and mommy cried

I love the Christmas season. I always have.  when I was a little girl our whole family would come to our home on Christmas day. My grandparents would come over for breakfast and we would be wearing the new pajamas my parents had given us the night before as an early Christmas present. We would check out our stockings, which I later learned were put together solely by my father. He would shop for little trinkets for each of his girls- my mom, my sister, and me, and then stuff our red velvet stockings full of his shopping finds and candy. When he passed away the three of us kind of floundered that first Christmas without him. It just seemed wrong to even think about having stockings, so we left them in the decorations box, stored away, a momento of times passed. Eventually my mother stopped decorating all together, a sign that it really was my dad who pulled the family together.

I met my husband in January of 2000. So by the time Christmas rolled around we had been dating for a year. Even though we didn't marry until September of 2002 we knew that first Christmas where things were headed. I put up my mother's old tree at my apartment and my sweet husband to be insisted we buy a new angel for the top, because "every family needs their own traditions." I knew right after those words came out of his mouth that I was never going to let him go!

We have had many amazing Christmas' together. We spent one at the cabin on the lake my in laws own. The lake was icy, the house was covered in snow- it was breathtakingly beautiful. Our quiet Christmas in front of the fire, just the two of us, is one I will always remember. Our first Christmas in our little apartment in Cleveland where I made waffles for a Christmas breakfast for my sister and mom. That apartment, which we still own so I may get to live there again one day, had that beautiful old dark wood around the doors and windows and so I hung our Christmas cards around the entrance to the living room, just like my grandmother always had done at her home in Firestone Park.

Yes, I have some great Christmas memories. I also have some not so good memories, holidays where everyone else was celebrating the joy of children and I well, wasn't. Those holidays weren't so easy. Then we brought our big four and a half year old into our lives and Christmas lit up for me in a way it never had before. The video from Santa, the "Elf Yourself" video he loves so much. The visit to Santa and the hot chocolate. The Christmas parade. The lights. The presents. And the church daycare Christmas play. That first year, when my little guy wasn't quite two years old yet, only home six months, he stood up on that stage, totally confused and unsure. He shook his jingle bells like a pro though. And mommy cried. The next year he stood up there with his toddler class and sang some of the words to the song while he boogied down- the only toddler outright dancing. And mommy laughed. And cried.

Last night mommy cried again. This time I had two little ones up on that stage. My big four and a half year old, sitting with his class on the risers and wearing a sparkly halo. My tiny toddler being led out by his teacher and lifted up on the stage. He looked a little unsure and I could tell he was searching the crowd for a familiar face. He didn't sing a word of the song, but I didn't expect him to. He did, however, stay on the stage,managing not to fall off, so that was good. My big four and a half year old searched the crowd, found mommy, and signed "I love you". And mommy cried.

that's my tiny toddler on the end, in the blue sweater vest, making his Christmas play debut!

They grow up so quickly, don't they? This year my oldest son giggled with his buddies up on that stage, some sort of inside joke only the pre school set would understand. He didn't want to sit down and eat his cookies with mommy and daddy at the after show reception; he wanted to travel around the gym, talking to his friends. He even attempted to schedule a few play dates! He is so running for political office one day.

my Christmas boys!

I have planned for the holiday season. I have decorated the house. I have bought a few gifts, ordered the cards and gift tags. But last night, it finally felt like Christmas. And the house can be a mess, the money can be tight, the actual day might include travel when we would like to stay home, but none of that matters. This year, with my two boys, with my family complete- this year is my year. This will be my best Christmas yet. And to make it even better, it won't end for a while. My little trans racial family will celebrate Christmas. Then Russian Christmas. Then, just as we are catching our breath it will be Chinese New Year. Yes, this is my year!

no one tell matthew that russia is the largest country in the world

When we planned to add a second child to our family I knew that there would be some jealousy. Our happy little four year old had been the high prince of this castle for three years, reigning over us, his lowly parents. I expected the jealousy over sharing toys and bedtimes. I expected my older son to want to hang off me every moment I was holding our new little guy. I read up on how to introduce the new child to the family. I was prepared to have special "mommy and matthew time" so our older son would be assured to still get one on one quality time with me. I helped Matthew sort his toys and encouraged him to set aside a few special toys that he wouldn't have to share with his new little brother. We explained to Matthew that he would be getting a new, later bedtime when his brother came home, so that he could stay up a little longer than "the baby". I really thought I had it all under control. And everything I expected happened, right on schedule. Normal sibling rivalry. A thousand times a day in my world my son can be heard stating "I can do _________(fill in the blank with some sort of childhood activity, such as eating Popsicles or riding bikes.), because I am the big brother. Alex can't do it because he is a baby." Literally, a thousand, times. a. day.

Some jealousy is tolerated, some is nipped in the bud. It is all understood. And it was all expected.

But recently a type of jealousy I did not expect has started popping up. A type of jealousy that could only occur in a family brought together by international adoption. And it all starts with a geography question.

"Mommy, are there more people living in China than in Russia?"

"Mommy, are the toys better in China than in Russia?"

"Mommy, were my nannies better than Alex's?"

"Mommy, I bet the subway in Russia is not as good as the one we rode in China." (He cannot possibly remember riding the subway in China but he loves subways and so has heard the story of his very first subway ride numerous times.)

"Mommy, is the candy in China better than in Russia?"

"Mommy, is the food better in China than in Russia?"

And the questions go on and on and on. And on. And they get more in depth the deeper we go into the conversation. I actually had to hop on the computer the other day to look up the population of the birth countries of my sons. I would imagine that other mothers of four year olds do not need to memorize the population of large foreign countries just to appease their child.

Because of my little doodlebug I have learned so much. I know all about dragon boat races and the Autumn Moon Festival. I know why it is so important to clean the entire house before the Chinese New Year. I know how to say a fair number of words in Mandarin. I can eat with chopsticks, albeit not always gracefully. I can cook a mean stir fry and I know what spices make up the amazing Chinese five spice combo. Because of my oldest son I can say I have ridden a subway in Guangzhou, (very clean!) I know how the hamburgers taste in the Hong Kong airport (like American hamburgers!),  and I know the joys of squeaky baby shoes, (so cute but somewhat noisy!). And now I am starting to learn facts and geography about my oldest son's birth country.

As my younger sons grows I am sure I will be looking up facts about his birth country as well. And I know that I will be gathering tidbits of knowledge about Russia as we grow as a family. I also know that I will be answering questions about China and Russia for years to come and, quite possibly, breaking up fights between my boys as to whose heritage is better. Other moms get to referee tussles over toys and girls. I get to memorize demographics and geography. sigh.... OK, so no one tell Matthew that Russia is the largest country in the world. Shhhhhhh......

taking time for tea, part II

Every parent wants to pass cherished family traditions down to their children. I am no different. When they are much, much older and settle in to a permanent loving relationship I want them to place a new "family" tree topper on the top of their Christmas tree, just as their father and I did our first Christmas together. We are still using that angel and every time I see her glowing up there on top of the tree I remember my husband telling me that we needed a new tree topper, one that held only memories of "us".

I love the fact that my four year old goes to the Cleveland Browns games with his dad and that we all go to the Indians games. We watch the games on television and both my husband and son have their favorite players they watch. Being football fans is a tradition we will share for years.

We have holiday traditions such as our elf , Fritz, who visits us every Christmas season. We celebrate Chinese New Year and Autumn Moon Festival. We have many family traditions, big and small. And one of my favorites is our tradition of taking time for iced tea. It may seem insignificant but it is huge in my book.

When I first started to date Brad we found ourselves doing all those date night things every couple does. We took in movies, plays, and even a monster truck show. We went to concerts and out to dinner. We window shopped on  Main Street, USA. And we took our time. We got to know each other over glasses of iced tea.

This "taking the time for tea" tradition did not stop when we got married. It did not stop when we added the kids to our happy union. And this tradition is already being passed on to our children.

Last Saturday Matthew, my four year old, and I hit up the weekly farmer's market in our town. This is also a tradition that just Matthew and I share, started a few years back when he was still a little one in a stroller. Now that he is older he still looks forward to this weekly visit. We walk up and down the streets, taking in the colorful fruits and veggies at each stand. We discuss our planned purchases and what we should bring home to Daddy and then we make our selections. Matthew helps me select the very best looking corn or strawberries, he talks to the farmer's, hands over the money, checks out the tractors and wagons. Sometimes he even carries the bag, until it gets too heavy and he hands it back to me. Sometimes we see people we know from church or daycare, and he is always so happy to stop and chat with a friend of mommy's. I love these weekly excursions and miss them when our schedule can't accommodate them. This past week we had to run an errand after visiting the market and so in between we stopped for iced tea.

We sat side by side in the booth, both of us drinking iced tea, cooling off from the very sunny, very hot walk through the farmer's market. We talked about our fruit and veggie purchases and all of the sights at the market. We talked about how pre-school is going and about Mommy's new job. We talked about how things were going with Alex's transition into our family and about Matthew's plans to see a Cleveland Indian's game with Daddy the next day. We talked about the dog we plan to get next Spring. We talked about his friends and his China play group. We talked about his birthday. (This is a favorite topic of my son's. Even though his birthday is seven months away and there are numerous holidays to celebrate before his birthday he still wants to discuss his birthday party, in detail, every chance he gets.) We talked. And drank our iced tea.

I want my sons to understand the importance of being still. I want them to be able to slow down, to stop running from one activity to another and just "be" with someone. I want them to enjoy the little moments in between the big moments. I want them to always be able to stop and take the time for tea.

Prior to traveling to Russia to bring our youngest son into our family I was given a very special book as a gift. "The Three Questions", based on a story by Leo Tolstoy, is a beautiful story about the importance of living in the moment. The basic theme of the book is that the most important moment is the one you are in right now, the most important person is the one you are with, right now, and the most important thing you could do is whatever you can do for the person you are with, right now. This is easier said than done. There is no room in this "taking time for tea" moments for taking cell calls or checking email. There is just time for "being".

Hopefully when my kids are older they will continue to tell me what's on their mind. Hopefully they will always have the time to take for tea with Mom. Hopefully they will have learned, at the bent elbow of their iced tea drinking parents, the importance of celebrating those little moments, every day.

a chinese new year tradition

Last night we celebrated the Chinese New Year with friends. We took our children, 5 in total, to a Chinese restaurant. There we sat, 11 of us around a long table, cultures and birth countries and skin colors varied yet all of us bonded over the simple fact that we chose to adopt children from China. Would we know these people otherwise? Probably not. Did we ever think we would one day be at "that" table in the restaurant, the one that draws every eye in the room?

Six white adults with four small asian children ranging from 5 years to 23 months old, and one african american elementary schooler. Children eating asian noodles along side french fries; chinese donuts and american ice cream. A statement to the lives of these children; always two cultures colliding, every day, every moment. They are asian, and they are american. They like rice and noodles, yes, as most little ones do. But they eat those noodles with a fork, because their parents don't know how to use chopsticks. They eat french fries and chocolate ice cream because they live in America.

I wondered, as I sat at that table last night, looking into the eyes of two beautiful little girls and chatting with our friends about the journey to these children, both figuratively, as in long and heartbreaking at times, and literally, as in 13 hours on a crowded plane and eating at the same place every day of the trip because the hamburgers there tasted somewhat like an american burger. Somewhat, if you didn't think too hard about it...

So I wondered, how long will we keep up this wonderful tradition? This was our first Chinese New Year celebration, and I look forward to many more, to watching the children grow and change and enjoy spending time together. But I wonder if there will come a time when celebrating what makes us different as a family will not be what my son wants. Will the day come when he will want to skip the annual event, when he will not smile and wave at everyone in the restaurant, when he will think that they are not looking at him because he is all baby smiles but instead because he doesn't share his mom's round eyes or his dad's red hair?

I don't know what will happen. I don't know why every eye was on our table last night. Any group trying to eat with 5 young children in tow is going to draw attention. I wonder if other parents think these same thoughts. Do other parents feel the stares? I am sure some do, for different reasons. And I don't, normally. After all, we are simply a family, living our life. But when you do something as private and personal as start your family in such a public way, this is often the outcome. And I am fine with that. Maybe that lingering glance at my son in the grocery store will spark an interest to adopt. Maybe that seemingly thoughtless question from the day care employee will lead to a better understanding. I do not mind the occasional stare and question. But I wonder what my son will think, as he grows. Will he mind? Will he eventually do whatever he can to avoid those stares? Will he eventually forfeit the culture of his birth country in order to prove to his world that he does fit in, that he does belong?

I hope not, for his birth country has so much to offer, both to him, and to me. And I always want to celebrate that!