Chookooloonks

School Belle

Now that I'm not going to an office every day, but instead, am home spending countless hours with Alex, Alex has become ... let's see... what's the word...

... clingy, perhaps?

These days, I can barely walk across my kitchen, what with Alex clinging to my skirts. If I sit down, invariably, Alex climbs into my lap. Why, even when Marcus comes home, and I say, "Honey, go with Daddy for a little while, so Mommy can... umm... BREATHE," she looks at Marcus with some resignation before half-heartedly lifting her arms in his direction. And if she manages to get away from him (and she always manages to get away from him), Marcus need only look for me and he'll find her, arms and legs wrapped around my leg, looking up at me imploringly. It is because of this behaviour that Marcus has so lovingly dubbed her "Tick."

And we wonder why the child has issues.

Anyway, due to her uncanny barnacle impersonations, it was with some trepidation that I took Alex to day care for the first time today. The truth is, Alex craves the companionship of other children -- evidenced by the way she follows the sons and daughters of our friends, moonstruck, from room to room, until they eventually run to their parents' sides in exasperation: "MOM! She's still FOLLOWING ME!"

The need for a bit of socialization was becoming critical.

After extensive research, I found a lovely little daycare-to-preschool facility near our neighbourhood. If you knew this little daycare-to-preschool facility, you'd be wildly impressed -- not necessarily because of their educational reputation, but because they fancy themselves so incredibly exclusive, you practically have to learn the secret handshake and password by covert espionage before they deem you acceptable enough to let your child enroll. Seriously, my self-esteem shot up 10 points when they finally handed me the enrollment form.

No, seriously. There was shooting.

ANYWAY, this morning, I dressed Alex up in her first-day-of-school finest, complete with backpack:

and off we went. I had packed my own workout gear, just in case Alex allowed me to leave for half an hour to run to my gym, about 5 minutes from the school. I didn't actually think she'd allow me to leave, but I was keeping hope alive.

When we arrived at the school, Alex couldn't believe her eyes. She stared in wonder at all the toys and the bright colours, and especially the children. There were children!! I led her to the little table in a daze, and took out her sandwich to eat with another little girl.

After giving her teacher ("Auntie Tessa") her bag and instructions, I looked back at Alex. "Alex?" I said. She glanced at me. "Is it okay if I leave? I'm going to the gym, but I'll be right back afterwards. Is that okay?"

She munched her sandwich.

She looked at the toys.

She looked at the kids.

Then she looked back at me.

And then, in her most southern accent possible (because, again, you can take the girl out of Texas, but you can never take the Texas out of the girl), she waggled her fingers at me, and said:

"BAAH-bye!"

Auntie Tessa and I looked at each other, and burst out laughing. "I think she's going to be fine," Tessa said. "I think so," I agreed. And I left.

When I returned 3 hours later, Alex was in the thick of things. According to Tessa, she was a "social butterfly" -- she played with each child in turn, and seemed to enjoy all their company. Alex was all smiles as I gathered her things.

"BAAH-bye!" she waved to the other kids. "Bye-bye, Alexis!" said Auntie Tessa. "See you Thursday!"

And with that, Alex passed out in the back of the car on the ride home.

So, it looks like school was a hit. And while I'm thrilled that Alex enjoyed it, I have to admit:

I'm going to miss my little Tick.

Turtles!

Early this afternoon we returned from our overnight trip to see the giant leatherback turtles. Oh, 'tis a thing to behold, the nesting of the giant leatherback! If you've never seen a 1,300 pound amphibian dig a hole and lay a couple hundred eggs, really, you're missing out. As a representative of the Land of Trinidad & Tobago, let me be the first to invite you to experience the wonders of Grand Riviere during nesting season.

Our adventure began by meeting our friends Joy & Jim, and their friends and their respective younguns at Salybia Beach, about halfway to Grand Riviere. After a leisurely picnic (and our children becoming thoroughly coated in saltwater and sand), we loaded up and convoyed to Mt. Plaisir Hotel, our home base for the evening. "Rustic" is definitely a word I'd use to describe the place, but so are "charming" and "warm" -- and not just because the hotel rooms are unairconditioned. The staff was exceedingly friendly and helpful, and the fact that the turtles nest right in front of the rooms of the hotel was a definite plus. Besides, between the fan that the hotel provided in our room and the one we brought with us, we were more than comfortable in our accommodations.

The turtles wait until nightfall to come ashore, and so the beach is closed to everyone after 6 p.m. -- however, you can purchase a license for next to nothing to go onto the beach with a guide to see the turtles in action. Our guide was incredibly impressive, and filled us with juicy little tidbits to Amaze Our Friends and Impress Our Coworkers. Some examples:

- the turtles always return to the beach where they were hatched to lay their eggs. Most of the turtles at Grand Riviere swim as far north as Canada before returning to Trinidad;

- while the giant leatherbacks (usually between 700 - 1300 lbs) lumber slowly and clumsily on land, they are incredibly fast underwater, able to outswim whales or even sharks; and my personal favourite

- unlike terrestrian turtles, leatherbacks are unable to retract their heads into their shells -- the shells are pretty much just decorative.

Flash photography wasn't allowed, so some of my nighttime photographs are a bit difficult to make out; however, I'm pretty pleased with a few of the shots I was able to get.

The next morning, however, at dawn, the turtles were decent enough to continue their nesting rituals, and I was able to get some good daylight photos -- including a good one of Alex's reaction to the "cokies" (her inexplicable word for "turtles"). And so, without further ado, I present to you the following Quicktime video of our turtle adventure. This video is brought to you by my iMovie software, my Nikon D100, and The Beatles. It's a 3 minute video, so this one will probably take a while to download: perhaps you might want to click the link below, go make yourself a nice, hot cup of tea, and then return?

Seriously, it may take a little longer than usual. Sorry about that. If you do manage to make it through the download, let me know what you think.

Download grand_riviere_turtles.mov

Enjoy.

Friday Wrap-Up

Well, you guys are an interested-in-adopting bunch, aren't you? I've received several e-mails with reference to this post, and asking me specific questions about Alternatives in Motion and Alex's adoption. This makes me happy. Good luck to those of you who will pursue this. To those of you who are thinking about it one way or another, I strongly encourage you to e-mail me directly for the 4-1-1 on our adoption experience.

In other news: this weekend, we're off to Grand Riviere to see the giant leatherback turtles come ashore to lay their eggs. While I'm told our lodgings will be "rustic" (and I admit it, I'm not a particularly "rustic" kinda gal), the photo opportunities sound exceedingly promising. I will try my damnedest to capture the look on Alex's face when she lays eyes on one of these. Should be interesting.

In other news: on Tuesday, after we get back, Alex will start "school" for the first time. She's truly craving interaction with other kids, and I found an amazing daycare right near my gym. So on Tuesdays and Thursdays, while I'm pumping iron, Alex will be learning how to play nice with others. Say a little prayer to the Cooperation and Sharing gods for us, wouldja?

And finally, because so many of you have talked about how Alex "lights up" in front of a camera, I thought I'd leave you with a short photo montage indicating that maybe not so much:

See you next week.

Pan Woman

Pan:

Musical instrument indigenous to Trinidad & Tobago. Fifty-five-gallon oil drums are cut to various depths that determine pitch and resonance of high tenors to deep bass. Tempered through fire and hammering, grooved sections are tuned to carry the full chomatic range of notes capable of playing classical music to Calypso.

-- From Cote Ci, Cote La: Trinidad & Tobago Dictionary, by John Mendes, © 1986.

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For tonight's cultural lesson, I thought I'd introduce you to the tenor steel pan:

While many of you may have never seen a steel pan, most have you have probably actually heard one. The steel pan was invented in Trinidad, and if you've ever had one of those drinks with an umbrella in it while sitting in the hotel lobby of anywhere near the ocean, steel pan was probably playing in the background, to help add to the "atmosphere." Steel pan is the also the basis of calypso music, another Trinidad invention: an old, not-particularly-authentic example of calypso is the Banana Boat Song ("DAAAAAAAY-O!") by Harry Belafonte; a more recent version would be the song "Hot! Hot! Hot!" that migrated to the United States about 10 years ago, courtesy of Buster Poindexter.

For the record: Trinis hate the Buster Poindexter version of that song.

So anyway, the steel pan is one of the most beautiful instruments in the world, and in my opinion, nothing comes closer to nirvana than sitting up close and personal to an entire steel pan orchestra, playing either classical music or calypso, its musicians striking the drums with abandon. I've had a lifelong crush on the pan, and Marcus and I even had a pan soloist play at our wedding in London. And because I have a wonderful husband, last year for my birthday, Marcus commissioned a panmaker in Trinidad to make the pan pictured here in this post. I've always meant to learn to play it, but between a demanding job and an even-more-demanding daughter, I hadn't the time.

Until now.

Tonight, I had my first pan lesson with a wonderful woman, Carol. Not only did she agree to take me on as a student, she taught me a few stanzas of an old calypso, and invited me to join her small steel band, which plays during j'ouvert (the morning of the first day of Carnival), and in various competitions during the year. I'd love to say that her invitation is a testament to my musical talent; I fear, however, it may be more telling of either (a) this woman's indomitable optimism, and/or (b) the band's desperation for new players. I suspect the former.

It doesn't matter, I suppose. Time will tell.

In any event, it seems I am on my way. So, look for me in pictures of next year's Carnival -- I'll be the woman with the big afro, waving my pan sticks with abandon, as Alex cringes in unmitigated shame.

Alex says, "ADOPT!!!!"

I just received an e-mail from Alternatives In Motion, the adoption agency that brought Alex and Marcus and me together. They are in desperate need of adoptive families, as over 20 babies are to be born to birthmothers they are assisting by September. If you're thinking about adopting, or know someone who is (particularly if you or your friend is located in the United States), and you're really interested in adopting a newborn, you might want to give Anne a call:

Anne Landry
Alternatives in Motion
281.821.6508
www.aimadoptions.org (you can e-mail them for more information on their website)

And of course, if you have any questions about our adoption experience, feel free to e-mail me by clicking the "Email me" link, in the section to the right.

Good luck!
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UPDATE: I just received an e-mail that stated the following:

I was excited when I read your notice because I immediately thought of ******, but then I went to their site and saw they only place with Christian families. Could you make note of that on your blog entry? It's kind of a big deal to potential adoptive parents who aren't.

This e-mailer makes a good point. I apologize for any confusion. And also, because I'm such a huge advocate of adoption, if anyone knows of any other agencies who find themselves in similar straits (i.e., in desperate need of adoptive families), I'm happy to make it known on Chookooloonks as well. As far as I'm concerned, the more people who adopt, no matter what their background, the better.

What to do with a Rainy Afternoon, a Bored Toddler, and a Nikon D100

Cheese and Happiness

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About a month ago, my friend Jody e-mailed me, and said, “I love all the pictures of Alex on your website, but I can’t get a read on how you’re doing. Are you happy? Are things going okay with you?” I immediately responded reassuring her, but she raises a valid point: while, it might appear that I reveal lots about our lives on this site, the fact is that I’m actually relatively guarded with what I reveal on Chookooloonks. However, in the off-chance that friends and family do rely on this site as a sort of “happiness barometer,” used to take readings of our mental and familial health, I thought I’d respond Jody’s e-mail here, in my “from-the-home-office” format.

And so, without further ado, From the Home Office in Maraval, Port-of-Spain, Trinidad, The Top Four Things Nay-sayers Said When We Told Them That I Would Be Quitting My Job And We’d Moving To Trinidad That Turned Out To Be Dead Wrong:

4. “You’re going to hate leaving the practice of law.” Uhh, no, I really don’t. I mean, I had a great run of it, and my legal career was fantastic, and I’m keeping my law license current for two reasons: (1) I worked really hard to get the damned thing, and (2) you never know when I’ll decide to use it again, but…

...no, I really don’t.

3. “I don’t see you as a stay-at-home mom. I give it a couple of months before you’re begging to come back to LargeFortune200Corporation.” Granted, this statement was made by a high-level executive at LargeFortune200Corporation, a man who’d never actually seen me with my child, so clearly, he wasn’t in the best place to comment. Besides, would you look at Cheese Face, above? Who wouldn’t want to spend time with that kid? At the rate she’s growing and changing every day, and with Marcus’ career taking him in a direction where we could afford for me to quit, there was no way I wasn’t going to jump at the chance to stay home and spend some time with my daughter.

Will I stay at home forever? Probably not. And do I get restless now? Absolutely. But the beauty of our current situation is that I have the flexibility to do what I want to do, without regard to the requirements of a large corporation. I’m currently exploring a lot of creative options (to be revealed in due time), and I’m finding it extremely exciting. And while I never say “never,” I will say (particularly to the High-Level-LargeFortune200Corporation-Executive) that I’m not currently of a mindset to beg to come back.

But I’ll let you know if things change.

2. “You’re going to miss Houston.” Now, don’t get me wrong, Marcus, Alex and I had a great life in Houston. And while Houston is not the prettiest of cities, I have to say it’s one of the easiest of cities. It’s got everything you could possibly want: there’s the symphony, ballet, great (great!) international restaurants, bars – everything. Houston is cheap, and the people are friendly. As I’ve said many times: Houston’s not the best place to visit, but it’s a great place to live.

The problem was, at least for me, that after living for over 23 years in Houston, it wasn’t a challenge anymore. I knew Houston like the back of my hand. There was nothing new to discover. Heck, I’d go to any grocery store within a 10 mile radius of my house, and people actually looked familiar. It was time to leave and stretch a bit.

Of course, there are friends who I miss terribly, but the good part about living in the tropics is that everyone wants to come visit. I suspect I’ll be seeing most of my close Houston friends very soon.

And finally, The Number One Thing Nay-sayers Said When We Told Them That I Would Be Quitting My Job And We’d Moving To Trinidad That Turned Out To Be Dead Wrong:

1. “You can never go home again.” Actually, this statement had me really scared. It had been many years since I’d lived in Trinidad, and when I did live here as a child, I lived in a small fishing village – not the large, cosmopolitan city we do now. I was truly afraid that my fond memories of Trinidad would set me up for a huge disappointment when finally got here.

This has SO not been the case. Marcus loves life here, and Alex is thriving. We live 15 minutes from the beach, so I get my “fishing village” fix as often as I’d like, we’re 20 minutes from the city, so I get all the modern conveniences that I could possibly want (most notably DSL hookup and an outstanding gym). We live in the hills, so it’s quiet and peaceful at night, and my husband gets his mountainbiking jones taken care of whenever he needs. There are jokes I get. Patois that I understand. Food I haven’t eaten for years that I missed terribly – and now, I’m actually learning how to cook it. While I don’t anticipate we’ll remain in Trinidad for the rest of our lives, the truth is that moving back to Trinidad has been one of the best decisions we ever made.

This past week, when my visiting friend Trish and I were sitting on Maracas beach, she looked at me and said, “I can’t believe you live here.”

I smiled at her, and responded, “I know. Sometimes I can’t believe I live here, either. And the best part? This is my home.”

HusbandFather

My Marcus

An experiment in Photoshop

While I admit to touching up my photos a little -- improving contrast here, intensifying colour there -- I haven't really taken my Photoshop out for a spin to see what this baby really can do. Besides: see the shots in the "Amazing Photography" section to the lower right? I want to learn how to make my photos do that.

It's going to take a while to figure out how to make my photos sing, but this morning I took a picture of Alex that I've been playing with today:

Original unretouched shot

Everything slightly blurred, except for her face

Background blurred, with added glow effect

Serious blurrage, with glow effect

Serious blurrage, glow effect, sepia toned

What do you think? Any preferences? Can you even tell the difference?

Of Bellybuttons & Princes

During the last few days, Alex has discovered my bellybutton. She’ll take my shirt, raise it to expose my stomach, and poke me in the navel. “Bapm,” she’ll say, and then I’ll have to do it to her. She’ll giggle, and then raise my shirt, and do it again.

“Bapm,” she says.

“Bellybutton,” I respond, poking her in the tummy.

Of course, there’ll come a time when I’ll have to explain to her where her bellybutton came from. We’ll talk about babies in their mummies’ tummies, and how their bellybuttons are part of a cord which provides food to the baby from the mummy. And then, I’m sure the conversation will continue by explaining that her cord wasn’t connected to me, but to someone else. That she was actually in someone else’s tummy.

Perhaps this will be the conversation that awakens her curiosity about her biological family. I have no doubt she’ll understand how much her father and I adore her (and actually, I think the little manipulator has already figured out that convenient little fact). I’m also sure she’ll viscerally know that she’s a part of something without which Team Chookooloonks would cease to exist. But perhaps there’ll be a small but relentless part of her that will always wonder where she came from. And she may even choose to find out for herself.

One of the questions I’m often asked as an adoptive mom is whether I’ll “let” Alex find her biological family – almost as if I’d have a choice if she wanted to do so. That said, since Alex’s adoption was open, not only would I “let” her, but I’d give her all the information she’d need to contact her birthmother. It’s Alex's history, after all. It’s her truth. I’d be a bad mom if I did otherwise.

In any event, I assume the question arises from a belief that I’d have to be a special kind of brave to stand by and watch my daughter initiate a relationship with a woman with whom she shares a biological bond. In my mind, it’s not about bravery. As I recently told someone who was considering adoption and wondering if she’d be hurt if her child found her “real mom,” there’s no doubt in my mind that I’m Alex’s real mom. I mean, if you sat down and thought about what makes your mom your “real mom,” I suspect she's your "real mom" because she shared in your successes. She made you feel better when you were ill. She cheered you up when you were down. I'd wager that whether you and your mother share DNA is the last thing you think of when you think about her “realness.”

Recently, I cyber-met Marty, an ordinary guy who’s now pretty famous. You may have heard of him: he’s the mortgage-banker-adoptee who recently discovered that by birthright, he’s actually a Nigerian prince (you can read about him in this month’s issue of GQ Magazine). Because I’d stopped by Marty’s blog in the past, he was kind enough to e-mail me yesterday when the article came out. And I have to admit, it was with great eagerness that I devoured the article. And it was with some surprise that I felt a little pang of … what, sympathy? empathy? … for Marty’s adoptive mom.

I’ll admit, this bothered me. I mean, it’s not like I’ve reversed my stance on how I’d feel if Alex wanted a relationship with her birthmother – I’d still help as I could. And with every page of the article, I know I was cheering Marty on: “Oooh, look! Marty met his birthmother!” “Wow! Marty’s on his way to Africa!” So what was this … this little sting I felt on behalf of his mom?

I e-mailed Marty back, and thanked him for sending me the link. I told him in my e-mail that it would take a little while for me to process what I was feeling, but that I promised I would put my impressions here on Chookooloonks.

And folks, I’ve figured it out. It’s not jealousy, or insecurity. And to be honest, I don’t know what the word is to describe it. But I know now, it’s a sting I’ll probably feel several times over the course of Alex’s life.

It’s the one I’ll feel when she goes off to college.

It’s the one I’ll feel when she gets married.

It’s the one I’ll probably feel every time she embarks on a journey or an endeavour that’s exciting, and exhilarating, and frightening, and requires her to go it alone. Yes, there’s a selfish part of me that will feel left out. And there’ll be a part of me that hates that I can’t protect her from anything bad that might happen. But there’s also a part of me that will be filled with pride, as well. It’s a strange, uncomfortable feeling. But I think it’s one that necessarily comes with parenthood…adoptive, or otherwise.

So congratulations, Marty, and thanks for sharing your story. But thanks most of all for helping me engage in a bit of introspection. I think, inadvertently, you’ve helped me become a better mom.