Making biscuits.

Guys, it's Saturday, and you both have had a tough week. Baba, you work way too much, and Mama, well, you are with me 24/7, enough said. Now, I know you just got your kitchen back to a (semi) decent state, but I have an awesome idea. Guess what? I'm making biscuits. Don't worry, you won't even notice I was using flour, butter and buttermilk here, really.

Buttermilk? I know butter and thanks to your draconian way I certainly know milk, when did they combine the two? Why does it not taste like a sweet mixture of butter and milk?
BTW, my Rudolph nose is caused by a giant freaking pimple.

Once all ingredients were mixed, combined and kneaded, Baba took over. Mama was busy rinsing yucky, sticky stuff.

Baba showing SS the art of biscuit cutting (although it was his first time, they do sell the stuff at KFC). P was a good sport as usual, and really enjoyed involving SS in yet another task neither of us had a clue about. Who cares what they taste like? SS was enjoying herself and we were grinning like idiots.

SS's first solo biscuit cut.

Oh yeah, she got the hang of it.

SS used the leftover dough to practice her kneading. We might have to make the stuff for her to play, because it really captivated her attention.

How much fun did SS have with the dough?

Let's see...

This much fun!

I made those biscuits.

Relaxing with her cigar. SS does not use a binky, and we tried our best since China. We took the Halloween binkies with us (she had about 10 more at home, the Snoopy ones are precious). We tried in China and for about a month at home and then gave up. They are still around, and every now and then, SS just needs a very quick binky fix. We much rather that she would use a binky when she is tired or for comfort. Nope, SS uses a binky like some people take an occasional drag of a cigarette. Add that one to her long list of quirks. :)

We know it is not hygienic to have SS on the counter. However, we only allow her to do this when it is just the 3 or 4 (JJ) of us. SS likes her biscuits with butter and honey, just like Baba. SS and I missed our short days, and the heat from the oven kept us cozy (even though it was in the 40s). We pretended that it was a summer day.

Just because...

Sharing with Mama.

I'm still sporting a souvenir from the 20 minutes with an IV on Monday. I hate it that I bruise so easily.

SS would do anything for love, but she won't do THAT.

This afternoon SS and I had different plans. I planned to clean both our bathrooms and the downstairs half bathroom. SS wanted me to sit on the glider while she played. As I have shared many times before we do tend to over indulge SS's need for closeness, hugs, kisses and whatever makes her feel secure. But, it was not going to traumatize her to be away from me for such a short amount of time. SS is a stubborn little thing who must have her way. Still, this is our home, not Burger K*ng, she can't have it her way.

SS resorted to follow me around whining, like her survival depended on me sitting by her side and watch her play. SS came up to me for the umpteenth time as I was getting ready to clean the master bathroom toilet. I told her that she could return to her room or she could help Mama clean the toilet. Dude, she said "No thanks, bye Mama," and high tailed it to her bedroom. That is all the incentive she needed. From now on, when I need some alone time, I will invite SS to clean toilets with me. This is what I found when I was done. As you can see, SS was getting in touch with her inner nudist.

I told P about the incident when we were in bed tonight, and we both had a good laugh. P did note that while SS loves to cook and be with us, cleaning is not her forte. He pointed out that as soon as she is done "cooking" she moves on, not offering to help clean the mess that she mostly created. P also pointed out that when we are doing dishes, SS is all about placing items in the dishwasher, closing and locking its door and then starting it. Again, no curiosity about rinsing or washing dishes. Now we know that cleaning bathrooms does not interest her at all. We hope her partner is tidy and willing to overlook SS's lack of enthusiasm for helping around the house. Add to that that we are still working on getting her to pick up her toys, with disastrous results. Now we all know that SS does not stand for Spic & Span.

August 13, 2008

Baa Baa Black Sheep,a cookbook, a busted lip and an eye patch.

SS and I took advantage of a break from the rain and headed to Story Time at the bookstore. Once again, some quiet, well behaved alien took over our daughter's body there.

Mr. Paul's first song was Baa Baa Black Sheep, one of the first songs SS liked and recognized. It was one of the songs on SS's Tad. It was good to at least get a reaction from SS, and it would have been even better if she clapped along and danced, like all the other kids, but that was not going to happen.

And back to her trance state checking every move Mr. Paul made while playing. As he was gathering his things, Mr. Paul thanked SS for being there and said, "I really enjoy playing for you, you really pay attention, you listen, and the music really touches you, that is rare at your age." It would be hilarious if Mr. Paul saw SS at home where she never listens, is never still and never quiet.

I told SS to select a book for us to read. After careful consideration (and they had her favorites like Dora, Diego, Olivia, Wonder Pets, Yo Gabba Gabba, etc.) she brought this one to me. She is one funky child.

HMMMMMMMM...

SS was very interested in the smoothies.

Contemplating whether she wants to give it a shot.

Hi Reading Bear, would you like to have a seat and read with me?

SS improvised an eye patch and wanted Mama to send a pirate picture to Baba.

After lunch at home with Baba, we headed out to the bridge to allow SS to become a free range child. She was so happy to be out and asked about the rain. Just enjoy the reprieve little one. A group of four people approached us from the opposite direction and were admiring SS. She cracked them up by waving and saying "Hi people!" A diva in the making.

I called P to share what SS did, as she began to run. Just as I was about to tell P that I had never seen her run so fast, SS reached the end of the bridge and did a face plant on the cement. I hurriedly told P "she fell, got to go," dropped the phone on the stroller and went to scrape SS off the floor. SS was bawling something awful and had a bloody lip. I thought about walking back to the cafe to get some ice, but SS never allows me to place ice on her injuries. I cleaned up her lip, put pressure on it and held her until she was done crying. At that point SS was done with the whole walking business and wanted to sit on her stroller.

I called P to let him know SS was OK, and told him how terrible it felt that I was on the phone while my daughter was kissing the cement. He reassured me that things just happen and that I did the right thing, "Hon, you quickly hung up on me and tended to her." I recalled throwing the phone (maybe that is why my phones do not last) on the stroller, but I did not recall ending the call, I though P did on his end. Nice of him to split hairs about me hanging up on him when our daughter is hurt.

Proudly smiling for Baba displaying her new busted lip. This after crying and hanging on to me for dear life. We love the beautiful pink fleece she is wearing, a gift from her godmother, Auntie C. It arrived shortly after SS came home and at the time we thought she had a few years of use. SS treats it like a stuffed animal, caressing it and even kissing it, it is her favorite jacket. We are disappointed that the sleeves now fit SS just fine. She is not particularly long armed like her father, so this came as a surprise. We are going to miss her pretty dragonfly fleece jacket. Since SS was no longer interested in the outdoors, we walked inside to look at some of the exhibits. It is a very small place but it does not get old for SS; wish I could say the same about me.

Future checkers champ?

A rarity, SS fell asleep as soon as I pulled out of the parking lot. I needed to pick up a couple of items at the market and thought she would wake up as she always does. Good thing I only needed two items, because SS was out solid. Those 27 pounds of love did quite a job on my arm. I was able to secure her in her carseat, get her out at home, and the girl was still out, not even stirring. This has never happened before, poor thing was really tired.

The tech completely misrepresented the whole whiskey effect.

Yesterday I mixed the the Barium sulfate and made the yucky fifty-two ounces of suspension. I drank 12 ounces before bed, 12 ounces 2 hours before the scan, and 12 ounces 15 minutes before the scan. After looking at the white suspension, P, the man with impeccable timing, shared that Barium is potentially lethal (I knew that), and wondered what it would do to my system, even when mixed per the instructions. My husband, such a ray of sunshine in an otherwise gray existence. When he saw me this morning (he met me at the clinic), he frowned at my coffee mug. I do not have sippy cups, it's what I grabbed on my way out for the suspension.

Today there was a full house in attendance. On Friday, there was only tech dude, because I was the last appointment of the day. They had three nurses (1 or 2 were students), tech dude, and computer dude. For some reason this made me nervous, so many strangers around me, witnessing a vulnerable moment. When the nurse was done with the IV, tech dude went over the iodine infusion again. I smiled and said, "Oh yeah, that shot of whiskey you promised me Friday." TD got a kick out of that. Just before he cleared the room (why when it is supposed to be safe?), he leaned over me and said "That shot of whiskey, you are going to feel most of it on your pelvis. It burns but it goes away quickly."

TD grossly misrepresented what I was going to feel. I have never had a shot of whiskey, but have had good tequila and it never felt that way. It did not bother me one bit as it entered my system, but then it reached my pelvis. There I was, with five people behind the glass watching me, while I was feeling a REALLY warm sensation in that area. Trust me, not something you want to feel with an audience, it just felt wrong. Now I know why they require you to hold your arms above your head (and no locking those elbows).

Between scans the staff took turns coming inside and talking to me like one would a three year old or a Regional Center client. They were speaking slow, loud and in a high pitched voice... "We just took some pictures, we are waiting to take more pictures, OK? How are you holding up? The machine will speak to you and let you know when to hold your breath." I seriously wanted to slap them silly. I do not even talk that way to SS. I wanted to throw out a few smart a$$ remarks, but decided to suck it up instead. Really, who the hell trained these nincompoops?

But, it is done and I will hopefully never have to go through one again. Now we wait for an appointment with the surgeon and hope that all is well. Although I never gave it a thought before the surgery, my intestines and I go way back, and I would really hate to have more severed.

P was very interested in the warm and fuzzy feeling (figures). He is now, no joke here, jealous that I had the experience, and wishes to have one. I know that I harp on how quirky my kids are, but my husband is really up there with them. He interrogated me several times about it. Sigh.

Looking back (P's phone pics)...

Gosh, she was a baby then. SS is in her sub carseat, so it had to be taken during our first few months home. She had already acquired chunk on her face.

As you can see, P likes to take close ups. Can't blame him with this subject.

SS used to vigorously suck on her three fingers, especially when she was anxious. We sometimes worried that she would suck them raw. We can't recall when is the last time we saw her sucking her fingers. Another baby thing she has left behind, glad we did not stress about it then (P and I are not fans of finger sucking), it's what she needed to cope.

She has an itsy, bitsy, teenie, weenie waist.

SS has plenty of pants that fit her lengthwise. The problem is that tiny waist of hers. We have not found a belt for her micro waist (and a lot of her pants do not have loops), and having her walking around like L@rry King is not an option. And this is with the added padding from her diaper. While we are sure once she is a teenager and adult her size will be a major plus, right now it is a pain in the rear end. Our last option and salvation (because big surprise, I can't sew) is below.

SS's new 24 month old, adjustable waist jeans.

How small is SS's waist? She needs both sides adjusted to the last notch. By the time SS outgrows them lenghtwise, we foresee only a notch gain by then. We need to buy her a few more of these.

My iPhone needs to be repaired, the home button is not working and the battery is not charging. P saved the day by taking the SIM card out, and placing it in his old phone. I at least have a cell phone and access to e-mail on the go. The rest of the applications are still P's. I am having fun finding pictures I had no idea he had taken, and will be posting some here.

Some time before our trip last summer.

Sleeping like an angel at one of the hotels in New York.

Asking the right question at (almost) the right time

We patiently waited in line at the reception desk, we patiently waited to be called to provide our insurance information, and patiently provided it three times when the computer was not cooperating with the intake worker. The same worker who asked "you had your drink like you were supposed to, right?" I told her that I had no idea what she was talking about and she just kept on asking me more inane questions. From there we moved on to the CT Scan waiting room, where a tech met us, provided more paperwork and asked me if I had my drink. Again, I said no, what is this about a drink? There was no mention about cocktails before the scan.

Tech comes back with the awful attire for the scan, and I asked him about the iodine consent form. Dude still not getting it that there is something missing. It was weird walking into the CT room under my own power and free of pain (kind of). Although I was hurting badly last October, I recall how quick the scan was. It took longer to get me from the ER examination room to the CT room and onto the machine. I also remembered how kind the tech was, she treated me gingerly, like I was going to break. I assured her that I was very sturdy and could take a beating. All I wanted to do was jump from the gurney to the darn machine and get it over with. The tech urged me to slow down, afraid I might hurt myself (kind of late for that given what was going on inside me). Once in place the scan was over in less than fifteen minutes.

I did not recall iodine being pumped into my veins. The tech today explained the iodine procedure and how it would be injected through an IV. He asked me if I had ever had a shot of whiskey, because that is how it feels when the iodine courses through your system. Since I am allergic to needles (as well as hard work and pain), I asked tech dude why was it different this time. He explained that they did a very quick scan at the ER due to it being an emergency. Just as he is about to insert the needle into my arm, he mentioned that the iodine, combined with all the "solution" I drank would provide a detailed contrast and detail to the surgeon. I again mentioned that there must be a misunderstanding because I was only told nothing per mouth for four hours before the scan. What is all this talk about getting my drink on?

Tech dude finally listens to me, and it turns out I was supposed to have consumed a barium solution three times before the scan. So we get to reschedule for Monday, where lucky me, I get to wait in line all over again. At least I avoided a useless turn as a pin cushion.

Earlier, while we waiting for an available intake worker, they called a woman with SS's first name over the intercom. It is not a name one hears often, and P immediately came to me with SS (they were checking out the fish tank), curious about the identity of her namesake. It was an elderly woman and a long way from five feet tall. Her age did not surprise me, because SS is named after a woman who would be 111 years old today.

I wonder, if a shot of whiskey is supposed to make one feel the way the tech described, why do people have more than one? Sounds like plenty with just one.

Then there are the differences.

A few weeks ago P was holding a very cranky and violent SS. Our daughter, like her brother is preparing herself for life as a groupie. She wants to sleep all day and party all night. We are really struggling with her sleep schedule, and SS is one tough nut to crack. P said "Boy, you really had some serious bad luck in the sleep department with your children. She is as bad as JJ and although it seemed impossible, her temper is worse than his when we tamper with her snoozing. I though if we had one difficult kid, the next one was supposed to be the easy one."

P was right, at least that is the way it appears with most siblings I have encountered. Take P and his sister, they are so different, not only in looks, but their personalities and world views. P was the quiet, introspective, easy going, quiet loner; while Court came out of the womb like me, chomping on a cigar, complaining about the delivery room temperature and ready to kick a$ in a bar brawl. Nana has said that Court "came fighting out of the womb." Since JJ was rather high maintenance and had no idea what a sleep schedule was, it's the Universe's turn to make it up to us with SS. Are you listening Universe? We don't think so, because here we are again, same sleep difficulties and an even crankier child. P has Titanium testicles thinking about a third child. This time I am wiser P, the Universe has no intention to give us an easy child.

We have posted about how freakishly similar JJ and SS are, at times in a very creepy manner. But then there are also glaring differences. Some admittedly created by P and I due to SS's needs, some due to genetics and some we'll never figure out. The first big difference is that JJ went straight into his full size crib upon arriving home from the hospital. My mother disliked (still does) sleeping alone and brought me to bed with her. Mami and Papi were very upset about it, and would tell her to let me be in my crib. As soon as they went to sleep, my mother selfishly moved me into her bed, so she would have company. When she married it did not bother her that she had a child that now was accustomed to sleep with someone. Heck she had what she wanted, a husband, screw the kid. Mami and Papi were rightfully furious. When JJ came along, I was determined that he would sleep on his own and with the lights off, something that I can't do to this day (thanks Abu, really, thanks). JJ probably shared my bed less than five times in his childhood, and only when he was ill.

I don't think I had ever come across a married couple as against co-sleeping as P and I. We hung on to that thought until we had SS in our arms*. Regardless of how much the thought repulsed us, parenthood is about selflessness, not selfishness. SS slept in a room with at least a dozen children. It is not unusual for two children to share a crib until their first birthday. Most of the children from SWIs reach through the crib slats with their arms or legs to the child in the crib next to them. Our daughter still sticks out a leg or an arm when in her crib, looking for that comfort. SS slept in a crib in China for quite a few nights, but once home we could not even place her in the playpen next to my side of the bed. SS was so distraught and would retreat to that ugly, spaced out place P and I fear so much. Then c0-sleeping it was and still is when SS needs it.

Another difference between JJ and SS is size, and in both caused difficulties. Although JJ arrived a little over three weeks early, he was always tall for his age. JJ was taller than 99% of kids his age, while SS is smaller than 99% of her age peers. For JJ is was tough because when he exhibited age appropriate behavior, those around him thought he was acting younger than his age. He was also excluded from a lot of activities because of his size. SS's size brings out (to us) the worst in people and even children her age and younger. We have to be hyper vigilant when SS is at the playground because kids just pick her up without asking and without SS wanting or needing it. First it is not safe for other children to pick her up. Second, it truly pi$$es us off, she is NOT a freaking toy, she is a child, and one capable of walking on her own.

This will probably be an issue that we will have to address with her teachers as well. The last thing we want or need is for SS's teachers to hold her or place her on their laps. We really do not care for people touching our daughter as it is. And yes, some strangers have tried to pick her up, and no I do not have a problem being a b*tch and making it clear that it is not OK. I frequent a forum where China adoptive families gather to share information and at times vent. The creator of the website has the same problem with her two daughters and they are not behind in size as much as SS. The dance teacher, the school teachers, the gymnastics teachers, all of them feel the need to pick up her daughters and do not do the same for the other children. She has vented a lot about it and we feel her pain, because that will be our battle as well.I am still haunted by the images of Mich@el Jacks0n carrying a then 13-year old Emmanuel Lew*s, like the latter was Bubbles the chimp. Not going to happen to our daughter.

JJ was potty trained shortly after his second birthday. I had tried and was becoming frustrated, even though I had heard that boys are more difficult to potty train. Also, there is a neurological component involved at he was not ready at first. One day I was looking for him and found him on the big toilet, defecating. I will never forget his face when I asked him what he was doing. My two year old looked at me like I was dumb and crazy. Also lucked out in the accident department. I do not recall one single night accident. JJ also achieved daytime and nighttime bladder/bowel control simultaneously. I would find his diaper dry in the morning. I thought he probably did not urinate much and it dried quickly. After one week of dry diapers I took the risk of putting him to bed wearing underwear. The boy never wore a diaper again. Talk about dumb luck on my part.

I certainly did not expect to have a three year old in diapers, but with only two months before her birthday that is exactly what we have. We are not sweating it, and had already decided to wait until after I recuperate from my next surgery to even think about attempting potty training. SS is going to regress and go through a lot of anxiety in about a month. We want her to be as comfortable as possible. Plus, we do owe her 15 months of diapers. ;) I am fortunate that P is not a tight wad when it comes to SS's needs. It does not seem to bother him, so anyone else can just stuff it.

JJ went from his crib to a single bed on his first birthday. Abu had plans to visit seven months later, so I purchased the bed and kept the crib in his room. He did very well, and only returned to his crib for the two weeks Abu visited.We are not in a hurry to convert SS's crib into a toddler bed. This is for selfish reasons, she has lots of space too grow, and we do not have to worry about SS wondering around the house in the middle of the night. Although JJ tried to take a dive from his crib several times as an infant, SS has yet to try to break free. We really expected her to try to climb out by now, but she is in no hurry. More dumb luck coming our way.

I was recently thinking about our search for SS's crib. I told P that we should stay away from cribs with drop sides, they are a pain and a lot less sturdier. P has been really good about indulging me when it comes to selecting things for SS. He was also aware that I hated JJ's crib, it was cheap, white (yuck), and all we could afford at the time. Since I was the one with issues, imagine my surprise when P turned out to be the wild card, the tough one to impress. There are many cribs, cheaper cribs that I would have been OK purchasing. BTW, when I say this, P raises his eyebrow at me and sarcastically says "Really? I don't think so." Guess what P, you are wrong on that one, YOU were the difficult one about the darn crib.

I recall finding our first prospect at B@bies R Us, and boy did they have an ugly selection. P walked up to the crib and started shaking it like a maniac. It did not meet P's standards and I was surprised. I reminded him that we would be parenting a 12-24 month daughter, who would be smaller than children her size. Come on, it's not like we were going to have a moose or a kangaroo. P reminded me that he indulged my utter dislike for white cribs, dark finish cribs, drop side cribs, straight edge cribs, and whatever else I disliked. P's standards? A crib that our child could not shake like a monkey in heat. That is the first time that P shared with me the origin of his crib standards.

P was three when his sister was born. P had never shared with me how annoying it was when his sister would rattle her crib. He recalled losing a lot of sleep that way and was not about to risk it with his daughter. The funniest part was his description of Court jumping around and shaking her crib like a monkey in heat. Right there at BRU in the middle of all those cribs and expectant parents. He cracked me up so bad that it took me a while to be able to stop laughing at the mental image (Sorry Court). Had someone told me that his sister would be a main factor on the purchase of SS's crib, I would not have believed it. But P shook every prospect I considered, and it was only when he was satisfied that we could bring SS's crib home. We saw (and he shook) many cribs in many different stores. It should not have been that difficult, but that is how childhood memories mess with our minds.

Once we purchased the crib, P asked me what other furniture I wanted. Surprisingly, I was only interested in a dresser and a glider. P wanted the armoire that matched the crib. It took me a really long time to talk him out of it and the ridiculous expense. Eventually it came down to space and the fact that the closet in SS's room would adequately accommodate her clothing. P inquired about a changing table and I declined. I always thought that our referral would be for at least a one year old girl, if not older. Maybe I was in some serious denial regarding a younger child, because I knew I would have been on my own. I love P, but the man has no use for infants or what he likes to call them (when he is in a generous mood), "those useless creatures." Probably to protect myself I made up my mind that our daughter would not have use for a changing table.

Also, our bed is rather high and I thought most of SS's diaper and clothing changes would take place on our bed. I told P that a changing pad would suffice, and once SS was done with that, we could purchase the hutch for her dresser. Ah, got to love it when reality slaps you in the ar$e. I miscalculated big time and badly. We use that changing pad daily, and SS expects for her diaper changes (unless we are downstairs), and clothing changes to happen on that pad. Thankfully for her, she is small enough to still fit. I do not regret passing on the changing table. Once SS is done we will be throwing away the $25 pad and the $15 terry cloth pad cover. I would really hate to toss out $250 of perfectly good furniture.

The furniture is much lighter than it came out in the picture.

Blows our minds that SS still fits on her changing pad.

Mr. Bear was mine, JJ also had one in a lighter color, and I have no idea what happened to his. This bear is over twenty years old.

It was really windy today.

Today SS and I had to brave the wind and the rain and forage for sustenance. As much as SS hates the wind, we just had to buy groceries, we were depleted. Our first stop was the $100 store (C0$tc0). As we were waiting at the register, a young lady came over to scan our purchases.

SS: "Look, dos pan."
YL: "What sweetie? You sure are beautiful."
SS: "Dos pan (pointing down)."
YL: Had a pretty lost look so I decided to help her out.
Me: "She said two breads, referring to the two loaves of bread."
YL: "WOW, you are REALLY smart, you can speak English and Spanish."
Me: "Well, she just knows a few words." SS's receptive language far surpasses her expressive abilities.

SS being an expert at making a liar out of me, and with luck on her side because of the items I purchased, just went to town. She began pointing and talking.

SS: "Jugo (juice), huevos (eggs), pan, queso (cheese), uvas (grapes)."

BY this time SS had captivated the attention of the woman and teenager behind us. The woman commented that it appeared that SS knew more than just a few words. As I was relating the incident to P after dinner, he was laughing his butt off. He knows my frustration regarding SS's language delay and he knows that we do not want SS to come across as someone she is not. It was just luck that I had the items I had in that basket.

Another frustration that we have with SS's language is her refusal to say certain things in English. We cannot get milk or juice out of her and it really annoys us. Her no no word in Spanish is pingϋino (penguin), she won't utter the darn word. The woman behind us had milk.

SS: Points at the milk, "Leche!"
Woman: "Very good, you are a really smart one you know, you know lots of words."
Me: At this point I have completely given up and just allowed SS to continue her performance.
Woman: "And how do you say that in English?"
Me: Thinking, HA! good luck with that one lady, we have been trying for a year to get her to say it. But I should have known better. I should have known that the imp in SS would not be able to resist taking a jab at me.
SS: "MILK!!!!!"

UGH, UGH, UGH, dude she said it, and to a complete, freaking stranger. When I got to that part with P he almost choked, he was laughing so hard. The man completely empathized with my frustration and wondered what on earth made SS want to say milk for a stranger. We just cannot win with this child. :)

That far away speck of orange and light blue is SS's trampoline. We waited for P to retrieve it because there are two mean dogs in that house. They gave me a scare shortly after we arrived from China. They got out, and I had my back to them, getting the trash ready for pick up. I heard their vicious growling, turned around, and the suckers were about to pounce on me. It was beyond scary. I'm afraid of all dogs as it is, vicious ones simply petrify me. It also shook me because SS could have been out there with me playing. The thought of SS getting hurt by those dogs scared me more. And those would have been dead dogs had they attacked my child.

I first saw the trampoline from our bathroom window just before lunch. I kept checking throughout the day to make sure no one swiped it.

A tired and cold P to the rescue.

Are you serious Mama, I'm getting my jumpolene back?

Our hero.

They look as though they are returning from climbing Mt. Everest. :)

A very happy SS doing her imitation of a baby penguin. Check out how her hair bow matches her polo shirt. We LOVE her skull bows, they are so SS. The shirt and pants were a gift from Grandpa. This is the second time that items from the grandmothers and Grandpa mesh perfectly.

Rain, howling wind and tub time art.

This week we have been graced with rain storms, and this means snow in the mountains. We are hoping to get SS decked out in her snow suit, snow boots and freakishly hard to find snow mittens this weekend. The rain is not a big problem, other than keeping us indoors. But the wind, the howling wind is making life difficult around here. It petrifies SS, who is afraid of the noise as it is, but the rattling windows really send her over the edge. I do not blame the poor little thing, because I have been spending quite a bit of time in her room, and it just gets hit the worst of any other place in here. Stubborn little soul that she is, SS insists on cooking upstairs, as long as she is glued to my side. Loving every second of it. SS is going to be sleeping with us until it is safe to return to her once quiet room.

SS freaking out over noise is not new to us. Heck, SS freaking out over numerous things is normal to us. She is however, coping differently this time. She is shutting down and taking 2-3 hour long naps. That might seem as a relief, since our overly active daughter does not usually nap. It just seems odd that now, after eighteen months under our care, is when she is reacting to over stimulation by sleeping. We expected that to happen in China. If you read back then you will know that SS did not nap for long when we were out and about. Maybe I'm over thinking this, but there's a part of me that feels sad about this. I expected her to be more secure now. But this is not about me, it's about what coping mechanism works for SS. Looks like she will be napping for the rest of the week.

We have been talking about my upcoming surgery. I have a CT scan scheduled for Friday afternoon. It took me a whole week to make that appointment. Last Friday P asked me why was I procrastinating. Well, let's see, if I recall correctly last time I had one I lost a foot long section of my colon and now sport a horrific mutilated torso (never mind what comes out of said torso). I can't think of a better reason to procrastinate.

In preparation for the further desecration of my torso, we have discussed the P word, that's right, preschool. Initially we wanted to wait until I am fully recovered, not to bombard SS with too many big changes. Although SS came to us without shedding a tear and handled those two weeks in China better than we could have ever expected, she has changed her tune once home. SS is not a big fan of change and fights it all the way. It is wiser to ease her into a 1-2 days a week schedule with gradual increases, rather than dumping her one day as I am on my way to work. That's our new challenge for the upcoming months.

P just noticed that SS is having difficulty pronouncing the letter L. Because nothing is simple with SS, she has no problem pronouncing L's in Spanish. One of the first things she learned to say was "la lengua," in sing song manner "la, la, la, la, la, la lengua." But he is right, after asking her to pronounce a few words, it's different. Funky child of mine. It does not help matters that she has quite a gap between her bottom middle teeth.

Poor SS had cabin fever after her three hour nap. After lunch I allowed her to have a long bath. That made her momentarily forget the big bad wind. I had forgotten that bathtub crayons that SS received upon arriving home. Boy, SS had water, nakedness and crayons. Talk about good times.

Weather tomorrow: Gusts up to 60 m.p.h.