A new dog

We've gone nearly four years without a dog, which seems a long time, given that until our sweet old Koppel's death in the summer of 2005, I'd had a dog ever since I finished school. The kids really, really wanted a dog (Ben, of course, remembered Koppel, Kisae just loved the idea of a dog). I wanted a dog. Jim loves dogs but worried about the time and energy they require. But he finally decided okay.
So last week, we visited a rescue shelter -- thinking we'd just talk to them. But there was a small, cute Corgi mix who seemed to meet our requirements (gentle with kids, housebroken, okay home alone). And so now he is ours.
He is a small bundle of sweetness with the softest fur ever. The kids are head over heels about him. Kisae keeps saying, "I love him so much. Him legs so cute. Him bottom so cute. Him the best dog." Ben has better grammar but the same views.
His name is Murphy.

Should we worry? (even a little?)

Been too busy, too stressed and too sick to blog for ages, but finally feel like jumping back in, so here goes.

As I've written perhaps before, Chakisae adores Ben and almost immediately upon joining our family latched onto him, sensing that he was the other kid, and she should be with him. One of her first words was "jump!," which she would wail when she spotted him on the backyard trampoline, and she hadn't been invited.

She often wants "same as Ben," right down to asking what he's having for breakfast before making her own decision. Though she often does make her own decisions -- there are times when I have this little tiny worry about her security or insecurity as it relates to her brother. Of course, I'm not sure that even makes sense.

But consider: She and Ben were both drawing pictures on "big paper." I praised her picture; I praised Ben's. Ben was done, however, and she was still working.

Chakisae got furious. She thought we didn't like hers; that it wasn't as good as Ben's (which, though we didn't this, was pretty nuts, since her brother only draws quick, crazy Godzillas, and she actually loves to draw and seems to have some talent in that area, in the 4-year-old kind of way).

But she would not be mollified. Instead, she got out another piece of paper and proceeded to copy Ben's big crazy Godzilla. She would not eat until she was done; she even wanted to copy his name (it was in cursive, so she didn't recognize it).

We were a) kind of amazed at her copying skills and her perseverance but b) just sorta/kinda wondering if this "same as Ben" attitude should give us pause.

Well, actually it's me that wonders this. I don't think Jim worries about this at all.

Of course, some older brother adoration is normal. Is changing your shirt so you're both wearing the shirts Gramps sent? Is agreeing to decorate your face like his with magic marker? (yeah, probably). But what about refusing to go to lunch with Grandma unless Ben comes, too? Or wondering, when Ben is at a friend's house for dinner, if he is lonely without us (as if!).

Maybe this is all normal. But I wonder, just sometimes, if it is some sign of an adoption insecurity, although I can't quite put my finger on just what it would mean.

Which maybe means it is nothing more than that she really, truly adores her older brother. And that is pretty wonderful.

A play date planned

As I was cooking dinner last night, Kisae was at her usual spot on a stool at the kitchen counter. She was writing out the ABC's, as usual, and talking, the conversation bouncing around as conversations with 4-year-old's usually do.

And then quite unexpectedly she told me she was going to write a letter to Barack Obama. Because she wanted to ask him, "I play with his girls?"

So she got a new sheet of paper and told me she was going to write, "Dear Barack Obama. I go to your house and play with your children?"

She didn't, of course, write those sentences. But she did insist I tell her how to spell Barack and Malia and Sascha and then the word "president," and she wrote those out very carefully, in her lopsided but oh-so-cute, 4-year-old hand.

I think she figures her White House play date is all but set.

Bad mom moment

Let's just say that your kid is having a bit of problem with talking too much in school. And let's say that you are aware of this problem and, while it is not a crisis, it worries you.

So let's say that a certain Tuesday was particularly bad and the "infraction" notice sent home indicated that, once again, there was talking when there should not have been. And then let's say that on Wednesday you hoped for better. And that Wednesday afternoon, just as school was ending, your cell phone rang. And it was your kid's enrichment teacher -- and he'd been in enrichment that day. And your heart sinks and you brace yourself for the bad news about bad behavior.

But it is not that.

No let's say that the teacher is upset because your child burned his fingers on a hot glue gun. And she feels bad and she is (clearly) worried that you are going to be mad that he was even using a hot glue gun (to build a bridge from Popsicle sticks).

But let's say you do not feel mad. Not at all. You feel just RELIEF. He is only burned! (and not that badly). He did not get in trouble for talking. Whew, whew, whew.

Oh, you do inquire about the burned finger and because you have to run to the school later anyway, you say you will stop by and check in on him at his after-school program (and the errand to the school is to drop off food for a family dealing with unimaginable tragedy, which is always a good reminder that there is far, far worse out there and our little problems are mostly, well, little). When you stop by, your child is fine.

So again, you are relieved -- but honestly mostly because there wasn't too much talking, not so much about the finger.

And then you think, you got a call that your child was hurt and all you felt was relief? Bad mom, moment, right?

Adoption, explained in crayons

Kisae loves to draw, so it's not surprising that when I pick her up at preschool her cubby contains pictures she made that day.

She had three little crayon drawings in her cubby on Tuesday. I was surprised only when she described one of them to me.

"That's you getting me," she said. "That's my house a long time ago."

The drawing showed something like a hut and then me reaching down to pick up her up. The crayon baby seemed to be in some kind of bassinet. Kisae explained that this was when she was a "tiny baby." The next picture was of just me and her and the last of the whole family but still when she was tiny.

At her age it's hard to know how much she processes about her adoption or how much she thinks about it. So I was totally surprised, maybe even taken aback, that she described it in crayon -- while at school.

It was sweet, and I think it's good that she's trying to understand the things we've told her. She described the pictures while we were in the car. I had to wait until a red light to turn around and look at them. They were so sweet. Truthfully, they made my eyes well up just a little bit.

(The scans, by the way, are pretty faded. Oh well).

Winter jackets? Ice on the windshields? Our brief freeze (but today high of 76. Ah).

The temperatures dropped this week for about three days, dipping below freezing three nights in a row.

I grew up in NY and went to college in upstate NY, so it's not like I cannot deal. But frankly, I've just grown used to warmer temps. And now, I found it mostly just a hassle to (for a few days) dig out jackets and sweaters and drag in plants or cover them with sheets and towels.

And I was downright puzzled about what to do when I went out to the car one morning with Kisae and discovered a sheet of ice on the windshield. Of course, I don't own a scraper. So I just waited until the heat cranked up and the ice melted.

The kids weren't initially thrilled with the whole jacket thing, though when they felt the cool air and saw the frost on the grass, they agreed. The first freezing morning, Ben wanted to call his Colorado cousins and tell them it was 32 degrees. I had to stop him because a)it was 6 a.m. there and b)I knew such weather news would be hardly, well, news to them.

Anyway, the freeze is over. We had a lovely, sunny and in the 70s, weekend. My geraniums and pansies went back outside - still blooming.

Would-be stars on ice

Ben has been interested for some time in learning to play ice hockey. Probably because Jim loves -- and sometimes plays -- this sport. But as a Florida boy, he's had limited opportunities to skate, much less learn to play hockey. In fact, his first three times on the ice took place in Colorado when we were visiting my brother' s family.

Still, this summer when his camp went ice skating he came back saying he was the best one on the ice. Of course, I did get him to admit that he was practically the only kid who'd ever been skating before that camp trip.

Well recently we took the kids to the holiday ice skating rink UCF had set up at Christmas time. Ben was thrilled -- and really not bad for a kid who was skating for only the sixth time in his life -- and came back determined to try hockey.

So Jim signed up for a "learn to play hockey" program at the one (that I know about anyway) rink in Orlando. Of course, in typical fashion Ben immediately started talking about making the competitive/traveling hockey team! We had to explain that first he had to pass through the "learn to skate" program, then he would move into "learn to play hockey," then maybe a chance to sign up for a recreational team and after that, some older kids played on the traveling team.

At least the kid dreams big. Anyway, the classes started this afternoon. Jim said he's doing well, but still needs to learn to stop. Yeah, the basics.

Chakisae skated at the holiday rink (her first time) and loved it, so I was a bit worried she'd be upset that she wasn't in the "learn to skate" program, too. But she wanted to go watch Ben today and didn't seem to mind she wasn't on the ice -- yet. Though Jim is now taken with the idea that we could sign her up, too, and maybe she'd be the first female Ethiopian hockey player. Hmm.