Choo-Choo!

What is a mother to do when she is desperate for entertainment for her kiddos during a hot Phoenix summer?  Have them build a train!

 All it took were a few chairs and some stuffed animal friends!

 The kids played this game three days in a row.

The conductor yelled, "All Aboard!"  When all of the stuffed animals were loaded, we all started "Chugga-chugga-chugga-chugga"ing.  Until the conductor put on the breaks with a "screeeech!"  And then it started all over again.  The game was relatively fight free.  Except for the stuffed animals who kept arguing over who got to be the conductor.

How To Kill A Chicken

Mack reminded me of this dinner conversation that had happened while he was gone and I thought I should record it for posterity.  One night I was eating dinner with the three kids.  We were having chicken.  When Reese said....

"Mom, how do they kill chickens?"
Jessenia:  They use a sword.
Me: <snorting>
Reese:  No they don't!  They shoot them with a gun!
Me: <more snorting>  They definitely don't use a gun.
Jessenia:  They use a sword.
Me:  I don't think they use a sword either.
Jessenia:  Probably a knife then.
(Before I can nod approval for her good logic and reasoning.)
Reese:  No, Jessenia.  They shoot them with a gun!
Me:  Reese, Jessenia is right.  People use knives to kill chickens.  Guns would be too messy.
Reese:  I think they use a gun.
Me:  You're wrong.  Any chicken that people eat is not killed with a gun.
Reese:  Have you ever killed a chicken?  They use a gun.
(Shocked and appalled that my son does not believe every word I say.  Horrified that he is obsessed with gun violence against chickens.  Personally affronted that I am not the reigning authority in the house on chicken killing for food when I am the only person over the age of six.)
Me:  Let's call Grandma.  She has killed chickens.  If she says that they use guns, then I will believe you.
Reese:  Ok.

I then proceeded to call my mother and while on speaker phone, in the middle of dinner, while we are eating chicken, she describes to my three small children how they hung chickens upside down and slit their throats.  Or cut their heads off and watched them run around.  Or wrung their necks.
Jessenia was pleased that she was right about the knife thing.  Reese believed his grandmother but was still skeptical that the above mentioned methods were better for producing edible chicken then shooting them with a gun.  Boys will be boys, I suppose.

Firsts--Kindergarten

Public education is finally upon us.  Reese entered Kindergarten this fall and I must admit that I had mixed feelings about it.  I loved sending my kids off to preschool three days a week last year.  It gave Brisbane and I some much needed one on one time.  Allowed me to get errands run with only one kid.  And after some tough adoption transitioning, gave all of us a bit of a break.  But Kindergarten seems like so much more.  It's every day.  I actually care that he learns something.  I certainly have an opinion about public education and was worried about being "That Mom" (for the record... I am <hangs head in shame>).  But Reese and I had had a really hard summer.  Without Mack here, it was just me versus the kids and Reese was in major testing mode.  I think we both needed a break.  I needed to reassess some priorities as a parent.  And he desperately needed some more structure since pregnant mom during the summer had left much to be desired in that department.

I wasn't too worried about how Reese would feel about Kindergarten.  He loved preschool and so I thought he would be pumped about going to school everyday (plus it is only half day and actually less minutes than preschool).  Two days before school started I lugged all three kids to Back to School/Meet the Teacher Night (Mack had better be home next year for that, because I do not want to take all five of the little squirts next year by myself.).  We walked into the classroom and I put on my most excited, happy, enthusiastic face.  I could tell right away that this was not going to go well.  Reese had "the look".  His teacher told us we could choose a seat where there was a little gift for him and some paperwork for me (parents always get the worst deals).  I told Reese he could choose and he just looked at me and said, "Mom.  I don't want to do this."  By "this" he meant the whole thing.  The kid just wanted to run out the door.  I assured him it was going to be great and told him he could pick any seat he wanted (it didn't matter since it wasn't as if he was going to sit there on the first day of school).  But he couldn't/wouldn't.  So I chose a seat and asked Jessenia to try to keep Brisbane from screaming since he was not at all traumatized and wanted to run around the whole room touching everything.  Unfortunately for him, he was locked in his stroller, which he was protesting at the top of his lungs.

Once we found a seat, I hastily filled out the paperwork and we got the heck out of dodge.  Reese had his small gift of play-doh and a pencil in hand.  I wish I could have walked him around the room and shown him all of the cool things that he was going to get to do, but Brisbane was disrupting half the hallway.  So I quickly pointed out the Alphabet and reminded him that he knew all of his letters....and that was fun.... or something.

Now we are two days before school is starting and I am in full panic mode.  I had every intention of sending Reese on the bus the first day because I had the other two kids and knew that the school drop-off was going to be a disaster on the first day.  But now I wasn't so sure.  I was paranoid that Reese would simply protest getting on the bus since he had already tried to boycott Kindergarten all together.  But I prayed and decided that if I couldn't get him on the bus, I would drive him over to the school right quick.

We laid out his clothes and school supplies the night before.  I assured him he had made good "First Day of School Clothing Choices" (boy was I laying it on thick).  And the next morning, he woke up ready.

I knew he was nervous about the bus (he talked about it a lot).  But I assured him again that it would be ok and at the end of the day all three of us would be waiting for him.

 Here is the obligatory picture with Brisbane to avoid a full blown tantrum.

And there is my big Kindergartener.  When I took him to the bus stop that morning he was a bit traumatized by all the middle schoolers who knew each other (his school is K-8).  But I waited with him and didn't make him get in line until the bus pulled up.  And then he walked over to the bus like he had done it a million times and got on.  He didn't even look back.  And I didn't cry.  It was as if we were both old pros. 
Brisbane was devastated that he didn't get to ride the bus.  Jessenia was crushed that it was two weeks before preschool started.  When Reese got home, he told me he had had a great day.  And we were both so proud!
P.S.  He admitted to me two months later that he had gotten lost on the first day of school.  (I specifically asked him about that when he had gotten home and he said nothing about it.)  He hadn't known where to go when he got off the bus at school and couldn't find a teacher (which is what I had told him to do).  He said that he thought he was going to cry because he had been so scared.  "But don't worry, Mom.  I don't get lost anymore and am not scared." 

Horses!

During our trip to Snowflake this summer, Brisbane fell in love.  With horses.  Mack's parents own two horses that are corralled in their backyard.  Mack often gets hoodwinked into taking the nieces and nephews for rides on the horses when the family gets together.  Our kids have never been the slightest bit interested (Reese and Jessenia were terrified and Brisbane has always been too little).  But this trip, Brisbane wanted on a horse. Bad.  Mack was super busy the whole month with his rotation and our quick trip to Utah took up an opportune horse riding weekend.  But on our last day in Snowflake, Mack saddled up Teancum for the kids to have a ride.

 The horses don't like to be separated.  The brown horse, Flicka, is the mother of the paint, Teancum, and whenever Teancum is taken out for a ride, Flicka has a meltdown running all over the corral.  It also causes Teancum to be very stubborn on the ride and it isn't always safe for little kids with him bucking and refusing to move.  So we solved that problem by deciding just to have the kids ride around the corral, where Flicka could follow at her leisure.  For those who are wondering why I don't just saddle up and join the fun, I will let you in on a not so secret... I am terrified of the horses.  Mack had me get on Teancum once and he totally bossed me around because horses smell fear...and I reek!  Plus Flicka is a little old to be ridden.

 Brisbane had to go first.  Two reasons.  One:  There would have been much weeping and wailing and gnashing of teeth if he was denied for one more second.  Two:  The other kids weren't completely sure that they even wanted to ride the horses.  They are genetically related to me.  But rest assured, I lied and told them it was totally awesome and fun (because I don't want my kids to grow up being afraid of everything like me).
Brisbane LOVED it!  When it was his turn to get off he pretty much just wanted to chase Teancum, Mack, and whomever else was riding.  Yeah, kids don't understand that rule, "Never walk behind a horse!"

 Jessenia is second bravest of the bunch, so she went next.  She was not nearly as excited as Brisbane, but agreed that it was a good time.

After Reese saw that nobody was mortally wounded from the horse riding, he took a turn.  I think he thought it was ok.  He probably would do it again, but I don't think it is his primary goal in life to be an avid horseman.
As soon as Reese was off, Brisbane needed another turn.  And it has pretty much been non-stop horse-mania ever since.  As soon as I got home from Snowflake, he was begging to go back and "ride the horseys!"  My mother has been buying books about cowboys and horses and sending them to us just to feed his obsession.  He has stolen Reese's two horses from Reese's Lincoln Logs set and claimed them as his own.  And every time we drop off or pick-up Jessenia from school, we drive by a place that boards horses.  We are talking dozens.  He lets me know every time that we are coming up on the horseys.  When we get there, he yells, "HORSES!  HORSES!  HORSES!" over and over again until I acknowledge that there are in fact horses.  (Bear in mind that we have been doing this three days a week for over two months now).  Then he proceeds to tell me that all of the horses are named Teancum.  And we can't ride Flicka, because, "she too old" (in sad pathetic Brisbane voice).  In fact, the kid knows every horse within ten miles of our house and lets me know when we are about to drive by one.  Because wouldn't we all hate to miss that?
And now he wants to be a horse for Halloween.  I am still trying to convince him that the chicken costume we own is good enough for a two year old.  But I am starting to cave.  We will see.

Drowning

DISCLAIMER:  We talk about the difference between birth parents and parents all the time at our house.  It is a really difficult concept for a five, four, and two year old to understand.  Particularly when their mother is currently pregnant.  In the following conversation, I ignored the blatant confusion about birth parents because there seemed to be deeper concerns.  Good times ahead.

Setting:  Eating Dinner.
Characters: Me, Reese, Jessenia
Minor Character/Observer: Brisbane

Reese:  Are you going to be scared if the doctor has to cut the babies out of you?
(Background Info:  We have talked about how the babies are going to be born in the past.  We talked about C-sections and vaginal deliveries in the most toddler appropriate ways.)
Me:  No, I won't be scared.  The doctors are very good at their job and it will be very safe.
Reese:  Ok.
Reese:  I want to be there when the babies are born.
Me:  Sorry, Buddy.  They don't let kids be there because it is too distracting. (Me ignoring all the other reasons that my 3 children will not be allowed in the room while I am delivering the twins.)
Reese:  WHAT!?
Me:  Plus, it's kind of gross.
Reese: Gross!?
Me:  Yep.  There's blood.
Reese:  Blood!  How much!?  How long are you going to bleed!?  It's from them cutting you isn't it?
Me:  Kind of.  They clean it all up and it isn't for very long.
Reese:  Oh.  Ok.

Jessenia:  When I was in your tummy, and you took all those vitamins and drank water, I was scared.
Me:  Why were you scared?
Jessenia:  Because I was going to drown!
Me:  <laughing>.
<Insert long conversation about stomachs and uteruses & babies not drowning.>
Me:  The babies are floating in liquid though.  They drink it. (I intentionally left out the bit about them peeing because I didn't want my kids to have any ideas about drinking urine.)
Reese:  That is so weird!

End Scene.

I found it particularly hilarious that Jessenia has watched me drinking water and taking prenatal vitamins for the last six month and thought that the babies were going to drown from my liquid intake.  The beauty of life through the eyes of a four year old.

Flashlight Tour--Take Two

Since we had so much fun at the Desert Botanical Garden's Flashlight Tour last year (you might remember me referring to it as the best thing we had done in Phoenix), we thought we would try it again this year.  In July, Mack left for a three month tour of out of town rotations and so I knew we needed to squeeze it in before then.  To be perfectly honest, it was not nearly as impressive as last year.  Can we all take a collective breath and say, "Budget Cuts?!"  We also probably went too early, since we only needed our flashlights for the last fifteen minutes.  But in our defense, there were a LOT more stations last year, a LOT more walking, and they took out all but one of the kid centers.  So we were expecting it to take a bit longer.

Despite all of this, the kids had a great time, and that made their parent's happy.

 Here they are checking out the tarantula.  It was gross.

 Last year we had very few takers on the opportunity to touch the King Snake.  This year, everyone touched it except Brisbane.  You can kind of see the look on Jessenia's face (behind Mack's arm) after she had taken her turn.  Snakes are cool (from a very far distance).

 We have a bit of an obsession with geckos at our house.  There used to be a Geico billboard right outside our neighborhood.  Anytime we pulled up to the intersection, Brisbane would yell, "GECKO!  GLASSES!  GECKO!  GLASSES!"  And he would keep repeating it until you said, "Yes Brisbane.  The Gecko is wearing sunglasses".  They took the billboard down a few months ago and Brisbane was crushed.  Thanks a lot, Geico!  Ruining a kid's life like that!  But we have found a new Geico billboard a little further away that we don't pass as frequently and Brisbane now says, "GECKO!  Glasses all gone."  (Since that Gecko is not wearing glasses.)

 The one kid area.  Here the kids tried their hand at dam building again.  I think they have improved over last year.

And then we saw the tortoise and we were heading home.  We really don't get out enough.  Maybe next year.  (I just laughed as I typed that.  Do I honestly think I will get out more with twins than without?  Didn't think so.) Maybe in ten years.

Is That A Real Family?

Today a very well intentioned friend asked, "Are they brother and sister?", while pointing to Jessenia and Brisbane.  The first snarky thought that popped into my head was "DUH!"  This lady knew the most basic answer to that question and since I knew her intention was not to offend and she is someone that I see frequently on a semi-professional basis, I did not say "duh" and walk away.  A more tactful way to ask her question would have been, "Are they biological siblings?"  But of course I knew what she meant and gave her the long run down of which of my children are biologically related and which aren't. 
I read several blogs written by people who have adopted/about adoption and so I have read several posts about "Awkward/Rude Things People Ask About Adopted Children".  Most of them are hilarious because the questions are so offensive that any well-adjusted individual should know that it is probably not the right thing to ask.  We obviously get asked a lot about adoption.  Most people are very well intentioned.  We are not easily offended and like to give everyone the benefit of the doubt.  But for the fun of it (and because my friend made me think of it today) I thought I would write some of my favorite questions/comments that make me cringe.

1. "What does their father look like!?"  Yeah, that's weird.  When I have all of the kids at the grocery store, I get a lot of stares (and the demographic that stares in the most awkward and appalled sort of way is always older men...cracks me up).  Obviously I know what a lot of people are thinking about as they see my dark skinned and dark haired children with a very pale skinned, blonde haired mother.  But when people verbalize it in such a way, it is pretty awkward.  My response.  "Blonde haired and whiter than me."  Then they don't know what to say. 
I recently read about a Caucasian man who had his biracial daughters at Wal-Mart with him and a customer called security, who then called the police, because they didn't seem to "fit".  Come on people.  Adoption is so much more prevalent in society.  Interracial marriages are so much more prevalent.  And who is to say that the man wasn't babysitting or helping out a family or friend.  This scenario is so ridiculous.  Please don't call the cops on our family!

2.  "Are you their real mother!?"  It is important when you know someone has adopted to make a clear delineation between birth parents and the children's actual parents.  I am my children's REAL mother.  I even have a birth certificate and some expensive court documents (that cost me nearly $20 to be replaced if the staple is removed) that state as much.  It doesn't get more "real" than that, folks.

3.  "Aren't your kids so lucky that you adopted them!?"  We actually think that we are the lucky ones.  This idea that we somehow "saved" our kids is really grating to me.  Brisbane's mother was a great woman.  She made a very difficult decision when she placed him for adoption.  His life would have been wildly different if she had raised him.  But that doesn't mean that he needed saving.  Reese and Jessenia's parents fought very hard to regain the rights to them.  It is still uncertain what happened to them and since the courts could never determine how Reese's injuries were sustained, they were put up for adoption.  There is a good chance (I like to believe) that if they had been returned to their birth parents, they would have been loved and taken care of.  Again, their lives would have been very different from how they are going to be raised, but that's ok.  Just because someone is raised differently or not in what might be viewed as a 'normal middle class home' does not mean that they need to be saved by adoption.  Yes, we are very grateful that each of our children are in our home.  Yes, we believe strongly that they are meant to be raised by us and sealed to us forever.  But make no mistake.  Luck has nothing to do with it.

5.  "You are just so amazing for what you have done for those children."  For the record, we didn't adopt because we wanted to be heroes.  We adopted because we wanted children.  (Selfish, huh?)  I am no more amazing than any other mother who is diligently raising her children and desperately praying that they will grow up to be contributing members of society.

These last two are a little bit different in nature and potentially more controversial. 

4.  I don't have a specific statement here.  But on several occasions people have made comments to me about living in neighborhoods with minorities or sending their kids to school with minorities or something else to that effect.  One of the easiest decisions Mack and I had to make when filling out paperwork for adoption was what races/ethnicities of children we were willing to accept.  Any and all! 
Please remember that when you make comments like that, you are talking about MY kids.  My sweet little kids.  My sweet kids who ask at dinner why their skin is darker than their parents.  My kids who wonder why they don't have to wear sunscreen and why when they do it won't rub in all the way.  My sweet kids who are being raised to know that how we treat people should not be based on what someone looks like or what color their skin is.  We are all children of our Heavenly Father and loved dearly. 
Also know that transracial adoptions are very hard on parents.  We want our children to be accepted.  We want them to feel loved.  It is something that we consciously worry about.  Our children will always be raised by white parents.  But Reese and Jessenia will also always be full blooded Guatemalan.  And Brisbane will always be biracial.  It is sad when people are so absorbed in worrying about petty differences, like the race of the people who live on their street or attend their child's school.

5.  "You're pregnant!  That ALWAYS happens to people who adopt!"  Of all of the questions/comments I have listed, this is the one we hear the most frequently (and we are only five months pregnant).  It is also the comment that makes me most physically ill (and no, it's not morning sickness).  When we started the adoption process, people used to say.  "As soon as you adopt, you are going to get pregnant!"  While this is probably said in jest or in an attempt to bring hope, it is actually quite offensive.  It devalues and belittles the struggles that thousands of couples go through with infertility.  Infertility is a very complicated process and even though you may have heard of or read on Facebook about one person that got pregnant right after adopting (I certainly know one person personally) it is not the reality for the HUGE majority of couples.  After doing invitro, we learned that medically speaking we have virtually no chance of every conceiving children naturally.  While Heavenly Father can make anything happen, it is unlikely that one day I will just find out that I am pregnant without having to have shots and a million doctors appointments. 
So when I finally did become pregnant (through invitro) and people made comments about families who adopt always getting pregnant, I seethed.  We spent an exorbitant amount of money on just the chance that we MIGHT be able to be pregnant.  There are never any guarantees with fertility treatments.  And it wasn't like it just happened naturally for us.  A lot of blood, sweat, tears, prayers, faith, and hope went into this pregnancy.  I just wish people were more sensitive to the individual stories and struggles of people and couples.

Hopefully that was enlightening to some people.  It certainly was therapeutic to write out.  We love talking about adoption and are always happy to share our struggles with fertility.  I am hoping to write more candidly about some of my thoughts and feelings on those two subjects on my blog.  It is hard to find a way to honor my family through the tough experiences that we have.  And it is also hard not to worry about being judged for what happens behind the scenes of adoption and infertility.  I am truly grateful for those who have supported us in our journey.  And if you have read to the end, know that the people who ask the above questions, and make the above comments, are most often not people who know Mack or I very well.  Our dearest friends and family have always been our biggest cheerleaders and we love you all for that (since who the heck else is reading this anyway?).