news.  Long story short, babies must have EP to leave the country.  As So. Korea winds down its international adoption program, they are decreasing by ten percent the amount of EP they give out each year, creating a backlog of babies waiting to go home to the parents they have already been matched with.  The implications of this are kind of huge for us.  When ESWS starts submitting babies for EP early in 2012, the babies from the end of 2010 are all in line before our child (as it should be).  This means ESWS is a full year behind in EP.  Agencies are rumored to be preparing their families for a minimum 15 month wait from referral to travel…if this is true Desmond will be home in July….of next year.  And he will be two. 
• There is a dark side to all of this, which is the possibility that ESWS could run out of EP even earlier next year, in which case our “baby” could possibly not be home until 2013.  (Did you all just feel the miserable meter’s needle screech forward ten thousand notches?)
• I am trying to remain calm.  Keep calm and carry on.  Plant an herb garden, make summer plans, paint a few more rooms.  And update my resume, because I might as well start making a dent in the adoption expenses while both of my big kids are at school all day next year. 
• I’m not really miserable all of the time.  Just when I am alone, or when I think too much, or when I see all of the beautiful babies our friends and acquaintances are pushing around town in their strollers…you know the type, those small babies, the kind that need diapers and aren’t walking and speaking in sentences. 
• At least it stopped raining. 

Act Your Age

I am so cold.  I am cold in the way I used to be when I was little and we spent all day at Hickory Hill, alternating between skiing and sitting on the deck in the sun.  It is a cold that runs all the way through me to my bones, the kind that makes a hot bath sting like pins and needles.  It feels so, so good! 

I am this cold not because of an old house and thin walls, but from hours and hours of playing in the snow, racing down one of the very best backyard hills that I have ever had occasion to ride.  Forget Crandall Park and it grassy stubble, forget Gurney Lane and the lines of children - the backyard slope has so much more to offer: no lines, no waiting, ride as many times as you can bear to climb the hill, the bathroom is only a few feet away, there is probably a good chance of hot cocoa, and even the smallest of slopes can be wickedly fun.  I have not laughed like this in ages, laughs that come not from the belly but from somehwere deeper, perhaps stretching all of the way back to my childhood.  They come bursting out as I lose control and eat a faceful of snow, or as the last jump at the end of the run sends my sled and I flying in different directions and I land with a giant thud in front of my friend who cannot stop laughing, either.  And my bottom hurts and I feel silly but I am having so much fun that none of it matters.

Brendan races down faster than all of the rest of us.  His sled goes further, getting ever closer to the edge of the yard where another dropoff will send you to a watery surprise in the marsh.  He bails at the last possible second, plumes of snow spraying into the air as he flings himself from the sled.  He is buried, but we know he has survived the tumble because he whoops and hollers and quickly scrambles up for another go. 

And my children are fearless.  I get butterflies in my tummy before pushing off, but they run and jump onto their sleds, launching themselves face first down a huge hill, or even a small one, but they do not seem to fear anything at all.  They eat snow, and laugh, and for just a few moments we are all children together and I don't have to be the mom and he doesn't have to be the dad.  It is good. 

Finally it gets too chilly, we all have snow up our sleeves and in our pant legs and down our collars, and the sun is starting to slip behind the trees.  One last run! we call to each other, our friends and our family climb the hill for the final descent.  It is faster than it was earlier, the temperature has dropped and the snow flies in clouds around our sleds.  It is awesome, maybe even better than it was when I was five or seven or ten because I needed, this day, to remind myself of my age.  I needed to know again that we are young, that fun is not something that is purchased or sought out or even acquired...it just is.

So now I am cold, enjoying the feel of my windburned cheeks and the smell of outdoors that lingers in my hair.  And I am scheming for tomorrow...maybe a snowshoe adventure?  Or another backyard slope?  Or even a winter hike around Pack Forest to the Grandmother Tree?

What are you doing to act your age?

***See previous post for video of today's sledding fun! (I can't figure out how to embed within this post)

So Happy Together

  
When I was a little girl my grandparents had one of those old record players that was more of a sideboard than music making machine.  It took up half of their living room and the inside was lined in soft red felt.  Tucked inside were albums left behind by my father and his siblings, plus a few beloved by my grandmother…Kenny Rogers and Dolly Parton come to mind.  I spent countless hours listening to the slightly scratchy sound of record revolving beneath needle, singing, badly I am sure, you gotta know when to hold ‘em, know when to fold ‘em, know when to walk away, know when to run.  Those records were the soundtrack of my early childhood, the songs I sang while swinging and roller skating and playing dolls on their front lawn.

My very favorite album was a 45 by The Turtles: So Happy Together.  I cannot imagine how much I annoyed my grandparents by listening to that record over and over and over again.  I remember so clearly the feeling of singing the lyrics at the top of my lungs and twirling around and around in the space between my grandmother’s rocking chair and the record player, making myself dizzy with motion and high ideals for my future.  So happy together!  For a child of divorced parents the idea that love could last, that people could be happy together for the long haul, was captivating. 

Fast forward nearly three decades and I still know all of the words to that song.  I sing it in the shower when no one else is listening and I still believe in those high ideals.  Love can last.  My past bumps into my future and I have just celebrated 11 years with the man who helps me believe, every day, that anything is possible.  I know now that love takes work, that the happiness we achieve is special because we are both invested in it and we both want to move forward side by side.  We can be happy together because we are partners on the same team. 

The song was right, the lyrics were true: 

I can’t see me loving nobody but you

for all my life

when you’re with me

baby the skies will be blue

for all my life

me and you

and you and me

no matter how they tossed the dice

it had to be

the only one for me is you

and you for me

so happy together

I love you, Brendan.  Thank you for making so happy together possible.

So Much To Say

After a year-long venture of house-hunting, house-selling, house-buying, house-moving, and finally settling in, there is much to say.  So much to say that there is no good place to start, not one finite point at which the story picks up and continues.  So instead of trying to play catch-up, I will dust off this keyboard and start with today.  Today I am sitting in my new-to-me kitchen in my 109 year old house, looking out the bank of windows that frame our kitchen's banquette, watching the snow come down in big, puffy flakes that blanket the yard, the swingset, and the pool beyond.

I am loving this new house.  It is old, and the wear shows in many places - 109 years builds up a good amount of wear!  There are dings in the trim and patches in the hardwood floors, and ancient windows that no longer open and shut.  But there is goodness, too, in the littlest of details here, there, and everywhere.  I appreciate the stamped door hinges, the rounded wall in the upstairs hall, the canning shelves in backmost basement room, the scrolled wood on the fireplace...so many things are good that I have gotten used to the things that aren't so good.  This kitchen is cold, both in temperature and aesthetics, but it has a good deal of space and we can make do until we have the money to make it our own - I know that one day it will be the coziest spot in our home.  Until then, I have gotten used to putting on a sweatshirt when I want to linger here and it seems fitting that the chilliest room in our house is also where the teakettle is put to good and frequent use.  This is my favorite place to sit in the late afternoons; while the sun splashes across the table I knit and watch Harry and Emma play outside with our dogs.

Speaking of dogs, while writing this I have had to get up at least ten times to rescue an odd shoe, slipper or glove from the jaws of the monster puppy, our newest addition to the family.  New because we lost our beloved Riley during the holidays to cancer, and our house just seemed wrong without two dogs.  So Ginger is here now and she is as spicy and naughty as the name suggests.  We adore her and find her impossible in equal turns; our plan is to weather this first year of her life as well as possible until she settles in and becomes the good dog we know she will be.  But Puppyhood!  Oh my, I had forgotten how tough you can be!

Emma has a static cling problem.  Winters here are dry, dry, dry, and her hair is constantly crackling.  It is a static mess that clings to her face but she refuses to tie it back.  It drives me a little crazy, the way it is constantly both stuck to her face and aflight in a perfect halo of wildness around her head and I find myself trying to tuck it behind her ears lately, which she hates, in the same way that I hated it as a child when my mother tried to tuck my own static-challenged locks behind my ears.  I guess some things never change.  She has had a growth spurt in the last month and the jeans I just bought are already looking short.  Pre-school has brought about so many changes in her demeanor, a bloom of girl child that amazes us and a blight of girl attitude that makes us inwardly cringe, knowing that the teenage years will make this seem pale in comparison.  She has definitive ideas about fashion, spends hours a day on artwork, and will be glad to dance it out in the kitchen with you as long as you agree to play some of her self-professed favorite band: Weezer.  She talks with her hands with big, expressive gestures that make us giggle.  She is funny, wildly funny, and we simply cannot imagine what life would be like without her.

I am recently the mother of a five year old, the fact of which nearly blows my mind.  I have moments when I can perfectly picture Harry as a young adult -  a certain glance, or the way he stands just so, makes me see him as he promises to be one day.  At other times he is very much the baby boy I met in an airport hallway, the one who sprung me, ready or not, into motherhood.  We registered him for kindergarten two weeks ago.  Kindergarten!  Holy cow, time flies by and they grow and suddenly we're faced with the impending doom of homework.  I feel, quite acutely, the passing of time with him and I wonder if he feels it, too.  He is reading, not just sounding out words but knowing them at first sight and getting ahead of me in books.  He reads the newspaper headlines while we eat breakfast, the words on billboards while we drive, and he has an insatiable appetite for books, even sleeping with them tucked beneath his pillow.  He plows through life, setting the standard and leading the way for his sister to follow, a task that is both a blessing and a burden on his little shoulders.  He is a great, great boy, still moving ahead with that force that has always been his.

Brendan is in the basement working out.  (Hours have passed since I first started this post...the kids are in bed, or should be, and night has fallen outside of my kitchen windows.  It is still snowing, but softly now; it is no longer in such a hurry to accumulate.)  We had to wedge his univeral weight set into the first room on the basement and it just barely fit at all.  The treadmill lives in the kitchen now, a severe lack of headroom in the basement making running at treadmill height impossible for him.  He has been such a good sport about this.  He gave up a lot in this move, man-room wise, but he has weathered it in good spirits and we are trying to find ways to accomodate the things that don't seem to fit.  People did not think about home gyms in 1901, I suppose.  When he is done working out we'll watch LOST in high definition on his new flat screen, and suddenly it won't seem so bad that he had to work out crammed into that basement.

I have to end this post and insist that a certain five year old go to sleep now, despite his seeming need to stand at the window and watch the snow come down.  He is beyond excited with tomorrow's potential for sledding in Crandall Park, but if he doesn't get some sleep he'll be too tired to climb back up the hill when his run is done.

Back to the Grind

The Monday after a week of vacation is always a little weird for me.  I flounder through the morning without Brendan here to bounce ideas off of.  Do you think she needs a nap now?  Can I really give them dry cereal for breakfast for the third day in a row?  Do you want coffee, or would tea be better for late morning?  We so easily fall into a rhythm when we have non-working days together that I find it odd to be on my own again.  It's not that I am not capable, for surely I do the same things day in and day out all week long by myself under normal circumstances, but the sudden loss of adult companionship during the daylight hours is startling on the first day back to "normal".  I miss his presence, and so do the kids.  Harry took an extra long time to get over his normal Monday I-want-my-Daddy-and-he's-not-here blues and Emma is just grumpy, put out, and miffed that he dared not be present at her breakfast table, entertaining her with silly faces and offering her bits of his own cereal.  So we stumble about today, but tomorrow will be better. 
Our vacation was simple and lovely.  We didn't go much further than our own, literal, backyard, but we found countless things to do with our time.  We barely turned on the t.v.  I laid in the hammock and watched the clouds float by, peered at countless caterpillars at the request of eager and excited children, and sat beneath the stars with Brendan, listening to the tree frogs' serenade and the whippoorwills' love calls.  I remembered how well Brendan and I work together when we're building a project (we worked on our deck), something we haven't really been able to do in a couple of years.  We rediscovered the smooth joy of vodka and tonic, went to the movies for the first time in perhaps 2 1/2 years, and had a beer at a bar.  A real bar, downtown, even.  I got in some sewing time, and Brendan got to play with his band a couple of times.
There were times when we got frustrated with the kids, or with each other, as a week's worth of togetherness can do to the most easygoing of families, but we seem to have regained a sense of equilibrium after the long adjustment that goes hand-in-hand with adding to a family.  It helped immensely that our kids are now old enough to play in the yard without us being two feet from them at all times (thank goodness for our fence), and it helped that we each took some time away from the family, house, children, and dogs to pursue our own interests.  I dare say we are getting better at this vacation thing, even if we didn't travel anywhere.
Conversation as I am writing:
Mom to H: Did you have a good vacation?
H: Yes, I did.
M: What did you do?
H: I did something.  I like caterpillars.  Mommy, you don't like caterpillars when they are big and fat?
M: They're ok. 
H: You don't like caterpillars?
M: I like to look at them but not to touch them. 
H:  But I do. 
M:  What's your favorite thing about caterpillars?
H:  To play with them. 
M:  What else did you do on vacation?
H:  I planted flowers with Na Na.  I want an apple.  No, I don't want an apple, or water. 
M:  What do you want?
H:  I want something to...hmmm.  Let's see.  I know. You know what I want?  I want, um, peanut butter and jelly for breakfast.
M:  We already ate breakfast.
H:  No wait, I don't want peanut butter, just jelly.  And no bread.  Maybe bread to make a sandwich.  Yes, that's it.   A jelly sandwich.  I want a peanut butter and jelly for breakfast, but not the peanut butter, just the jelly.  Ok?  Please?  Not the peanut butter, just the jelly.  Are you going to make me one or what?
M:  We're going to have lunch soon, do you want that for lunch? 
H:  No, I want it now because my belly is staaaarviiiiing.  (very dramatic now)
M:  Ok, let me shut this thing off and we'll see what we can do (I say as I realize that we are out of both peanut butter and jelly - not good)

Yes, we'll stumble through today but tomorrow will be better.  Time to go put my game face on and try to "sell" a chicken salad sandwich to my three year old.  Except I don't think we have any bread, either.  Oh, crud.  I think  we have crackers?

Just So I Remember Later

She's gripping a fat pink Crayola crayon in her little fist, and she draws it back and forth through Harrison's hair.  She loves the idea of coloring but doesn't yet grasp that crayons are best suited for paper, or maybe she does but likes the idea of pestering her brother better.  When she does touch crayon to paper it is in the form of dots.  She is into pointillism, it seems, and her page of the coloring book is freckled with pink, white, and blue.  Harry is patient with her and allows her crayon to graze his scalp for a moment, then shakes his head and tells her to color on the paper, and only on the paper.  It's a direction he's heard a lot of in his almost three years.  When she finally concedes and begins to polka dot the paper he pleads with her to make lines instead of dots, but she laughs off his request and continues with her masterpiece.
He is learning to write.  He holds his crayon like a pencil and makes studious, focused lines across the page.  He demands that I make 'dots' for him, which I know means he'd like to play connect-the-dots, the game we've used to try to teach him to write his letters.  He loves making his lines into something, and he is delighted every time a recognizable image appears where only polka dots lived before.  He brings me his "school work" to hang on the fridge, and I happily comply.  The pages he chooses to work on in his coloring book are not the pictures to be filled in with crayons, but the pages that show numbers and letters, word searches, and matching games.  He wants to know what the words say, what they mean, and how to make the letters into them.  He demands the reading of words everywhere, from receipts to newspapers to cereal boxes.  He loves the written word already, before he can even cipher the meaning on his own, and I find myself filled with joy at the thought of the books we will (re)discover together.
*******
Brendan straps the orange snowshoes to his feet while I struggle with my own buckles.  The freshly fallen snow whirls around our heads in the late-morning wind, and we're off.  We start on the driveway, where Harrison quickly finds his rhythm is thrilled to watch his dad use the snow blower, but even that soon gets old for a boy of such energy.  We cut a path across the front yard and then around the back and into the trees.  He asks me if he can go first and I let him take the lead, his little snowshoes making a meandering trail through the untouched powder.  He stops to admire the ice on tree branches, and shows concern for smaller pines that have buckled under the weight of heavy snow and ice.  He insists on dusting the snow off of them and correcting their posture.  We discover "tree huts" under a few tall, old hemlocks at the very back of the lot, and I remember being a child myself and playing in the caverns formed by snow-laden branches of evergreens.  We duck under the snowy branches and Harrison smiles and laughs out loud at the luck of finding such a perfect hiding hole.  As we head back toward the house his cheeks have taken on a rosy glow, and he stumbles over a log that was hidden beneath a drift.  Rather than allow frustration to seep into his outing, he laughs and reaches his hands out to me, and I scoop him up and set him right again.  He leads me along the fence and into the front yard, and we watch his dad circle back with the snow blower.  He doesn't want to take off his snowshoes; he doesn't want to go back inside.  It was only fifteen or twenty minutes but it made his weekend, and watching his adventure through the woods made mine.
*******
She hates to be told "no".  She doesn't hear the word very often because she is eager to please by nature and follows directions more than she bucks them, but every once in awhile Emma is told "no".  She turns her eyes to mine, and the sadness that peers out of those big brown spheres at that one simple word is enough to break my heart.  And then she sticks her little bottom lip out, her cheeks quiver, and enormous tears literally splash down her face.  Her face crumples into devastation, and I am between giggling and tears myself.  It hurts my heart to see the physical expressions of her sadness, but on the other hand I know the reason behind my use of the word "no" and really it wasn't anything to cry about.  I hold her and whisper "shhhh" in her ear and her tiny little sobs quiet.  She looks questioningly into my eyes and I assure her that I love her, but that she still  cannot drink my hot cup of tea.  Satisfied with the exchange she smiles and wiggles her way to the ground, off to new adventures.  Her cheeks are still shiny with tears, but her heart has been restored to sunshine.

I Think This Will Finally Work: Last Night

We are nothing if not silly.



What do you do after dinner?

Eight, By Way Of Thirteen

I was seventeen, mere weeks away from beginning my senior year of high school. You were home from college for the summer and you had grown your hair out; when you let it down it twisted into the most beautiful, silky black curls. I was not looking to get into a relationship; more specifically speaking I did not want a long distance relationship at all, as the one I'd had the previous year had ended badly with me on the unfortunate side of hurt. Coming from a similar situation you weren't looking for a relationship either.

At a party of my ex-boyfriend's (the one who caused the hurt) we got to chatting and you asked for my phone number under the guise of wanting to look at some Grateful Dead bootleg tapes my late cousin had left my brother. We made plans to get together at my house. We spent about ten minutes looking at tapes, then spent the rest of the afternoon talking on my front stoop. The silences were comfortable. I talked you into going to a Crosby, Stills, & Nash concert at SPAC with me that night. It was our first date, more than 13 years ago now.

Five years and one month (give or take) after our first date, we married on the most beautiful of September days. The sky was that crisp blue that is only seen at the very end of summer, the leaves were just starting to change color, and there was a warm breeze that lifted my veil as I walked up the steps of the church. When I walked down the aisle to meet you at the altar, I smiled and waved to our families and friends, and my cheeks were already sore from smiling so much. I was more sure in that moment than I had ever been about anything before in my life, and perhaps since. I was completely, entirely happy, and without fear. If it weren't for bothersome gravity I am quite sure I would have floated up the aisle to meet you.

Looking back, we were practically babies when we met, with goals and dreams and ideas about life that had barely taken shape in our minds, let alone come to fruition, but I think I knew on that first date that I would love you. From that very first date you have felt like home to me, like the one place in the world where I could be myself, wholly and truly. Wherever you were was where I wanted to be. Later in our relationship I would picture the children we would have, twin girls with black ringlets to match the ones you cut off when you went for your first job interview, and boys with your same twinkly eyes and dimples.

So life didn't work out quite the way we imagined, but as I sit here by myself tonight (you are working 2nd shift...hello, stalkers) on the eve of our eighth wedding anniversary, I cannot imagine it working out any other way than this. The trials of our relationship, of our marriage, have made us stronger. I truly believe that we are better people for what we have been through together, and after all of these years you are still the one I want to call when something goes right or when something is wrong. I love waking up next to you, seeing your black hair, now sprinkled with a very distinguished-looking gray, sticking up with bed head. I love seeing our kids race each other to the back door when your car pulls in the drive after a long day at work, and watching your face change from harassed to delighted as you sweep each of them into your arms for a hug. I love having a beer with you on hot summer days, and talking about anything and everything, or simply saying nothing at all, just enjoying the comfortable silences. I love working on projects with you around our house, our very own home team striving to reach a common goal. I love you, the same as I did all of those years ago when I said "I will", although today it is a deeper, more refined love than it was then.
Happy Anniversary, B. Thank goodness neither of us paid any attention to what we thought we wanted 13 years ago. Thank goodness I found you, and you found me. Here's to us, and to the future! Cheers!

Vacation Photos

A cabin nestled between the trees, complete with screened in porch, was our escape for four days.

Swimsuits, poised and ready.

Morning quiet, spent reading.

First family rowboat ride.

Both Harry and Em look nervous, no?

Harry at the water's edge.

Emma gets a grip on Dad.

Harry's favorite part of the week?  The tractors.

On the trail to the lake Harry played games and chatted endlessly about tractors and reindeer.

Lest you think I'm joking about the reindeer.

The quiet was unbelievable here.


Saying farewell to the beach on our last morning.


Our vacation is over (sigh) and we're now back to the grind.  We'll be going back to Lapland Lake Nordic Vacation Resort, though.  It was lovely, and we highly recommend it to those of you traveling with children.

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.

She's Home!!!!

Emma has arrived home!!! Sara is exhausted and has gone to bed. She mentioned that Mrs. Koo and Mrs. Oh (and I'm sure everyone else - myself included) wants to see pictures as soon as she arrives, so on Sara's behalf I'll post a couple of photos. I'll let Sara do the rest tomorrow. Emma has obviously been well loved in Korea. The pictures Mrs. Koo provided show that Emma's entire foster family cared for her very much. Sara and I are very grateful and thankful to the entire Koo family for giving her such a good loving home for the early months of her life.
-Brendan

Mom and Emma in Korea

At the airport in Albany, NY

Home with Dad and Harrison

Letters from Korea

As most of you know Sara and her mother are currently in Korea to get our baby girl and bring her home. Sara asked me (her husband) to do a guest post on her blog. My plan was to take some pictures of Harry and I and let everyone know what we were up to while Mom was overseas. Sara, rightly so, took the 'good' camera to Korea with her (including the rechargeable batteries). So, as I result, I was left with a camera whose focus and zoom is not functioning properly and can take about 4 pictures with a fresh set of non-rechargeable batteries. So, sorry no pictures of Harry today. I have talked to Sara a couple of times very briefly over the last couple of days. She sent me the e-mail below today and I think you'll find it far more interesting than anything I might have had to say about my weekend at home. 
 
Hi Hon!
It is almost five thirty in the morning here, and I cannot sleep so I thought I would be productive and send you an e-mail.  I hope things at home are going well.  I miss you guys so much!
I know I didn't get to tell you very much over the phone...I was worried about running out of money on the phone card before saying goodbye and I love you.  We had to buy phone cards because mom could not get hers to work.  They are 5,000 won for about five minutes...that's a little over five dollars.  Also, there is a home for unwed, pregnant mothers here and one of the mothers was sitting in the chair next to me waiting for the phone, and she was crying.  I was very distracted by her sadness (although I don't know why she was crying).  Our room is next to Sharon's Home, which is the part of Eastern for unwed mothers.  We see the women in the halls, in the kitchen, etc.  They sound very happy for the most part, laughing and smiling and picking on each other. 
Being here brings the emotion of all aspects of the adoption to the forefront of my mind, and combining that with jet lag and homesickness had kept me very close to tears so far.  I am ok, but it is so very hard to see a crying birthmother, an overwhelmingly sad foster mother. 
Yesterday we met with the secretary of Eastern (I forgot her name) and paid for our room and I filled out the escort paperwork.  She gave us Hee Seon's visa paperwork and passport.  It is a big packet pf papers, about 1/2 inch thick, that she will need to enter the USA.  Then we went upstairs and met with Hee Seon's and her foster mother, and Hee Seon's social worker was there to translate for us.  Hee Seon is just beautiful, as in takes-your-breath-away beautiful.  Immediately her foster mother was in tears, and the social worker explained to us that she was happy and relieved to see us so happy, and of course sad that Hee Seon will be leaving this week.  Her FM joked later on that her whole family loves Hee Seon so much that she and her daughter had joked about running away with her and hiding.  It is a huge understatement to say that she has been loved...there are four photo albums, each beginning inscribed with the words "Hee Seon, I love you" in English and in Hangul.  The pictures are labeled, beginning with her first days in their home all the way up until April 7!  There are pictures with each member of their immediate family, and also with their Aunt.  And the gifts she sent for us and for Emma!  Oh my!  The hanbok is beautiful...it looks like she had one specially made for her.  There is also a crocheted hat for Harrison (I don't know if it will fit on his head though), an art piece that she made in a traditional method of Harrison and Emma sitting under a tree...very lovely as well.  There are gifts for us, more pictures of her (studio type), and a formal family photograph that was taken around Hee Seon's 100 day anniversary. 
Our daughter is precious.  Her smile melts your heart, and when she laughs she smiles and then ducks her head, which is beyond cute.  We sat in the meeting room, which is in the same room where the pictures of Harrison were taken when Cecilia visited him.  I recognized the rug immediately.  There is an upper level to the room where the rug is, and the SW, FM, and I sat on the rug with Hee Seon and played with her.  She came right to me and checked me out....touched my face, played with my hair, smiled when I made clucking noises at her.  She seems very easygoing and cuddly.  She is not very big at all...we need not have worried.  I think she is shorter than Isabelle, and not as plump, although she does seem well filled out.  She has a little bit of hair that is wispy soft like Harry's, and I imagine it would stick straight up from her head if there was not baby oil/lotion in it to keep it down.  Her stork bite marks on her face have faded almost completely, and the FM said that they are slightly more visible when she is very cold or very hot.  She said she also gets red marks on her skin in the bath (maybe like your hives?) because of dry skin, so she needs lots of lotion.  FM said she is very happy and easygoing, a very good advanced baby.  She rolls over, is starting to sit up on her own as of last week, and tries to crawl but has not been able to yet.  I gave the FM her gifts-she loved the necklace and put it on right away- and she went through the photo album I put together.  She commented on our houseplants, and I noticed that in her pictures she has many houseplants too.  She was amazed by how much Harry looks like Emma, and touched his face in the picture and said he is very handsome.  We talked about our families, what Hee Seon likes, and how long she has been a FM...Hee Seon is her fifth baby.  She will likely get another baby on Wednesday, or by the end of the week at the latest.  They like to give them another baby right away to help ease their sadness over saying goodbye.  The SW and FM left for a little bit to fill out the exit paperwork (remember the sheet we got for Harry that was typed with his bottle. bowel movement, etc, information?) and we were left with Hee Seon.  She was okay at first, and smiled when we played with her, but then she realized her omma was gone and she just cried and rubbed her eyes and looked around for her.  It was so hard, Brendan.  I was so torn.  I wanted to run out and find them so she would  not be sad, and at the same time I wanted to figure it out on my own, how to soothe her.  When they eventually came back her FM cried very hard, big huge tears, and walked into the corner to rock her.  I gave her a tissue and promised she would be happy with us.  I didn't know what else to do.  It turns out Hee Seon was late for her bottle, and once she got the bottle out (we must remember to call it mama) she settled down and smiled instantly.  She let me hold her again to feed her, and we (Emma and I) made very good eye contact, so she is not afraid of me at all.  She was sleepy and her FM needed to go, so we took a picture of the four of us and said goodbye.  Next we met with the elder Dr. Kim and had a cup of tea.  It was a nice meeting, and he is a very kind, warm, and amazing man.  His good work for children, unwed mothers, and the poor left me feeling like I am doing nothing with my life!  I gave him our donation, which he said they would use for the children who are handicapped.  It turns out I was supposed to give the donation to the younger Dr. Kim (who is 73), the president of ESWS.  Oops.  The secretary told him I gave our donation to the elder Dr. Kim, though.  We received gifts from both of them, autographed books, an ESWS bag, some literature about their facilities, etc.  The meeting with the younger Dr. Kim was difficult.  His English was not as good, and I think we had a little too much time for his usual spiel before lunch, so there were some awkward silences and efforts to kill time.  He did not join us for lunch, but we sat with the elder Dr Kim, and two other families.  Wade, Trish, and their kids Patrick and Marie are here from Minnesota (Minneapolis) on a homeland tour, and Shane and his wife (I missed her name) are here from Australia picking up their four month old daughter.  He is Irish, she is Australian, and they met in Canada.  We enjoyed the conversation very much.  Shane and his wife have waited 2 1/2 years for a referral...apparently in Australia it is a VERY long process, and when they asked how long we had waited I did not want to tell them.  They even voiced out loud that they may consider moving to the USA for awhile for their next adoption, if they can figure out how to work out the citizenship aspects.  I will never complain about the wait again, I promised them.  She said with the new regulations some couples will wait 3 1/2 years...I cannot imagine that.  The very thought of it makes me want to cry for them. 
After lunch (which was bibimbap, which was also what we had on the plane) we went to our room briefly before meeting Harry's FM.  We saw her in the hallway and she ran up the stairs to give us each a big hug.  Then we met with Harry's SW and she translated for us.  It was very hard to see her disappointment that Harry was not here, but she managed not to cry and we exchanged gifts and photos.  She loved all of the pictures, and said she thinks he has a stubborn set to his jaw (?).  I assured her that he is for the most part easygoing and funny and loveable, and that we adore him beyond measure.  She brought him art supplies, a book to color in, and Korean candy and treats (a huge box of goodies).  She said when he was a baby she would carry him in the podaegi and walk around outside, and he loved to be outdoors.  I told her he still does, and that he demands to go outside to play.  She liked the pictures of our house and yard, and was amazed at how many trees and how much green there was.  She does not watch babies right now because her Mother in law had been ill and she takes care of her, but soon they are moving to a new house and she will watch babies again.  Harry was her seventh baby, and she had five more after him.  The SW said that some women foster up to a hundred babies!!!  They truly love the babies, though, it was very obvious. 
After meeting Harry's FM we went for a walk.  I was emotionally overwhelmed and needed to get some air, so we adventured out and found a great little coffee shop.  Coffee never tasted so good!  We walked past a university where the soccer teams were practicing, and we got to see lots of cherry, magnolia, and almond (maybe??) trees in bloom.  Every spare section of earth here is planted with something lovely that blooms, forsythias, pansies, bamboo, etc.  I think your dad would be very surprised at how beautiful and clean the city is.  On our walk we passed no less than four men whose job it was to clean the street; they swept the sidewalks and picked up litter.  The city is very safe, and most people speak at least a little bit of English.  I wore a short sleeved shirt (it must have been at least 65 degrees yesterday) and got stares from almost everyone we passed.  The locals are bundled against the cold (?) with jackets, scarves, gloves, etc.  Harry's FM thought I must be cold and rubbed my arms, but I assured her that it feels very warm here to us.  After our walk we took a rest in our room (which is great, by the way...queen sized bed, our own bathroom with a very good shower, common kitchen with food across the hall).  After our rest we ventured out again for dinner.  We were also looking for Advil, as we are both very stiff and headachy, but we could not find anything that even resembled a painkiller.  We ate at the Outback Steakhouse (of which I am ashamed, but after the emotional upheaval of the day I needed to have something I recognized for dinner).  It was heavenly to eat steak, salad, and fries, but it was pricey at $30 for dinner.  Since that was all we spent on food that day I wasn't very worried about it, though.  After dinner I called you and then went to bed to read. 
Today I feel less jet lagged, and I am eager to do some sightseeing in another area of the city.  We are going to Insadong (a market with art and traditional crafts), Namdaemun market (where hanboks, tea sets, etc are sold) and a palace that is near both...I think it is Gaemduckgong palace, although I am sure I butchered that spelling.  We'll take the subway, which is quite conveniently located next to Dunkin Donuts, and I am not at all ashamed to need a good cup of coffee.  Our other coffee shop is in the other direction, otherwise we would go there again.  (we have had a lot of green tea here, but for some reason it all tastes like sesame oil to us....it is good, but I miss our tea from home, with sugar and cream).  I am trying hard not to think about the moment tomorrow when I will have to take our baby girl from the mother she has known and loved for seven months, and leave.  It is going to be very very hard, and I am certain that I will cry just as hard as they will. 
Oh, I forgot to tell you about getting here from the airport.  Our driver was great, and pointed out all kinds of points of interest.  Incheon is maybe an hour from Seoul, and it is on an island, so the drive to Eastern was very pretty.  It reminded me of Lake George, surrounded by very calm water and gentle, rolling hills.  Very beautiful.  We also passed the world cup stadium...there was a game that night so the traffic was wild, and there were little kids with soccer balls everywhere.  Opposite the stadium is world cup park, which was built in 2000, and is a lovely green space with walking trails and play equipment for children, and parts of it went along the water.  It was huge!
I guess that is all I have to report for now.  I think I need to find a cup of tea and take a shower.  We have to get an early start so we can be back by 4:00 for another meeting with our SW, who will give us Emma's travel bag of formula, diapers, etc.  I honestly don't know how we are going to get all of our stuff home...we may have to buy another piece of luggage!!!!  We are hoping to visit the Love the Children hospital after that meeting, and rock some of the new babies.  We heard them crying last night, that distinctive newborn cry, and it made me happy and sad at once.  Happy that Eastern is here, to offer support and a chance for these babies and their mothers (ESWS also offers financial and professional support to mothers who decide to keep their babies), and sad that so many will leave this country that I find so beautiful.  This trip has really changed my perspective of Korea, and someday I am going to insist that we come back.  Although I think we should stop and stay a few days halfway, because the flight was miserably hot and I thought I would die of claustrophobia about halfway here.  I am glad to have Emma on the way home to keep my mind on something else, and I think our seating arrangement will be much better, too. 
Anyway, I love you and miss you terribly.  In less than 48 hours I will be home with our baby daughter, and life will resume some sort of normalcy.  I miss Harry, too...please give him a big hug and kiss for me!  I will call you again tonight (your morning) and tell you about my day.  I'll try not to hang up crying this time.  I love you!
-Sara

The Details, As I Know Them

The past two days have been a whirlwind of emotion, planning, panicking, running around getting documents signed, and crying.  Yes, I am a bit on the weepy side...I think it's my body's reaction to stress.  Tears just slide down my face as though a faucet has been turned on, and my throat clenches up, making it impossible to speak.  What a pain in the you-know-what.
Just so you know, it is possible to get a passport REALLY fast, if you need one.  But it'll cost you.  Please let's all focus our positive energy on getting my passport into my hands in time for my flight on Monday.
When  we got our travel call on Wednesday, I had no passport.  Brendan has no passport.  World traveler's we are not.  I had one way back in high school for trips to Spain and Bermuda, but since then I haven't needed one.  Let me just say that if you are adopting you should get a passport, even if you plan on having the baby escorted.  You just should, so you don't have to deal with Grumpy County Clerk and Lazy Unhelpful Postal Worker at the eleventh hour before departure on possibly the most important trip of your life.  Consider yourself warned.
All of the stress and planning and panicking aside, though, I am so EXCITED to be going to KOREA!!!!!!!  To pick up our daughter!!!!!  Wooo hoooo!
Brendan is staying home with Harry, because he is the best Dad in the world and wants to be sure our little man is well prepared for the onset of a little sister.  We both hate to think of leaving him for four days and then coming home with a baby.  I think he would feel very displaced if that happened.  Also, the very thought of taking Harry to Korea right now, under such short notice and drastic change of plans, leaves me quaking.  The flight is 15 hours.  15 HOURS!  Of bored, unhappy, confined Harry.  I start to sweat just thinking about it.  His normal state of constant motion would not be appreciated by the other passengers, I am sure.  We'll take him to Korea, just not right now.  Plus, Brendan is terrified of flying.  He'll not thank me for telling you that but it is the truth.  He has not flown in many years, and we are thinking that a 15 hour flight is not the way to jump back into the game.  We have asked my mom to travel with me, as she has been all over the world on business trips, and can navigate an airport without losing her cool.  I am really excited to share this trip with her...there is something special about going to pick up my daughter with my mom. 
So, our passports should be here on Saturday or Sunday (please please please).  I booked our flights today.  We'll fly Albany to Atlanta, Atlanta to Seoul on Monday, arriving Tuesday.  Wednesday we will meet Emma and her foster mom for about an hour, then we'll meet with the Dr.s Kim (Directors of Eastern) to give them our donation...I still have to figure out how much this should be.  Then in the afternoon on Wednesday we will go to the office at Eastern and pick up Emma's passport and visa.  Thursday morning, early (7ish) we will meet with Emma and her foster mother again, and Emma will be placed in our care.  Our flight leaves Seoul at 11:00am, with a layover DC where we'll go through immigration, then on to Albany, arriving at around 1:50pm.  Five days until I meet my daughter, six until she comes home for good!!!!!!!! There is also a chance that we might get to meet Harrison's foster mother, and I am beside myself with hope that we can.  I have looked at her picture every day for almost two years, saying a silent thank you and prayers for her family each time.  To meet her would be amazing, and I just don't have any idea what to say or ask.
We won't have very much time to sight see or shop, only our evenings and afternoons look like they are free.  It's going to be a very quick trip...wish we had more time to see Korea itself, but we'll be very happy just to be there at all, and especially happy to see Emma.  Questions: 
What should we ask her foster mom?  Gift ideas for her? 
Gift for Harry's foster mom?  What to ask her?
Where to eat?  I want to eat Korean food, not American.  bibimbap, bulgogi, mandu, kalbi, any of these will do.  Suggestions for restaurants within close proximity to Eastern would be great! 
Shopping.  I don't even know where to begin.  I would like to bring home some tea (we drink tea as though it were water, and this would be a nice treat for Brendan).  I would love a tea set, something for Harry and Emma, and perhaps even some art?  I have no idea what to expect.
What is an average donation to Eastern?  I understand that it can be whatever we can afford, as it is a gesture or tradition, but I'd like to have a ballpark idea of what is normal.  Also, what form should it take?  Check?  Cash?  Money order?  I am feeling clueless.  Do I put it in an envelope? 
Are there hairdryers at the guest house, as there would be in a hotel?  Or do I need to pack one?
OK, this list is getting too long.  If I continue I will start to panic, and that would not be good.  Thank goodness for Brendan...he is such a good, good, good person, and such a wonderful husband...for encouraging me to take on this adventure, for being willing to stay behind with Harry, for telling me it will all work out when I cry and panic, and for loving me despite my mood swings this week.  And Harry has been a trooper, too, although I think he has watched more TV in the past three days than in the three months previous.  Oh well.  I never said I was a supermom.

The Days Are Numbered

We woke this morning to a damp and dreary world, the kind of morning that instinctively makes you turn on the tea kettle and keep it warm all day.  While I sit here and try to wipe the grog from my eyes, Harrison has grabbed Brendan by his index finger. "Room!" he demands and drags his father off down the hallway.  They will be gone for perhaps 1/2 hour or more, and I have time to sit here, with a freshly brewed cup of tea, and try to imagine what our lives will soon be like. 
In some ways it feels like our days as this family are numbered.  Adding a child changes the dynamic of the family unit so markedly that I find myself savoring these last days and months together; at the same time I look forward to our future daughter and all of the joys, trials, and changes her arrival will bring.  I honestly don't know how many more quiet, rainy mornings I will be able to spend at the computer, or just looking out the window, or reading from a favorite book.  It's not a sad realization, or even a melancholy one...but today I sit here and savor the sound of Harry and Brendan playing together down the hall while I enjoy the luxury of a moment's solitude. 
I think I am going to miss the moments on weekday afternoons when Harrison finally succumbs to sleep, the house falls quiet, and the dogs begin to snore.  I doubt very much that my children will nap at the same time...we're just not that organized as a household.  I will miss sleeping in on weekend mornings, listening to the birds outside or the rain tapping on the skylight, and hearing Harry's steady breathing on the monitor.  I will miss my slightly less babyproofed house...Harrison has stopped sucking and drooling on everything in sight so some of my favorite things have crept back into our living spaces...soon they will have to be packed away again.  I will miss being able to take a shower, knowing that I can trust Harry not to get hurt or get into much of anything for my eight to ten minutes of morning routine.  Today I am taking a moment to think of the things I will miss so that I can enjoy them all the more while I can.  I remember what the first months were like when Harry arrived, and  I know that we're in for some major upheaval.  It's ok, though.  As a maker of lists, if I write down the things I will miss then I can let them go...to be picked up at a later date when our lives have reorganized themselves into a new normalcy.
I look forward to having my arms full of baby; I cannot wait for those precious, peaceful moments of early morning and late evening bottles when the rest of the world ceases to exist and all that is left is me and the baby staring into my eyes.  Or the moments when a baby falls asleep on you, the weight of their sleep making your arms ache but you can't bear to set them down because then your arms would miss them.  Or the smell of their hair, and the way little soft tufts of it tickle your nose when you inhale.  I look forward to taking two children on outings to the park and watching them delight in the ducks, fish, and ponds.  I look forward to seeing the nightlight lit in her room, it's faint glow outlining the curve of her cheek as she sleeps.  I look forward to watching Harry become a big brother...he loves babies and has always been fascinated by other children so I look forward to his reaction to her (good or bad). 
Pretty soon we're going to be a family of four.  Holy cow.  It's really happening!  I'll will of course post pictures as soon as we have them, but so far they have not arrived. 

Accident Prone

Happy Holidays, from our house to yours! 
In lieu of the lovely 'thankful for our blessings' post I had planned for Christmas this year, which somehow fell off my to-do list, I present you with "Holiday Blunders and Fun, 2006".
On Christmas Eve, whilst the Sullivan Humans were enjoying festivities away from home, the Sullivan Canines were busily eating the Christmas presents we had so carefully laid out to be wrapped.  We arrived home, our hearts full of cheer and our arms full of sleepy toddler, to a house strewn with soggy bits of wrapping detritus, a beheaded bird ornament, partially chewed spice jars, and a paring knife with suspiciously arranged tooth marks.  It was Christmas Eve, the stores were closed, and our pups were looking quite sheepish.  So we put the boy to bed, picked up the mess, and in a moment of true Christmas spirit we did not kill our dogs.  Instead we dug their crates out of the dark corners of our basement, set them up in our bedroom, and decided we need to go back to square one with their training.  If you can't teach an old dog new tricks, let's hope you can refresh an old dog's memory of the house rules. 
We had a lovely Christmas, and it was a joy to see Harrison opening the gifts we had so carefully chosen for him.  Santa was downplayed, and judging by the oohs and ahhhs he emitted Harrison really appreciated each bit of wrapping, each pretty bow, each cardboard box, and, of course, each toy.  After our leisurely morning at home we were off to visit Harry's three sets of Grandparents where he was equally spoiled.  He had the chance to play with cousins Casey and Brian, who were very entertaining and allowed Brendan and I to relax as they chased Little Mr. Busy around. 
On Thursday, after much research and consideration, we decided to return my new digital camera that Brendan had given me for Christmas (mostly due to its sluggishness in taking pictures).  I gathered up the packaging for the camera, and remembered to delete the photos I had taken on the camera's internal memory.  As I watched it deleting I realized it was taking too long, then realized that the memory card (from our other camera) was in it, and that I had just deleted ALL of our Christmas photos.  I am not a technological genius by any means, and this proves it.
Later that day Brendan's brother, Mike, came over with his kids Maggie and Quinn.  Harry loves seeing them, and after lunch and an hour of play we settled the kids down for a movie, rather than try to get them to nap.  During the movie I snuck out to visit my Grandmother and help her with a few things.  I climbed into our new car, backed out of our garage as usual, and promptly smashed into my brother-in-law's car.  Yeah.  The worst part is that when I got out to check for damage I didn't see any, so I continued on to Grandma's, returning later in the day to confess my boo boo.  Only then did Mike and Brendan go out to look at the cars and discovered the smashed tail light and small dent in Mike's car.  To his credit, Mike was very gracious and let me off the hook with minimal teasing.
Today we had a babysitter for four hours.  Four Hours!!! Brendan and I started to work on some projects we've been meaning to get to.  Brendan ripped up and replaced treads and risers on our basement stairs, and I began painting our bedroom.  From the very first stroke of my paintbrush the color looked perfect.  It is exactly the right shade, it was covering well (maybe I won't have to do a dreaded second coat) and things were generally serendipitous.  That is, until I misstepped on my way down the ladder,started to fall, and tried to catch myself by jumping to the floor with my right foot, which landed in the paint bucket, which flew into the air and landed in my lap covering me from the thighs down with paint, which then gushed onto the carpet and drop cloth.  And for about the thousandth time since we bought it I thanked the heavens that we own a steam vacuum. 
With three days of vacation left I am wondering what other calamity might befall us.  If nothing else, it keeps life interesting.  I hope your holidays were as lovely as ours, if less accidental.

Bah...hurry up

Where are you Christmas?  Why can't I find you?
The Christmas spirit is eluding me this year.  I know I should be enjoying Harry's second holiday season...baking cookies, singing carols, watching the snow fall, and shopping with a perpetual smile and a feeling of goodwill in my heart.  But for some reason it just isn't happening for me.  Bah. 
Don't get me wrong - I have been doing plenty of shopping, complete with impulse buys of things we absolutely do not need.  I have made my lists and checked them 24,000 times.  In fact, I am almost done with my shopping.  So that can't be it.
As for the cookie baking, Brendan and I are having a weight loss challenge and I'm not going to blow it by making yummy treats so that I can sit here all day and feel them staring me down, calling to me in their saccharine little voices.  He has it easy, as far as I am concerned, as he sits at a desk in the middle of nowhere all day, while I am at home or shopping with a world of food at my fingertips.  Self control, thou art not mine.
I have been listening to carols.  Jingle bells, old Saint Nick, deck the halls and all of that.  Still not feeling the cheer.  On a side note, however, Harrison thinks it is super fun when Mom breaks into song along with the carols, and he gives me standing ovations, complete with enthusiastic clapping.  And for the first time in a year and a half I am wondering if he should have his hearing checked.
Do you want to know the real reasons for the noncheer?  Brendan has been stuck working long shifts (10 hour days that become 12 hour days when you add in his commute), seven days a week.  He will have this weekend off, but after that it's back to the hell schedule until Christmas.  I know we're lucky that he has a good job, and I am ever-so-thankful for the overtime pay as it will greatly help with our adoption costs.  BUT.  I am also having a panic attack every day at around 4:00p.pm., wondering how the heck I'll make it through the next two hours as Harrison repeats until he cries "Daddy, Daddy, Daddy, Daddy...:  It breaks my heart, it breaks Brendan's heart, and if I am being completely honest it hurts just a little bit that he never chants for me.  But why would he?  I am glued to him 24/7.  (breathe in, breathe out...mental note to self - make plans to take a class or something!)
The other, more encompassing reason is that I just want the holidays to be over with so that it can be 2007 and our daughter can travel.  I know I shouldn't wish time away, but if you have never had to wait for a baby, who you know is laughing and cooing and growing up in someone else's arms, then you have never experienced this particular brand of hell.  It is not fun.  It makes me nervous, anxious, and impatient like nothing else in life.  It is like looking through a lens that is out of focus.  When we waited for Harry it was the same; the world was a very blurry place until he was handed to us, and then it was as though someone turned the lens and it all became clear.  We're back in the blur right now, and I want to be seeing clearly in the worst way.  Bear with me, as I try to bear with myself.
Oh, and worry not that Harrison isn't going to have a good Christmas because of my mood.  He's going to be spoiled silly, and there will be magic and cheer as needed when the time comes.  We're getting our tree this weekend.  Nothing says Peace on Earth like executing an evergreen.  I'm rotten.  Sorry.

Big News!!!!

I am perhaps one of the most negligent writers you know, but this time I have an excellent reason:













 Her name is Lee, Hee Seon.  Hee means happy, and Seon (pronounced 'sun') means good.

This beautiful girl is going to be our daughter!  She was born August 24 and weighed in at 6.4 lbs.  At her October 6th well baby checkup she weighed 8.6 lbs.  She is healthy, strong, and alert.  And did I mention beautiful?  We are reeling with joy and excitement!

 

When we applied for a second child with our adoption agency last month, we never in a million years thought we'd have a referral so soon.  We expected to wait until at least July of 2007 for a referral, with the baby possibly coming home at the end of the summer.  When our agency director called to let us know she had a refrral for us I nearly fainted!  We cannot wait to bring Hee Seon home...if all goes well she should arrive in February or March of 2007.



Have you ever seen such cute hair?  It sticks straight up!  And is it just me, or does she seem to have as much hair as Harrison already?  And those toes!  And her little fists!  She looks so long and slender, but I have to remember that she's not even two months old in these photos.  It is amazing how quickly you can become attached to a face in a photograph.  When I close my eyes I can picture her perfectly...I have studied every centimeter of each photo, as I will for the next four or more months, soaking in each detail and memorizing each wisp of hair, the curve of her chin, and every little wrinkle on her ankles.

 Harry already anwers "Emma" when you ask him what his baby sister's name is, and he loves looking at her pictures.  We're positively giddy right now.  Pinch us.  Is this for real?