The Crab Chronicles

The Fifth of July

I got some shopping done today. In fact it feels like all I did all day was shop. I hate shopping. I was desperate, however.

Alesia’s birthday is July 9^th, but we are celebrating on Tuesday the 8^th, since Michael leaves for camp on the 9^th.

Alesia informed me yesterday she wanted one of those chairs in Target that sits on the floor and supports your back. She usually sits on the floor and studies. She also wanted gel pens. So Michael and I hit the Target at 10 a.m. and found what she wanted.

Alesia babysat all morning for the neighbor’s 2 year old. She is very good with babies and toddlers, and has a lot of patience. One day she might want to be a nanny.

After she got home, we went to DSW, hunting shoes. I love my Crocs dearly, as everyone knows, but lately they have left a heat rash on the tops of my feet. So I got two new pairs of shoes – Clark sandals for work, and a pair of Teva sandals for home. I was aghast when the bill came to more than $130. I so wish I had normal feet and could wear cheap shoes. My fat little hobbit feet won’t allow it, though.

I also got Michael a cool wooden box for this birthday, which is the 19^th.

While the kids went to the pool, I worked on a submission to an anthology. If the submission gets accepted I will say more, but I don’t know yet if it will meet their standards. When they are at the pool, that’s about the only sustained time I have to write. I am sitting here yawning as I type.

We watched Talladega Nights tonight. It’s one of my birthday presents. It’s such an idiotic, silly movie, but it works. I love the redneck humor.

Alesia refused to let Michael hug her good night. I don’t know why. She was hostile and rude to him, for no reason I could figure.  I don’t know what the problem was and she refused to tell me. I kept my cool, but I was sorely tempted to yell. I finally told her we would talk about it in therapy and she flung back “You can’t MAKE me talk!”

“Oh yes, I can,” I said, hoping that was true.

“Oh yeah? Will you get chains and beat me, and bash my teeth out?” she snarled.

“No, Alesia, I have never hit you and I never will. I am not like all those people in Russia who hit you. I hope someday you’ll come to understand that,” I said quietly, and left the room.

Just when I think she is making real progress, she pulls that sort of behavior.

Postcards from An American Family

I jumped up this morning, ate a banana and grabbed a mug of tea and headed outside to water. I started filling up the watering can and trudging around to the flowers. It was unexpectedly cool. As I looked around I saw that the wind picked up, the skies were overcast, and I thought, this is probably a waste of time, since it’s going to rain. Better water anyway, just in case. Did it rain? Nope, not a drop!

The children and I went to a little Methodist church near the house, for the first time. We liked it. The head pastor is female, but she isn’t soft spoken and reticent – she’s dynamic. Among many other laudable things, she talked about how important it is to understand the old testament before you can really appreciate the new testament, and said she learned Hebrew just so she could understand it better. The music was excellent – all but one song was patriotic. I had such a good time singing America the Beautiful at the end of the service, when it was over an old lady in front of me turned around and said “Choir practice is on Wednesday night!” I laughed.

They have a traditional service and a contemporary one at 5:30. I am thinking we can try the contemporary service next week. I bet the kids would enjoy it more.

So I am hopeful this might be a good place for us, but I will reserve final judgment until we have visited there for several months. It takes time to really get into the dynamics of a church. I also need to make sure it will be a place we can ALL be happy.

We had to run errands this afternoon, and we stopped at Little Odessa, the Ukrainian food store. Alesia got some Russian candy and Michael got one of the German kinder eggs he loves. He also pointed out a white chocolate candy bar he likes and I bought it, but it will be saved for his birthday. He wasn't thrilled with that.

I think I have everything for the children’s birthdays in July. It’s going to be hectic, getting everything done. Alesia wants to go rollerskating again, and Michael’s activity is bowling. Mike will be leaving for camp ON Alesia’s actual birthday, July 9^th, so we will celebrate her birthday on July 8^th.

After lunch of pierogi’s from the store, and homemade tuna salad for Granny, we went to work writing postcards. We got 8 done. I hope the kids like them. You still have time to do some and send to Laura, who will box them up and send them to the kids in Kazakhstan, who are at “camp.”  Here’s the link again: http://antarespostcards.blogspot.com

Some of Alesia’s most painful memories are from “camp” in Russia. Do not think about American camps. They are luxury resorts compared to the camps the orphanage kids attend. Alesia had some very embarrassing and scary moments there. The buildings were just shacks, and the kids had to use outhouses, and at night a communal bucket. One night she spilled the overfull bucket full of pee and was shamed and laughed at the next day by all the children. I think Michael’s camp experiences were better, but it wasn’t exactly a resort. There were huge mosquitos that bit the kids constantly.

Anyway, if you can send the kids a postcard with a couple of sentences on it, it will cheer them, I know.

We had an early dinner at The Cheesecake Factory in Perimeter Mall. I hadn’t been there in years. When I was at my last job, just across the street, we used to go there for celebratory lunches. The food is good, but I wouldn’t say it fabulous. The cheesecake is decadent and delicious. It was fun to go there, for a celebration of all the July birthdays in my house – everyone but Granny is a July baby. Lesleigh joined us, and her birthday is in July, too.

Our movie tonight was The World’s Fastest Indian, a little movie starring Anthony Hopkins, about an elderly New Zealand man who broke land speed records in the 1960’s on a motorcycle built in 1920. It’s a character study, and it’s a wonderful little film. Here’s more: http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0412080/

I didn’t get everything done this weekend – my room is still dusty, bills aren’t paid, and the kitchen sink is full of dirty dishes. To heck with it all. I had fun with the kids and some good conversations with my mother. That’s what matters.

Below is a pretty decent photo of both kids showing off their new haircuts. The painting was done by my uncle Lewis when he was in college.

Garfield, Hancock, and Me

Well, yesterday's post was a departure, for sure. I wasn't talking about the kids or the house. Every once in a while I am going to probably do that here, just ramble on for a bit about non-domestic things, maybe even tell a story or two. I need the mental break.

In case you're wondering, the kids and Mother are fine.

Mother had a hard day yesterday because she had to buy groceries in the morning and then get Michael to the dentist by noon. Getting in and out of the car with severe arthritis is tough.

Michael had a hard day because he was rudely awakened just after 8 yesterday and told to get crackin' and get ready to go Krogering. He wasn't allowed to nap. He has been staying up until midnight, reading. Now, I put him to bed well before that but in the summer I'm not going to fuss at him for reading in his room. It's been so hard just to get him to ready ANYTHING. Remember, English is still a foreign language and he's forgotten his Russian. So he's between languages, which is a scary place to be.

Of course, he isn't reading War and Peace. He's reading Garfield. Like W&P, it's a big book, with a lot of words. Garfield, however, has a lot of cartoons. Last night, a breakthrough. Mike asked me to pronounce the word "lasagna." I pronounced it and reminded him we eat it sometimes. It's a funny looking word, though, so I totally understand his bewilderment. Usually he just skips words he doesn't know.

Our movie last night was Hitch, the Will Smith film from a few years ago where he plays a dating consultant. It's really a smart, touching film. I know some of the language and situations are not entirely understandable to Michael, but I think Alesia gets them. She loves the movie, too. We own it.

Michael is absolutely dying to see this year's Will Smith summer movie, Hancock, [http://www.hancock-movie.com/] about a superhero who looks like a homeless person. I wonder why Mike is so intrigued. Now, he LOVES Will Smith. Will is ultra ultra cool. He's smart. He's attractive but not a pretty boy. He usually plays the good guy. We have seen a lot of Will Smith movies this summer.

I think perhaps there's another reason why Michael is dying to see Hancock. In all the previews Will's character looks like a homeless man - unshaven, dirty clothes. Michael lived on the streets with his birthmother, until he was 8 years old. He slept on concrete floors, without even a blanket. He ate things like uncooked pasta and maybe a piece of bruised fruit - when there was any food available. He never wore anything but ragged clothes. He had no place that was home. Now here is Will, Mr. Ultra Cool, looking homeless and yet having superpowers. [Yeah, I know you're saying Dee's getting too analytical, but I really think there's something to it, maybe on a subconscious level.]

Alesia had her second therapy session this morning. I am learning a lot about what makes her tick. It's fascinating and scary. I wish this therapist would write a book, and it could be shared with all parents who adopt an older child who has spent some time living with a dysfunctional birthmother. Without revealing anything confidential, I will just say that what happens to us in early childhood shapes us forever, for good or ill. It echoes through the years in all our actions.

In moments when I'm on the elevator or in the car, and my mind is free to ruminate, I often think about how we are influenced by our childhoods. Some of us are molded positively, and some of us have to overcome terrible situations. Alesia's early childhood was bad, but Michael's was worse. How on earth they can be sane, smart, loving people is just amazing to me. It's proof to me that there is a God - because I love two of his miracles.

My Little Guy

My friend Apryl, who is with Antares Foundation, sent me two photos she found of Michael from July 2005. I looked at them and wanted to cry. He told us just the other day how his head was shaved when he first went to the orphanage.

Mike's on the far right. He was 9 years old and he looked about 5.

This is a photo that was made recently:

He looks like an entirely different child, huh?! [This is right before Alesia carried Coco up to bed - Coco loves being carried like this!]

I looked at the kids in the photo above and I thought, what has happened to them? Where are they now?

Michael's orphanage was one of the better ones for older children I have seen anywhere, but once the kids turn 17 or 18 and finish school, they are on their own. They usually have no family to help, no resources.

Michael is writing little "stories" - just paragraphs, really - about his life in Kazakhstan. Mother works with him every day for a couple of hours, tutoring him, and he has made strides already. I am wondering if the stories could be knit together for a book of some kind. He writes honestly and pretty well for an 11 year old who barely knew any English a year ago. He talks about playing with a friend and skipping school - in first grade. He writes about when he first went to the orphanage and they shaved his head. He has told us how he hid from the authorities when they tried to take him from his mother, even though she had been so horribly neglectful and abusive. If he can find his "voice" as a writer, I think it would be therapeutic for him to write all this down, before he forgets it or blocks it out.

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Alesia was better last night. She and Michael ate pizza for dinner, a rare treat, and we all watched Hello Dolly. I sang along to a lot of the music, and Alesia didn't complain.I did a dinner theater production of Hello Dolly when I was 17, and believe me I know every word to every song - we ran 8 shows a week for 5 weeks. It's a great show, though. Mother actually watched with us, which is a rare treat.

I felt the presence of my dad with us. He loved "Dolly." He and Mother saw it on Broadway with Carol Channing in the 1960's. Seeing it always makes me think of him.

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I was dismayed to see that George Carlin died over the weekend.

I grew up seeing him on Laugh In, and later I heard his comedy albums and memorized some of his routines, just because they were so clever and thought-provoking. I can still do part of his routine comparing football and baseball. When he did Saturday Night Live I would stay up and watch it until the end, because he always ratcheted up the humor level on the show.

Classic Carlin: We buy houses just to hold all our STUFF. We collect more stuff over the years, and we have to buy a bigger house to hold it all. // I don't take a camera on vacation. I have a trick I use - I just look at something and REMEMBER it. // I've never understood why you can't sing at the dinner table. You can stand right next to it and sing your a** off!

Carlin was raised Catholic but turned away from the church and was openly antagonistic about it, and abotu all religion, basically. Sometimes his rants in recent years were really distasteful to me, if not downright offensive. However, I still read his books and watched him whenever I could, because he always said things that were intelligent and made me think about the world a little differently - even if they ticked me off. I will miss the occasional sighting of him on TV or in print, because his voice was unique, and it's stilled forever.