Chookooloonks

We Are Family

Happy Memorial Day, everyone!

This Memorial weekend, Alex got christened -- and her Auntie Kate and "Uncle" Mark flew all the way from Cornwall, England and Toledo, Ohio, respectively, to fulfill there godparent duties. Here's a Quicktime slideshow which chronicles the weekend's activities. This slideshow is brought to you courtesy of my Nikon D100 digital camera, my iPhoto software, Alex's Auntie Kate, Uncle Nigel, Cousin Ellie, Cousin Keziah, Auntie Natalie, Uncle John, Cousin Julia, Popi (Alex's grandfather), Lita (Alex's grandmother), "Uncle" Mark, Tanti Jacqui, "Uncle" Gordon, Father Patrick, Marcus, Alex, me and Sister Sledge. As usual for files this large, please give it about a minute or so to download; a bit longer if you have a slow connection.

Enjoy.

Download wearefamily.mov

Most kids shake their rattles ...

... my kid cuddles hers.

Typhoid Karen

I'm sick. Not "how-do-I-come-up-with-these-things-my-mind-must -be-a-scary-place" kinda sick, but SICK sick. Like "I-can't-breathe-my-nose-won't-stop-running" kinda sick. Like "I-really-need-to-go-to-the-bathroom-but-I-don't-want-to-get- out-of-bed-so-I'll-just-risk-kidney-failure" kinda sick.

Of course, my timing couldn't be more impeccable: Alex had her first round of shots today. I, of course, am not allowed near her, and there's the chance that Alex may develop a mild fever and be extra fussy as a result of her shots. Since I'm, admittedly, not the best of patients, poor Marcus has to take care of two babies today.

So far, though, Alex seems to be taking her shots in stride. Sure, she cried when the THREE (!) needles of medicine were injected into her little chubby thighs, but after she had her bottle, she seems as right as rain. Thank God she's mature enough to give her daddy a break.

Me, I'm not so mature. So here I sit, curled up in bed, pouting, while Marcus plays and laughs and giggles with Alex. I'm not even mature enough to see how cute the two of them are. Besides, how dare Marcus have a good time with her -- he's the one that got me into this state in the first place.

Okay, fine, I admit it -- they're cute together.

But I don't have to like it.

Hmph.

Morning banter

And now, for something completely different...

The other day, I was reading a blog entitled "Daddy, Papa & Me" (http://www.lathefamily.org/warren3/adoptjournal.shtml: "a journal about 2 dads, their daughter, adoption, parenting and creating a family"), and one of their entries concerned a comment a woman made about how much their daughter resembles them. Because theirs is a transracial adoption, they were quite surprised at the woman's comment, and said as much. The woman calmly returned, "Well, she does look like you. I guess love does that."

(That statement, by the way, ranks as One Of The Sweetest Adoption Comments Of All Time. I encourage all of you to use it whenever communicating with an adoptive family.)

In any event, I think this woman may be onto something:

Call it wishful thinking, but I think this kid looks just like us.

We must love her, or something.

Soapbox

Permit me to rant a bit.

Over the last few days, I've felt a strong shift in my mood. The reason? Threefold:

1. The abuse of the prisoners in the Abu Ghraib detention centre in Iraq. I could say more, but when I think of it, I get so blindingly mad that I'm not sure that I can be articulate here;

2. The desecration of the grave in Vidor (Oh, surely you remember this story from about 7 years ago: 2 white men in Vidor, Texas thought it would be fun to tie a rope around a black man and drag him behind their pickup truck until his head separated from his body? Well, this week, 2 teenagers were arrested for vandalizing the black man's grave, including etching racist slurs into a steel plate on the man's gravestone. I mean, seriously -- this town can hang on to hate for SEVEN YEARS? It'd be pretty impressive, if it weren't so horrifying); and finally

3. Reality TV. What a waste of airtime these shows are. And they just keep on comin'.

The first two items happened within the last week or so. For some reason, their occurrence, combined with an ad for a new reality TV show I saw a couple of days ago has made me out-of-my-mind crazy with anger. What is it with the hatred that seems to fuel so many people? Why is it that we find the misfortunate, hardship, and low self-esteem of others entertaining?

In the past, I would've dealt with these feelings by remaining angry for a while, venting to some like-minded friends, and then getting over it. But this morning, as I was playing with Alex, it hit me:

I'm responsible for raising this child to be a healthy adult with all of this crap going on around us.

So, now my anger has transformed itself into mind-numbing panic. HOW am I going to do this? I mean, I can do my best to teach her what Marcus and I believe to be good ethics and values, but eventually, we're going to have to let her out of our sight. And that time isn't that far away.

And Alex, bless her heart, is completely oblivious:

I hope she never loses this smile. And with all the weirdness out there, Marcus and I are going to have to work really hard.

Che Alex

Who knew we had such a little revolutionary in our family? Say it strong, say it loud ...

"They grow up so fast ..."

On the list of The Most Common Things People Tell Me On A Daily Basis, "enjoy her now, because they grow up so fast" has got to be Number 1. And of course, I thought I understood: I mean, my mother constantly says things like: "I can't believe you're a lawyer... it seems like just yesterday I was taking you to your first day of kindergarten," or "You're going to be 37 in July? It seems like just yesterday that you were born." I just assumed that people said those things because they remember their kids' childhoods so clearly.

But today, I was looking over the 519 (!) photographs that I have of Alex on my hard drive, and it all became blindingly clear:

Day 1:

Day 67:

I mean, I'm sorry, but that's just INSANE. How did she grow up so fast? When did this happen?

Can you imagine what I'll be like when she graduates from university?

Happy Mother's Day!

Typhoid Marcus

My husband, Marcus, is sick. And for once, I don't mean the "how-the-hell-do-you-come-up-with-ideas-like-that-your- mind - is-a-truly-scary-place" kinda sick, but sick-sick. Like hack-up-a-lung kinda sick. Like sinus-headaches-sore-throat -spend-all-day-in-bed kinda sick. He's positively miserable. And, of course, being the warm, caring, sensitive, nurturing woman that I am ...

... I won't let him go near Alex. I make him wash his hands constantly and he wears a face mask if he goes into her room. I'm even considering having him call out "Unclean! Unclean!" to warn us he's approaching. Just considering, mind. I might let him off if he agrees to wear a bell around his neck.

His misery is compounded by the fact that he hasn't held Alex in 2 days, and he misses her. I do feel sorry for him, too, despite appearances to the contrary. And, of course, Alex is taking this all in stride. The other morning, however, while I was in the shower, she started to fuss in her bed. Marcus got up, scrubbed his hands, put his face mask on, and wandered into her room to give her a pacifier. As he walked toward her, he called out, "Hey, sweet thing, Daddy's coming! Daddy's here!" He looked into the crib, and as is usual when she hears us coming, she had a big grin on her face.

Then she noticed the large man with the face mask looming over her, and her smile froze.

Then, and Marcus swears to this, the child actually rolled her eyes. I wouldn't doubt it. You might say I'm crazy, but I'm convinced she already considers her parents an embarrassment.

On another note, Alex has officially outgrown her "size 1" diapers, and is now proudly wearing "size 2."

Such a smart girl.