My Thick Head (and My Open Heart) November 27, 2009

“Get into the routine” my tough love mom instincts say. “Start as you mean to go on – as you NEED to go on” my independent businesswoman inner voice says. “I need ME time? Where’s my LIFE?” my self-centered ego screams. With all this freakin’ noise in my head, the one being drowned out is the most important one – the pure, unconditional, loving one.

 Let me explain. Yesterday was a tough one. Lotus, my ‘big’ girl, was home from school with a cough, cold and fever. Crap! All I could think about was her getting the baby sick. I banished her to the warm basement with a giant glass of juice and a couple of doses of Motrin (and the company of my ever ready Training Coordinator Andrea – AKA ‘she who can handle anything’). With her taken relative care of, I bundled Beckett up and hustled out to Sick Kids Hospital where she could have blood drawn by the real experts.

As I walked the halls looking for the clinic, I was in awe of the sheer hordes of people there. I did the mental math and realized that for every parent I saw, somewhere there was likely a sick child. In the clinic there were kids in wheelchairs, gaunt faces in worried arms and a small, translucently pale boy who had the thin remainder of his chemo’d hair gelled up into a spiky Mohawk. “Nice Mohawk” I smiled. “Thanks” came the weak reply, followed by a gentle and slightly pained smile from his exhausted looking father. I held Beckett to me tightly and thanked all the forces that be for her well being.

Into the room we went where a chirpy and efficient nurse prepped her for the procedure. Beckett regarded her curiously but coolly and didn’t even flinch when the nurse tied the elastic tightly around her arm and probed for a vein. “Cool customer” she remarked “most babies would be freaking by now”.  In went the needle and the freaking began. She howled and struggled. I cried. I’m not sure who was more upset. But it was over within a couple of minutes and within seconds of the needle coming out, she was hiccupping and regaining her composure. All that was left was to collect a urine sample, which proved to be a more lengthy and challenging event. My little camel would NOT give!! The nurses tried all the tricks, which included putting ice on her tummy, and alcohol wipes in her diaper (who knew??). Finally we had action and we were gratefully released.

She chirped and smiled all the way home and within a few hours, I decided it was time to get her to nap as she hadn’t slept a wink since about 6:30am. I’m not ashamed to admit that I was ready for a break at that stage too. So down she went and despite her being clearly exhausted, the screaming started. I turned the sound off in the monitor and instead watched the red bars rise and fall as she screamed and screamed. I listened every few minutes and her distress was so palpable, I couldn’t bear it. I lasted about 15 minutes and by then I was sure she was going to burst a blood vessel from the intensity of the screaming. I ran upstairs and into her room. She was sobbing so incoherently that she barely noticed me at first. I had to call her name a few times and then she focused on me. I picked her up and starting cooing and rubbing her back. She could barely breathe and was shaking from head to toe. I held her to me and she promptly threw up all over both of us – buckets of the stuff. Fresh tears from me this time.

As I  changed her clothes and calmed her down, I had a realization. What the hell was I trying to accomplish with this schedule I was imposing? Was it for her or for me? If she was tired, she’d sleep. She was telling me with everything she had in her little body that she didn’t want to be away from me and I wasn’t hearing her. Instead, I was hearing some other voice that was trying to be efficient, ordered and structured. I was trying to create a schedule that I could adhere to so that I knew when to make business calls and respond to emails, to get things back in ‘order’, to have some certainty. But loving a newly adopted baby is the antithesis of that – loving ANY baby is. It’s ALL uncertainty. It’s ALL upside down. It’s ALL new and learning and adapting. And it’s a full time job.

Now here comes the challenging part. I like order. I like certainty. I like structure (“When did I become this person??” I continually ask myself. I am a certified former WILD CHILD!) But it’s true. I’m also extremely ambitious and love my work and I crave security (again…”WHO ARE YOU?” says the kid who ran off to London when she was 19 to pursue her musical career and didn’t come home for – oh 15 years). Dilemma. Conundrum. Struggle.

So it came down to a single question. “Who do you want to be?” Do you want to be the woman who looks back on her life and says “yeah – really whipped those kids into a schedule fast like a Nazi cheerleader” or “wow – I really made some bucks that first year I adopted Beckett. Shame about the facial tic she’s developed” or “Beckett? She was the second kid – right? Yeah, we hung out for a few days when she came home from China but then, you know, she was pretty independent from then on…”. Sorry. Not for moi. I want to be the woman whose daughters remember the time devoted to them. I want my second daughter, like my first, to evolve from a timid little bunny into a full blown butt kicker. I want my kids to know that I’m their she-lion, their protector and their champion. I want them to be proud of me, but first I need to be proud of myself for the choices I’ve made and continue to make. 

And so, finally getting it through my thick head, I chose to just ‘be’ with Beckett today, her sleeping in my arms and me being her love slave. And the same plan for tomorrow. And hopefully the next day. And I’ll continue to choose to be with just her as long as she needs just me. And every time it gets hard, I’ll think first of my rock solid elder daughter and then I’ll think of the kids in the halls of hospital and I will thank God that the worst of my time is long days, short naps and some uncertainty.

This I can live with. This I can even learn to love.

The Science of Sleep November 25, 2009

Nap time? That’s for wimps (apparently). My spicy Hunan peanut does not believe in naps. She thinks naps are for the wussy at heart – the weak of constitution. She thinks that naps deaden the spirit. All of this is true – but for ME. 

I’m about the what – 4 millionth mother to complain about her kid not sleeping? I know I’m no different but when my kid lies in her bed screaming herself to sleep, all I can envision is a room filled with cribs, babies lain head to toe – two to a crib, all crying for attention and care, and all feeling abandoned and bereft. This is what I hear in my daughter’s cries. And it utterly ruins my heart.

According to her ‘operating manual”, Beckett had two solid naps (2 hours each) and then woke twice in the night and had a bottle at each waking. Huh? This made little sense. That would mean she had 8 bottles a day! At that rate, her eyeballs would have been swimming in formula. And when she slept through much of the first night we had her (with minimal squeaking), we knew we couldn’t trust the paperwork.

So here I am back at square one – pretty much done with jet lag but on to a whole new form of torture. She wakes at about 5am after falling asleep around 7:30pm. I search for signs of tiredness at around 10am (she does that head rubbing, eye squinching, rolling her head back and forth thing). I watch. I examine. I am as vigilant as a vigilante. Nuthin’. Then, around 11:30, a head roll. An eye rub. AHA! So i snuggle her into my arms, sing a little song to her (it used to be a pure lullaby but now its a basterdization of a lullaby I learned at camp that goes…”Go to sleep, little creep….) and then gently sway her upstairs. I’m not even at the top step when she’s on to me. She spies her bedroom door out of the corner of her eye – an eye which immediately fixes on me with great accusation. And then the mouth opens and out comes that wail. I ‘shshshshshshs’ her, carry her in, put on her obscenely expensive and seemingly useless white noise machine (ok – i was desperate) and lower her into the crib. The volume increases on the wailing. I lay on the bed next to the crib and start with the ‘shushing’ again (for the record, i am testament to the fact that 2 hours of solid ‘shushing’ makes the inside of your mouth completely raw and meaty – yuck). Nadda. She rolls on her side (a feat getting of that flat head) and fixes her giant eyes on me as she screams. “BETRAYER.” the seem to say “MOMMY CHARLATAN. PERSON WHO PRETENDS TO CARE. PICK ME UP IF YOU ACTUALLY DO. GO ON. AND DO IT FAAASSSSSSTTTTTT”.

I cave. I can’t stand it. I’ve tried staying in the room and leaving the room. Keeping the monitor on and off. Drinking wine and scotch. Nothing works. And this happens morning and afternoon. My record, up to yesterday, had been about 7 minutes. 

How the hell can one kid stay up for so long? By 3pm, she’s still going strong and I’m about ready to collapse. And I know she’ll fade at 7pm if i don’t get her to sleep. And sleeping at 7 means waking at 4 am. Noooooooo.

So yesterday afternoon I decided it was time to bite the bullet. I got home from dropping off poop samples at the lab (yes – my life is that exciting these days) and she was exhibiting those signs. Upstairs I scampered, hoping this was finally a legit nap time. Uh uh. No way Jose. Spicy peanut yelling began. I lay her down, shushed her and left. I sat in the kitchen listening to the screaming. Three minutes. Four. My eyes filled up. I called Russ at work. “Turn off the monitor and go into the basement’ he said. HELLO? HAVE YOU MET ME????? This is tantamount to abandonment in my books. “Ok, but she needs to sleep” was his pragmatic reply. Then I heard typing, He was Googling solutions. “Stand your ground,” he read, “commit and follow through” he continued. “Nap time has to be established. Don’t give in. Drink wine.” “Does it really say that?” “All except the wine part,” he replied, “that’s just for you.” So he talked me through it and 20 whole, tortuous minutes of wailing like she was being eviscerated, a glass and a half of wine and three kleenexes worth of tears (mine), she finally hiccuped and was silent. 

One nap down, six thousand and eight to go. And I’m no closer to a plan. And so we’ll take it one nap at a time and hopefully, just hopefully, she’ll realize that I’m never going anywhere and I’ll realize that she’s safe. By then, we’ll both sleep a little more soundly.

5AM Time? November 19, 2009

I can remember reading earnest Mommy articles in parenting mags years go where these perky (usually blonde), thin and somehow coiffed mommies would talk about ‘getting up at 5am for some ‘me’ time’. I mentally snarled as I imagined them waking up at the first ding of the alarm, stretching blissfully, taking a quick shower, putting on their matching twinsets and/or lululemon yoga pants and scampering downstairs to their perfect kitchens. They’d make a fresh cappuccino in the shiny coffee makers (froth perfectly peaked), eat a bowl of fruit and yoghurt and sigh happily, leaning back to read the morning paper while shafts of sunlight streamed through the chiffon curtains.

Cut to me. For three mornings now, my eyes have opened at about 5am. This may be jetlag and will soon go away (and be replaced by my usual snorefest until CBC wakes us up with Michael Helenka’s economic smart talk) or it may not. But my reality bears no resemblance to the pictured perfection of this so called ‘me’ time. I drag my sorry ass into a pair of too big pjs, put on the fuzzy slippers and trudge downstairs. I make a cup of coffee and a Montreal bagel (ok – its Starbucks and a Montreal bagel – this is the poshest part of the event) and sit at the kitchen table feeling shell shocked. I try and flip through a few pages of Entertainment Weekly (the only mag i actually subscribe too. Should I be admitting to that? hmmm) while my brain literally whirrs. Truly. I can hear it. This is how it sounds from the inside…

“wonder what time the baby will get up ,does Lo have everything she needs for school, god this house is a fucking mess, i need to buy milk and mustard, i wonder if that agency is going to train and if they don i wonder what month its going to be because i’m going to need to plan for daycare but i don’t want to put Beckett in daycare too soon because she’s only just starting to really bond, oh my god she’s so cute, i need to take her for blood tests, iwonder if the clinic is going to have enough HINI vaccine for us this week, i hate those bottles they always leak, i wonder if you can return bottles, i need to go back to the gym, i wonder if the gym down the street has better caregivers at the daycare than they used to – those women were like Jabba the Hutt’s offspring, i wonder if i can jog with the stroller, i need a warm coat for Beckett, maybe I’ll to the good second hand clothes store this week, man are my nails a mess, how much money can i not earn til the end of the year and get away with it, i better cook something and freeze it or we’ll be eating take out all week, i need to go to the gym (oh yeah, i thought that already but its really true), i want a new sweater, the mommy wardrobe is different than the work wardrobe, guess that’s why god invented the Gap, i wonder when Russ’s parents are going to come and visit, i need to organize my home office, is that the baby squeaking….?”

By then, Beckett is often waking up and my official ‘me time’ comes crashing to an end. Alternately, Lo shuffles downstairs at 5:30, quickly followed by Russ. We have an early breakfast and then play with the baby who is usually in a fabulous mood in the morning and we watch her giggle and coo and copy us tilting our heads back and forth.

Screw you skinny, coiffed, lululemon mommy image. THIS is perfection…

 

It’s Good to Be Home! November 18, 2009

Ahhh home. Lovely smelling sheets. A big bathtub. A fridge. It’s the simple things that make it so and once again, I’m reminded what a homebody I’ve become. Not like it was the easiest transition in the world but it sure was sweet. The flight home was, how shall i put this delicately, ummm, unexpected. I love you Aeroplan but Air Canada, you officially suck. Who knew that a ‘direct’ flight is not actually a non-stop flight? Misleading much?

So we flew the 10 hours from Beijing from Vancouver where we were forced to deplane, get our luggage, go through customs and immigration, back through security, bags back on the conveyor and then get back on the SAME PLANE for the additional 5 hours home. Sound direct to you? I supposed Air Canada would justify this by explaining that direct simply means you arrive at your destination and don’t have to divert to say, Bangladesh. I’m looking forward to hearing their explanation when I write to them. I’ll let you know.

Regardless, the flight was relatively easy unless the count the 2 hours of Beckett’s shrieking at the beginning. But then she settled down and Russ and I took turns sleeping and playing with her. It was long and arduous but I just kept picturing Lolo’s face when I came through Arrivals and it kept me going. 

It was everything and more than I could have imagined. We came through the doors and there was Lo, jumping up and down with excitement along with my Mom, Dad, Erica and her family. Beautiful. Lo hurtled herself at me and jumped into my arms and we both cried – a lot. And then the kvelling began. (for those of you non-Yiddish speakers, to ‘kvell’ is to make a happy, gushy fuss – often including tears). Beckett was stoic. She watched everyone carefully and allowed herself to be held and cuddled. Lo was beside herself wit excitement. “I already love her” she announced about 3 seconds in. All my fears about Lo adjusting flew out the of the window. 

Then we got home, threw our copious bags down and all climbed into the bed in Beckett’s room where we tried to sleep. Ha. Beckett was having none of it. So we stayed awake in shifts, Lotus too. Up from 11-3, one hour of sleep, up from 4-7, two hours of sleep – all along trying to get Bex to sleep at least a few hours in the right time zone. She kept her sense of humor throughout. Russ and I had waning moments…

But here we are, five days later and we’re all officially adjusted. Bex is sleeping through the night. Lo is still passionate about her, Russ is back at work and I’m officially in Mommy mode (so freakin’ weird). I forgot how hard it is to actually get anything done with a baby in your arms. Actually – I don’t think I ever had this. Lo was able to walk and I could but her down and she wouldn’t keel over. Bex needs to be watched every second. Twice already, she’s fallen sideways and the hit the ground when I had her safely between my legs. Oy. There will be months of this!! May the napping gods be kind to me!!!!!!!!!

We bought a rockin’ stroller (thanks Daddy). Man – things have changed since Lo was on wheels. This thing’s like a high performance vehicle! Suspension, brakes, lockable tires, weather covers, baskets, caddies, the works! It’s my new toy and I am SO lovin it. I feel like we could go anywhere (and we will). She even has a groovy little sleeping bag to keep her warm. I’m fully sucked into the Mommy gear. Very cool. 

And we brought Bex into Lo’s school for show and tell. The kids had written her a giant welcome letter and we wanted to thank them – and of course Lo wanted to show her off big time. So I got Lo and bib siter t-shirt and Bex and little sister one and off we went. The kids sat attentively as I explained what adoption was all about and what it was like to get Bex. They asked a million questions which Lo, in true form, had all the answers for – even if they were a tad dubious. We were a big hit all round. And now, that I’m in the Mommy club, we’ve been invited back to hang in the classroom whenever we like. 

Other than that, she sleeps cries, giggles, impresses crowds, poops (a lot) and does your average baby stuff. She’s gaining strength and dexterity every day. It’s amazing to witness. Her motor skills are ramping up big time and she’s now officially able to put little tidbits into her mouth. Woo hoo. OK – It’s official. I am BORING. Wow. Only too 5 days. Does anyone want to come over and drink wine? Here’s some pix of the evolution. I promise to be a tad more eloquent next post. I’m just reveling in happy family stuff right now. Kinda kills the edge…

Home Stretch November 12, 2009

Last night in Beijing. Hallelujah. We can almost taste home. In fact, we’re dying to taste home. I love Chinese food as much as the next person but I am SO over it right about now.

We’re starting to see the REAL Beckett now. And we’re afraid. Very afraid. They say that the girls who come from Hunan province are ‘spicy’. They are not kidding. Where did the mild mannered, placid little baby go? OK – in hindsight she was catatonic the first few days but still! She’s gone from meek to Machiavellian in a scant 2 weeks. Now, if things don’t go exactly her way, she yells. And when I say yells, I’m understating. It’s more of a ‘possessed by the devil’ roar. If green pea soup came spewing out of her mouth the picture would be complete. Russ had her all to himself yesterday afternoon and when I got back, she was…umm..yelling and I asked how the afternoon had gone. “She is the devil” was the reply.

It’s kinda funny actually. OK – its funny when you’re not the one getting yelled at. There are a guaranteed few things that will set her off:

1. Face wiping. Doesn’t matter that she is a continual drool fountain or that her nose is running and she’s mixing the snot with the spit and then wiping it all over her face – you cannot wipe it off. It’s officially gross. And if you should deign to try and remove said grossness, you get possessed screamer. Charming.
2. Putting on clothes. Not that she wants to be naked all the time. She just wants her clothes to magically appear on her body. None of the putting arms through armholes for her. Noooo. And god forbid her legs should have to go through pant legs. Shock horror – socks? Cause for hysteria. Exhausting!
3. Sitting by herself. Apparently, this equals abandonment. “You people shall sit with me at ALL times. There will be no doing of other THINGS. I – and only I shall be the centre of attention. If not, I shall scream. Be afraid.” Poor kid. She doesn’t yet realize that the amount of attention she’s currently getting is more she can expect once we get home. We have another black hole of attention waiting for us there.

Other than that, it’s all good. She’s developing amazingly well. Her muscles are way stronger than they were at the beginning. She can pull herself up to sitting now and can even roll over – a little. Of course she gets royally pissed off when she can’t roll back. She’s even developed a few games with us. Her favorite is to throw herself backwards (whether there’s a pillow or hand there or not) and then wait for us to shlep her up again. Laugh riot.  We’ve added the element of pushing on her forehead with a finger. She resists. We do it two or three times and the last time she stops resisting and lets herself fall back. This gets major chuckles. But she is not amused like most babies are. No making funny faces or tickling for her. All you get is the stony expression. “Really – is that all you people got?” She’s more for dark humor. The freefalling backwards stuff. We’re suspecting she has some daredevil in her. Mark my words, she’s probably going to be bungee jumping by 15. This is a far cry from her sister.

So although we’re facing the harsh reality that she will most definitely not be the sweet, compliant child that her sister was (and is), we’re still diggin’ on her big time.

And now we’re stuffing all of our remaining belongings into our bags. We realized last night that our ‘direct’ flight home isn’t direct after all (words will be had with Aeroplan) and we have to deplane in Vancouver and then get back on the same plane an hour and a half later. This should be an interesting flight as by that point, Beckett will have had the equivalent of a giant nap and will be raring to go. Wish us luck and we’ll speak to you all when we’re back.

And a big thanks to Jenn Tondino who has been my blog poster for the 2 weeks. Who knew WordPress was banned in China? So I’ve been emailing them to her and she’s been dutifully posting them at all hours. You rock Jenn – we all thank you!!

See you in Canada. Who hoo!!! (PS – China is now experiencing its largest snowfall in 54 years. Lucky us.)

Seriously? November 12, 2009

OK – not even funny anymore. Here we are, just trying to get through the stinkin’ week, mindin’ our own business, adoptin’ a baby and clearly the gods are angry with us. Well, me at least.

First of all, the temperature plummeted in Beijing and it was a frosty morning when we all headed out on a bus trip to the Great Wall. The fog (or ‘smfog’ as I like to call it) was thick and Russ was still riding the last of his nausea waves. The sky was so dense that we cold barely make out the Olympic Village as we drove by and we knew it didn’t bode terribly well for the sightseeing trip.

Sure enough, when we arrived, we realized we could barely see 20 feet in front of us. No hope in hell of actually seeing the breadth of the wall. Russ wasn’t feeling well enough to shlep the baby so I gamely strapped her on and up we went. Has anyone ever mentioned that there is no symmetry to the steps up the Great Wall. One is, say 12 inches high, while the next might be 17, and the next 20 and the next 10, etc. Now try to navigate with 14 lbs strapped to your chest and a little pink hat obscuring your vision. Not so easy. So I stayed pretty low and Russ went a little higher but truth be told, we didn’t see a helluva lot – near or far. Ah well – it’s only one of the 7 wonders of the world. How exciting could it be?

All in all, it was a good but very long day (we hit a pearl factory and a cloisonné factory as well) and we all fell into bed pretty early. Beckett was a trooper until the end when she started to melt down in traffic. That’s my kid!

So we wake up the next day and decide to take it pretty easy. I’m feeling a bit nauseous and we all want a bit of a break. We unpack, wash some clothes, walk to the supermarket, take a mommy and me back and generally kill time. I was a little paranoid about my bug returning cuz I was feeling a bit…umm…how to say this delicately, loose on the bottom half (ewww – that’s didn’t come out the right way. Hahaha – but you know what I mean), so I took an Immodium pill in the afternoon.

Cut to the next morning (yesterday morning). We had planned a leisurely breakfast and then a trip out in the afternoon. Beijing was completely snow covered (another freak storm – weird!!) so we figured we’d go slow. Beckett woke us up like clockwork at 7am, I fed her a bottle and then hopped into the shower. I’m lathering up, happily singing away to myself until I look down and see, to my complete shock, that my legs are completely covered in the red welts. MAJOR welts. Whole sections of my legs are swollen with giant patches of red while other areas just have big red spots. Then I look at my torso – yup, welts. Arms, check. Butt, check. Houston, I think we have a problem.

So off I go to the International clinic about an hour’s cab ride away due to the storm. Meanwhile, my ears are swelling, I’m starting to itch and hoping that my throat doesn’t swell shut. Russ and B stayed at home. I was afraid I was catchy! $150 later, I was told that it the hives might just be another lovely side effect of the fabulous virus swimming around in my system – that, or I’m allergic to Immodium. Hmmm. Thanks. But at least I knew my throat wasn’t going to swell shut. Several antihistamines and probiotics later I was back on m way to the hotel and feeling slightly more positive about things.

I got home to find Russ and Miss B playing happily. He officially passed his first solo Daddy test with flying colors. So I’m alive. In fair shape and literally counting the hours until we come home. Check out the pix of the hives. That’s the only part I can show you but it gives you an idea. And here’s some of the Great Wall – what you can see of it anyway.

Next post will be devoted to more scoop on the fabulous Beckett Mei-Li and all of her quirks…

Just When You Think It’s All Settling Down… November 11, 2009

As I write this, I’m sipping on my first glass of wine for a week. Not because I haven’t wanted wine for a week, just because firstly I would have barfed it up, and then there was no decent wine to be found. But our intrepid friend Norma (who is the traveling buddy to Catherine – single mom and Russ’s friend from work (weird) who is also here adopting her daughter Hannah) found me a bottle of Australian Chardonnay in the midst of a Chinese supermarket. She is a good woman. But I digress. Here’s the story(s) du jour…

So aside from the interlude on what we know about Beckett, when last we met, fair reader, I was recovering from a nasty bout of tummy yuck, Beckett was recovering from some sort of weird rash and Russ was just, well, Russ. Up to this point, his greatest challenge had seemingly been the sinking in of the baby reality. “She’s such a…a BABY” he kept repeating. “I mean, its not like I didn’t think she’d be a baby, but she’s SUCH a baby.” I think he may have been in shock. But other than that, he was largely unscathed.

Yeah. Until Friday afternoon, almost 24 hours to the minute after my stomach had begun to rumble, we were out at Martyr Park, enjoying the sites and sounds and he very quietly asked “Ummm, how exactly did your stomach thing start” and then he burped. “With a burp” I replied, trying to remain calm. Russ may be the Zen Buddha and all, but he doesn’t have the constitution to match. “Hmmm’ he replied. “I think I might….”. Those were pretty much the last intelligible words I heard out of him. (And we were due to fly out of Changsha to Beijing the next morning).

We rushed Russ back to the hotel and I took Beckett and headed for the hills for the afternoon, terrified that she too would befall the barf bug. We hung out down the hall in Norma and Catherine’s room where Beckett proved that every day she was literally blossoming. The once implacable kid was now laughing up a storm and playing dumb games with me. She also was going from floppy to almost sturdy and was killing herself laughing as she pulled herself into a sitting position and then let herself fall back onto the pillow with a solid ‘plop’.

When I returned, Russ was huddled under the covers in a major state. “How may barfs did you do?” he asked. “Five good ones” I replied. “Two to go” he moaned. And so he barfed, and slept, while I packed up the room and organized us for travel the following day. By 8am, he was barely out of the woods and feeling like he’d been hit by a garbage truck. I was trying to keep it all together, Beckett under one arm, shelpping suitcases with the other, and Russ trailing behind half stoned on Gravol.

Somehow, the travel gods were smiling down upon us and the usually treacherous Air China was running smoothly that day. We got on the plane, Russ collapsed into his seat and tried to sleep and I played with the Beckster who seemed totally unperturbed by the whole flying in a giant tin can thing. (This hopefully bodes well for the 16 hour flight home but you never know). She had a few melt down moments but I dealt pretty well, all things considered. But by the time we were on the bus from the Beiing airport to the hotel (about 1.5 hours in traffic), I could feel my last nerve being stretched to breaking. (Let’s face it, I’m amazed that I hadn’t had my own melt down by this point. I was exhausted, barely recovered from my own bug and now taking care of not one, but two babies. Oy.)

When we finally got into our room, Beckett was tucked into one bed and Russ in the other, I finally let myself cry…just a little. And then I unpacked, washed bottles and collapsed into bed. It was 8:30pm.  And we had to get up the next morning for our trip to the Great Wall of China. But that’s for another post…

My revelations from the above experience are that a) I’m SO glad I’m not a single parent anymore. It’s way too hard b) I miss Russ when he’s not with me – even in spirit c) my kid’s pretty easy to deal with and d) I am SO all over it when I am needed. I like that about myself. It makes me feel like a pioneer. And I like that I can take care of my family. It makes me happy.

Here’s some pix of us our playing at Martyr Park (such a quaint name for the People’s park – no?) and of the subsequent travel experience. 

More soon!

PS: Fear not – Russ has since recovered and ate his first solid meal today.

More pics… November 10, 2009

Things We Already Know About Miss B November 8, 2009

1. Her head is flat. No, we mean REALLY flat. Like she’s been in a panini grill flat. Like Flat Kevin flat. She will never have short hair…
2. When she’s tired, she looks like she’s saying no with gusto. And then she holds her head like she’s saying ‘oy vey’.
3. Never – and I mean NEVER take her bottle away from her while she’s eating. Even if she’s fallen asleep with the bottle in her mouth. Even if she’s full and not eating. Even if she’s finished. Taking the bottle away is a delicate affair.
4. She’s a tough room to work. Beckett does not smile easily. In fact, she didn’t smile at all for the first 2 days. We thought she might be broken. Then we realized she just didn’t think we were funny. Apparently we’re funnier today.
5. She loves having her picture taken. Camera out and she immediately starts to work it. Perhaps she is a teeny tiny supermodel in the making.
6. She prefers Russ’s singing to mine. Clearly she has no taste.
7. She is passionate about eating (that’s my girl). So much so that fingers must accompany all food stuff into her mouth. She kinda pushes it in and then revels in the sensation. There have even been moments of eyes rolling back into her head with ecstasy. Methinks this kid hasn’t eaten suck good stuff to date. Wait until she gets a load of chopped liver!
8. She finds it extremely amusing to pee or poop the moment you remove the diaper for changing. Ha ha. Very freakin’ funny.
9. She talks to herself when you carry her in the Baby Bjorn. We think she might be crazy. Ah well. She’ll fit right in.
10. We already love her. A lot. Funny how that can happen in – oh – 3 seconds…

File Under…SHIT! November 6, 2009

So the day was all going so well yesterday. For about 5 minutes.

Beckett woke up worse than crabby and upon inspection, it was discovered that not only did she have a low grade fever, she was also covered in red blotches. Hmmm. While trying not to panic, I ran through my mental mommy files. Allergies? Hmm – maybe. We had introduced a new cereal. Measles. Please God no. But the blotches weren’t raised or anything. Teething? Definitely, except it doesn’t give you fever or blotches.

So off we went to see the hotel doctor who, I swear, was about 12 years old, her name tag read “Ring” (I think her name was “Ling” and someone translated it phonetically) and she stood about 4’8”. Oh – and she was wearing those fake eyelid things that come Asian’s wear to try and mask the fact that they have minimal eyelids. Who do they think they’re kidding? They just look like their wearing these dumb little strips of band aid lookin’ stuff on their faces. Odd. We were not filled with confidence.

She politely asked a few questions and our guide Louise translated. The result? Yes, maybe it could be a cold, a fever, a reaction. Thank you and goodbye. Okie doke. So we decided to keep her on Chinese formula for the time being and washed any of her clothes that hadn’t been washed yet to ensure she wasn’t reacting to the something on the fabric.

Crisis one relatively averted. She improved steadily over the day aside from pooping green cottage cheese. (I know, I know – TMI. And I’m only getting started). She was well enough that at 4, I went downstairs to have a foot massage which, I have to say, was quite fabulous and way more than I bargained for. Every bone, tendon and pressure point was duly rubbed and poked and then he went to town on my arms, legs and back. It was 80 minutes long. I drooled on the pillow. Yum.

When I went back to our room, I realized I was feeling a bit queasy. Wrote it off to being hungry as I hadn’t eaten since breakfast and not much then either. Played with Miss B, fed her and we prepped her for bed. I was getting more nauseous by the second and my intestines were starting to rumble in protest over something.  “Keep it to together” I chanted to myself. “Wait until she’s asleep”. Russ, the baby serenader, did his thing and Beckett went out cold.

I raced to the bathroom and the fireworks began. For the next – oh – EIGHT HOURS, I puked, pooped, puked and then pooped some more, usually at the same time. (See how I did that? Made you think the ‘green cottage cheese’ comment was TMI and then I hit ya with this?) I cried the first few times, freaking out that I’d be incapacitated for the next day and wouldn’t be able to take care of the little monkey. I think Russ, despite his eternal calm, was a tad worried too. But by the 4^th barf and KNOWING that it couldn’t be food poisoning because the timing was all wrong and sure it wasn’t a flu cuz I wasn’t hot or shaking or anything, I realized I had been stricken, perhaps for the first time in my life, with a nasty bout of the oft reported yet oddly generic ‘traveler’s tummy’ and that it had to be over soon. OK, I admit it. I did call on a higher power during the 5^th barf but I’m only human. And sure enough, despite it feeling like it would NEVER end, it finally did around 5am. Just in time for Beckett to wake up. 

And so today began. When I say that Beckett and I both took a solid nap this afternoon, it’s even more true of me than her.

But I must have lost at least a pound or two. That’s never a bad thing.

Oh – the pic? It’s me, just post-trauma. I’m lookin’ pretty damn good for someone who just the night on the bathroom floor no? Woo hoo. Ride em cowboy. Only 8 more days to go. (Have I mentioned I’m ready to come home now).