Hao Bao Bao

2008-03-15T17:52:00.000-07:00

This afternoon we went to see our home-town orchestra perform the score to On the Day Your Were Born, which was narrated today by Maya Angelou. I think this book, written by a home-town author, is lovely and I frequently weep when I read it for a variety of reasons. Today I was so overcome with emotion when Maya Angelou walked on stage. I admire her greatly, and I actually did not even realize she would be there until just hours before the performance. I just lost it when she walked on stage. I had tears streaming down my face for reasons that I don't even understand. Hearing her narrate this beatiful text was almost too much for me, and I was full-out sobbing through half the book. I borrowed Baby Bird's beloved washie to wipe away my tears. Baby Bird is a very empathetic girl, so she was trying to figure out what was going on with me. She stroked my cheek and said "Mama, this song really, really sad, isn't it?" So sweet. The poor boy next to me was also a bit baffled. Dr. Angelou has the most amazing presence. I felt like she was reading the book to ME. I honestly felt like she was looking right at me the whole time, and I felt like she knew just why I was crying. And you know what? I'll bet everyone who was there today felt like she was looking into their souls too, which is one of the reasons why she is so amazing.

Thanks to one of our most famous home-town corporations for making this possible. They actually sponsored the whole series and gave away free tickets to thousands and thousands of families, us included. I have never written a thank you note to a huge corporation before, but I will be doing so tonight.

ETA: On a less serious note, here is a quote from a paper I am grading right now: "At the time of this painting (1863) there had never been women that were fully unclothed." Bad grammer aside--wow! I never knew that women had never been naked in the history of the world (let alone the history of art) until 1863. I think I'll need a citation on that one, don't you think? Sadly this is not even the same dude who referred to Africa as a country.

A compromise

2008-03-10T07:50:00.000-07:00

Driving to campus a few days ago, the distinct odor of a stinky, smelly skunk overtook our car. So we were talking about skunks and what the look like and what they eat and etc. etc. And then this:

Baby bird: Mama? Can I have a pet skunk?
Me: No. Because skunks are wild animals, not pets.
Baby bird (without missing a beat): Ok, mama. I take a dog instead, then. That be ok with me.

Ha. This girl has been working on getting a dog since she started talking. So far she has tried crying, begging, acting pathetic and acting cute. This artificially constructed compromise, well, I'll hand it to her, that was very original. Still not working, though.

How to (not) succeed in college

2008-03-04T18:58:00.000-08:00

Here's how to make sure you have my attention, and not in a good way: refer to your love for "the glorious country of Africa." Come on, now. Even Baby Bird knows that Africa is not a country. Basing your paper on the argument that Africa should "get over" colonialism also fails to impress me.

Off for more torture.

Shape up and cooperate

2008-02-27T20:05:00.000-08:00

I think my daughter has been reading parenting books under the covers late at night. The last few days have been rough for us. I just returned from a trip, and that always means some readjustment for both of us. And Baby Bird has decided I could use some help with my parenting skills, it seems. Observe examples one and two below. I have to write these dialogues in her silly pre-school talk because then you can truly grasp how funny it is to hear her using the language of the teacher at our parenting class:

Example one:

Me: Ok, it makes me really angry when you act like that when I'm trying to talk on the phone! You need to SHAPE UP!
Baby Bird: Mama, you no say "shape up!" That really mean. You say "PLEASE COOPERATE."

Good point. Cooperating really gets at what I want more clearly. I personally don't think "shape up" is that mean, though, but whatever. I can handle a little constructive criticism.

Example two:

Me, after 100th request for tooth brushing: I'm so frustrated that you are not listening to me! Why are we having such a hard time lately?
Baby Bird: Mama, I tell you. Sometimes I a good listener. Sometimes I not a good listener. Sometimes listening REALLY REALLY hard for me. Let's try again.

Seriously. She talks like this. It is hard not to laugh. The girl has some good skills.

I think the "good listener" thing comes from preschool. A few weeks ago she came home from school and reported that she is a good listener and that she could "teach Maurice a lesson." Doesn't that sound like something her teacher would have been mumbling under her breath? And I have to say, having observed the class on many occasions, I think she's right about Maurice.

Agree with me, please.

2008-02-24T18:31:00.000-08:00

I've been pretty good about watching what I eat over the last weeks. No more sugar in my coffee, a moment of careful consideration before going for the butter, those kinds of things. I've even noticed that some of my clothes are a bit more comfortable now. Apparently food really does make you gain weight. Huh. But now I'm having my period AND I have fifty-four papers to grade and I've decided all rules are off. I'm hosting an all-you-can-eat chocolate party for myself. Luckily I found a good stash hidden away. Yum yum.

Pick me! Pick me!

2008-02-06T13:02:00.000-08:00

Baby Bird had more fun at last night's caucus than anyone has ever had in the history of caucusing. I personally would have been happy to cast my ballot and leave, but she was very curious to see what would happen at this event. We had spent some time talking about the Evil Mr. President and how we were going to vote him out of office. At one point I realized she was expecting to see this dreadful man in the flesh. She told me that she was keeping Mama Kitty tucked away in her bag because she was scared that Evil Mr. President would come and take her away, just like he takes money away from poor people. Whoops. I didn't mean to cause that particular fear.

Baby Bird suggested that I should caucus for Clinton because she's a girl. However, she also thought that the fact that Obama shares my birthday (but not my birth year) was a compelling reason to throw my support his way. It seems as if she tends towards single-issue voting. I did end up caucusing for Obama, but it didn't have anything to do with the incredible connection we have through our birthdays.

When it came time to nominate all of the little positions--precinct chair, assistant precinct chair, 2nd assistant precinct chair, delegates (34 of them plus 34 alternates)--Baby Bird nominated herself for every single position. She even nominated herself to be the person to tally the votes at the end of the caucus. The current precinct chair did a fabulous job of ignoring her even though she was raising her hand and saying Me! Me! I do it! for every single position he announced. Lucikly it was chaotic enough that this was not disruptive. We stayed for all of the nominations, but I drew the line at sticking around to hear the reading of the referenda. I never expected that the caucus would be such a big hit. I'm certainly glad I didn't waste money on a babysitter (not that I would, being the cheapest person in the world).

tweet tweet

2008-02-04T18:11:00.000-08:00

My baby girl has a strong baby bird identity. She often insists on being called Baby Bird. She sometimes claims she can't [fill in the blank] because baby birds can't [fill in the blank; choose from "walk," "feed herself" or "go potty on her own"]. She calls me Mama Bird. Even in her sleep she cries out "tweet tweet!"

Baby bird identity comes out even stronger when she is nervous or confronted by something new. There was no "end of dance class 'shareformance'" for mama bird on Satuday, for example, as Baby Bird needed to retreat to her nest (my lap). She loves the class and apparently she is able to focus well (so the teacher tells me), but she is not a performer right now. I love it when baby bird conveniently puts end to conversations with strangers. "Oh, are you CHINESE, little girl??l?" is always met with TWEET!!!! TWEET!!!! In the library a stranger asked her her name. Baby Bird, she replied. The stranger was very kind, actually, and she commented on what a pretty name Baby Bird is. Still, for some reason it irks me when strangers ask kids their names as a conversation opener and I think Baby Bird is a perfectly good response. The Baby Bird identity was not so cute to me on Saturday when we went to dinner to celebrate the new year with our Buddhist group. She insisted on tweet tweeting all the day on our customary trip around the table to greet all of the adults.

Baby Bird is not baby girl's only identity, of course. Sometimes she is baby kitty or baby puppy. Sometimes she is a farmer with a bunch of chickens who require her constant care. Her imaginary cows keep her pretty busy too.

Imaginative play has always been a big thing for Baby Bird, and she has a very strong vision, making her very capable of directing things herself. I remember watching imaginative play emerge for her when she was really just a baby. It is a delight to watch her create these worlds and one of the greatest things is that this kind of play does not depend on having any toys. The pet chickens all the farm animals are amazingly portable. Still, it exhausting to be pulled into the world of someone else's imagination, even if it is my own child. I find I have very low tolerance for playing the role of Mommy Kitty or sustaining the role of restaurant customer. Even though she directs her own world of imaginative play, I'm often needed as a prop. We're slowly trying to move beyond that.

2008-02-01T13:04:00.000-08:00

I didn't die in surgery, I'm not in rehab, I'm not getting divorced and I'm not in prison. Just in case you were wondering. My surgery experience was just fine. In fact, if you live in the area and looking to have any surgery done involving your uterus, I can recommend my doctor to you. She is brilliant and she is funny.

I decided there is no possible way I can throw myself back into blogging except by doing the House Meme. It is really the only way. So here goes.

When you walk into your front door, which room do you enter?

The living room. Actually there is a three season porch that you would enter before you even make it to the front door. It is lovely in the summer, but used only to store the recycling in the winter.

Do you have a dishwasher?

Yes. Thank god.

Is your living room carpeted, or do you have hardwood floors?

Hardwood. We have a big wool rug to warm things up a bit. The floors in this house are really lovely, although much of the other woodwork needs some attention.

House, apartment, duplex, trailer?

House. 1921.

How many bedrooms?

Four, all on one floor. One is my husband's, one is my daughter's, and I move between the two. I hope that I will someday be able to really establish a permanent settlement for myself in the same room with my husband. He is very open to this possibility.

Gas stove or electric?

Gas. It is nothing special, but it does the job. An electric stove would be difficult for me.

Do you have a yard?

Yes. It is small and very shady. We have two lovely trees--a white oak and an elm. Both were probably planted when the house was built and we live in the shadow of these amazing trees. Both of them are very strong and healthy, thank god. We really need to build up about $10-20,000 in savings just in case either or both of these trees would need to be removed. We can't grow much grass as a result of the trees. Luckily we live across the street from a beautiful park.

What size tv is in the living room?

No tv in the living room. It is in our basement, which is a very nice finished space. Not sure of the size. Maybe 24"? On the small size of normal, I guess.

Are your plates in the same cupboard as your cups?

Some of them are. Our everyday glasses, mugs and dishes are in one cupboard. All the special stuff (even wine glasses) can be found in a closet in the dining room. This was once a coat closet, but we fixed it up with some shelving.

Is there a coffee maker on the kitchen counter?

Yes. I like a clean, clear counter, but the coffee maker is used every day so it stays out.

In what room is your computer?

It is a laptop, so theoretically it moves around. However, I'm making a big effort to keep it in the office. That way I am more conscious about my time on the internet.

Are there pictures hanging in your living room?

Of course. Wouldn't it be odd if there were not pictures in the living room? We have five framed woodblock prints that I got in Brazil on the walls. We also have assorted other things hanging up in the living room: some puppets from the Czech Republic and Ghana, beads from Ghana, a caligraphy brush from China, a beaded handbag from Haiti, a 19th century photograph of an African American woman, a woodblock--the block, not the print--from Brazil, a cast cross from Ethiopia, a little silver charm thing from Brazil, an Afgan tent strap (from Afganistan, by way of a flea market)...probably a few more things that I'm forgetting now.

Are there any themes found in our home?

As may be evident from the description of the living room walls, "assorted" would probably be the best word to describe our theme.

What sort of laundry detergent do you use?

Seventh generation. For the dishwasher too. I love it.

Do you use dryer sheets?

No.

Curtains in your home?

No. Blinds on the upstairs and basement windows. Bare windows on the ground floor.

Is your house clean?

Usually. It is dirtiest on Fridays. We clean on Friday nights and Saturday mornings. I actually think our house is exceptionally clean given our circumstances (two working parents, one who is gone for most of the week).

What room is most neglected?

The guest room. I go in there to clean every once in awhile.

Are the dishes in your dishwasher clean or dirty?

I don't know. I'm not home. I hope that my husband empties the clean dishes and loads up the dirty dishes from the day before I even get home.

How long have you lived in your home?

16 months. We recently finished unpacking.

Where did you live before?

A small town about an hour south of here. I commuted for about 6 weeks.

Fluffy toilet seat cover?

Um, no. My grandma doeos, though. It is shag.

Is there a scale in your house?

No.

How many mirrors are in your house?

Counting bathrooms and dressers: 4.

Look up. What do you see?

The street and a classroom building across the street. I'm not at home.

Do you have a garage?

Yes. I love a good garage. Ours houses our two cars. It is nicely organized, but dirty from all the yucky snow and gunky sand from the streets right now.

2008-01-22T19:02:00.000-08:00

I'm scheduled to have surgery on Thursday morning, and I've spent the last several weeks trying to come up with an excuse to get out of it. Up until now, I've not come up with anything good. However, I've been calling the doctor's office for two days now, trying to get someone to call me back to tell me:

1. Where to go
2. When to be there
3. How to prepare (fast for how long?)
4. What to expect for recovery

No one returns my phone calls. I'm starting to get really, really irritated about this. However, it just might be my ticket out of it. How can I have surgery if I don't know where to go or when to show up? Or if I have not fasted for the proper length of time? Of course, if I don't have this surgery now, I'll have to do it soon, like maybe over spring break. That could potentially be worse.

As for the weekend birthday party, it was not a party for classmates as it turned out. It was a family party. We felt very honored to be included in a gathering of the birthday girl's family. We decided on There's a Wocket in My Pocket as a book gift, and we also took a little set to make bracelets out of wooden beads. That seemed to go over well and it sure stood out in the sea of princess stuff, for better or worse.

A first (for us)

2008-01-17T14:31:00.000-08:00

The HBB has been invited to the birthday party of a little girl who is in a different class at her pre-school. At first I thought maybe the little girl's family had extended the "invite everyone in the class" rule to the whole damned school. But no, actually they chose to invite the HBB on purpose because the birthday girl likes her quite a bit. Which is cool. So we are going, even though we already have a very busy day tomorrow (first day of dance class). So this is a first. Going to a birthday party for a kid who we, the grown-ups, really don't know. It is hard to know what to get her for a present since we don't know her. A book? That sounds good, right? Who doesn't enjoy a book?

To Chicago and back

2008-01-15T11:39:00.000-08:00

Somewhere between here and San Francisco, an older couple is riding on the train, eating what is probably a very civilized meal in the dining car. I'm fairly certain that this couple will not forget a dinner in the dining car at the very beginning of their trip. That would be the dinner they shared with us on the train from Chicago on Sunday evening. The dinner during which the HBB refused to speak except in dog language. The dinner during which, using only dog language, the HBB begged the nice man sharing the table with us for a piece of his jumbo shrimp. She then chewed it up thoroughly before spitting it out dramatically in my hand. Yum. Then there was the incident with the salad dressing packets. Thanks for the memories, baby puppy.

I had some crazy idea that an 8 hour train trip with a three-year-old would be fun. Turns out I was wrong. It was neither fun nor economical. Sure, I saved about $75 by taking the train instead of a plane, but I easily spent that on hot dogs and m&ms in the snack bar. The HBB, however, thought the trains IN the Chicacoland area were fun and interesting, not "boring" like that big train, she said. Visiting friends in Chicago also made the train trip well worth the misery. We scared one friend back onto birth control pills. We gave another friend some good lessons on things she needs to do to protect her valuables and her cats before her 10-month-old figures out how to walk. And we had some a too-short afternoon with Chicagomama and girls that was fun, relaxing, wild, exhausting and easy, all at the same time.

So what did the HBB tell her daddy about the trip when he got home from his trip last night? Did she tell him about the fun times we had in Chicago? Playing with little baby Ned? Seeing dead dinosaurs? Eating sushi? Chasing Zelda around the living room? Peering into the windows of tiny little houses at the 'tute? No. She told him about how much fun we had on the big train.

Resolutions, oh yes.

2008-01-03T19:02:00.000-08:00

I've never been one for making resolutions for the New Year. However, it occured to me that NOT making resolutions is not working out so well for me. I'm just getting fatter every year and I still haven't finished the HBB's book.

In addition to the usual kind of resolutions people make (eat healthier,* excercise more,** take more time for myself,*** work harder,****, be a better parent*****) I am resolving to do the following:

1. Keep a running list of all of the books the HBB and I check out from the library for her (with annotations, when necessary). We go to the library every week and get 10-12 new books. We read them all the minute we get home, and then over and over through the week. So we are literally reading hundreds of new books a year, counting only the books from the library. Obviously many favorites have emerged from this, but I can never find them again because I rarely remember the proper titles or the names of the authors. So I'm going to start a list.

2. Observe the time more carefully and make it home when I say I will. My husband recently expressed great disappointment and frustartion with me when I was about an hour later getting home than I promised I would be. I know it puts the HBB on edge too. Apparently this is something of a habit for me, atlhough I didn't realize that until this incident. An hour late is a bit extreme, but I am often 15-30 minutes later getting home then I say I will be. The solution is not to leave work earlier, but rather not to make unrealistic promises about when I'll be home.

3. Really cut myself off from this big moms board I have gone to for years because it makes me MISERABLE and I waste a lot of time there. So far, so good.

*eat healthier: I started a modified version of WW Core on the 30th of December. By "modified," I mean that my mom gave me a list of core foods and I thinking carefully about the food I eat. I cut sugar from my coffee, I am not snacking between meals, I am paying more attention to portion size, drinking tons of water, etc. etc. The new crown it its stupid rules (no crunchy foods) is making this hard, but I'm making it and I feel really good about myself as a result.

**excercise: no comment.

***more time for myself: just yesterday I went to the library and Target all by myself! For 1.5 hours!

****work harder: I just realized that outsiders actually describe me as a workaholic. However, I think I am actually a total slacker. In any case, working harder is necessary given the tick, tick, tick of the tenure clock.

*****be a better parent: We are now taking an ECFE parenting class for adoptive families. It is FANTASTIC. I can't even find words to describe how much this class has helped us in just two weeks.

Edited to add: Oh yes, and finish that book for the HBB. I actually have the text written and ready to go.

Adoption #1 vs. adoption #2

2008-01-01T19:41:00.001-08:00

First, let me preface this by saying that my desire for baby #2 is strong, very strong. That is obvious, I hope. However, I have noticed some differences in my emotional involvement with the process this time around.

Baby #1: I thought about the future baby every minute of the day and nearly lost my mind.
Baby #2: I am occasionaly surprised when people ask me how the adoption process is going because I forget that we are in the midst of it.

Baby # 1: I had predictions pretty much down to the minute as to when we would receive our referral (I was wrong--it was about a month later than I had hoped).
Baby #2: Um, no idea when we will receive our referral. I don't really think about it. Maybe the summer of 2010? Is that too optimistic? I hope that things speed up for the sake of everyone else waiting, although 2010 is actually just fine with us. The thought of two kids in daycare at once freaks me out. I honestly don't know how we would afford that. The HBB will start kindergarten in 2010.

Baby #1: I was sure that something would go wrong every step of the way.
Baby #2: I feel pretty certain that things will work out. Although now I don't feel quite right saying that. So I take it back. Because things can always go wrong. But I'm certainly not as paranoid as I was the first time.

Baby #1: Spent time getting to know our travel group in the months leading up to the referral.
Baby #2: We have names and addresses for our travel group, but we have our friends in the old travel group, so it seems like too much of a bother.

Baby #1: Every little document was neatly filed away in a series of binders. I often reviewed the the documents along the way just for the hell of it. (Why wasn't I napping and reading novels? Oh yes, I did have time for that too).
Baby #2: (This is what inspired the post). I just realized I had no idea where our copy of our dossier was and had to search through a pile of crap in the closet. I found it all shoved in a recycled envelope with "Dossier #2" written on it. Then I had so sort through and find our fingerprint stuff.

This last realization came about because it has come to my attention that one can not necessarily rely on one's adoption agency to provide reliable information relating to immigration issues. Ahem. So we thought we'd better look into this fingerprinting renewal thing.

It seems like the HBB spends more time thinking about her baby sister or brother than I do. She has a name picked out (Rose. That's for a boy or a girl.) She has also decided that the new baby will be daddy's baby. The new baby will sleep in daddy's bed with daddy and leave us alone to what she refers to as "our" bed. Just when I get all sappy and think about how wonderful it will be for her to have a sibling, I realize that she is really planning to use her baby sibling as a decoy to distract daddy so she can have 100% mommy time.

Queen me

2008-01-01T18:58:00.000-08:00

When I was a little kid, I had tons and tons of fillings in my teeth. Every time I went to the dentist I needed several new fillings. As an adult I learned that the dentist we went to has a reputation for being a filling-fiend and that she probably did a lot of unnecessary work. I have not had a single filling since I left her practice 19 years ago. Anyway, when I was 18, I had this problem with one of my molars. It had so many fillings in it that there was barely any tooth left. Dr. Filling (ha! that actually rhymes with her real name!) put a pin in it and said that I would probably need a crown in about a year. I never had dental insurance and it never seemed pressing. 19 years later, that pin is still doing pretty well. However, I now have dental insurance for the first time in my life, and my current dentist thinks we should take care of this pinned tooth once and for all. So I'm off for a crown tomorrow morning. Is this going to hurt? I don't really even know what a crown is. It sounds painful, but I've been in denial until just a few minutes ago.

As I was brushing the HBB's teeth, I remembered my appointment. I mentioned that I have to go to the dentist in the morning to get a crown. This led to a tearful fit because SHE wants a crown too. Ha! I can't quite get through to her that this is not the kind of crown she is thinking of.

1935 miles

2007-12-29T19:30:00.000-08:00

That is almost TWO THOUSAND MILES, did you notice? That's how many miles the three of us traveled in our little Jetta over the last 9 days. And you know what? It wasn't so bad.

1) My husband and I had more time to actually talk to each other than we have enjoyed all semester long. I'm not joking. We laughed a ton and we had Serious Conversations about things such as the difficult guardianship question.*

2) After hours of conversation about our choices, I also made a decision about the candidate for whom I am going to caucus (that sounds awkward, doesn't it?), although that might change by February. We spent much of today driving across Iowa, trying to spot the Obama bus, which we knew was heading south on whatever the hell highway we were taking. However, we did not have an Obama sighting, probably because the HBB commanded us to pull off for a potty break right around the time that our paths would have probably crossed. I realize that spotting the Obama bus might not sound all that exciting. However, it is important to have a goal when you are driving across states such as Iowa, Illinois and Indiana. You can only count cows for so long.

2) My amazing daughter managed to stay in good spirits for about 1920 of the 1935 miles. There was a minor seat-kicking incident in Indiana, but it was temporary.

3) The HBB managed to not wet her pants through all that travel time. This was wonderful, although I am almost positive she caused us to miss crossing paths with the Obama bus, which would have been a brief moment of excitement. We also seem to have worked out this nap-on-command thing. Like I'd say "HBB, you need a nap! Close your eyes and go to sleep!" And she did it. That worked both on the road (lovely) and at the grandmothers' houses. Every single day of the trip.

I'm not sure why this is a numbered list. It really makes no sense. In any case, 9 days ago I did not expect that I would be writing a positive review of our time on the road. It really was a wonderful surprise.

*We have not resolved the difficult guardianship question. Far from it. In fact, after talking about it for about 600 of the 1935 miles we can see that this is really more difficult than we imagined. I think it is going to take us about 20,000 miles to work through this one.

37

2007-12-18T06:04:00.001-08:00

When my dad was my exact age, here is what happened to him. He went to flick the ash off his cigarette and his fingers wouldn't respond. His brain kept saying "flick" and his fingers just sat there. My mom said she remembers this well. They laughed about this little "glitch." This turned out to be the first symptoms of the neurodegenerative disease from which he died seven years later. Eventually he lost the ability to walk, talk and finally, the ability to breath or swallow.

I was 13.5 when my dad died. Typical for someone my age, I thought going to the hospital was a real burden. I went every day for an hour. I found talking to him to be hard. He could only respond with his eyes, so I sat and watched tv with him. An older me would have realized that he would have liked to have heard me talk. I'm sure he craved stories about my day, but he couldn't ask. But I wasn't an older me, I was the 13.5 year old me and I thought the hospital was boring and smelly. I'm sure my father agreed.

Now I'm thirty-seven myself, and it is finally sinking in. I am only now beginning to understand what it must have been like for him, but at the same time I can't understand at all because it is not really happening to me. At least not yet. And now, I won't go on about the thoughts I have late at night or early in the morning. Believe me, they are dark.

And now on a happier note, a student just came in to drop off his exam. This is a guy who sat in the back of the room the whole semester and rarely spoke. He gave me the most sincere 'thank you' and told me how this course changed him. It as seriously very sweet and it made me feel very important. Selfish me, though, I wanted to ask him to please write it up in a letter for my tenure portfolio!

Speech therapy

2007-12-14T10:25:00.000-08:00

I took the HBB for a speech evaluation yesterday. We had been on the fence about this for quite some time. It seemed as if she has some articulation problems, but what to do? The pediatrician at the International Adoption Clinic was also on the fence about it when we saw her last summer. However, she offered us a referral if we wanted it. We finaally decided to go because HBB's English-language preschool teacher said she thought her speech was not clear relative to that of her peers.

We both felt very comfortable with the speech pathologist who did the evaluation. She thought it was great fun, actually, and she was excited to tell her daddy all about her fun new friend, Dr. J.! Dr. J. is the head of pediatric rehabilitation at the university hospital we visited, so I feel confident that he knows what he is talking about. He was very thorough and he asked tons of questions about the HBB's orphanage experience and her experiences with all three languages (Cantonese until 9 months, English at home from 9 months on, and Mandarin in daycare, part-time from 22 months on). He works closely with the international adoption clinic, so I appreciated that he was really well-informed about adoption issues.

He did some tests for vocabulary and language use and did a lot of work figuring out what difficulties she has with articulation. He found that her vocabulary and language use are really, really good. "Astonishing" was the word he used! I loved that! He did these vocabulary cards, and she took it upon herself to not only say the word he was asking for, but she also defined it and added her own elaboration. Like he'd show her a car. She was supposed to just say "car," but instead she would say "That's a car for driving. That car red. My mama has a black car!" She did that for 59 cards, which took forever! Finally he just stopped that exercise because he said it was obvious the girl knows a boatload of words. He said that she uses language concepts that go way beyond what he expects to see in a child her age. So that was all great.

He then focused specifically on articulation, although he was looking at that with the vocabulary stuff too. He identified the sounds she has difficulty with, and then he worked with her to see if there is something going on physically with her mouth that prevents her from making these sounds. He gave her things to chew and watched what she did with her tongue, which I thought was interesting. And he found that she actually can make these sounds--she is using these sounds ("c," "s," "l") at the end of the word. He said that this is a natural process and that the sounds will move to the front of the word on their own. She is within a normal range for a three year old in articulation, although more towards the lower end of normal. He does not think she should have any therapy at this time. He said that if her vocabulary and language use were also towards the lower end of normal, maybe he would consider that therapy would be useful, but since those things are off the charts, he thinks articulation will catch up on its own. So that was all very interesting, and I hope I am explaining it properly.

The other interesting thing was that he really keyed into those first 9 months of exposure to Cantonese. I tend to think more about the impact of doing Mandarin immersion preschool from 22 months on, but he thinks that early exposure is even more significant. Apparently that very early exposure to the sounds and working of a langugage is really crucial--not a surprise, really, but I had assumed that the catching up would occur very quickly. He said that in doing an evaluation of her, he would really expect to see her vocabulary and articulation falling more in the range of a 2.5-3 year old, so she is way ahead of that.

Our plan now is to check back with him in 6 months if it seems necessary. I asked him about doing early intervention through the school district, because that is what the HBB's preschool teacher suggested. He said that there is a degree of subjectivity in these things, but even so, there is no way she would qualify by the school district's standards. He said that she is technically not delayed at all....it is more that there is a big discrepency between the two areas (vocabulary and usage and articulation). He said the two areas are out of synch right now, but that her articulation will catch up. Well, actually he did not guarentee that, but said he would be very surprised if that does not happen.

So the plan he gave for us at home is to just continue modeling good speech and to ask her to speak more slowly when we can't understand her. He found that she really can make the sounds he was looking for if she speaks slowly.

Funny, I feel a little nervous about conveying all of this to the HBB's preschool teacher, so it has been helpful to write it out. She is the one who really pushed us to do the speech evaluation. She was very enthusiastic about HBB getting speech therapy, but that is just not going to happen right now. I had been on the fence about it, and I don't see the point in seeking out another opinion, especially since we already started at the "top," so to speak (the head guy at a major research hospital). Dr. J. also pointed out that you can't just compare a kid with the HBB's particular language experiences to her 'peers' if they are all kids in their biological families who have been exposed to the language being assessed for their whole lives. This is the situation at the English-speaking daycare. He said this is like comparing apples to oranges and that it is crucial to take into consideration all of the nuances of language development.

I feel satisfied with all of this. I think he did a very serious assessment of her language and didn't just brush off our concerns. Plus, for whatever reason, we didn't even have to pay the co-pay! Bonus!

Does this look like fun to you?

2007-12-07T11:13:00.000-08:00

Because this is not my idea of a good time. But the girl in pink thinks this is the best damned thing that ever happened.

The snow is here to stay. And the greatest tragedy of all? I've JUST now become a shoe person. And now I'm stuck wearing fur lined frumpy snow boots all winter.

What do I look like, a philosopher?

2007-12-06T06:15:00.000-08:00

HBB: Mama. Everyone have feelings.
Me: Yes, that's right everyone has feelings.
(Pause)
HBB: Mama? Why everyone have feelings? What feelings DO?

I found that to be a very difficult question, and my response (feelings make us human, uh, I mean, feelings, uh, I mean feelings allow us to experience great joy! And love! And sadness too...blah, blah, blah) was lame.

I did find this to be a nice change of pace from the repeated question: "Mama, why everyone have nipples?"

I get it now

2007-11-30T18:35:00.000-08:00

This post is for my shoe-loving friends. You know who you are. I have a confession. I've never been a shoe person. One pair of black dressy shoes for pants, and good black walking shoes to get you through most days. Very dressy black shoes with heals for super fancy stuff. Then some good brown shoes with a nice heal and some brown boots. Ok, and I have always had tall black boots too. And of course plenty of flip-flops. So I do have shoes, but they have never been my passion. Then I met Dana in Deep Brown 26 from Ann Taylor Loft. I had been admiring Dana in Deep Brown 26 for many months. I admit I developed a somewhat serious crush. However, Dana is not a practical shoe, and I am above all things a practical shoe person. And $69.00 for shoes that lacked real potential in my daily wardrobe? Out of the question.

Imagine my thrill when I went to A.T. Loft last week with the birthday gift card I'd been saving for months to find Dana in Deep Brown 26 in MY SIZE on sale! 39.99! But wait! No, really, there was an extra 30% off! And then I had a coupon for an extra 20% off! And then some mysterious extra discount seems to have kicked in too! And suddenly I had a box of Danas in my hand for under $17.00!

Now I own these lovely shoes and they actually would look good with several things in my closet, but I can't bring myself to wear them! I'm afraid I'll mess them up, and I have a strange fear that they are actually too sexy. I know sex=power works in some professions, but not in mine. I hope I can move beyond this one day. Maybe next week? If I really, really try?

But here's the part I get now. Now that I have the shoes I love, I find myself looking at other people's shoes. I think I might become a shoe person yet. Huh. Never too late, it seems.

2007-11-29T12:20:00.000-08:00

This morning I had a 7:30 breakfast meeting to with the president of the university. 7:30 is not inherently a problem for me. We're usually up at 6, out the door at 7:10 and at daycare at 7:30. The problem is that the daycare does not open until 7:30, so getting to the meeting without a child in tow at 7:30 poses a serious problem. When I received my invitation to the meeting, I called the president's secretary and told her about this conflict. No other options were offered. It occurs to me that if the president of an institution is a priest, he might not be aware of operating hours for daycare centers. Or perhaps he assumes we all have spousal back-up at home. A stay-at-home husband would be nice on occasions like this, but instead I have a lives-across-the-state-during-the-week husband. So my department chair stepped up and took the HBB to daycare today. That apparently went well, although HBB said the most heart-breaking thing as I was driving her to Department Chair's house this morning, indicating her anxiety that having someone else take her to school might mean that someone else might be the one who picks her up, meaning that maybe I wouldn't be there for her. So wow. We have some things to talk about and work through there. In any case, now I need to thank my department chair properly. What do you think? Bottle of wine? Is that appropriate enough? It was such a huge favor, so above and beyond the obligations of a department chair, but you know, it is kind of strange to go overboard in the thanking.

On another note, I went to a dermotologist yesterday about this little thing on my wrist that could have been cancer, but is really just some harmless fibroid thingy. And in addition to telling me that I don't have cancer, he said that I was remarkable "well-preserved" for someone my age (37). In response to my stunned look, he explained that "well-preserved" is official doctor lingo for "not a lot of wrinkles." Huh. I was not familiar with that official doctor lingo, and I thought it was just badly translated Portuguese (Bahianas, at least, refer to women as being 'bem preservada.') But I was thrilled to have an expert tell me that I am well-preserved. Unsolicited, even. I mean, I wasn't even there to talk about my face. And I only had to pay the $20 co-pay for the compliment!

Word scramble

2007-11-18T06:26:00.000-08:00

She has the right letters. We're working on the order.

Teaching about race and ethnicity

2007-11-17T10:24:00.000-08:00

The Aunt Jemima/Uncle Ben stuff went over pretty well. Some of the students looked a little shell-shocked after learning about the racist history of their ready-to-eat microwave rice bowls. But they are better off knowing, and I think they realized that.

What is troubling is that when asked to find examples of the perpetuation of racist stereotypes in contemporary popular culture, they can really DO it, but they still laugh it off. For example, a ton of them posted up on our class discussion board that they thought South Park was full of racist stereotypes, but that it was all in good fun. Although they jump on board and get all outraged about the popularity of minstrel shows in the 19th century, they think it is all safe fun when they laugh at racist humor today. Because, as many of my students say, our society has "come a long way since slavery." Yeah, right.

If you have not looked at the Uncle Ben's website lately (and I'll bet you have not, because who just goes and looks at Uncle Ben's website?!?), check it out. They have done an outrageous job with the new "make-over." The amount of attention accorded to constructing all of these odd little details about Uncle Ben's office is just bizarre, and more than a little troubling. If they really want to revamp the image, how about giving old Ben a last name and dropping the Uncle?

There is no way to make this fun...

2007-11-15T14:13:00.001-08:00

I'm in the middle of a unit in my class focusing on the role of visual imagery in the construction of racial stereotypes. Tomorrow we focus on Mammy/Aunt Jemima and Uncle Ben. Both trademarks have been revamped recently. Uncle Ben has been 'promoted' to Chairman of the Board. Aunt Jemima now wears pearal earrings and has lost the headscarf. This is supposed to signifiy a complete liberation from all of the baggage that comes with these very dangerous stereotypes. What a joke. As Basquiat would have said, it's really the same old s___.

All day long I've been putting together the most bizarre and troubling search terms to uncover more and more racist images from the past and present. Not a fun day at work to say the least.

It's two against one. How can I win?

2007-11-10T18:56:00.000-08:00

It had to happen sometime. The decluttering bug has hit. Apparently it is contagious.

Just the other day I proudly proclaimed to a champion decluttering friend that my house doesn't need decluttering.* I'm not a packrat. I get rid of everything. A birthday card from my 87-year-old grandmother? I read it and then put it in the recycling bin. The HBB marches into the house from preschool with piles of art every day. She gets the routine. Show it to mommy, then put it in the recycling bin.**

Well, it is true that I'm not a packrat, but I happen to live with two people who save everything. Most of the clutter has been shoved into our laundry room. Today I decided to put an end to it. I enjoyed throwing out handfuls of worthless do-dads and packing up too-small clothes. Then, under a bunch of junk I found a ratty stuffed lion. The HBB hates this lion because it is ratty and scary looking. My husband insists that we have a sentimental attachment to it, although I don't personally get that. So I threw it away. And I dumped a bunch of dirty garbage on top of it just so there would be no going back. And here was the resulting conversation:

Me: Look, I'm putting an end to this. We can't save this ratty old lion just because our dead cat loved it.***
Husband: (long silence). Well, I guess that will have to be your decision. (long pause) If you think that we really don't have the space for it.**** (long pause followed by a sad sigh).

I am satisfied with the declutting I accomplished today, although it wasn't much by some standards. I got the laundry room totally organized and I can take care of the attic in about an hour in the morning. But still, it is hard to live with these people. I harassed the HBB all day to give up some toys and stuffed animals. She reluctantly volunteered one book, which was an icky old book that she never even liked. Then she called me a "bad mommy" because I kept picking through the stuffed animal pile. Mostly I'm happy because I got rid of all the junk that comes home in those birthday party grab-bags.

*My decluttering friend has seen my house. She probably realized this was a bit of a lie because we do have a good amount of stuff.
**I'm not totally unsentimental about my daughter's art. I do save a select few pieces that seem to be especially important or interesting.
***I loved this cat very much. She was my constant companion for 17 years. And she loved the lion very much. But still. The cat and the lion are totally seperate in my mind.
****He says this to really drive home the guilt, because we have tons and tons of space. There is always the attic.