A few weeks ago, I was giving Elijah a bath and had to leave the bathroom to grab some clean clothes off the table in the living room. I was gone for less than a minute and when I returned Elijah was still sitting peacefully in the bathtub, playing with his toys. That's when I noticed that as he played, the toy he had in his hand wasn't the same as the one he had before I left the bathroom. It had somehow magically transformed into the $250 camera I received for Christmas just over a year ago. Gak!
Keep in mind that the living room is separated from the bathroom by only a 4-foot-long hallway, so you would think that if Elijah scrambled out of the tub, ran through the hall to the office next door, shuffled through all of the chaos that decorates Jarom's desk and scuttled back to the tub, he would have at least made it back about the same time I did. I would have at least found water all over the floor and heard the water slosh as he jumped back in. But no. There he was sitting serenely, as if he had been there the whole time. He barely even left traces of water on the tile. Aaaah! This is boggling my mind! How did he pull it off? Do 2-year-olds scoot around the edges of the floor to avoid detection? Anyway. My mouth said, "No no, Elijah. Cameras are not toys" and I took it away. My brain said, "Wha...Wha...My camera! HOW? WHY? What did it do to deserve THIS, of all things?! It's a good thing 2-year-olds are so cute!" Note to self: Never underestimate the stealthful cunning of a toddler. Or the power of their innocent "puppy dog" eyes after the fact.
Sunday, January 10, 2010
Monday, August 10, 2009
Sunday, August 9, 2009
How Does This Blog Thing Work?!
Having difficulty making this look like I want it to. Templates can be nice sometimes, and sometimes not. Grrrr.....
Tuesday, May 19, 2009
SAMPLE OF JAROM's HUMOR -- From a Family Blog Jarom Wrote a While Back
Well, we had Kaylee's family over for labor day weekend, and I must say that it was a pleasant experience. We entertained Mama and Papa H (Russell and Arla to everyone else) and Andrea, Neal, Lindsay, and Heidi--the demolition crew.
I really do love my new extended family, and some of the observations of the weekend must be written down for posterity's sake (or for future blackmailing purposes). Lindsay is actually the sole member of the demolition crew, Heidi aspires to the title, and Andrea and Neal merely represent a threat to the local lizard population. I'll get to the stories in a second. First of all I must say that I can't wait to have some rug rats of my very own. I'm going to be a wonderful parent. I'm picking up all sorts of good advice for keeping them in line. My favorite involves having my daughter's date leave a $20 deposit with me that I get to keep if he brings her home late. A friend Ed Brown suggests I could take up gun cleaning or machete sharpening on the front porch when my daughter's date arrives.
But I'm getting ahead of myself, because first I need to have some children, and then they need to survive childhood under my care. This is a concern because I'll probably give them a complex before age 10 by laughing at them whenever they do something dumb. To illustrate this point, I relate the following incident: One night, while Kaylee's family was staying with us, I heard a strange noise coming from the kitchen. I knew Lindsay was in there by herself. Lindsay is eleven years old, and has a knack for hurting herself while destroying things around her. If you've ever seen her on a bicycle, you'd know what I mean. This noise came from the kitchen again--a grunting sound like a buffalo with an intestinal disorder. "Lindsay! What are you doing in there?" I called from the living room. In reply came a final grunt followed by a thunk and then an "Oooowwww!!" Now, you know how carpenters put those false drawer panels in front of the sink because there's no room for an actual drawer? I entered the scene to find that Lindsay, while searching for silverware, had found this drawer panel (located, incidentally, right were the sink was). The drawer, of course, wouldn't open and Lindsay, determined to rescue the spoons and forks that must surly be trapped therein, grasped the top of the fake drawer front with both hands and pulled with all her might. The drawer, not anticipating this move, grunted under each pull and finally gave in to Linsey's request for entry. The drawer panel came off and landed on her toe. So Linsey got a hurt toe, the drawer panel got a closer look at the floor, and we now have direct visual access to the bottom of our kitchen sink. And I laughed at her. I laughed because the damage to the kitchen had already been done and I didn't want her to think I was mad. She would probably learn her lesson on fake drawers a lot faster that way too. For these reasons I will probably laugh at my children a lot, and then write down what they did so other people can laugh at them later. It's a cruel world, isn't it.
Heidi is a league all her own. Think for a moment of some of the classic hunger scenes in modern drama. Perhaps you thought of Scarlet O'Hara, wandering her estate looking for food and finally downing a radish plucked strait out of the ground. Maybe you envisioned the princess in Space Balls wandering the desert feverishly calling out "room service...room service..." Choose your favorite because Heidi has them all beat. Imagine this: It's getting close to dinner time. The family is watching TV while the food is cooking. There Heidi lay, prostrate on the ground, pulling herself by her hands toward the pantry. I'm not exaggerating this even a bit. "Kaylee, I'm starving..." she moans deliriously. "I need food NOW..." Kaylee says "Were making soup and it will be done in a little bit. You can have some bread right now if you're really hungry." "No, not bread..." she barely has strength to utter. "Cereal." Keep in mind, she is only five years old. The cereal is in the pantry. Heidi knows this because she saw us put it in there and she had already raided the pantry on her own and found out that all the sugar and fluff that she needs to keep her poor famished body alive was put on a shelf out of her reach. Thus her only chance of survival was to rely on the mercies of those who would rather have her die a horrible fetal-position death right there on the kitchen floor than see her eat cereal before dinner.
To add to this scene, let me give you some background on her family's eating habits. Kaylee grew up with a loving mother who was extremely interested in her children's health. Today's traditional square meals, such as ramen and Taco Bell, fell under the label "food that you would not see at the family dinner table, but rather would be sneaked in via pizza delivery late at night when most of the household was asleep." Mama H's brand of good food, and this is what her children were fed for much of their young life, fell under the category "food with substantial nutritional quality and nasty aftertastes." Hence, Kaylee enjoys eating strait parsley and soy flakes. She has all sorts of information on herbs and green leafy plants. I don't think I've even seen a preprocessed yam before I married her. I just finished an oatmeal cookie with flax in it.
Now you've got to understand where I came from. I grew up with a working mother and two younger sisters. We ate well, don't get me wrong, but often it was not the nutrition information on the side of the box that decided the meal, but whether the box displayed the words "microwave instructions". The strangest meal I'd ever gotten at home (and, coincidentally, the only meal on record that I hadn't been able to finish) was when my mother turned all of our food green for St. Patrick's Day. I was able to finish the green peas, but had trouble with the green tuna fish casserole. I believe it was the green milk that pushed me over the edge.
So Kaylee and I have different backgrounds to work with. Kaylee has managed to turn me on to bean sprouts, of all things, but the nutrients in the sprouts have been attacked and subdued by the oil and fat in the italian salad dressing and cheddar cheese I cover it with. We're working on it. Mama H, on the other hand, has almost given up completely. Her older children (Kaylee is the 3rd of 9) remember well the days of their mother's green health drinks and mystery meals prepared without hindrance of a cookbook, and to the younger ones it is but a fleeting memory during a moment of panic. Her creativity took roots and herbs in directions that they had never gone, and perhaps were not meant to go before. Her children honestly appreciate her efforts, but when Kaylee wrote home from the mission field in Chile thanking her mother for the food she was raised on because "I can eat anything down here thanks to you," the victory was bittersweet. And when Neal involuntarily threw up on the dinning room table after sampling some of Mama H's okra stir-fry, it was plain to see that her good intentions were being met with opposition.
After years of these kinds of responses to her healthy cooking, Kaylee's mother has basically given up. There remains small victories to be had from time to time, like when Heidi was found watching TV while eating directly from a bottle of dehydrated barley grass she had taken from the cupboard. But the next day she was found watching TV gnawing on a stick of butter she had taken out of the refrigerator, so what can you do? Heidi now lives on a diet of cereal, ice-cream, and candy. I wouldn't have believed it, but that's all Heidi ate the whole weekend she was at our house. We did give her a bowl of soup like we promised, and she may have tasted it, but as far as I can tell she just took it strait to the living room and left it on the floor in there. Ten minutes later the famine struck again and Heidi was given cereal for her performance.
I actually met the grown-up version of Heidi a while ago at a friend's party. Our friends name was John, and he and his wife were taking care of his great grandmother who sat hunched over in her wheelchair awaiting her food.
John's wife: "Grandma! Do you want some spaghetti?"
Great Grandma (indignantly): "I won't eat spaghetti." (Keep in mind here that great grandma is about 150-160 years old)
John's wife: "Grandma, you haven't eaten anything all afternoon. What do you want?"
Great Grandma (mustering the dignity of the ancients): "I don't want spaghetti. I WANT ICE CREAM."
John: "You want some cake with that, Grandma?"
John's wife: "SHE IS NOT EATING ICE CREAM!!!"
Great Grandma (mumbling to self): "I've been keeping myself alive since I was 14 years old. I know what I need to eat...grumble grumble..."
I write these things down and share them with the world for posterity's sake. And also because I am offended that Heidi wouldn't eat my soup, so I'm hoping that by preserving these stories they will come back to haunt her every time she invites a boy home for family dinner. Having taken all things into consideration, I can only tell you one thing: if Heidi, be it now or 145 years from now, ever falls under my care, she is going eat the healthy food that I cook her (and I'm not talking ramen and Taco Bell). If she puts on her starvation act, I'll turn all the junk food in the house green.
I really do love my new extended family, and some of the observations of the weekend must be written down for posterity's sake (or for future blackmailing purposes). Lindsay is actually the sole member of the demolition crew, Heidi aspires to the title, and Andrea and Neal merely represent a threat to the local lizard population. I'll get to the stories in a second. First of all I must say that I can't wait to have some rug rats of my very own. I'm going to be a wonderful parent. I'm picking up all sorts of good advice for keeping them in line. My favorite involves having my daughter's date leave a $20 deposit with me that I get to keep if he brings her home late. A friend Ed Brown suggests I could take up gun cleaning or machete sharpening on the front porch when my daughter's date arrives.
But I'm getting ahead of myself, because first I need to have some children, and then they need to survive childhood under my care. This is a concern because I'll probably give them a complex before age 10 by laughing at them whenever they do something dumb. To illustrate this point, I relate the following incident: One night, while Kaylee's family was staying with us, I heard a strange noise coming from the kitchen. I knew Lindsay was in there by herself. Lindsay is eleven years old, and has a knack for hurting herself while destroying things around her. If you've ever seen her on a bicycle, you'd know what I mean. This noise came from the kitchen again--a grunting sound like a buffalo with an intestinal disorder. "Lindsay! What are you doing in there?" I called from the living room. In reply came a final grunt followed by a thunk and then an "Oooowwww!!" Now, you know how carpenters put those false drawer panels in front of the sink because there's no room for an actual drawer? I entered the scene to find that Lindsay, while searching for silverware, had found this drawer panel (located, incidentally, right were the sink was). The drawer, of course, wouldn't open and Lindsay, determined to rescue the spoons and forks that must surly be trapped therein, grasped the top of the fake drawer front with both hands and pulled with all her might. The drawer, not anticipating this move, grunted under each pull and finally gave in to Linsey's request for entry. The drawer panel came off and landed on her toe. So Linsey got a hurt toe, the drawer panel got a closer look at the floor, and we now have direct visual access to the bottom of our kitchen sink. And I laughed at her. I laughed because the damage to the kitchen had already been done and I didn't want her to think I was mad. She would probably learn her lesson on fake drawers a lot faster that way too. For these reasons I will probably laugh at my children a lot, and then write down what they did so other people can laugh at them later. It's a cruel world, isn't it.
Heidi is a league all her own. Think for a moment of some of the classic hunger scenes in modern drama. Perhaps you thought of Scarlet O'Hara, wandering her estate looking for food and finally downing a radish plucked strait out of the ground. Maybe you envisioned the princess in Space Balls wandering the desert feverishly calling out "room service...room service..." Choose your favorite because Heidi has them all beat. Imagine this: It's getting close to dinner time. The family is watching TV while the food is cooking. There Heidi lay, prostrate on the ground, pulling herself by her hands toward the pantry. I'm not exaggerating this even a bit. "Kaylee, I'm starving..." she moans deliriously. "I need food NOW..." Kaylee says "Were making soup and it will be done in a little bit. You can have some bread right now if you're really hungry." "No, not bread..." she barely has strength to utter. "Cereal." Keep in mind, she is only five years old. The cereal is in the pantry. Heidi knows this because she saw us put it in there and she had already raided the pantry on her own and found out that all the sugar and fluff that she needs to keep her poor famished body alive was put on a shelf out of her reach. Thus her only chance of survival was to rely on the mercies of those who would rather have her die a horrible fetal-position death right there on the kitchen floor than see her eat cereal before dinner.
To add to this scene, let me give you some background on her family's eating habits. Kaylee grew up with a loving mother who was extremely interested in her children's health. Today's traditional square meals, such as ramen and Taco Bell, fell under the label "food that you would not see at the family dinner table, but rather would be sneaked in via pizza delivery late at night when most of the household was asleep." Mama H's brand of good food, and this is what her children were fed for much of their young life, fell under the category "food with substantial nutritional quality and nasty aftertastes." Hence, Kaylee enjoys eating strait parsley and soy flakes. She has all sorts of information on herbs and green leafy plants. I don't think I've even seen a preprocessed yam before I married her. I just finished an oatmeal cookie with flax in it.
Now you've got to understand where I came from. I grew up with a working mother and two younger sisters. We ate well, don't get me wrong, but often it was not the nutrition information on the side of the box that decided the meal, but whether the box displayed the words "microwave instructions". The strangest meal I'd ever gotten at home (and, coincidentally, the only meal on record that I hadn't been able to finish) was when my mother turned all of our food green for St. Patrick's Day. I was able to finish the green peas, but had trouble with the green tuna fish casserole. I believe it was the green milk that pushed me over the edge.
So Kaylee and I have different backgrounds to work with. Kaylee has managed to turn me on to bean sprouts, of all things, but the nutrients in the sprouts have been attacked and subdued by the oil and fat in the italian salad dressing and cheddar cheese I cover it with. We're working on it. Mama H, on the other hand, has almost given up completely. Her older children (Kaylee is the 3rd of 9) remember well the days of their mother's green health drinks and mystery meals prepared without hindrance of a cookbook, and to the younger ones it is but a fleeting memory during a moment of panic. Her creativity took roots and herbs in directions that they had never gone, and perhaps were not meant to go before. Her children honestly appreciate her efforts, but when Kaylee wrote home from the mission field in Chile thanking her mother for the food she was raised on because "I can eat anything down here thanks to you," the victory was bittersweet. And when Neal involuntarily threw up on the dinning room table after sampling some of Mama H's okra stir-fry, it was plain to see that her good intentions were being met with opposition.
After years of these kinds of responses to her healthy cooking, Kaylee's mother has basically given up. There remains small victories to be had from time to time, like when Heidi was found watching TV while eating directly from a bottle of dehydrated barley grass she had taken from the cupboard. But the next day she was found watching TV gnawing on a stick of butter she had taken out of the refrigerator, so what can you do? Heidi now lives on a diet of cereal, ice-cream, and candy. I wouldn't have believed it, but that's all Heidi ate the whole weekend she was at our house. We did give her a bowl of soup like we promised, and she may have tasted it, but as far as I can tell she just took it strait to the living room and left it on the floor in there. Ten minutes later the famine struck again and Heidi was given cereal for her performance.
I actually met the grown-up version of Heidi a while ago at a friend's party. Our friends name was John, and he and his wife were taking care of his great grandmother who sat hunched over in her wheelchair awaiting her food.
John's wife: "Grandma! Do you want some spaghetti?"
Great Grandma (indignantly): "I won't eat spaghetti." (Keep in mind here that great grandma is about 150-160 years old)
John's wife: "Grandma, you haven't eaten anything all afternoon. What do you want?"
Great Grandma (mustering the dignity of the ancients): "I don't want spaghetti. I WANT ICE CREAM."
John: "You want some cake with that, Grandma?"
John's wife: "SHE IS NOT EATING ICE CREAM!!!"
Great Grandma (mumbling to self): "I've been keeping myself alive since I was 14 years old. I know what I need to eat...grumble grumble..."
I write these things down and share them with the world for posterity's sake. And also because I am offended that Heidi wouldn't eat my soup, so I'm hoping that by preserving these stories they will come back to haunt her every time she invites a boy home for family dinner. Having taken all things into consideration, I can only tell you one thing: if Heidi, be it now or 145 years from now, ever falls under my care, she is going eat the healthy food that I cook her (and I'm not talking ramen and Taco Bell). If she puts on her starvation act, I'll turn all the junk food in the house green.
Camping, Movies, Books and Music
Some of our best times together as a couple and a family are spent camping, having barbeques, singing, watching movies, rough housing on the living room floor, swimming, playing board and card games and walking along the river half a mile from our house. We have especially enjoyed learning sign language together this year.
Jarom loves a good game of soccer and plays the guitar. He also enjoys getting creative with photography and videos. Jarom writes humor columns for his friends and family to read (see next post for a sample). there is nothing Jarom enjoys more than making people laugh.
Kaylee's interests include books of all types. She has a library of over 1200 books ranging from gardening to mysteries to children's picture books. Kaylee also loves doing yoga, gardening, singing and playing the piano.
Elijah loves to do anything that involves climbing, running, singing, signing, cars or dogs. He is especially known for his super-human-strenth-in-a-little-boy's-body, his impossibly long eyelashes that he loves to use to flirt with all of the old ladies on the back row at church, and his spontaneous laugh.
Jarom loves a good game of soccer and plays the guitar. He also enjoys getting creative with photography and videos. Jarom writes humor columns for his friends and family to read (see next post for a sample). there is nothing Jarom enjoys more than making people laugh.
Kaylee's interests include books of all types. She has a library of over 1200 books ranging from gardening to mysteries to children's picture books. Kaylee also loves doing yoga, gardening, singing and playing the piano.
Elijah loves to do anything that involves climbing, running, singing, signing, cars or dogs. He is especially known for his super-human-strenth-in-a-little-boy's-body, his impossibly long eyelashes that he loves to use to flirt with all of the old ladies on the back row at church, and his spontaneous laugh.
Thursday, May 7, 2009
Thoughts On Open Adoption
We attended the last adoption workshop in the series tonight while E-man hung out with his Uncle Neal. At the workshop we talked about openness issues and it got me thinking about Elijah's birthmother, Sonjya. She didn't want any further contact after placement, and although I can respect her reasons (her life is uber complicated), I often wish we had a little more of her input. We didn't get to meet her and don't even have a picture to show Elijah what she looks like. I often wonder if she is doing OK, what she feels about her decision to place Elijah with us, if she has any regrets. I want to share pictures with her and show her how handsome he has become, how happy and healthy he is. I would like to share the videos we have of him doing sign language while he watches his favorite show Signing Time. The kid is absolutely brilliant and SO MUCH FUN! I want her to know she can be proud of him. I hope she doesn't feel ashamed of her decision or her inability to care for him at this point in her life. Moreover, I can't help but feel that if Elijah's personality is anything like Sonjya's, I couldn't help but love her as well.
At the workshop we also talked about the ramifications of the flip side - what happens when birthparents (and sometimes their parents) want a little too much openness than what may be in the adopted child's best interest. Jarom and I talked afterward and came up with some ideas we would like to discuss with our future birthparents before placement (assuming we get a chance next time around). For example, what do they feel their role will be post-placement? What do the birthparents and our family hope to accomplish by having an open adoption? If they want ongoing contact, how do we come up with mutually respectful boundaries? At what point could openness be detrimental to the child? How do we best communicate with birthparents post-placement about issues that will come up? First and foremost, we feel that being fully honest and upfront before placement will be best and then to follow through afterward.
At the workshop we also talked about the ramifications of the flip side - what happens when birthparents (and sometimes their parents) want a little too much openness than what may be in the adopted child's best interest. Jarom and I talked afterward and came up with some ideas we would like to discuss with our future birthparents before placement (assuming we get a chance next time around). For example, what do they feel their role will be post-placement? What do the birthparents and our family hope to accomplish by having an open adoption? If they want ongoing contact, how do we come up with mutually respectful boundaries? At what point could openness be detrimental to the child? How do we best communicate with birthparents post-placement about issues that will come up? First and foremost, we feel that being fully honest and upfront before placement will be best and then to follow through afterward.
Sunday, March 22, 2009
Family Pictures Taken Recently
Jarom in his "office"
Story time
Olivia, Michaela, Maia and Elijah playing on the exercise equipment. I love Maia's half-blink!
Saturday, March 21, 2009
Family and Fun
We spent the day with our families today. In the morning we went to Jarom's cousin's baby shower, and in the afternoon we went to my family's monthly birthday party. Frankly, I was shocked that Jarom wanted to go to the baby shower. Usually he avoids gatherings where the word "cute" is used in nearly every sentence, but he was a trooper and made a good showing. My favorite part of the shower, though, was when Elijah went up to one of Aunt Terry's friends from church and grabbed the cookie out of her hand, took two bites then gave it back to her faster than you could say "limonysnicket". Yeah, we're still working on the concept of ownership with him. He just didn't see any reason at all why he shouldn't be the one eating it, so he did what any red-blooded toddler would do. Luckily the lady was a good sport about it.
And speaking of good sports... In the afternoon, Elijah apparently ate a few too many dried plums (no longer "prunes" - says so right on the package) and had a blow out while we were at my brother's house. Jarom pushed up his sleaves, took his wedding ring off and put it in his pocket, and cleaned Elijah up. What a man! Unfortunately, he somehow lost his ring and spent two hours looking high and low for it. We still haven't found it. Then on the drive home, he talked for a good half hour about how blessed he has been. Not a single complaint about the day! I am so grateful to be married to a patient, positive man.
Sunday, March 15, 2009
"Spring"ing Ahead -- Glorious Sunshine!
This week we caught the fever - spring fever - and broke out the stroller and the rake. We've spent hours every day outside - playing at the park, power walking around the block, watching Elijah run up and down the driveway, and working in the backyard (you should see E-man dragging around the rake, looking over at me to see how I do it, and trying to immitate my raking form. Of course, the rake is 4x his size, but he is committed to doing this right. What a champ!) When he must come back inside, the only things that will console him are Sesame Street (a.k.a. "Ehmo") and bathtime. We are (drum roll) finally finishing our sprinkler system in the back yard so we will have nice soft grass for the kids to play on this year in a nice fenced in area, but have a lot of overgrowth to clear out before that can happen. We are also planning our first vegetable garden. Tomatoes, zucchini, cucumbers, snap peas! I can taste them already. I love the anticipation and seeing the progress! I especially love having something to do together that will have lasting results.
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