Smooth the edges

It is a fascinating process...bringing a new person (or animal) into your home.  We talk a lot about the adjustments that have to be made when you move in with a partner.  Oh, I remember that well.  I'm sure Charles does too.  You really have to learn to live with a person.

The same is true for animals.  When we brought Phoenix home, there was quite a bit of adjustment.  Before you know it, you are scooping up poop without a second thought.  (I think we are nearing a second dog...more on that as it progresses).

Well, of course the same is true of a child.  I've been thinking lately about the other families in our China travel group who adopted older children.  I believe they were 12, 8, and 4.  Zi was 10 months old.  Two of those three families were adopting their second Chinese child, and looked at us lovingly and remembered what their daughters (who we met) were like at 10 months old.  I think now about what their adjustment periods have been like.  We have been home from China for 3 months (on the 29th).  I wonder how those families are making out.

I think we are making out fine.  But, if I'm honest (like I was in the last post), it has been hard.  And, I don't just mean for me.  I look at her daily and think about her mother in China.  I wonder about her father in China.  I know that she has no cognitive memory of either of them, but surely her body remembers (at least her mother).  I think about the major adjustments she's had to make in only 13 months:  the loss of her mother, the loss of her orphanage (which was her 2nd home), the loss of her primary language, and the gain of a new set of parents and English.  It seems overwhelming.  And, because she is so small, she really won't remember much (if any of it).  Then I think about the other families in our group whose children are old enough to remember.  I wonder how long it takes to smooth down those edges.

Because, today, that is how it feels:  like smoothing down the rough edges of stones when you tumble them together.  I am a grumpy night person.  She is a happy morning person.  Those are sharp edges to mix.  She is pre-verbal, and I'm a word person.  She is young, and I am (at least I am feeling) old.  She likes people and groups of people, and I like to be alone.  And yet, for all my moaning and complaining about how hard it is (and it IS), I really love the look of tumbled stone, of things well worn.  When we were in Tokyo last summer, one of the temples had this beautiful, clean-lined, stone courtyard.  I marveled how over the thousand or so years, the stone had been worn by the passing of people to look almost soft.  I found it gorgeous.  Not only for its aesthetic (which was gorgeous), but because of what it suggested: many people have passed here.

Our culture tends to prize sharp edges.  Knives are metaphors for power.  And it is painful to be thrown in with other sharp-edged objects and tumbled around.  But my hope is, that in the end, we will look like that Shinto courtyard.

Recently, Charles reminded me of this quote from Hunter S. Thompson:

“Life should not be a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely in a pretty and well preserved body, but rather to skid in broadside in a cloud of smoke, thoroughly used up, totally worn out, and loudly proclaiming “Wow! What a Ride!’”

Yes, I think that is about right.

Good Mothering

So, I had a thought this weekend.  What does it mean to be a good mother in this culture?  I think I do most of the things that need to be done for Zi:  feeding, washing, dressing, loving, playing, driving, shopping, you know, the typical stuff.  And quite a bit of this stuff, I don't really enjoy doing.

And, it was the next thought, and the thought that followed quickly on its heels that made me stop and think this through a little bit more.  My next thought was, a good mother would enjoy all of it.  And that is when I realized the truth of Ayelet Waldman's book (see my earlier post):  This is what our culture tells us good mothering is.  It doesn't really matter, according to our culture, that I DO all of these things.  Good mothers love doing it.  I don't.  Therefore, I am a bad mother.

But, I disagree.  In fact, I want to disagree loudly.  If you enjoy spending all day with a 13 month old child who doesn't yet walk or speak, who enjoys pulling the dishes out of the cabinets and banging on every surface that she can find, then more power to you.  I'm glad that someone enjoys it (as I tell the teachers of Zi's class nearly every day).  I don't know how they do it.  I do not enjoy it.

I love Zi.  I love spending time with her.  In fact, now that I am working, I find that the few hours each day that I have with her are pretty amazing and fun.  But, when I was spending all 12 of her waking hours with her (and many days, with only her), I was pretty miserable.  As cute and sweet and amazing as she is, 12 hours was too much for me.

So, then I started wondering.  Why do we expect a "good" mother to enjoy it?  Do you expect that an employee must enjoy cleaning dishes to be a good dish washer?  No.  We just expect them to get the job done.  And if they get it done faster or with more accuracy, then they are great employees.  Why should parenting be any different?

I had a fight with a friend years ago because I said that parenting was a duty, an obligation.  She believed that children are not obligations but gifts (I'm paraphrasing her here; it has been quite a few years ago).  I think, though, that most people would agree with her and not with me.  And, it isn't that I don't see that Zi is a gift.  She is.  But, PARENTING is a duty.  It is a job.  And, it is a job that I don't really always enjoy.

But to say that is nearly blasphemous in our culture.  And, I wonder, why?  It is not only a job, it is a HARD job.  Harder than any job I've ever had.  The hours are long and unforgiving, and the stakes couldn't be higher.

But, if we could stop demonizing each other for the way we feel about doing, ESPECIALLY when we do it, then maybe we could move our society to a place where women were not expected to do the bulk of the work, to a society where decent childcare is more readily available and not so darn expensive, to a place where we begin to realize that it is work.  Those who have the luxury to choose to stay at home with their children (and, I do have that luxury; I have chosen otherwise) are respected for the WORK that they do.

On the brighter side, my darling Zi is now a walker.  Here is video of her showing off her new skills:

First Haircut

So, I trimmed the back of Zi's hair today.  Not really enough for anyone to notice, but it was starting to look like a mullet, so I trimmed it up a little bit.  She did not protest.

My hair stylist said that some children cry when they get their hair cut because they think their hair is part of them so cutting it will hurt.  Hair is, of course, part of us.  I think about this more with fingernails and toenails.  Maybe because I have to cut them much more often.  Maybe it is because sometimes I cut those too short.

I guess what cutting Zi's hair really did, though, was make me realize that in two days, she will have been with us for three months.  And in only three months, I cannot imagine my life without her.  I remember people asking me if I felt that way when we first got home from China, and I thought (and even said) absolutely not.  I clearly could still imagine sleeping when I wanted to and going to the grocery store unencumbered by 20 extra pounds and the hassles of a car seat.  And, maybe I can still imagine that, but it certainly feels distant, and in some strange way, sad.

But it is not that I think I didn't have a life before Zi.  In fact I had a pretty fancy and dream-like life.  Maybe having had the life I did makes me appreciate her more.  I don't resent her when I'm home on a weekend night.  I don't feel like she has taken my life from me.  On the other hand,  I certainly don't think that raising children is all life is about.  But, even with all of the hardships that come with raising a child, it is pretty darn fun.  I can't get over how amazing the human animal is:  how adaptable, how intelligent, how emotional, and how full of joy and wonder.

Zi started preschool this week.  I expected to be really torn apart when I left her there on Monday morning.  I wasn't.  Now, I did feel conflicted some days.  And, she was sick on Friday, so I had her home with me (she is much better today), so she had a short week.  But, I was amazed at how quickly we have all adapted to each other and how easily she adapted to group care again.

It's sort of like the haircut.  There are things that we do that look like they should hurt.  But I can hack away at your hair and fingernails and you won't hurt a bit.  I thought dropping her off at school would hurt.  But when Zi goes to school, she's surrounded by other children her age and two lovely teachers that are helping her learn to follow directions, play with other children, finger paint, even putting on her own clothes.  It's those things that we don't expect to hurt:  the paper cut when opening an envelope that you have to look out for.  Like when a baby has a cold, and there is nothing you can do.  That's the stuff that hurts.  Not the haircuts.  Not the dropping off at daycare.  It's the sweet little girl with a snotty nose that causes me to suck my teeth and wish for some sort of emotional Band-aid.

the duck reaction

Ginger and Allison passed on lots of great toys to Zi from Connor and Sydney (notice the rocking horse in the background).  Her favorite is this push duck that Grandma Jenny picked out for Connor.

Leesia Teh

This will only be available for two weeks.  So, watch it while you can.

www.leesiateh.com/slideshows/july22