Clauser & Jee-Zee

Cosi loves Christmas! We've been working hard to catch her up on the holiday - telling her stories about Santa Claus & Jesus, interjecting with some appropriate songs and such.

On Christmas Eve, we took her to meet Santa Claus at our local mall. I kind of felt obligated. It was her first Christmas as an American.

Mickey Mouse Clubhouse helped her to know what he would look like with the red coat, white fur, long beard & hat- so she was ready! In typical third person narrations, she kept telling us what she was going to do (& not do) when she saw Santa - "Cosi touch Clauser's beard, Cosi pull Clauser's beard, Cosi punch Clauser, No no punch Clauser, Cosi run to Clauser, Cosi hug Clauser..."

Typical Cosi - she kept her trash talking going, right up until the big moment. In the end, however, she panicked and wouldn't go near Clauser. Trey, on the other hand, sat right on Clauser's lap and looked at Clauser like he was an alien. We don't blame him. Surprisingly, Trey didn't cry. We really thought he was going to cry, but I guess Clauser is pretty interesting for an 8 month-old to look at. We finally coaxed Cosi onto Mommy's lap for a quick picture next to Clauser.

Here's that picture:
























One minute after she left the vicinity of Clauser, Cosi started the 'trash talking' all over again. We told her that she could have a second chance with Clauser next year. (Except it's going to be at a Bass Pro Shop where we don't have to pay - why didn't anyone tell us about that before Christmas???) Of course, she has no idea what 'next year' means, so she still asks to see Clauser a couple times a day.

Now, who is Jee-Zee? That's Cosi's way of referring to Jesus. We did our best to tell her about how Christmas is Jesus' birthday. Birthdays are awesome to her, so she was happy to listen. Then, she told us how "Jee-Zee love Cosi, Jee-Zee hold Cosi, Jee-Zee rub Cosi's belly." We agreed with most of what she said, but we expressed some doubt about Jee-Zee pulling Cosi's hair...

We're already looking forward to next Christmas with our two little ones, even though I expect Cosi's pronunciation might be a little better....who knows, maybe Trey-by will be ready to make us laugh with his versions of their names? I can only hope...

Hide & Seek

We're really trying to get around to a Christmas Update, but until then...


The Edenfields, all 4 of us, love a good game of Hide & Seek!

Rob and I take turns hiding from Cosi. She's a cheater like her mom, so one of us has to take her into another room while the other hides. Then, we set her loose. We have to be careful though, because she usually starts happy-flailing her arms when she finds us. I'm sure to block my face. I have a fear of bloody noses.

Check out Rob's hiding spot. Awesome, right? I told you we're serious about H & S.

Sometimes we take it a little too seriously. Note the bandage on my right elbow in this family picture.

Okay, the bandage might have been overkill, but I had a pretty bad case of 'wood floor burn,' which is remarkably similar to 'rug burn.' I got it while trying to shimmy under a crib - the perfect hiding place in plain sight. I could watch Cosi wander around confused. I even called out to her, to no avail. That's when I thought I'd be funny, but didn't realize I was actually being mean until it was too late. I grabbed her leg and hissed as she walked by. She cried. Then, I shimmy-ed out to apologize, thus the 'wood floor burn.'

She forgave me.

Now that Trey has a walker, he gets in on the action. Except, he's a cheater too! I guess it runs in the family. Last night I was trying to hide under the table, but Trey rolled on over. He stood there smiling and cooing at me, making it super easy for Cosi to find me. Lame. Adorable, but lame.

Perhaps next year we will add some more games to our repertoire. Until then, Hide & Seek does us well...

One Year Ago Today

On December 20, 2010, we met Cosi for the first time!

Our precious little girl strolled into the meeting room like she owned the place. We quickly discovered her love for gloves and coats, as she snagged ours. We followed her around the room and asked ourselves Is this our daughter, the little girl that we had prayed for years to bring home? What we saw was a vivacious girl who wanted to play with anyone and everyone. Why are you all sitting there talking? She seemed to be thinking, We could be running around this room, exploring every corner of it!
After we chased her around for about 15 minutes (or, more accurately, Rob chased her around and a very pregnant April slowly followed), the orphanage director asked us, "Well? What do you think? Are you going to adopt her?" Rob immediately said "OK!" Then he looked at April to make sure he hadn't made such a big decision unilaterally. April said, "Yeah!"
Immediately after that, we were shuffled over to another room, where a Christmas performance was about to begin (and it is possible they were delaying the start of it until we arrived, since the orphanage director was with us). Cosi happily sat on April's lap, twice grabbing the hair bands from the hair of the girl sitting in front of her (a classic Cosi move that still comes out every now & then...). As St. Nicholas arrived to talk to the gathered children, we couldn't help but think that all three of us had already gotten the best Christmas gift possible that year. It would take another few weeks of paperwork, court dates, calls to East Asia's Interpol Office, a brawl in the Ukrainian Parliament, and a lot of other hurdles before Cosi was officially our daughter, but December 20th is the day we became a family in our hearts.

And - here she is now, her life has changed a lot in the past year and so has ours, for the better :)

Things Strangers Give Our Kids

One of the things we love about our life here is that strangers often give things to our kids. Now in our home country, that would be cause for concern; but here it's pretty normal. One American friend of ours asked an older East Asian woman why she insisted on giving hard candy to her very young daughter. The East Asian woman explained, "I know you need to take it away from her, but she's so precious and it's all I have to give to her." I think that's so awesome, even if the protective Daddy in me wants to grab some of these things and throw them in a lake before my child gets hurt (as I once witnessed another American friend of mine do). So here is a list of some of the things that strangers have given our children:

Beaded Necklaces- 2 of them, both given to Trey. Cosi claimed them rather quickly
Bags of candy
Hair clips
Genuine rabbit fur hat- "Don't worry, rabbit fur is a less expensive fur"
Gloves - Security guards at the airport give her rubber gloves and she likes to chew on them (which isn't very safe).
Spicy Pork Jerky- I just hope they didn't see Cosi spit it out after one taste.
Oranges- Probably Cosi's favorite gift
Unidentifiable Food Items- Which Cosi sometimes eats anyway
Scarf- Cosi is actually building up a nice scarf collection
Umbrella- I try not to take that as a judgment on my preparedness as a parent
Expensive items from the store shelf- to keep them from crying in the store, but also to try to get us to buy them
Their children’s toys- Generous parents, angry kids.
Their phones and cameras- Cosi is bold in asking for these, and most people are surprisingly generous in letting her borrow them.
Money (from a beggar!)- Cosi thought he was offering to let he take from his hat, he said keep it, we didn't let her. I'm pretty sure he was a swindler, though.
Lotion- a few kind women in the airport let Cosi go through their purses and use whatever she pulled out, this made our airport experience much more enjoyable...
Seaweed- In line at the grocery store, Cosi was happy to take it, less than happy to eat it.
Doughnut- Someone on the metro let her pick one out of a dozen. Mommy steered her toward a chocolate one.
Dark Chocolate- A very generous man on the train gave Cosi a whole box of dark chocolate, most of which ended up with Mommy and Daddy :)
Safety Pins- One each for Cosi and Trey, given to them by the fitting room attendant while April was trying on clothes. I had to discretely swipe them back and hide them in my pockets. Trey really wanted to chew on them and Cosi had recently learned the words "stab!" and "poke!"

So I still don't know whether we're expected to politely refuse or return things, or whether they are really meant as gifts. We try to refuse, but once you offer a kid something, it's hard for the parent to say no. In the meantime, we'll enjoy sharing the candy and be on the lookout for safety pins.

Bible Stories with Cosi

"Grabbing Coins!"

That's how Cosi requests that we (again) tell her the story of the Good Samaritan. I really wish we could have filmed the first time she heard this story. After our success with the story of the Ten Shushus with Boo-boos, April suggested I tell another boo-boo story. About halfway through the parable of the Good Samaritan, Cosi started getting tears in her eyes. She was so concerned for this poor man that was bleeding and alone. She started asking if she could help. Then she started saying all the things she could do for him- rub his belly, feed him prunes (Trey was eating prunes at the time), rub his hair, give him chocolate, sing to him- basically anything that communicates love to Cosi. And so as she teared up, so did her mommy and daddy, who had never seen this compassionate side of her before. We joked that Cosi made the Good Samaritan look like a slacker. (Is that heresy?)

Well, it's been about a month and we tell the story at least 3-4 times a day. Cosi still interjects herself into the story, usually as the Good Samaritan. Sometimes, though, she comes in at the beginning and holds the man's hand while he walks on the road so that he's not alone when he gets attacked. Here's a little video of how the story usually goes, although we had a surprise ending this time- Cosi brought Jesus into the story for the first time!

Muffin Tops

Yes. This is a post about pregnancy weight gain, especially in the belly region. Rob promises to write a few posts soon, just to keep this from becoming a total mommy blog.

Trey is approaching 8 months of age and I still have an extra belly. I think this is referred to as a spare tire. If I were a man, you'd say I have a beer belly. If I were a whale, it would be called blubber. Actually, the best words to describe it would be "muffin top." My old jeans fit, but there's a lot extra hanging out in the front. I had pictures to prove it, but they were all deleted under mysterious circumstances...

In my defense, Trey was a big baby. I mean, look at that stomach! It's hanging out of the bottom of my shirt. I was 8 months pregnant in this picture. People on the street were already telling me that I was having twins. I didn't always correct them.

After having Trey, I wasn't physically able to exercise for a few months. It's okay. I didn't really want to exercise anyway. When Trey was about 3 months old, I asked Rob if he'd watch both kids while I worked out. I was starting to be annoyed by my big belly and I thought I might try to find a gym. He said, "sure, as long as you watch both kids for an equal amount of time and let me read books." I decided that I'd rather be fat.

Fast forward to this past month - I joined a gym! It's located inside an expensive hotel, but the membership fee was only $150 for 6 months. That's $25 a month for the best gym ever. Not bad. Why do I love it you might ask? Well, it's almost always empty, except for the cleaning people that bring me free bottles of water and cold/wet washcloths. They love me. It smells faintly of some sort of aromatherapy oil, instead of sweat like most other gyms. The bathroom has a hot shower, fluffy towels (unlike my hard line-dried towels at home), free soaps & shampoos, and a clean toilet with folded over toilet paper stamped with an "R." I feel like I'm the only person who uses that toilet. I'm not, but I just feel like I am. It's my happy place. The gym, that is.

It has been a month now and despite several members of our family getting sick, I've been able to make it to the gym a couple times every week. Who do I have to thank for this? My husband. It's funny, I never struggle with motivation to get to the gym anymore. I'm always motivated to take a break from the kids and have time to myself :) even if it means I'm running a 5k during that time!

In fact, I'm probably going to run a half marathon on June 2nd. It's in Northern VA - anybody want to join me? I'm waiting until we know our summer plans, but I'm going to sign up soon.

Anyhow, I like to think my belly is getting a bit smaller. I asked Rob and he said it's getting smaller, so it must be true. I mean, what reason would he have to lie? ;)

soapbox?

Take a look at this funny picture and it's caption.

I've seen this many times over the years and chuckled. When I saw it yesterday, I felt sick. Is this really how our society views adoption? Maybe I'm too sensitive? Or - maybe my eyes have been opened and I'm more aware.

The whole assumption behind the joke is that adopted children are not really a part of the family, they are outsiders and always will be.

But, can you imagine if it said, "Dude! I'm JOKING you are NOT black!!!" (Or - I can think of a number of other disturbing words to put in it's place) In the past, people would have laughed. Today, people know better. People know it's offensive.

I grew up 'joking' with my brothers about this very topic, adoption. When my older brother was angry with me, he might have snidely suggested I was adopted. If I misbehaved, my parents might have said, "You must be adopted, because we would never act that way." I, in turn, teased my younger brother and told him that he was adopted. In fact, I think I might have elaborated on the story and told him that he was found in a trashcan. I was a jerk. In each of these instances, the heart behind the joking was never loving. The comments were always born out of frustration and somehow the topic of adoption was brought in.

What would an adopted child think if they saw that picture and read that caption? Would they feel hurt? What message does that picture send to them? I'm worried that it might say, "No, you really ARE adopted, you really should be crying!" I would like to get feedback from other families who have adopted or people who are adopted. What do you think?

I write this post because I want our world to change. Just as many racial jokes are no longer socially acceptable, I hope that the same becomes true for the topic of adoption.

Manipulating Children

My alternate title for this post was "Manipulating Children in Church."

It sounds bad. Maybe it is bad. But, in my quest to force children to like my daughter, I have become wise. (mental note: the word 'wise' sounds better than using any form of the word 'manipulate')

Example: Cosi sat down next to a little boy in kids church. The boy was not happy about it. He wanted some other boy to sit by him and in a snotty voice told us so. Cosi doesn't understand his words, but I'm beginning to think she might understand his tone. Normally, I might respond by gently informing the boy that there's an open seat on his other side or by using my mom voice and telling him that he can't save seats. This time I changed my tactic. I decided to flatter him. It worked.

typical boy: She can't sit there (whine...)
Cosi: Hiiiiii!!!!! (big smile)
me: Oh, what a nice shirt you have on - is that a horse? wow! I like horses.
typical boy: Yes, that is a horse. It's red.
me: A red horse? That's so cool!
Cosi: horse! horse! (squeal)
typical boy: (smiles, thinks he's awesome, forgets about his friend who may or may not be coming)
me: (self-satisfied smirk that might appear to be a friendly smile, but it's not)
Cosi: (jumps up to switch to another seat, totally oblivious to her mothers efforts on her behalf)


Perhaps my next post will be about passing on my issues to my child?

Cry Me a River...

When I was younger, I hardly cried. Maybe I didn't have much to cry about? After I got married, my crying habits changed. I started crying like a baby. Without exception, I cry multiple times a week. This past week, I cried every day and multiple times a day. I cried so much that Rob started ignoring me.

Something about seeing my baby congested and struggling to breathe makes me want to cry. It kind of reminds me of my grandmother when she was dying of emphysema. Not cool.

In a moment of deep introspection, I realized that a lot of my crying comes from life being out of my control. I can't heal my baby. I can't speed up my adoption. I can't make my husband do things my way all the time, though I may try...

And once again, I am confronted with the reality that I don't trust God.

I choose to worry. I live in fear.

But, I have hope that I won't always be this way, and that I will learn to replace fear with faith and worry with trust.

Going to the doctor in Asia...

Sometimes it's worth it to pay a taxi $100 to drive you to the Western Hospital located 2 hours away. Delivering a baby = worth it! That's where Trey was born.

Other times, like when your kid has a cold, it doesn't seem worth it. Instead, you might choose to visit a local clinic. One time we took Rob to a local clinic (after a bagel cutting injury - you might be surprised at how often that happens in the usa) and it was gross, both the clinic and Rob's cut finger. After he paid about one dollar for the doctor to see him, he was taken into an examining room. The last patient had left some blood on the bed and vomit on the floor. I guess they weren't in a hurry to clean up? (side note: there are much nicer hospitals in EA. This was not one of them)

Anyhow, I wasn't going to take my sick baby to a clinic like that. I took him to a Singaporean clinic. Singaporeans are quite Western, so I felt comfortable with the doctor. And - Trey just had a bad cold, so it's not like he needed to be airlifted back to the US.

I was happy with the clinic, but I had some funny moments.

When they wanted to know my 7 month old boy's weight, the nurse asked me to let him stand up on the scale. At first I doubted my East Asian language ability, so I had her repeat her request. Then I explained that he's a baby and he can't stand up yet. I guess they don't have scales for babies? I gave her an estimate of his weight, problem solved.

The doctor saw us immediately, no waiting. Is it good that they weren't busy? I don't know, but I like not having to wait. We went straight into his office. The doctor spoke perfect English, better than my English even (or at least it sounded that way because he had a cool British accent). He listened to Trey's chest and agreed that Trey had/has a respiratory infection. Since Trey's breathing was so labored, he recommended a nebulizer treatment to open up his airways for a bit.

That's how we ended up in the storage room with no heat. It said "procedure room" on the door, but it seemed more like a storage room. It seemed even more like a storage room when 20 minutes into the treatment, a nurse brought a few boxes into the room to...umm... store. She seemed surprised to see us, which only adds to my theory...

The nebulizer treatment wasn't so bad if you like holding down your struggling infant son and listening to his pathetic whimpers for help. I don't like doing that, so I thought it was awful. I kept alternating between praying for him to rest and get well and praying for him to have the memory of a goldfish ( i.e. short). Thankfully, Trey fell asleep after 10 minutes of struggle. Of course, he has a battle scar to remind me of my betrayal. Somehow we scratched his cheek? I was so thankful after the treatment was finished, glad to have it behind us. Then, they told me we needed to do it again. Darn.

I was thankful for a cold room. I might have been sweating a bit. I'm a nervous sweat-er. Trey had a blanket to keep him warm on one side and my body heat on the other side. He was okay. The metal chair was a bit uncomfortable, but I don't think any chair would have felt great while holding a baby in those circumstances.

The second treatment woke him up, but it seemed to go faster. When I noticed the medicine was gone, I turned off the machine. I waited 20 min in the cold room while Trey slept. After he woke up, we wandered out. The nurses seemed surprised to see me (not sure if they had forgotten me or thought I was rude for leaving the room). I smiled and jiggled the boy in a classic "just walking the baby around to keep him happy" gesture.

After I emerged from the room, the nurses must have felt the need to do something with us. One nurse brought in a tool that gets your heart rate via your finger, except it was built for an adult sized finger and a finger that wouldn't wiggle constantly. Trey's a big boy, but his finger is still itty-bitty and it moves a lot. She tried 5 times to get his heart rate before I finally intervened. Kudos to me for being patient! I gracefully told her (in no uncertain terms) that she should give up on getting his heart rate that way, it was never going to work. I guess she decided that she didn't need his heart rate after all.

We're going back again today. We'll do another neb treatment. It seemed to help him relax and breathe a little easier. It's so sad to see our little guy sick. Baby laryngitis & wheezing is beyond pathetic. But, it does make me thankful for his generally good health. However - I've gone from very little sleep to very very little sleep. Rob and I are taking turns holding Trey upright while he sleeps. I'm really thankful not to be a single parent right now. Days & nights like this make me really respect single parents that strive to care for children by themselves.