Jack's New Family, An Older Child Adoption Story

Lazy Sunday with Mr. Happy

We have had a very low key, lazy day, which was so nice, for a change. The only productive thing that happened was a trip to Kroger. Well, and the kids' bed sheets got washed.

I met my friend Maria for lunch - the first totally selfish, non-kid-involved activity I have engaged in [except church choir] since I got Michael home, almost 5 months ago now. I felt a bit of guilt, but mom bought shrimp for lunch and the kids had a special Sunday lunch with Granny. Maria and I had a good visit. We have been friends almost 10 years, since my days as a very unhappy paralegal at Nelson Mullins, a silk stocking law firm. The one good thing from that experience was meeting Maria.

We were in Kroger this morning, and Michael made one of his funniest faux pas ever. I could tell he was feeling better because he was scampering around getting into mischief, like normal. He grabbed some bag or can of something and squeezed it, laughing, and Granny hollered from behind him "Michael! Don't squeeze that thing!" Astonished, Michael stopped in his tracks and looked at me. "Put it down, buddy, you heard your Granny." He continued to look confused. "Why Granny say DON'T SQUEEZE THAT PENIS?!" He said it LOUD. Oh Lord. I leaned over and whispered, "Michael she didn't say a word about a penis, hush!" Michael, eyes twinkling, said again "Yes she did! She said PENIS, Mom!"

Now I was irritated. There were several other people in the aisle. I hissed, "Michael, just HUSH UP!"

When we were in the car this afternoon we had a rather comical discussion about what he should call that appendage, since he has the only one in the house. When I was growing up, everything down there was simply referred to as the BOTTOM, as in "I'm gonna blister your bottom if you do that again!" or my mother's "Wash your bottom good after you've been swimmin'!" We didn't distinguish between all the various things that comprised the bottom.

We decided, after some discussion today, that he will call it Mr. Happy. I was fine with "penis" since it's the correct term, but it made Mother uncomfortable. So it's Mr. Happy, but we don't discuss him in polite company. If Mr Happy is NOT a happy appendage, Michael is to come and discuss that with Mom or Granny, quietly, and NOT in the grocery store.

My Retro Day

It has been a different sort of weekend day. I didn't want to schedule anything to do - no karate class, no grocery store - because of Michael being sick. He was burning up when he went to bed last night. I had been alternating Tylenol and Motrin, but it didn't help much.

This morning he was still hot, but definitely better. His color was better. He still ran fever, though.

I puttered around the house all day, except for a trip to the book store. Michael was quiet and not too full of mischief, so clearly didn't feel well. He asked me to buy him a book about drawing, and I bought it. He happily spent some time sketching the cartoon-like figures in the book. I also bought him Where the Wild Things Are - every boy should read that book, I think.

It felt like a day before I had kids, when Saturday was often a liesurely day for me. I spent 20 years between finishing college and adopting Alesia, so I was used to living alone and doing whatever I wanted. It wasn't a happy existence though, most of the time. I was constantly anxious about getting married and starting a family.

We watched the movie Three Men and a Baby tonight. It came out 20 years ago! Yikes. I well remember seeing it and loving it when it first came out. Now I looked at the 80's hair and fashions and thought oh my, didn't we look silly. I hate today's fashions, though. I want shoulder pads to come back! I was born without shoulders. I cannot wear a purse over my shoulder without it sliding down every two seconds. I am like a female Barney Rubble...

My Word is out on my computer. I don't know what to do. My friend and computer guru, Paul, is very hard to reach these days, and my frantic e-mails have gone unanswered. I am going to try calling tomorrow, although he's bad about not picking up the phone on weekends. I feel like screaming "I NEED to WRITE!!!" I know I am no good at it, but it's my compulsion and dadgummit, you need to fix it or I will go INSANE! [nope, i'm not stressed, not me, no sirreeee...]

Mother interrogated Michael tonight as only a grandmother can, inquiring about when he had last pooped. He has been eating next to nothing. He was horrified about answering, and he insisted he simply couldn't remember his last BM. Long story short, he found himself sitting at the kitchen table consuming a small tomato and a box of raisins. It worked. Mother thinks this little colon cleansing will do the trick and he will be fine tomorrow. I hope she is right.

My Sick Boy

Michael didn't want to eat dinner last night, and I put him to bed at 8:30 - his choice. I should've known something was amiss. When I got him up at 6:30 this morning he was running 102 temperature. It's been the same most of the day, except for a brief period this afternoon.

I went to work, but came home and took Michael to the doctor at 11. She couldn't find any other symptoms besides the fever. His strep test was negative. A throat culture was done but we won't know the results until Monday. In the meantime, he is on Amoxicillin. I am also giving him children's Motrin and Tylenol. I have taken his temperature all day and it's always been 102. You can feel how hot he is.

He has spent most of the day on the couch in the family room. He and Alesia watched an entire Spy Kids movie on Disney while I was watering the garden and fixing dinner..

I made meat loaf and mashed potatoes for dinner, along with some sauteed yellow squash. He refused the squash but ate a few bites of potatoes and meat loaf.

We watched a favorite movie after dinner, Bobby Jones: Stroke of Genius. I saw it once before, at the Fox Theatre here - a wonderful theatre built almost 100 years ago. The film resonates a lot with me, since I am from Augusta, and I've heard the name Bobby Jones since infancy. There is a stretch of highway named after him, in Augusta. He won the grand slam of golf in 1930. He designed the Augusta National gold course, where the Master's Tournament is played every year, for those not into golf.

I have never played gold in my life - except miniature golf, which doesn't count. I've never been to the master's and have no desire to go. However, I respect the game. I thought the movie was wonderful. I'm sorry it didn't do well commercially when it came out.

Bobby Jones was an honorable man. He was a gentleman athlete. He never turned pro. He never made a pile of money off the game. Considering the sorry state of professional athletes today, he was the last of his kind.

The movie was a good distraction from my worry. I sat on the couch with Michael's head on a pillow, in my lap, the entire time.

While I enjoyed the movie, I kept remembering watching a documentary about Jones' life with my Dad, not long before he died. At the end, when it showed Jones returned to St. Andrews, Dad just cried. I know he was thinking about his own life's end, and how he would be remembered.

Michael started coughing tonight. Please pray for him to get better.

Weddings and Such

Yesterday was my usual marathon day - work, church dinner, choir practice, home, bed. I didn't really catch my breath until 9:45 last night.

This morning, Michael and Mother and I were watching the morning news while I finished my breakfast. There was a report on TV about the protesters in Myanmar being shot to death. It's so distressing to me to see protestors who simply want a less brutal government shot down. I told Michael what the story was, in simple terms [here's the full story - www.reuters.com/article/topNews/idUSB58859920070927] and said "In America, if you want to protest, to go out in the streets carrying a sign saying you don't like the President, or, the mayor of Atlanta, or just the whole government, you can do that without fear you will be shot and killed!" Tears came into my eyes and I could not keep talking. Mother chimed in and said we are so lucky we live in America. Michael didn't say anything. I'm not sure he understood the word "protest," but it's a topic we will return to.

I'm not big on political discussions during a meal, but I felt it was so important to tell him this.

Between the church dinner last night and choir practice, we ran over to Baskin Robbins and got ice cream, to celebrate the kids' report cards. Michael got all A's! I told Alesia I was very proud of her, too, because she did well in all her classes except Biology, and she's working hard in there to pull that grade up. Michael got some kind of sherbet that turned his entire mouth and teeth blue. He took home the pink plastic spoon, and I found it in his bed last night. He loves that spoon.

I felt like the ancient mariner in the car going home, explaining to the kids that I remember when I was 6 or 7 and the first Baskin Robbins opened in Augusta. I remember going there with total clarity. I was so bowled over by 31 FLAVORS! WOW! I ate nothing except chocolate mint for many years.

When Alesia first came home from Russia, I remember going with her to Bruster's for an ice cream, and trying to explain the complex flavor choices. She knew some English words because I had had her tutored. I said the flavor "turtle" and she looked at me in absolute horror. "Turtles in ICE CREAM?!!" I started giggling, "No no no, not real ones, sweetie!"

I was reading the gossip page on IMDB.com yesterday at lunch and I had to laugh. They reported a celebrity wedding, saying "They opted for an old-fashioned ceremony, on the beach at sunset." Only in California would that be considered "old Fashioned." I think a contemporary wedding there means matching tatoos, and the kids attend the ceremony wearing matching designer outfits.

I'm a wee bit old fashioned. If I ever find a victim - uh, husband - we will be married in a CHURCH.

A few years ago, Mother and I were at the beach, and we were sitting on a patio behind the hotel having a glass of wine around sundown, and there was a wedding taking place on the beach. I call this reminiscence Redneck Wedding On the Beach.

The entire wedding party was wearing formal outfits - tuxes, long dresses, high heels, etc. The wind was whipping the brides veil around her face - obviously God trying to slap some sense into her. The female guests were careening around awkwardly in the deep sand, looking as though they were all drunk - which may have been the case, actually. One of the four bridesmaids was very overweight, bless her heart, but she was out there gamely getting slapped around by the brides' veil, her feet sunk in the sand. Her dress was a pink spaghetti strap number, and she had a big ol' tattoo on her shoulder. It was big enough to be seen from 30 yards away, clearly. I think it was a butterfly.

It was at this same hotel - where I got an almost free room because at the time I worked for the parent company of Holiday Inn - where Mother and I witnessed the scariest, funniest karaoke evening ever. You haven't lived until you've heard the soul classic "Take Me To the River" crooned waaaaay off key by a tiny, drunken white redneck woman. Or the R&B classic made famous by Tina Turner, "Proud Mary," belted out by a 6'2 redheaded woman who weighed about 450 lbs. and stood totally stock still except to literally growl the words "PROOOOOOOOUD MAY-REE" every time the verse was sung. She was on key, however, unlike nearly all the other singers. Mother and I were holding on to each other laughing.

Ah, the good old days. I plan on singing Proud Mary when Alesia gets married...

The Honeymoon Ends

I was so happy to see Sarah's comment, and so astonished. Michael needs laundry done, in a bad way. He informed me this morning he had no clean socks, and he didn't. So he is wearing a pair of my socks. Fortunately I have small feet. Sarah's son was adopted from Michael's orphanage just a few months before we got home. So both boys need Remedial Laundry Training 101.

I found a couple of articles no the internet, last night between 10 and 10:30, for Alesia's Biology project. After giving her the articles, I reminded Alesia about 3 times this morning that SHE must go talk to the teacher and clarify what needs to be done, since she's confused. Mother and I were confused, too. I finally decided there were two separate projects. Should she choose one or do both? It's unclear.

Michael was punished at school yesterday, for swinging on his chair. He had to write 25 times, "I will not swing on my chair" by the substitute teacher. His beloved Mrs. Moore was absent. I'm sure that discombobulated him. He told us gleefully about the sentences. I had to explain last night, right after the actions have consequences lecture, about punishments at school. I told him next time he gets punished at school, he will have a time out at home. "How long?" he asked. "How about 30 minutes?!" I said, glaring at him.  "How about a week?!" he countered, smiling. He is so impish and charming, it makes it so hard to be stern with him. I try, though.

I had a great phone visit early this morning with my friend Laura, who just returned from Petropavlovsk with the Antares Foundation. She said it was so heartbreaking, because she wanted to adopt every child she met! I know exactly how she feels. I told her to find me a child to sponsor. I can't afford another adoption, but I can sponsor a child.

I also had a thought that maybe I could donate Michael and the Teeth Gremlins to Antares to publish - a kids' book where all the profits could go to Antares. I think it's a viable idea. There are so many worthwhile and wonderful projects Antares does, that I wish I could help more.

I would love to adopt another child. I already feel pulled apart by two, though. There are only so many hours in the day, though, and Mother won't even discuss adopting again.

Michael is totally out of the Honeymoon Phase. He is off best behavior and not a happy camper, sometimes. Last night when I tucked him into bed, I prayed "Lord, please let Michael have a happy day tomorrow," as always, and he said "I WON'T have a happy day, because I'll be at SCHOOL!" as though this were all my fault. I know he is frustrated at school, by language issues. He wouldn't let me hug him. I leaned in very close and said softly, "Michael, love, you will be as happy as YOU decide to be. You control whether or not you are happy. It's your choice." I firmly believe this. We make our own choices about happiness. It comes from the inside.

However, I must confess, my Inner Child is convinced that without chocolate, there is no possibility of happiness....!    : )

Actions and Consequences

I was amazingly not wiped out tired this morning, after so little sleep. I suspect tomorrow will be the zombie day, then. As I age, I notice I often have a delayed reaction to physical and mental stress. I function now and fall apart later.

I hurried through work as much as possible, and left at 4. I got Alesia and we went to school. I turned in all the paperwork for her IEP, in the form of a package I left in the head counselor's mailbox. We cannot meet at the school until December 13th!

Alesia and I attended another of her Biology teacher's lectures about how to do better in Biology class. This one focused on how one remembers and learns things. It was really fascinating. Dr. Parrott is an amazing teacher. She showed a little powerpoint about the cell, and you could sing along to a song about how the cell functions. It was based on a pop song, the name of which escapes me. Alesia needs this - her memory is so faulty.

The classroom we were in is fascinating. Dr. P has inspirational quotes everywhere, plus lizards, frogs, and guinea pigs [in cages or terrariums]. She has displays of what are obviously top quality kids' projects for biology. There are sinks, and charts of plants and bodies. Fascinating.

When we came home, Alesia said she has a project due in biology on Friday. I asked her if she knew about it last Friday and she said yes. I said "Well why didn't you tell me about it so I could HELP you over the weekend, when I had time?!" She played all weekend, after telling me she had no homework.

I am taking her in early tomorrow so she can explain to her teacher that she doesn't understand the project due Friday, and get some help. I told her I am very unwilling to help; she needs to get my help before the last minute.

Michael ate a very small dinner, and said he couldn't possibly eat more. He then had a shower. Afterwards, he said he was hungry. I told him he should've eaten more dinner. I offered him some saltines, not ice cream. He declined them.

Since both my kids have a problem with the Actions and Consequences lessons, we had a discussion about those things, with Mother chiming in, before we headed up to bed.

Michael pouted, big time.

One consequence of a traumatized child, and a child who has been institutionalized, is they don't understand cause and effect, or action and consequence. I hope and pray I can get them to understand that idea, so they aren't always unhappy. Responsibility is important to me.

Sleepless in Atlanta

I could not sleep last night. I normally take a tiny bit of Melatonin to help me sleep - well last night, I doubled it. I would close my eyes and my thoughts would spin out of control. It was awful.

When I came home yesterday, Michael had had a long nap, and was not through with his homework. My friend Paul was here, fixing Mother's computer. So the kids and I came upstairs to do homework. I helped Michael with spelling words, while Alesia completed a Biology assignment on the computer.

Alesia finally went to the teacher and asked about the missing assignments, and making them up. She came home with one. I showed her how to find websites. The assignment had to be done on the computer, which is annoying. What do poor kids do? Alesia has given me a lot of problems in the past with surfing websites she wasn't supposed to be on. So I won't let her use the internet without me sitting there. Finally, I needed to go and help Mother get a shower, and Alesia wasn't through. So I asked her to promise me she wouldn't go on any unauthorized websites, she would stick to biology. She promised.

Just before bed, I found a sticky note with the name of an unauthorized website on it. She had also written down a gmail address. When I confronted her, she first lied, then finally admitted it. I checked the history and saw all the unauthorized sites. I was SO angry.  I told her [again] how trust has to be earned, and she just blew it, once again.

Michael was very fussy and difficult all evening, which is so rare. We watched a stupid TV program, Dancing With the Stars, rather than our usual movie, and he was just hyper. So I was in no mood to deal with Alesia.

Alesia was angry with me last night because I told her I wouldn't allow her to go to any football games or socialize with school friends until she pulled up her Biology grade. Right now she is failing. I said, also, if she does pull up her grade, that Michael and I will go with her, as chaperones. She was really disgusted by that. That was before she did the unauthorized web stuff.

I told Alesia that I think her terrible memory is the result of childhood trauma. We talked at length, and she finally agreed to go to a therapist. I have a recommendation of a good one, but I have to see what insurance will pay and when I can take Alesia. Alesia has always told me she would never talk to a therapist, so I didn't try to take her. Now, I finally said "Alesia, if you don't talk to someone, and work through all the terrible things that you have been through, you will NEVER be normal." I think the word "normal" got to her, finally.

I had her evaluated by a neuropsychologist last year, and his report was so upsetting I could hardly read it. I re-read it yesterday. I see now where he was right about so many things. I have to get her some help, even though it's going to be very difficult to work out. She seems to have no moral compass.

I was awake and praying last night for a long time.

Letting the Big Guy Handle Things

Well, yesterday was an absolutely terrible day, on so many levels. Today was much better. I still didn’t feel 100%, but I didn’t feel awful, either. Maybe this maca root stuff Lesleigh recommended is working..

Michael wanted to a spiral notebook to church today, and I said OK. He needs something to do during big church. He went to children’s church once, but said it wasn’t “fun,” so I haven’t pushed him to go back, He drew pictures in church, and that was OK. Hopefully when his English improves he will get more out of it.

We had lunch at a favorite haunt, the Blue Ribbon Grill. It’s locally owned and the food is excellent. While we were waiting, Michael copied a pen and ink print of the Titanic. It was a pretty good copy. I think he has real talent. When we finished eating, we walked next door to Michael’s [the crafts store] and I got Michael a sketch book, some charcoal pencils, and some pastels. He happily spent Granny’s nap time in the middle of my bed, drawing. I showed him a college textbook I have kept all these years. I took drawing my freshman year. I had taken 4 years of art in high school.

I always wanted to be a good artist. I tried so hard. I just didn’t have the artists’ eye. I grew up surrounded by my uncle’s paintings. He was an amazing artist. I loved art. I just didn’t have the talent. I think Michael has talent. I don’t want him to ever feel like I’m pushing him, though. It’s a fine line to walk.

Alesia and Michael spent a lot of time today, when we were all at Kroger, picking out a card for my brother’s birthday. It just grieves me that he lives 3 hours away and he never comes over. He has only seen Michael for 1 day since he came home – and that was back in May, when he first arrived and didn’t speak English. My brother always says he has to work. I think he just doesn’t want to love my son, and see what he’s missing by not trying harder to have a family.

I told my mother I don’t think the lovely card will do any good. I pray every day that my brother will come over more often, so my children can know him better. Since he was divorced, he has come less and less. Mother worries about him too. But as she said, some problems just have to be turned over to the Lord.

Bronwyn told Mother yesterday that her friend Roger, who looked at my condo, had seen the condo for sale downstairs in my building. The owner has completely renovated it, and he’s selling it for $15,000 less than my place. Wow. What horrible news. No wonder my place hasn’t sold.

I believe God can handle everything I can’t handle. I must admit some trepidation a little while ago, when I was asking him to handle the three biggest, worst issues in my life – selling the condo, my weight, and Alesia’s school problems. Now I just added the issue of my brother. I just keep trying to remind myself, I can’t solve anything alone. I must relax and let go, and he will provide relief.

Giving it to The Almighty

I got another rejection slip - in the form of an e-mail – for my book, Adopting Alesia. I know this is the path to glory – JK Rowling got tons of rejection slips – but it still stings. Every time I send out a query letter I seal the envelope with a prayer and hope. Every time I get a rejection slip it feels like my actual life has been marked WHO CARES? I never thought I would grow up and feel this compulsion to write about my own life, but then nobody I know has lived a life like mine. I realized when I was in graduate school getting a master’s in Creative Writing that I am a lot more interested in just writing the truth than I am in telling literary stories. I can’t write like that.

Just before I came home yesterday, I did a quick check of the Parent Portal and checked on Alesia’s Biology grade. It had slipped from a 73 to a 64. I asked her what happened. She said she didn’t know. The teacher had e-mailed me and said Alesia was simply missing a couple of assignments. The chart on the computer is hard to read and understand. I had Alesia talk to the teacher about a week ago, and she thought she knew what to do, but she didn’t.

Thursday, I spent quite a bit of time helping Alesia with her biology project. It was a comparison of a cell’s structures to another structure – we chose a kitchen. It was not that hard, I thought, but required some creativity. I asked Alesia before we started if she knew the cell structures – words like nucleus and vacuole. She assured me she did. As we worked on the computer, it was clear she did not. I tried to explain to her in simple terms what each structure did. She had only the most tenuous grasp. I looked up each word on various sites and created a cheat sheet for her, since the teacher doesn’t really use the book. Alesia read it over. She still didn’t grasp it.

I have cried a lot for the past couple of days. I just fear for my daughter. She has a faulty memory – this is indicative of fetal alcohol syndrome. Add to that the tough vocabulary of biology, and it’s a recipe for disaster. I just don’t know what to do.

I told Alesia in the car we can go talk to her teacher next week. I am not optimistic. I am her best tutor and if I cannot explain it in a way she can understand…? If she fails this general class, the only alternative at her school is special ed. I hate the thought. She doesn’t belong there. She will feel like a failure there.

Worse, she is picking up on my anxieties and insecurities. I find it annoying and it’s hard to hold my temper. It’s so hard to love her right now, in her difficult teen years. I do love her, but her demeanor is as changeable as the weather, and she can be such a pill. Me worrying constantly probably doesn’t help. She can read me like a cheap magazine.

I keep trying to picture Alesia in 10 years, and I can’t see anything. I sorta wish for the old fashioned days when you could just marry off a pretty girl to a good husband and stop worrying.

I felt OK physically yesterday, but today I feel godawful. Just no energy. I want to sleep, but when I lie down my heart thuds in my chest.

The kids spent the afternoon with their friends, while I piddled here at the house. I felt too awful to get anything done.

My friend John came over and worked a miracle – he actually loaded some songs on my Ipod. I don’t want all the songs, and there are a lot of songs I do want and I can’t figure out how to get them on there, but hey, it’s a start.

We had dinner at Ryan’s. The kids can get whatever they want to eat, and we can stare at the odd assortment of people in there for the cheap buffet. Michael got some baby corn and tried to eat it like Tom Hanks in Big. LOL Tonight’s main entertainment feature was a plump woman whose fanny was falling out of her too tight, tiny shorts. The kids giggled and snickered as they peeled the breading off their fried chicken.

Michael tried pumpkin pie, for the first time. He loves pumpkin bread. I was stunned when he made a terrible face after one small bite. He looked like he had just eaten a sour apple. I tried to explain that homemade pumpkin pie, like I make, is much more tasty, but he just looked horrified.

Tonight’s movie feature was It’s a Mad Mad Mad Mad World, the 1963 classic. I have owned it for years. I love that film. Michael was a little put out at first – “Mom they speaking too much. Too many words!” I told him to go back and watch the movie. Once I joined him and Alesia and turned the dadgum sound up, he enjoyed it a lot more. I can remember sitting in the family room watching that movie when I was a kid, and it still makes me smile.

I have felt better this evening, physically and emotionally. I am still worried about Alesia, but I am trying to turn over the problem to God. It weighs on my heart, but I know some solution will be found.

Diana

Just a quick post, to link you to my friend Laura's blog about her trip to Petropavlovsk -
http://antaresorphans.blogspot.com/

This little girl, Diana, is diabetic. She is at the Regional orphanage where my son was also. She is such a sweetheart. I took over some diabetic supplies for her. Laura and Apryl are arranging to bring her to the US for treatment. Please send Antares a donation - whatever your can spare - $5, anything - to bring this sweet little girl over here so she can get some help. Juvenile diabetes is a serious health condition, and she may not live without proper help. The medical care there is just not adequate for her needs.