Two weeks ago we had a terrifying incident just outside of our Living Quarters.
Bub's 3 year old, best friend from school named Kevin, rode his bicycle out into the street between the school and the LQ...and was run over by a truck.
It was horrifying to see his bicycle lodged under the wheels of the truck, little Kevin's body had been run over by the front wheels...miraculously, due to his slight stature, his head was not crushed by the wheels on the other side of the truck.
When an injury happens Here, the situation is even more dire, at least to this Westerner's mind. Health care Here is a sobering proposition. Many a foreigner I've heard say that if they needed medical help, they would do anything/everything possible to avoid submitting themselves to the local hospital's care.
(Please note, this does not mean that the care here is not improving by leaps and bounds...we are in a nation flooding its major cities with millions of dollars in technology...this is the perspective of a person who has been raised in the standards of health care in the West. I do not mean to sound as though I don't respect the various advancements being made around me daily. My neighbors are far better off than they were just a few years ago in this respect. The expectations of privacy, sanitary conditions, patient's rights, and even recovery/care are vastly different. If you are unclear of some of these issues, check out some of my earlier 2008 posts dealing with visits to the Hospital.)
At any rate, little Kevin was whisked away to the local "hospital for children" which in the West is synonymous with "best care practices for children." I've been instructed by one of the leading Doctors here in our city that unfortunately, this distinction does not belong to the pediatric hospitals nationwide. In fact, they are known by Doctors, if my source is correct, to be sub-standard hospitals.
Little Kevin has some significant injuries, a broken hip socket, dislocated bones, internal bleeding...to name what I could decipher through the broken translation.
His current therapy includes an iron pelvis "brace," an iron ball hanging off the end of the bed, tied to the affected leg for the purpose of traction, and being tied to the bed. A "surgery" was performed to restore the bones to their rightful positions, but no hardware was used (and perhaps not indicated) to secure the bones. He was injured two weeks ago and has been tied to the bed ever since. He was given an IV, and for a period of time during the internal bleeding, he was taken off food and water.
Further surgery was recommended, but the local family has inadequate insurance. The cost of the surgery is estimated at 100,000 RMB. This family likely makes about 2000 RMB per month...the cost of the surgery is a fortune to them. A donation drive was quickly undertaken on their behalf and a sizable sum was raised.
I've continued to worry that Little Kevin was not getting the best treatment available...and so, made the recommendation that they get a second opinion about his care, surgery, and treatment.
On Tuesday, when dropping off the New Guys at the Kindergarten room I was presented with two bags of X-Rays. I was told that they were Little Kevin's, and asked if could I take them to my "Doctor Friend" and get a second opinion.
Wow. This was sort of unusual. I began to consider, "I have a child's X-Rays, I'm the foreigner who has limited contacts...and the hope is clearly in me that I can help him in some way." My chest tightened from the pressure that this situation placed upon me...me...who speaks limited Chinese...who hates to go to the local hospital...being asked to be the one to go and solicit a second opinion for Kevin's treatment.
The hospital is about a 45 minute drive from where we live. I had no car. I had to teach until 2:30...make dinner for the peeps after that...and the hope of finding a way to help this boy recover from a potentially life-altering accident...has been unceremoniously placed upon me.
I began to pray as I walked to my office..."Father, why me? What can I do? What if I can't do what they want me to do?"
Then, I submitted myself to the unknown of the predicament, breathed out a prayer that I would trust Him to guide me and be my help in my weakness...and made plans to get to the hospital...as soon as possible...
More, later...must run and get the tribe to school....
30 September 2010
25 September 2010
This should be 6 posts...
Okay, duly chastised, I will return to the blog tonight to catch up on the past 12 days of life.
I have a string of things to write about, none of which are vaguely related, so as the title suggests...it should be broken up...but, I'm going to smash it all into one...I'll write until the New Guys compel me to leave the keyboard.
1) Fall is here.
It came on Tuesday night.
On Tuesday (which was the last day of classes for us before our "Mid-Autumn Festival 3 day...sort of...holiday") it was 93 degrees. To celebrate our 3 day holiday (giving us Wed-Fri "off" school), we hung out for dinner with the Wu family down at one of our local restaurants. It was so hot and humid that we nearly didn't stay for dinner as the AC was not on in the restaurant. The weather forecast had said that the next day, on Mid-Autumn Festival, the weather would cool considerably...no joke.
That night, while we rested in our beds, the wind blew and we awoke to a high Wednesday of 63 degrees. For those of you keeping score at home, that was a 30 degree temperature drop in one night. According to the forecast, it will not warm up again...it has stayed in the 65 degree range for the duration of the festival...so it seems that someone switched off the furnace for the winter. It is supposed to be getting cold, soon.
It is said of our city here that we have Summer and Winter...no Fall or Spring...in our third year...we concur.
2) At the aforementioned restaurant, one of our many offspring needed to go use the WC mid-dinner. We are quite used to the bathroom conditions Here...in fact our children never even mention when we enter a particularly fragrant facility...they speedily go about their business and then quickly evacuate.
But, knowing that some folks love to read about "differences" between Here and There...I'll let you in on the WC in our local restaurant.
It was a customary "squatty potty" but this one was apparently the community head for all the employees (who also live upstairs from the restaurant.) The window was propped open, big bugs on the screen outside were buzzing loud enough to be heard over the over-worked and under-powered fan. On the window sill, various cups cluttered every available inch and held within them toothpaste tubes, toothbrushes and bars of soap. (Obviously these were for each individual employee when he/she had time in the restaurant's sole bathroom.) A few towels hung around from rusty nails in the walls...but what really caught my attention in this somewhat "normal" scene was when I went to wash the offspring's hands in the sink. Just to the right of the faucet...
...a man's razor ...just like we were visiting our neighbor's bathroom in their home and the man of the house forgot to stow his razor in the cabinet before he left the bathroom that morning...but it was the "public" restroom in the restaurant.
3) Bulldozing.
It is completely overstated and somewhat cliche to say that this nation is involved in a massive make-over. It would be a reality show too enormous to shoot and you would not believe it if you watched it...the scope of it completely blows us away.
When we first came to this city in 2006, we saw a good amount of the "old city"...this means dating back to the 50's and 60's.
When we returned to the city in 2007... our good friend here took us around to show us the "improvements" that had been made. Blocks upon city blocks that had been torn down and rebuilt...in one year. We thought it was amazing and stated as such to our friend.
Then it was sort of "passerby interesting"...now it's offensive.
In just our third year here we have experienced the radical demolition/remaking in various sites we frequent. (Keeping in mind that we have no car, must utilize the bus system to get around, this significantly limits the areas of the city we can "frequent.")
Last year our teammate, Mrs. Wu found a wonderful massage clinic staffed by highly trained individuals with visual impairments. One day she was there...when she returned a few days later...the entire block was gone. Bulldozed.
Then this year, my beloved headed out for the nearly 2 hour, one-way trip to the "pet market" that we've posted about on this blog before...when he arrived at the site...it was leveled. A very vibrant 4 city-block long pet market with scores of merchants...had been wiped away...bulldozed.
When he inquired about it he was told by the one remaining goldfish dealer..."they have all gone traveling." Hmmmm...the equivalent of the "gone fishin'" concept?
Then just this week, two more sites...a plant market near our home...wiped clean...and vegetable market...GONE.
We have a friend, a local lady, who was a farmer. She was a farmer until her land was required for some development. That was the end of it.
It makes one feel unsettled...that the constant drumbeat of modernization and change reminds all our neighbors...and ourselves...that wherever we are...it is only temporary.
4) Holidays.
I already wrote about our "3 day holiday" for Mid-Autumn Festival. But, really it is only a 1 day holiday, but you get three days off together by reformatting the work weeks around the Festival...we must work on Saturdays and Sundays to "make up" for the "extra two days off" around the holiday.
Today we went to school. It is Saturday. Tomorrow we will go to school...and for the next 6 days...Saturday through Thursday...so that we can "take the holiday" off from October 1-7 for the National Day celebration.
Many of our neighbors will travel home to see family during the festival as so many in this nation spend the better part of each year living away from family....even husbands and wives separated for most of the year...thus the need to give us the seven day "holiday" so people can get to their families and home towns a long, long way away...and back again.
It still feels really odd to us.
5) Spicy food.
We love spicy food. Well, actually Daddy LOVES spicy food and some of the rest of us like pretty-spicy food. The city in which we live is renowned for its hot and spicy entrees. Of our four kiddos from this province, three (the boys) can all hang with spicy pretty well...one of the New Guys can match Daddy pepper for pepper in an eating contest.
Daddy, when he cooks for us, is always trying to broaden the horizons of the other kids who are not so into spicy.
Tonight was no exception.
He bought some pork and vegetables from the local market and prepared them so nicely...then just before adding them to the wok...he added a couple "lumps" worth of oily/red pepper/and other peppers we don't know the names for but are crazy hot, sauce.
The kids, hungry and eager to eat Dad's vittles got right into it...and within a few moments...the smell and sounds of fire burning flesh began around the table. The kids, eyes wide-open, smoke pluming from their ears, panting and running for plain rice and water...tongues wagging side to side...began to moan..."Daddy it is so HOT!"
The taste was excellent...the peppers were so intense...the kids turned on the fan and stood in front of it trying to cool their burning lips. Then the little ice packs we use for "injuries" came out and were applied to tongues and mouths...all the while Daddy and the New Guys are shoveling it in their mouths...
All of it was consumed...but I dare say...we have not "heard the last" of those peppers we ate tonight...We may need ice packs elsewhere tomorrow.
6) We're sort of uptown now.
When we first moved here...we were WAY out of town. In fact, two weeks after we moved into our development (we were the first ones in this building) they christened a "NEW BUSLINE" out in our area. Bus 789 was to connect us to the rest of our little berg of 10 million people.
For at least the first 8 months we called it the "ghost bus" because we never really saw it. We would wait for long, long intervals for the rumored 789 to pass our way...inevitably we would simply give up and find some other way into town. Then at the main bus stop where the major shopping mall is, some 25 minutes away from us...we would stand with the throngs of bus riders watching dozens and dozens of buses come through the stop picking up their riders...but never a 789.
When we finally rode it a few times the buses on this route were way past their retirement years. They had clearly been wrecked, parted-out, rotting on a junk yard somewhere before they had been called back into service for our little back-water route. One time Magpie and I clamored onto a bus and sat in the back row where the floor was mostly rusted through and we could see major patches of the road through the floor at our feet! The back doors had been replaced by slabs of wood that clumsily heaved open and slammed together, ill-fitting, before we puttered on to the next stop. She was definitely NOT sea-worthy.
But progress has come to the ol' 789 line.
There is a massive new apartment development up the road from us that has been steadily filling with residents...and the route extended to pick up two stops worth of giddy groups of college students...so now...the over-capacity conditions have clearly gotten the notice of the big-bus-management guy behind the bus-managing desk...
so on Wednesday, while out shopping...we saw bus after bus...proudly bearing the newly painted (or taped on with a sign) 789...they have added scores of buses to the fleet...
but it gets better...
Bub shouted with glee as we stood waiting for one of our carriages to arrive at the stop...
"A 'DOUGLE' DECKER, MOMMA!" - (Daddy just loves this mis-speak by Bub for obvious reasons)
Yes dear friends...789 has gone big!
We now have THREE double-decker buses on our route. (This is a major delight for this public-transit dependent family of 9)...
So we celebrated on the final day of our holiday...
We went out bus-riding on the 789...joy-riding if you will...like kids who just got their licenses...
or a family of 9 who knows how to party...
Front row, top deck seats, from the beginning of the line to the end and back home again...
Yeah, we're uptown now.
I have a string of things to write about, none of which are vaguely related, so as the title suggests...it should be broken up...but, I'm going to smash it all into one...I'll write until the New Guys compel me to leave the keyboard.
1) Fall is here.
It came on Tuesday night.
On Tuesday (which was the last day of classes for us before our "Mid-Autumn Festival 3 day...sort of...holiday") it was 93 degrees. To celebrate our 3 day holiday (giving us Wed-Fri "off" school), we hung out for dinner with the Wu family down at one of our local restaurants. It was so hot and humid that we nearly didn't stay for dinner as the AC was not on in the restaurant. The weather forecast had said that the next day, on Mid-Autumn Festival, the weather would cool considerably...no joke.
That night, while we rested in our beds, the wind blew and we awoke to a high Wednesday of 63 degrees. For those of you keeping score at home, that was a 30 degree temperature drop in one night. According to the forecast, it will not warm up again...it has stayed in the 65 degree range for the duration of the festival...so it seems that someone switched off the furnace for the winter. It is supposed to be getting cold, soon.
It is said of our city here that we have Summer and Winter...no Fall or Spring...in our third year...we concur.
2) At the aforementioned restaurant, one of our many offspring needed to go use the WC mid-dinner. We are quite used to the bathroom conditions Here...in fact our children never even mention when we enter a particularly fragrant facility...they speedily go about their business and then quickly evacuate.
But, knowing that some folks love to read about "differences" between Here and There...I'll let you in on the WC in our local restaurant.
It was a customary "squatty potty" but this one was apparently the community head for all the employees (who also live upstairs from the restaurant.) The window was propped open, big bugs on the screen outside were buzzing loud enough to be heard over the over-worked and under-powered fan. On the window sill, various cups cluttered every available inch and held within them toothpaste tubes, toothbrushes and bars of soap. (Obviously these were for each individual employee when he/she had time in the restaurant's sole bathroom.) A few towels hung around from rusty nails in the walls...but what really caught my attention in this somewhat "normal" scene was when I went to wash the offspring's hands in the sink. Just to the right of the faucet...
...a man's razor ...just like we were visiting our neighbor's bathroom in their home and the man of the house forgot to stow his razor in the cabinet before he left the bathroom that morning...but it was the "public" restroom in the restaurant.
3) Bulldozing.
It is completely overstated and somewhat cliche to say that this nation is involved in a massive make-over. It would be a reality show too enormous to shoot and you would not believe it if you watched it...the scope of it completely blows us away.
When we first came to this city in 2006, we saw a good amount of the "old city"...this means dating back to the 50's and 60's.
When we returned to the city in 2007... our good friend here took us around to show us the "improvements" that had been made. Blocks upon city blocks that had been torn down and rebuilt...in one year. We thought it was amazing and stated as such to our friend.
Then it was sort of "passerby interesting"...now it's offensive.
In just our third year here we have experienced the radical demolition/remaking in various sites we frequent. (Keeping in mind that we have no car, must utilize the bus system to get around, this significantly limits the areas of the city we can "frequent.")
Last year our teammate, Mrs. Wu found a wonderful massage clinic staffed by highly trained individuals with visual impairments. One day she was there...when she returned a few days later...the entire block was gone. Bulldozed.
Then this year, my beloved headed out for the nearly 2 hour, one-way trip to the "pet market" that we've posted about on this blog before...when he arrived at the site...it was leveled. A very vibrant 4 city-block long pet market with scores of merchants...had been wiped away...bulldozed.
When he inquired about it he was told by the one remaining goldfish dealer..."they have all gone traveling." Hmmmm...the equivalent of the "gone fishin'" concept?
Then just this week, two more sites...a plant market near our home...wiped clean...and vegetable market...GONE.
We have a friend, a local lady, who was a farmer. She was a farmer until her land was required for some development. That was the end of it.
It makes one feel unsettled...that the constant drumbeat of modernization and change reminds all our neighbors...and ourselves...that wherever we are...it is only temporary.
4) Holidays.
I already wrote about our "3 day holiday" for Mid-Autumn Festival. But, really it is only a 1 day holiday, but you get three days off together by reformatting the work weeks around the Festival...we must work on Saturdays and Sundays to "make up" for the "extra two days off" around the holiday.
Today we went to school. It is Saturday. Tomorrow we will go to school...and for the next 6 days...Saturday through Thursday...so that we can "take the holiday" off from October 1-7 for the National Day celebration.
Many of our neighbors will travel home to see family during the festival as so many in this nation spend the better part of each year living away from family....even husbands and wives separated for most of the year...thus the need to give us the seven day "holiday" so people can get to their families and home towns a long, long way away...and back again.
It still feels really odd to us.
5) Spicy food.
We love spicy food. Well, actually Daddy LOVES spicy food and some of the rest of us like pretty-spicy food. The city in which we live is renowned for its hot and spicy entrees. Of our four kiddos from this province, three (the boys) can all hang with spicy pretty well...one of the New Guys can match Daddy pepper for pepper in an eating contest.
Daddy, when he cooks for us, is always trying to broaden the horizons of the other kids who are not so into spicy.
Tonight was no exception.
He bought some pork and vegetables from the local market and prepared them so nicely...then just before adding them to the wok...he added a couple "lumps" worth of oily/red pepper/and other peppers we don't know the names for but are crazy hot, sauce.
The kids, hungry and eager to eat Dad's vittles got right into it...and within a few moments...the smell and sounds of fire burning flesh began around the table. The kids, eyes wide-open, smoke pluming from their ears, panting and running for plain rice and water...tongues wagging side to side...began to moan..."Daddy it is so HOT!"
The taste was excellent...the peppers were so intense...the kids turned on the fan and stood in front of it trying to cool their burning lips. Then the little ice packs we use for "injuries" came out and were applied to tongues and mouths...all the while Daddy and the New Guys are shoveling it in their mouths...
All of it was consumed...but I dare say...we have not "heard the last" of those peppers we ate tonight...We may need ice packs elsewhere tomorrow.
6) We're sort of uptown now.
When we first moved here...we were WAY out of town. In fact, two weeks after we moved into our development (we were the first ones in this building) they christened a "NEW BUSLINE" out in our area. Bus 789 was to connect us to the rest of our little berg of 10 million people.
For at least the first 8 months we called it the "ghost bus" because we never really saw it. We would wait for long, long intervals for the rumored 789 to pass our way...inevitably we would simply give up and find some other way into town. Then at the main bus stop where the major shopping mall is, some 25 minutes away from us...we would stand with the throngs of bus riders watching dozens and dozens of buses come through the stop picking up their riders...but never a 789.
When we finally rode it a few times the buses on this route were way past their retirement years. They had clearly been wrecked, parted-out, rotting on a junk yard somewhere before they had been called back into service for our little back-water route. One time Magpie and I clamored onto a bus and sat in the back row where the floor was mostly rusted through and we could see major patches of the road through the floor at our feet! The back doors had been replaced by slabs of wood that clumsily heaved open and slammed together, ill-fitting, before we puttered on to the next stop. She was definitely NOT sea-worthy.
But progress has come to the ol' 789 line.
There is a massive new apartment development up the road from us that has been steadily filling with residents...and the route extended to pick up two stops worth of giddy groups of college students...so now...the over-capacity conditions have clearly gotten the notice of the big-bus-management guy behind the bus-managing desk...
so on Wednesday, while out shopping...we saw bus after bus...proudly bearing the newly painted (or taped on with a sign) 789...they have added scores of buses to the fleet...
but it gets better...
Bub shouted with glee as we stood waiting for one of our carriages to arrive at the stop...
"A 'DOUGLE' DECKER, MOMMA!" - (Daddy just loves this mis-speak by Bub for obvious reasons)
Yes dear friends...789 has gone big!
We now have THREE double-decker buses on our route. (This is a major delight for this public-transit dependent family of 9)...
So we celebrated on the final day of our holiday...
We went out bus-riding on the 789...joy-riding if you will...like kids who just got their licenses...
or a family of 9 who knows how to party...
Front row, top deck seats, from the beginning of the line to the end and back home again...
Yeah, we're uptown now.
12 September 2010
Three Years Ago
At the time, our two oldest were out of the house...
We had four girls living at home, all aged seven and under.
We became convinced again that we were being Called to adopt. So naturally, we thought "a girl" would be the logical placement. As Daddy said, "we have all girl gear, it is easy to bring another girl home."
I secretly wasn't so sure. I had a strange feeling that perhaps it would be a little man who would join our hearts and lives.
Dutifully we searched through the listed children. Daddy even considering twin-two year old girls briefly (when then would have had four 3 year olds) because his commitment to the logical placement of a girl was so strong.
Being "open-minded" we looked through the boys listed. The boys outnumbered the girls three-fold, reminding me of the huge obstacle boys have in the adoption world. There simply is a bias/strong preference when adding a child through adoption to bring home a girl...boys linger, and linger, and linger on lists often with little activity on their files.
Later that night, as we were climbing into bed, I asked Daddy, "did any of those children touch you, connect with you, in some special way?"
He simply said, "yeah, the little guy with one eye." I chuckled and said, "me too."
But there was a problem, of sorts.
He was after all a boy and Daddy and I both believed strongly that our next child would come from the same province as our daughter, Potato (adopted the year previous) had. This was due to some significant relationships we'd established there, as well as a strong sense of "connection" to the provincial capital city. (The very city from where I write this post to you today.)
And, the little guy with one eye was not from this province, according to the web profile on him, he came from a similarly named province to the Northeast.
I am so thankful for the openness of my husband's heart for so often when I would shut the door to some sort of thinking, of pursuing a possibility, he is always the one that says, "press on." And he did. He said, "well, perhaps we're mistaken about the province thing? Why don't you go ahead and request the boy's file."
The next mid-day, I had an email, with the full file of the little guy. Described therein as "clever, outgoing, who loves to jump" they further added, "maybe he will grow up to be a high-jumper someday?" This cracked me up.
Daddy was a work when I opened the email. And in the first sentence, my heart exploded with a shot of adrenaline...there was a typo. It said he was fostered in THIS province, the one we felt a "connection to." I suddenly had that feeling, like some women experience when they "know" they're pregnant...I knew he was my son.
I called Daddy on the phone and attempted to be very casual, not even mentioning the file or the boy. It was obviously on his mind though as he asked me quickly, "did you get the file?" I answered, "yes, and the funny thing, there was a typo."
Daddy laughed this KNOWING sort of laugh...and said..."He's in (our province) isn't he?"
"YES!" I exclaimed, and then thought, how did he know that? I just said "typo," that could have been ANYTHING on that report. But, Daddy had been let in on the truth by the HS it would seem...and then he simply said, "well, that's our son."
And, he is. Bub is our son.
On this day, three years ago, we waited for him at the Civil Affairs Office to arrive. He was scrubbed up, wearing some darling little clothes and stared at us wide-eyed, and bravely. Then the tears came, a torrent...until the first matchbox car was offered...then we were okay. I think everyday since that day he's had a matchbox car palmed in one of his fists.
We went out, climbed in the van, and he fell asleep on my lap.
I could have never imagined how he would capture my heart and make me his Momma so completely, so quickly.
He is a incredible joy to parent and I cannot imagine how we could be so blessed to been allowed the chance to call this boy our son.
He is an enormous, athletic boy, who loves the ladies and is ever so thoughtful of his Momma and sisters. Just the other day as we got into the elevator to go to school he said (as he does often to his sisters), "Potato, you sure look pretty today!"
Or he will come over to me, rub my back and say, "I love you Momma, you're so beautiful, and your the best cooker!"
Such affirming words are a daily event with Bub...his skills in charming EVERYONE cannot be understated...
He wanted to dress just like his Dad to go to school this week...he so loves his Daddy...he crawls up in our bed and tries to joke with his Dad, often asking, "hey Dad, isn't that SO FUNNY?"
His laughter is contagious. His loving heart unsurpassed.
He was taught how to dance "with a lady" by his Gramma J this summer at his Uncle's wedding...he talks about it constantly...and how "you and me danced Momma, wasn't that great? But I couldn't get the sisters to dance!"...oh my, how they missed out on a memory that will last me a lifetime.
How thankful I am that we did not allow our "thinking" of bringing home a girl, the "logical" choice, to lead us...but instead allowed our hearts to rule. Today there are hundreds of boys who wait, simply because they are boys...and you reader, you are missing out on the incomparable miracle of bringing home a boy...give those boys a chance!
I'm going to go make Bub's favorite scones now, snuggle him up on my lap so that I can selfishly hear him say how much he loves me...and so I can tell him that one of God's greatest gifts to me, was him. He'll then get up, bound around the house, leading the New Guys in some adventuresome game, while self-styling a new song to sing...then will turn to look for me, dozens of times a day, just to flash his phenomenal smile...
Happy Family Day Bub...my September 11th is forever redeemed because of you.
We had four girls living at home, all aged seven and under.
We became convinced again that we were being Called to adopt. So naturally, we thought "a girl" would be the logical placement. As Daddy said, "we have all girl gear, it is easy to bring another girl home."
I secretly wasn't so sure. I had a strange feeling that perhaps it would be a little man who would join our hearts and lives.
Dutifully we searched through the listed children. Daddy even considering twin-two year old girls briefly (when then would have had four 3 year olds) because his commitment to the logical placement of a girl was so strong.
Being "open-minded" we looked through the boys listed. The boys outnumbered the girls three-fold, reminding me of the huge obstacle boys have in the adoption world. There simply is a bias/strong preference when adding a child through adoption to bring home a girl...boys linger, and linger, and linger on lists often with little activity on their files.
Later that night, as we were climbing into bed, I asked Daddy, "did any of those children touch you, connect with you, in some special way?"
He simply said, "yeah, the little guy with one eye." I chuckled and said, "me too."
But there was a problem, of sorts.
He was after all a boy and Daddy and I both believed strongly that our next child would come from the same province as our daughter, Potato (adopted the year previous) had. This was due to some significant relationships we'd established there, as well as a strong sense of "connection" to the provincial capital city. (The very city from where I write this post to you today.)
And, the little guy with one eye was not from this province, according to the web profile on him, he came from a similarly named province to the Northeast.
I am so thankful for the openness of my husband's heart for so often when I would shut the door to some sort of thinking, of pursuing a possibility, he is always the one that says, "press on." And he did. He said, "well, perhaps we're mistaken about the province thing? Why don't you go ahead and request the boy's file."
The next mid-day, I had an email, with the full file of the little guy. Described therein as "clever, outgoing, who loves to jump" they further added, "maybe he will grow up to be a high-jumper someday?" This cracked me up.
Daddy was a work when I opened the email. And in the first sentence, my heart exploded with a shot of adrenaline...there was a typo. It said he was fostered in THIS province, the one we felt a "connection to." I suddenly had that feeling, like some women experience when they "know" they're pregnant...I knew he was my son.
I called Daddy on the phone and attempted to be very casual, not even mentioning the file or the boy. It was obviously on his mind though as he asked me quickly, "did you get the file?" I answered, "yes, and the funny thing, there was a typo."
Daddy laughed this KNOWING sort of laugh...and said..."He's in (our province) isn't he?"
"YES!" I exclaimed, and then thought, how did he know that? I just said "typo," that could have been ANYTHING on that report. But, Daddy had been let in on the truth by the HS it would seem...and then he simply said, "well, that's our son."
And, he is. Bub is our son.
On this day, three years ago, we waited for him at the Civil Affairs Office to arrive. He was scrubbed up, wearing some darling little clothes and stared at us wide-eyed, and bravely. Then the tears came, a torrent...until the first matchbox car was offered...then we were okay. I think everyday since that day he's had a matchbox car palmed in one of his fists.
We went out, climbed in the van, and he fell asleep on my lap.
I could have never imagined how he would capture my heart and make me his Momma so completely, so quickly.
He is a incredible joy to parent and I cannot imagine how we could be so blessed to been allowed the chance to call this boy our son.
He is an enormous, athletic boy, who loves the ladies and is ever so thoughtful of his Momma and sisters. Just the other day as we got into the elevator to go to school he said (as he does often to his sisters), "Potato, you sure look pretty today!"
Or he will come over to me, rub my back and say, "I love you Momma, you're so beautiful, and your the best cooker!"
Such affirming words are a daily event with Bub...his skills in charming EVERYONE cannot be understated...
He wanted to dress just like his Dad to go to school this week...he so loves his Daddy...he crawls up in our bed and tries to joke with his Dad, often asking, "hey Dad, isn't that SO FUNNY?"
His laughter is contagious. His loving heart unsurpassed.
He was taught how to dance "with a lady" by his Gramma J this summer at his Uncle's wedding...he talks about it constantly...and how "you and me danced Momma, wasn't that great? But I couldn't get the sisters to dance!"...oh my, how they missed out on a memory that will last me a lifetime.
How thankful I am that we did not allow our "thinking" of bringing home a girl, the "logical" choice, to lead us...but instead allowed our hearts to rule. Today there are hundreds of boys who wait, simply because they are boys...and you reader, you are missing out on the incomparable miracle of bringing home a boy...give those boys a chance!
I'm going to go make Bub's favorite scones now, snuggle him up on my lap so that I can selfishly hear him say how much he loves me...and so I can tell him that one of God's greatest gifts to me, was him. He'll then get up, bound around the house, leading the New Guys in some adventuresome game, while self-styling a new song to sing...then will turn to look for me, dozens of times a day, just to flash his phenomenal smile...
09 September 2010
What????
This photo was taken today on the INSIDE of our house.
We discovered when we came home from school. Apparently, when the water guy (we have to buy giant bottles of water due to water quality issues) was here to drop off our "water order"...he decided to do a bit of advertising...ON OUR KITCHEN WALL!
He was not our "regular" water guy...this guy is eager to assist us with our further water needs...and so, he left us his "card," written where we can easily see it.
This happens often Here. (not the writing on the walls inside our home...at least not ADULTS writing on the walls) But, all around town you see things just like the photo above on walls, the sides of buildings, the back of trucks. It's advertising. There is no phone book Here...so if you have something to sell, you write it on the wall and put your phone number on it.
This is year three for us, and truly it takes a lot to surprise us...but this surely did.
The second thing that struck me as surprising happened yesterday when I was coming down the staircase in our school building.
I saw a few "items" on hangers, dangling from the stair railing (in a MAJOR HALLWAY of our school.)
UNDERWEAR
Men's underwear that had been (apparently) laundered by a workman who is working/living at the school (this is also common. If you hire workman to work on a building, or do a project, they will live right there on premises...until the job is done.
We see things hanging up all over the place. Our cook at the school last year would regularly hang his underwear and purple socks out on a small tree just outside the kitchen door of the school.
But in the hallway...INSIDE the school? This is the same staircase that classes of kindergartners, first and second graders frequent in their day. Hanging from the same railing that they (the students) must grasp to go up and down the stairs...some guy's funky underwear.
A third thing.
We got our "School Supplies List" for the New Guys and Bub for the Kindergarten. Though it is not new to us, I realize I've never shared with you one of the unusual, to a Westerner's mind, items that we must send with our children everyday.
A hand towel to mop up sweat on the children.
The hand towel is actually placed under the back of the child, between the shirt and skin. To absorb sweat. (If I've not mentioned in awhile, we do produce a copious amount of sweat here in our fair city.)
However, to my thinking, doesn't the extra, terry-cloth layer make the child hotter? But last year, when I failed to send the "sweat towel" daily to school...I was roundly chastised by the teachers.
So perhaps you think this is a function of our hot summers?
No. In Fall, Spring and Winter we are to dress our children in SO MANY layers that REGARDLESS of the climate, our children SHOULD SWEAT profusely...daily.
Ergo...the "sweat towel" is required.
One last thing.
Brownie was in the elevator of our apartment building last week. And, sadly, the elevator malfunctioned...she was "stuck" in the elevator, alone.
We were on the other side of the elevator, speaking soothing words and coaching her through the trauma.
She was cool enough to press the emergency button and speaking in clear Chinese, told the guards where she was. (Not bad for 6 years old!)
Anyway...after about 15 minutes a young man, we'd never seen before came sprinting up the 8 flights of stairs to our floor. He had the special key to unlock the door and free Brownie. We were all relieved as you might imagine.
But what was surprising to us was the counsel we received from another resident of the building...
"DON'T USE THE ELEVATOR."
"What?" we questioned.
"DON'T USE THE ELEVATOR...IT IS NOT GOOD."
"Well, surely they will fix it?"
"NO, YOU SHOULD ONLY WALK UP AND DOWN THE STAIRS."
"Thank you for your help."
So we're left with that familiar feeling that often besets us...is it superstition...is it wisdom...or does he think we need to lose more baggage from around our middle?
No more information...do we do the wrong thing if we don't take our neighbor's advice?
So, until we figure it out...I think I'll go get my sweat towel, hang out my underwear on the staircase...and graffiti my neighbor's door...maybe I could drum up some business for English tutoring?
We're not in Kansas anymore.
01 September 2010
And they're off...
The first day of school.
The first day of 1st Grade for Brownie and Potato.
The first day of pre-Kindergarten for the New Guys.
And....we made it...on time.
Only a second to post some pictures of today as we start the whole song and dance in just 8 hours, again...
The first day of 1st Grade for Brownie and Potato.
The first day of pre-Kindergarten for the New Guys.
And....we made it...on time.
Only a second to post some pictures of today as we start the whole song and dance in just 8 hours, again...
The Posse
The Dean of Students...feelin' it on Day 1
The walk to school...the "buddy system" is our lifeline
This little man was pants-less and stoked!
Mr G kept looking for me when he was out in the courtyard playing...every now and again I'd hear a bright, "Hi Momma!"...I would turn and see his smiling face and waving hand...
I do not think it was possible that any other children in this massively-populated nation were more excited about their first day of school than Potato and Brownie...1st Grade and riding the wave...
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