Long absence, explained

Perhaps you have noticed I haven't posted anything in, oh, two months.  (Or perhaps you have stopped checking my blog entirely.  Sorry.)  The past two months have been . . . chaotic.  Briefly, we are moving!  If you have ever moved, and particularly if you have moved out of state as we are doing, you may understand the simultaneous excitement, sadness and stress that comes with a move.  If I ever thought I was busy before?  I sooooo wasn't.  Every spare moment is taken up with boxing and cleaning and organizing and researching.  And it so happens that I love organizing and researching.  Cleaning?  Not so much but you win some, you lose some.  So, I can't promise that I'll be posting on any kind of predictable basis until we actually are moved and settled but I'll try! 

A summary:

-- Christmas.  Awesome. Matthew was hard core into Santa this year, inspecting the chimney and experiencing great distress at its narrow diameter.  Fortunately, Santa somehow made it and much rejoicing ensued the next morning.

-- New Years.  Had a party with our transracial adoption friends.  Fantastic.  They are without a doubt one of the top reasons I am sad to move.

--Writing.  Another reason I am sad.  I have the best writing circle evvvver.  Can't even stand the thought of not being with them weekly.

-- Sickness.  Constant, unrelenting sickness here.  My purse is a pharmacy, stuffed with multiple inhalers and medications.  Home today with a sick boy.  Can't remember the last week when I didn't have at least one boy home sick.  Sick of sick.

-- School.  The internship is incredible -- tons of fun (most days!) to work with kids.  My boys are also thriving at school.  Matthew is bringing home lists of words he wrote with the movable alphabet and is doing the short chains, which blows my mind.  Cameron is measuring angles and reading all the H.G. Wells he can get his hands on.  They are fantastic!

So, that's life for us right now.  Back to the boxes . . .

I

The other day, Cameron and I were driving to school, just the two of us.  "You know what?"  Cameron said from the backseat.  "When I was in preprimary, everyone knew Matthew was my brother.  But in elementary, some of the kids haven't seen Matthew before.  Lots of times, when they do see him, they say, 'Who's that kid?'"
"What do you say to them?" I asked. 

"I say, 'That's my little brother, Matthew.'  And then they usually say, 'How is he your brother?' I think because Matthew's black and I'm white."

"I think you're right," I said.  "Lots of kids aren't used to seeing brothers that have different skin colors.  What do you say when kids say that?"

"Well," said Cameron, "I just tell them!  He's my brother because I adopted him!"

The Beginning, revisited

Last week, we had an amazing experience.  We took Matthew back to the hospital he was born at, so he could see where he was before he came home with us.  He's seen the photos and he always has questions -- where's that room?  where's that tiny bottle?  who took care of me? 

So I contacted a social worker at the hospital and told her what I wanted to do.  She came through in a BIG way!  Matthew was able to see the very room where we took our first family photo, the very nursery where Cameron first saw him, the very rocking chair that we first held him in.  The nurse who had taken care of him remembered him and wrote him a beautiful letter.  The social worker gave him a tiny baby bottle and a knit hat like the one he came home in.  Matthew was fascinated by it all and it brought back so many happy memories for the rest of our family.  And as soon as we got home, Matthew stretched the little hat over his great big head, filled the tiny bottle with water and requested that I rock and feed him like a tiny baby.  Which I did, but I will resist the urge to post the photo here, lest he be embarassed by it when he's a teenager!

Hockey

For a Thanksgiving treat, we took the boys to their first University of Michigan hockey home game.  They were so excited to see the action up close and we enjoyed reliving our college days.  But outings with children are a little different than those in college.

As we walked to the game, I reached in the pocket of my Michigan sweatshirt and found a piece of paper on which Cameron had written "Weapons for sale, 2 for $1000."  "Oh," he said, "that was for Lego weapons."

"Uh oh," I joked, "if they find this on me I'm going to get arrested."

Surreptitiously, Cameron slid his hand towards me and whispered, "Give it to me.  They won't arrest a kid."

Thankfully, neither of us was arrested.
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 After the end of the first period, we watched the Zamboni clearing the ice.  Up on the scoreboard, the timer ticked down.  Finally, Cameron turned to me and said, "So, there are three periods in hockey right?" 

"Right," I answered.

He pointed at the time and said, "Sooooo is the second period just with the Zamboni?"

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When the real second period started, I was cheering for the Wolverines when Cameron said, "Oh no!  Oh no!  Mom!  My shoe!"  Cameron had slipped off one of his shoes and it was now . . . gone.  It slid down to no man's land.  We waited until the end of the game and David approached an usher who immediately said, "Whaddya drop?"  Turns out Cameron is not the first child to lose a shoe at the ice arena and it was quickly retrieved, saving him  a long hop to the car.

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Before the third period, Matthew needed to use the bathroom.  David took him but the line was long and I guess men don't let small children cut to the front.  The line turned out to be too long.

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At the end of the game, we had lost.  A man a few rows in front of us was . . . unhappy . . . with the outcome and shared his displeasure vocally.  Cameron leaned over and whispered, "I feel like I should go say, 'Calm down.  It's just a game.'"

Reach for the stars

Cameron brings his spelling list home on Thursday and we quiz him on the words a few times before his spelling test the following Thurday.  This week he brought home his list and I began.  "Cameron, spell straight." 

"S-t-r-a-i-g-h-t."

"Spell laid." 

"L-a-i-d."

"Spell waitress."  At this point, I started to think it was a little funny that these three words were on his list. 

Then, as Cameron said, "W-a-i-t-r-e-s-s," I glanced down the list to see "disease" and "cheater!"

Concerned parent that I am, I e-mailed his teacher immediately.  "I am appalled by the words on this week's spelling list.  Apparently, you don't think Cameron is capable of spelling 'philanderer.'"

Book boys

There was recently a book fair at the boys' school and each had a chance to visit it and make a "wish list."

I love books. Good books.  And I want my boys to love good books, too.  Cameron is an avid reader and Matthew loves to be read to, so I am hopeful.  But when you are four years old, sometimes there are things you care about more than good literature.

Cameron's list included a book about algebra and geometry, Shel Silverstein's Everything on It, and reference book about rocks and minerals and National Geographic's Treasury of Greek Mythology.  Matthew's list?  Star Wars Villains, Star Wars Darth Maul's Mission, Star Wars The Hunt for Grievous and Star Wars 3D. 

Wish list

Matthew wants a baby sister.  He tells me nearly every day now and is unswayed by all obstacles.  HE would change the baby's diapers.  HE would hold the baby when she cries.  HE would put the baby to bed and THEN he'd put himself to bed.

This morning, Matthew told me he also wants a computer.  "Really?" I said  "What would you do with the computer?"

"Play games," he answered.

"Hmmm," I said, "a computer and a baby sister, huh?"

"Yep."

"If you only got to choose one," I asked out of sheer curiosity, "which would you choose?"

"A baby sister," he answered immediately.  "No, wait.  I changed my mind.  A football game for the Wii."