Red Face and the White Flag

I spent 6 idyllic years as the Uber Parent.  Complete strangers would cross the room in a restaurant or retail establishment and say, “Your son is so well behaved. I just had to come over and tell you that.”    I would beam with pride. I knew I had very little to do with it. To be fair, this was a little like moving into a beautifully landscaped house and posing outside with pruning shears.

Ben’s good temperament is legendary. Never a tantrum.  Almost never whines. Does what I ask of him 95% of the time – the first time I ask.  When people would offer praise, I would sometimes say, “Oh no, it’s not me; he came to me that way. He’s just a great kid.”  But this would trigger the reinforcement compliment: “Parenting must have something to do with it, too.”  Well, who was I to question their sound judgment? 

Recently, I brought Ben and Evan to the movies.  At the entrance to the theater there are arcade style games.  When the movie ended, Evan ran from me all the way to the games.  I ran behind him.  Ben ran behind me.  Evan tucked himself behind the video game to hide.  I caught a glimpse just as the last sliver of Evan disappeared, so I pulled him out and signed to him, “Don’t run from me!”  Evan signed back, “Sorry,” which is his favorite sign lately.  He thinks it is just like a magic eraser that grants you a do-over when adults are upset with you. 

I looked up and a handsome man in my age group was looking at me, amused.  I tried to wipe the frazzled look from my face and smile. 

“I wondered if anyone was going to find him back there,” he offered.   I explained to him that I am quite adept at chasing him and it is Evan’s way of being funny.  The boys played on the games (just the preview screens since I refuse to drop a quarter in them).  I chatted with the man. He was waiting for his teen children to emerge from a movie. 

Evan spied a teenage girl dancing on one of those electronic match-the-moves games.  He decided she needed a dance partner and darted onto the platform with her.  I ran over, snatched Evan off and decided it was time to go.  Then the fun began. 

Evan did not want to go. He ran from me and kept jumping on and off different machines.  Poor Ben thought, “If he’s still playing, I’m going to play.”  While chasing Evan like a greased pig, I was calling back to Ben, “Don’t play – If you do it, he will think he can, too.”  Ben looked dismayed.  I looked like an idiot.  The nice man got a glazed, faraway look and decided to move several feet out of the arcade area to wait for his children. 

I finally got a grip on Evan and started out of the theater.  I turned to say, “Have a good evening,” to the gentleman in a feeble attempt to restore some appearance that everything was normal and I had this under control.  Evan broke away from me and darted out the door. I ran after him, uselessly shouting, “Evan!”  Ben trailed after us with a pained look on his face. 

Because the cosmos could see that I still had a remnant of dignity left, we ran right past an acquaintance, who upon seeing my predicament, felt necessary to offer: “Wow, you really have your hands full!” 

So that’s it.  I have traded spontaneous accolades for wonderful parenting and a perfect child for, “You really have your hands full!”  This is always accompanied by a head shake and faint, but still perceptible recoil – as if the condition might be contagious. 

I have adjusted to this.  I have waved the white flag.  I have resigned myself to the reality that for the next couple of years I will be publically embarrassed on a regular basis.  People will look on with a mixture of pity and judgment.  I will take this as karmic retribution for every time I have observed another parent with an out of control child and smugly thought, “They need to get it together.”  It’s ok.  I can take it.

In reality, Evan’s behavior has improved greatly. He came home last week with a happy face on his behavior chart every day – an enormous accomplishment.  The child who is running around the house in his underwear right now - carrying a blanket and pretending to be Dracula - bears little resemblance to the surly stranger I brought back from China about 3 months ago. 

Three months ago, we went toe-to-toe about everything.  He is still stubborn, but there are far fewer battles.   Three months ago, when I would reprimand Evan, he would glare at me like a hardened teenager.  Now, Evan gets teary eyed and signs, “Sorry.” 

Perhaps the biggest difference I have noticed lately is his laughter.  It is hard to put into words the change that I have noticed.  In our first weeks together, Evan rarely laughed.  Oh, he would laugh at people.  He would misbehave and then pose like a superhero, hands on hips, and give a canned laugh.  But now, Evan laughs.  He squeals, he giggles, his laughter bubbles up and spills over the top like a 6 year old's  ought to.  His face lights up. This, to me, is worth every red-faced moment I can endure. 

Rumble in the Jungle (Gym) -well, almost!

We were leaving the grocery store about a week ago and Evan was riding in the buggy –(that’s a shopping cart to my Northern friends.)   Somehow, when we arrived at the car, he had lost one flip flop.  I knew it had to be between the car and the entrance of the store, so I locked both boys in the car and went back to retrieve it.

As I returned to the car, in a matter of seconds, this is what I witnessed:

Evan reached up to turn the dome light on.

Ben reached up to turn it off. 

Evan turned it on.

Ben turned it off.  (Ben knows this wears the battery down. Being the ever-conscientious worry-wart kid that he is, Ben considered this a mission of the utmost importance.)

Evan pushed at Ben.  Ben pushed at Evan.

Evan balled up his fist and socked Ben square in the eye. 

Needless to say, Evan was punished. Ben received an icepack.  This little interaction made me aware of

 #1. Evan still has a long way to go in developing social skills. and

 #2. The kid throws a punch like a professional boxer.  He has definitely done this before.

All of this was fresh in my mind when we visited beautiful Forsyth Park last weekend.  There were many children playing and Ben and Evan ran joyfully to the playground equipment.  I hovered, as I usually do, to make sure Evan is “playing nice.” 

Evan brought a new toy, a plastic action-figure/robot with him.  He climbed to the top platform from which all slides descended.   Several kids were up there, going up and sliding down.  Evan sat at the top of a slide, toy in hand.

 An older child, with curly hair and a very annoying (yes, I said it!) personality, reached over to Evan and tried to snatch the toy from him.  With manners that conveyed a “No one ever says no to me” mentality, the child simultaneously asked/demanded, “Hey, can I play with that?”   I watched with mixed fascination and trepidation.  He had no idea he was messing with the Evanator!

Evan yanked his toy back and waved his scolding finger at the child imitating angry speech noises. 

I walked over and said, “He can’t hear what you’re asking him.  He's deaf.”

Annoying boy: “Well, how do you say it in Spanish?”

Me:  “It won’t matter what language you ask him in, HE CAN’T HEAR YOU.” 

A/B: “Well, how do you talk to him, then?  I want to play with that.” 

(Obviously, the possibility that he would not get to play with the toy was not even in his realm of thought.)

Me: (thinking of the Evanator): “I think it’s better for you if you just forget that you ever saw that toy and keep it moving.”

Naturally, the A/B was bewildered, but this seemed to be the end of it.  A little while later, Evan asked me to hold his toy.  The A/B witnessed this and then asked me if he could play with it.   I told him that Evan had just gotten the toy recently and he wasn’t interested in sharing right now. 

I breathed a sigh of relief thinking we had avoided a social “faux pas.” I was proud of Evan that he hadn’t resorted to physical aggression.  PC or not, I couldn’t help but think that A/B was going to find himself perilously close to danger many more times in his youth unless he developed better social skills.

 Now that the toy was “off the table” I was pretty sure this kid would lose interest in Evan. I was wrong. 

Evan was happily darting up and down the ramps and slides, making his warrior cries.  You would think witnessing this force of nature would be enough to deter anyone from messing with him.  Most kids get out of the way when they see Evan coming. But not that kid.

 Evan had paused on a walkway when - like a moth to a flame - A/B walks up to Evan again.  I watched in amazement as the boy stood in front of Evan and started SWATTING Evan on the chest REPEATEDLY saying over and over: “Tag, you’re it. Tag you’re it. Tag you’re it. Tag you’re it.”

 Evan stared at him in total amazement.  One eyebrow arched up.  The famous Evanator sneer came across his face.  I thought, “Here it comes.”   I held my breath.  I didn’t move to stop him.  Part of me – that primal mother-bear part of me – wanted to see the winds of karma do its thing. 

Evan released a barrage of what I’m sure were not very nice words in this boy’s face.  But Evan did not raise a hand.   I was proud of him, (and not so proud of myself!)  I told the boy again, “He can’t understand what you are saying.”  The child seemed annoyed and ran off.   Evan went about his business.  A short while later, I saw Evan chasing Annoying Boy through the ramps and slapping him on the back.  The A/B was yelling, “Hey, leave me alone!  Leave me alone!!” 

“That’s my boy!”  I laughed to myself.  The Evanator always wins J

Sleep is for mere mortals....

I once heard that the definition of insanity was doing the same thing, the same way, and expecting a different result.  I don’t doubt it.  This past week, Evan decided he did not want to go to bed.  I don’t mean just at 8:00 – I mean at all.  It was his master plan to just skip the whole sleep-nonsense-thingy in its totality.  

Allow me to backtrack.  Evan sleeps in the bottom bunk; Ben in the top. Ben graciously gave up the bottom “because it is bigger, and you (Mommy) can lay down with Evan like you did with me so he won’t be afraid.”  Our bedtime ritual has been that we brush our teeth, enjoy a book, and go to sleep.  This past week, Evan blew that train right off the track. 

Why sleep?  We would get to the point of lying down, and then Evan would launch an escalating campaign of blended harassment and deceit.

  “Ooh, Mommy is falling asleep…what will happen if I blow in Mommy’s face? How about if I touch her nose?  Stick my finger in her ear?  Wow, she does not look happy. Look – she’s falling asleep again…I will sneak out of bed and get that toy.  Darn, I didn’t know that toy made noise! Uh, oh! ….”

This went on Monday, and Tuesday…by Wednesday night I was so sleep deprived I told Ben to ‘get his pop-tarts out from under the table.’  The problem is I meant to say flip-flops.   I could not take it anymore.  Wednesday night the blitzkrieg persisted… 9:00 – 9:30 – 10:30…. I began to understand why parents flip out and snap…  I yanked Evan out of bed and gave him a time-out in the hallway…back to bed.  No effect.  I lay in the bed stewing, thinking of all the work I had to do and how tired I was.  I thought, “This kid has no idea of what I do all day, every day.”

Then, a stroke of genius (or so I thought) lit upon me.  I will put his energy to use.  “Ah hah, I thought -- you want to stay up and you are not sleepy? I will show you what it’s like to be an adult.” I pulled him out of the bed and into the kitchen.  I was angry. Evan looked scared.    I pulled the step stool over to the sink where I had left a pile of dishes for the morning.  I hate doing dishes.  I signed to Evan to start washing. I wanted to see shock. I wanted to see reluctance.  I wanted to see pouting.  Evan broke  into a huge grin. 

We stood in my kitchen as the clock approached 11:30 and Evan washed every dish, pan, and piece of silverware.  I watched (hoped) for a sign of fatigue.  Nope.  I was torn between a silly-joy of not having to face those dishes in the morning, and indignation that my “punishment” backfired and I was no closer to solving our sleep dilemma. I was not yet willing to accept the fact that my psychological trick was not having the desired effect. Still trying to be the “mean task master” I pointed to the mop and bucket and told him when he was finished, I was going to make him mop the floors. Evan looked thrilled, showed me his muscles, and I felt like a Giant Idiot-of-Parenting.  Sure, my house would be cleaner, but I did want to go to bed at some point. 

We did not mop the floors.  When the dishes were done, I told Evan he had to go to bed.  He was not happy – like I had broken a promise.  I was exhausted. 

The next morning I decided I had reached the point of absurdity and I needed to wave the white flag.  I told Ben  I would not lie down in their room that night.  I needed my sleep.  If Evan wanted to stay up all night, so be it.  I didn’t want Ben to suffer as Evan bounced around their room, so I told him if Evan didn’t settle down, he could come and sleep in my bed. 

That night, we repeated our usual bedtime ritual. When it came time to lay down with Evan, I kissed him on the forehead and said, “Good night.”  He looked puzzled.  I point towards my room and told him Mommy was tired and since he didn’t want to go to sleep, I was going to sleep in my room.  I turned out the light.  Five minutes passed.  Ben walked in my room with his pillow.  Moments later, Evan followed and I told him to go back to his room.  I told him we were tired and wanted to sleep.   Evan looked bewildered, then intrigued. I’m sure the word “FREEDOM” blinked in big neon letters in his brain.

I laid awake for a short time, listening to the sounds of Evan playing.  Around 10:30, I woke briefly and could tell he was still going.  (Mind you, this was a school night!)  After midnight, I heard sounds coming from the living room.  I walked down the hallway and found Evan, still awake, hands folded behind his head, watching some black-and-white movie on T.V. I was over it.   Off went the T.V.  Evan gave me a surly look; I snatched him up, and let him know, “Enough was enough.”  I put him back in his bed, told him to go to sleep, and turned the light out.  Evan must have passed out then, because I didn’t hear anymore from him. 

As it usually does, morning came.  Six o’clock is early for most children, especially for those who choose to party half the night.  I woke Evan. His eyes were red.  I dragged him out of bed and pulled a uniform shirt over his head.  He tried to go back in the bed.  I smiled.  Vindicated.

When Evan was fully dressed, I sat him at the dining room table in front of his breakfast.  He put his head on the table.  I told him, “See what happens when you don’t go to sleep?”  He nodded.  He sat in my lap and put his head against me as we waited for the bus. 

Evan survived the school day.  I felt better than I had all week since I had gotten a full night’s sleep.  Bedtime came.  I went to kiss Evan’s forehead and he looked at me and patted the bed next to him.  I signed, “Are you going to go to sleep?”  He nodded.  I didn’t really believe him, but I got in the bed anyway.  Evan fidgeted for a few minutes.  “Here we go, I thought.”  I looked at him and signed, “Sleep.”  Seconds later, Evan snuggled close to me and hooked his arm around my neck as if to say, “You’re staying right here.”    We fell asleep like that. 

Extras:

I have discovered the hard way that a slow drain in the bathroom sink and a deaf kid are not a good match.  Evan cannot hear the water running, so he sometimes forgets to turn it off after he washes his hands or brushes his teeth.  This has resulted in a flooded bathroom twice.  Now, Ben or I will check behind Evan to make sure he has turned the water off.

Evan is doing well in school.  Behavior is still a challenge, but he is having more good days than bad.  Straight-faces and sad-faces on the behavior chart means no T.V. at home, so Evan tries to do the right thing.

Our communication is improving.  Evan’s signing vocabulary is passing mine now, so I have to catch up!  We can now have small conversations.  Evan has been pulling out his photo album from the orphanage in China and telling me about his friends.  Apparently, one boy scratched the side of Evan’s head, and Evan is still pissed at him! LOL. 

My big shock for the week is that I discovered just yesterday that Evan knows some MULTIPLICATION.  We were working in my classroom and he was on the computer.  Ben said, “Mom, look, Evan’s doing multiplication.”  I said, “No, he’s not.”  I walked over to see Evan moving an 18 over to a box that said 6 x 3 = ?    and the 15 over to the 5 x 3 = ?.  I could not believe what I was seeing. I couldn’t get him to show me more.  At home, I tried to get him to do it again on my computer, and he showed a solid understanding of the zero and ones table.  Beyond that, it looked like guessing, but I am going to look into this further.  Sometimes, I think the only thing about Evan that is 6 years old is his teeth.  He looks like Leon Spinks lately – all his front teeth are coming out.

Oh, and by the way, Evan has been doing the dishes now every day!  :)

The effect of time....

In my early twenties, in a moment of whimsy and idiocy, I got a puppy.  Gigi was a Boston Terrier.  I thought she would be like the sweet, funny, well behaved Boston Terrier I had left with my mother back in Rhode Island.  I made two amateur mistakes: assuming the puppies would have similar personalities, and thinking that somehow with my busy social life and erratic work schedule I could train a puppy to be as well behaved as my mother had.

 I was very wrong on both accounts.  Gigi was Nuts.  If there was doggy-Ritalin, I would have given it to her.  Of course, my schedule did not aid the poor little girl in developing nice behavior or bathroom habits.  I would come home from working all day and find ‘treasures’ she would leave me.  I wanted to sleep after staying out half the night.  Gigi wanted to run outside.  As a compromise, while I tried to sleep, she would dance on my head. 

Shortly into our ill-paired union, I decided that Gigi had to go.  I place an ad in the local paper.  If I were honest, it should have read:  “Superball that sh*ts.”   Instead, I lied.  I claimed I had to move and couldn’t bring the dear, sweet puppy with me.  Free - to a good home.  A woman answered the ad.  She had other Bostons.  I brought Gigi for a visit.  I feigned deep regret that I couldn’t keep the little darling.  The woman didn’t look like a hoarder or a mass murderer, and her animals seemed well cared for.  I gave Gigi a pat on the head and got the heck out of there.  As I drove away, relief washed over me.  I quietly wished the lady luck, and hoped I wouldn’t receive any “come-get-her” phone calls. 

Now, I am not comparing children to dogs directly, but I will admit now that the first weeks with Evan unnerved me.  I had many, “WHAT HAVE I DONE?” moments. I cried.  More than once.  I wistfully looked at pictures of my model-child Ben when he was small.   Remember the story of Adam and Eve? Walking around in Paradise …couldn’t leave well-enough alone ... just had to bite that apple?  That was how I felt; booted out of Paradise, never to return – or so I thought. 

The first day of school has come and gone.  I am posting a picture of the brothers on their first day.  Evan was extremely pleased with his reflection in the crisp white polo and navy blue slacks.  He couldn’t take his eyes off himself while he brushed his teeth.  He looked in the mirror smiling and nodded his head with approval.  Then he turned to me and hugged me tight.

Fast forward. Evan and Ben have just completed their 2nd week of school.  Ben is doing great and loves his new teacher.  He is adjusting to the homework load of 4^th grade.  I am so proud of the way he takes responsibility for his homework and tries his best.  He told me he made a new friend – a boy named Wyatt.

Ben said, “He has longer hair, but not like a Bison.  He doesn’t shed in the summer and grow it thicker in the winter.”  I wonder if Ben has shared this observation with Wyatt. 

Evan’s teacher also reported that Evan has a new friend – and they are trying to get Evan to stop hitting him.   

The past two weeks have been marked by an expected flurry of emails back-and-forth between me and Evan’s teachers.  The unexpected, wonderful part is that Evan’s teachers are reporting remarkable improvements in just two weeks!  I received this email yesterday from the deaf/hard of hearing instructor:

“Did you send the same child to school this week????  I CANNOT believe how much Evan has changed/grown/learned in one week!!!  I introduced 10 brand new signs (basic vocab) last Thursday, then checked to see what he remembered on Tuesday – 10/10.  Introduced 10 new words (more basic vocab) on Wednesday and checked to see what he remembered Thursday 10/10!! His behavior has also improved.  There are still a couple little things we are working on, but a HUGE change from last week.  I am so impressed!  Can’t imagine where he will be a month from now.”

This brings tears to my eyes every time I read it.  I feel as if I am witnessing a miracle in progress.  I have known from the first day that Evan was extremely smart.  But his behavior was atrocious.  And that is the undoing of many smart children (and adults.) 

Evan is still Evan.  He is rambunctious, funny, and loves to annoy Ben.  He still does things that baffle me and remind me he has only been with us for 2 months.  Just yesterday, Ben happened to look behind the couch and gasped, “Mom!!!  LOOK!!!”

Evan had been discarding trash of all sorts – cellophane wrappers from drink straws, a juice box, clementine peels, even a yogurt cup! – over the back of the sofa instead of walking them to the trash can.  I had Evan clean it up, and he signed to me, “Sorry.”  Now we have a ban on eating in the living room. 

I have set up a calendar on the refrigerator with pictures on it representing school/work on the weekdays with an 8:00 p.m. bedtime.  The weekend has pictures of T.V. and a church on Sunday.  Evan tells me every day that he doesn’t want to go to school and points at the T.V.    I tell him every day that he has to go, and Mom has to work.  Evan doesn’t fight it after that, and he seems to like school.  Everyday, he comes home and puts all new work on the refrigerator.  I have set up a folder for him to put his work into when he decides to swap out masterpieces.  I am quite impressed with the quality of Evan’s art work.  I am in my 7^th year of teaching and I have never seen a six year old who can draw like this. Evan draws with rapid, confident strokes which mirror his personality and defy his age.  I am posting pictures of a couple of pieces.

A very dear friend Leo, who passed away many years ago, shared some wisdom with me. It has been applicable so many times in my life I can never forget it – and I still hear it in his voice in my head: 

“Allow for the effect of time, over time.” 

I am in awe of this child.  Evan James Lamb is more than a survivor.  Evan has the ability, cunning and desire to make the absolute most of his environment. It was true in the depraved conditions in Xin Xiang, and it is true in the pristine surroundings of his elementary school.  God and life have big plans for Evan.  How exciting that we all get to watch! 

Ben and Evan on the 1st day of school.  The next 3 are Evan's drawings.  The  level of detail is remarkable at his age - look at the leaves and branches on the tree!  The 2nd a 3rd drawing are the playground at school and our house.  He did both drawings on a rainy day.  

God and the YMCA

Ben and I were in the habit of attending weekly Mass prior to my trip to China. That came to a halt when we returned.  Not for lack of faith –mind you, I think I have uttered more prayers in the past month than the whole year prior.  I’m pretty sure the Lord understood, despite the whole “keep holy the Sabbath” thing.  I kept trying to picture Evan in Church, sitting quietly, watching something he didn’t understand and couldn’t hear.  I thought back to the Masses of my youth.  I liked to sing the songs and I tried to listen to the message.  If I cancel all of that out, it becomes one interminable hour of watching a guy in a long robe barely move.  

So, last Sunday I decided Evan was finally ready to see his first Mass.  Someone suggested the “baby room,” but I didn’t want to give him the feeling that he would be able to go to Church and make noise or act out.  I got the boys ready and we drove to Church.  We parked the car and walked into Church.  I stopped at the entry and made the sign of the cross with Holy Water on Evan’s head. “Can’t hurt,” I thought.  Seconds later, Evan blew out a devotional candle as we passed. 

I opted for a seat towards the back in case we needed to make a quick retreat.  As we slid into the pew, Evan let out a few noises which made everyone look at him.  Sheepishly, I said, “We are going to try this today, but if he becomes disruptive, we will leave.”  Naturally, everyone responded graciously and said, “Oh, no problem at all!”   I thought, “You say that, now.”

I knelt for a simple beginning prayer, “Ok God, here goes nothing….”  And then I gulped and sat down.  Surprisingly, Evan was mostly good.  I had to take him to the restroom, and I reminded him to be quiet a couple of times.  He pretended to read the Mass Book.  He lay across my lap. Mostly, he looked really, really bored.

But then, close to the end of the Mass, Evan perked up.   I looked at Evan, sitting ramrod straight with his eyes sharply focused on the altar. He looked very, very interested.  I looked from Evan’s face and then back to the altar.  Oh, no!  How could I have not seen this coming???!  Evan was watching the man in the robes prepare SNACKS.  Okay, to the rest of the Catholics this was the most Holy part of the Mass and that was the body and blood of Christ…but not to Evan.  He was quite sure we had finally gotten to the good part, and he was licking his lips. 

I leaned to Ben and I whispered, “When we walk down to the altar, I want you to go behind us.  I don’t want Evan to see you taking Holy Communion.” 

“Why Mommy?”

“Just do it, Ben.  He’s not going to understand why he can’t have some.” 

We got in line for the Holy Eucharist.  I held Evan’s hand and we advanced slowly.  There was a gentleman – a layperson – offering Communion in our line.  I stood in front of him, hands out, and responded, “Amen.”  Then I grabbed Evan’s hand and yanked him away just as he was reaching for the Chalice with both hands and stretching his neck to try to get a whiff of Jesus himself.  Evan was NOT HAPPY. 

Back in the pew, Evan gestured wildly at me.  It went something like this: Arms waving towards the altar - finger jabbing the air at me – then, the sign for eating – then he made a small circle with his fingers – then arms wave around angrily again.  Then, Evan crawled under the pew, wrapped his arms around his bent knees and stewed.  I tried to look serene and pious as I turned my eyes to the heavens to avoid the stares of the folks around me.  I said a quick prayer and sat down. 

Luckily, my Church serves donuts and juice after Mass, so Evan forgave me and God for depriving him earlier.  We exited and I exhaled.   

That was the beginning of last week.  Monday, I returned to work and the boys went to the YMCA summer camp.  I watched my phone obsessively, and though Evan didn’t get high marks in behavior – I only got one phone call.    The child care counselors were wonderful with both children, and I couldn’t thank them enough for working with us. 

It was a very busy week getting my new classroom ready and also getting Evan and Ben registered in their new school.  The Principal of Evan’s school, also an adoptive Mom, has been amazing to us.  She called an emergency meeting with the appropriate people to have everyone on deck ready to begin working with Evan.  I was able to allow Evan to meet the interpreter, speech pathologist, deaf/hard of hearing teacher and audiologist he will be working with.  This is in addition to having a fabulous Kindergarten teacher.  Ben met his new 4^th grade teacher, Mr. Miller.  He is a very nice man and has a stellar reputation as a teacher.  I think it will be great for Ben to have a male teacher since we don’t have too much “guy time” around here. 

The kids start school on Monday.  As of Friday, their bus still wasn’t arranged. After multiple calls, I was instructed to call back 6:00 a.m. MONDAY morning.  The suspense is killing me.  Oh, and tomorrow we will attempt Mass again.  Say a prayer for usJ. 

Finding our Rhythm

Finding our Rhythm

A recent study discovered that a mother need only look at her baby affectionately for their heartbeats to synchronize.

We arrived in Savannah Monday evening after two days in the car.  Ben is a seasoned car-traveler, so I was not worried about him.   I was hopeful that Evan would do well since the car lulls him to sleep even on shorter rides.  Still, I was afraid that we would reach the point of revolt somewhere in the nearly 20 hour journey.  I pictured myself at a Pilot gas station in the middle of North Carolina looking like a kidnapper as I forced Evan to get back in the vehicle.   I fervently hoped it would not come to that.  

 Evan fared remarkably well throughout the journey.  I was amazed. And grateful.  I kept wondering what was going through his mind. I tried to prepare him by showing him photos of our house and signing that we were going on a long drive to get there.  He nodded, but who knows how much he understood?  We left Nanei’s house at 6:30 am. And drove past sunset to reach Emporia, VA where I had booked a hotel for one night.  Evan had been accepting and cooperative through the whole day’s drive.  I was impressed.  As the sun went down, though, I looked back at him. Evan pointed out the window at the descending darkness and made a gesture and facial expression that conveyed the sentiment, “WHAT THE HECK??!!” 

 Luckily, we were just a few minutes from our hotel.  We stayed at a nice Country Inn and Suites in Emporia for the night.  The next morning, we all (including our fish) got back in the car and headed toward Savannah.   Ben and I have made a tradition out of stopping at South of the Border every trip.  We love the stupid bill boards that announce the “miles to go” and cheer when we see the gigantic, tacky Pedro Monument/observation tower looming on the horizon.   For those who are uninitiated, South of the Border :

“began as a 600 square foot stand selling beer to thirsty patrons from dry counties north of the border in North Carolina and has developed into a 300 acre complex with such diverse features as a motel and campground, six restaurants, a theme park, mini-golf, fireworks store, gas stations and more than a dozen gift shops with everything from Mexican jumping beans to antiques. In the beginning Mr. Alan Schafer worked the stand by himself and now SOTB is run by the third generation of the Schafer family and hundreds of employees, making it the biggest employer in Dillon County, S.C.”

( www.thesouthoftheborder.com)

I am fascinated by this place.  Alan Schafer was born to a Jewish family at the start of WWI.  He developed this totally contrived, deliberately tacky, Mexican-themed $40 million travel-stop in the middle of no-where South Carolina, and then used his political muscle to get I-95 routed right past it.  Gotta love it. 

I allowed Ben and Evan to pick one piece-of-junk toy from one of the largest souvenir shops, and then we had some ice cream.  I also had to take pictures of the boys in front of one of the awful cement figures that liberally dot the grounds. Ben chose –of course- the dinosaur.

Then, it was time to get back on the road.  We approached Savannah in the early evening and you won’t believe this – but up until then, the boys did not have one single fight.  I guess the road was getting to Evan, because he chose our last few miles to make some fake karate chops at Ben.  Though the swipes never landed, Ben whined as if they did:

“MOOOM, Evan almost banged me and I don’t want to go to the Emergency Room and end up DEAD!”
 I assured Ben he was being dramatic, stifling my laughter, and we finally arrived home. 

Our upstairs neighbor and good friend Anita was there to greet us.  I wondered what Evan would think of his new home.  I know it seems odd, considering where he spent the last few years, but I was a little nervous that I would see some disappointment.  Over the past month, Evan has demonstrated a strong appreciation for the finer things in life – like the Novatel Hotel in Hong Kong – and my house is more of the two-star genre of abode.  I held my breath, and completely aware of the irony, thought: “Don’t judge me!”  LOL. 
I needn’t have worried.  Evan barged in, ready to explore, and didn’t pause to give me a disapproving look as he passed through the kitchen in need of a new floor. 

 He quickly found his new room, shared with Ben, and examined everything.  Evan found a bucket of coins that Ben has been saving.  He poured it out on the carpet and squealed with delight as he picked up handfuls and let it run back through his fingers.  The Emperor is rich…J

Since our arrival, we have been running around non-stop.  The boys are now registered at the same school, and the YMCA for a week of camp while I go to pre-planning at my school next week.  Evan had his first pediatrician appointment and got 4 shots and several vials of blood drawn for testing.  We had one failed appointment at an ENT. They turned us away because the insurance was in the process of updating their records and Evan wasn’t covered yet.  Though they knew he would be retroactively covered to July 3^rd, they still refused.  At the time, it really upset me, but since then we chose another ENT doctor, so all is good.  Evan had a preliminary hearing test -and failed - no surprise there -and he is scheduled for more definitive testing in November.  Additionally, I have had to unpack a summer’s worth of travel, fight back the jungle that is my yard, order school uniforms, food shop for an empty house, do laundry, cook/clean, and start to plan my classroom theme.  This weekend we will go shopping for school supplies for the boys. 

Around my manic drive to get us all on track for the approaching school year, Ben and Evan have been building great Lego creations and riding up and down the hallway on the red scooter.  Evan has calmed down A LOT.  He is still the Evanator, but he is beginning to flow with our calmer, quieter rhythm.  I no longer fear that if I leave the room, Evan will rearrange the furniture or smother Ben with a pillow.   In fact, I was able to go outside and do a couple of hours of yard work while the boys watched cartoons and played.  I checked in on them, of course.  Each time, Ben said, “Evan is being good, Mommy.”  I asked Ben recently how he liked his new brother.  Ben answered, “He is still annoying.” I asked, (kidding), “Do you want me to send him back?”  Ben said, “No, Mommy, because he is my only brother and I love him with all my heart.” 

A matter of perspective….

Two-thousand-seventy-three days ago, a baby boy was born most likely in poverty in China.  He appeared perfect in every way.  But as he grew, there were signs that something was not right.  He didn’t turn his head when a door slammed; he didn’t look in the direction of a voice that spoke his name. 

Approximately 1,278 days ago someone ---perhaps hoping for a chance at a better life for her son, perhaps hoping for medical care, perhaps just resigned to the fact that a special-needs son would not be able to support his parents as they aged--- walked away from the 3 year old deaf boy in front of the Civil Affairs Office in Xin Xiang.  He was found by a stranger and turned over to the authorities.  It was determined he was abandoned and he was sent to live in an orphanage; just one of thousands of children who share the same fate in every city in China. 

Roughly 485 days ago, I spotted a picture of a small, shy-looking boy with a very sweet smile on a waiting child list on an adoption agency’s list for China.   I fell in love with him and decided this would be Ben’s little brother.  Ben talked about how he would help because he was certain his little brother would be scared.

Thirty days ago, Ke Ran strutted into the Civil Affairs Office in Zhengzhou and became my son, Evan James Lamb.  Thirty days. That’s less than a Kardashian marriage.

Seven days after that, I explained to Evan we would go on an airplane.  We were flying from Zhengzhou to Guangzhou, China. I thought he would be awe-struck.  I drew a picture of an airplane and pointed to him, my sister Anita, and myself.  Then, I flattened my hand and mimicked the smooth ascent of a plane into the sky.  Evan nodded; he got it!  Then, he copied my ‘plane hand,’ did the take-off, and – watching me for a reaction – tipped his hand over and crashed us all. 

Pictures do not convey a concept of family life.  Somehow in his last days in the orphanage, the Nannies told Evan he would have a Mom.  They showed him the photo album I sent with pictures of his new family.  What is a Mom?  Someone to give me food and toys? That’s good.  Someone to tell me, “No,” all…day…long… What a drag.

Pictures also do not convey the concept of Evan.  The sweet smile is still there, but so is a smirk and sometimes even a sneer!   Evan was probably very good at institutional life.   He is clever, strong and quite smart. This is a great skill set when you live in a place where you are outnumbered and resources are scarce. 

We have been making the rounds since we’ve been back.  We’ve visited friends and family.  I have many moments when I am exasperated with Evan’s behavior.  I hover. I supervise.  I am frazzled.  Always, I am told that Evan is doing very well, considering the short time he has been with me.  He is?  Well, I guess when you look at it that way…

We visited a friend who is pregnant with twins.  She has wanted to be a mother for a long time and I am so happy for her! We took the boys to a park.  We discussed baby names and child rearing.  Like all new Moms, she is worried about being overwhelmed.

“I guess I will take it one day at a time,” she said.  I agreed it is all you can do. 

What works with Evan?  Evan likes T.V. and making things with paper, glue or other craft items.  He likes puzzles.  Evan really likes to rough-house, but he has no ‘off switch.’  Ben and Evan had a light saber battle with glow sticks a couple of nights ago.  It was fun to watch the boys so engaged with each other.  Ben has seldom had the opportunity for this kind of guy-play.   No one got hurt, but as the battle wore on it became clear that Evan’s energy was escalating with no end in sight.  If you have ever had a rambunctious puppy, you can imagine the scene.

Mostly we try to avoid getting too wild. Sometimes it is unavoidable.  Yesterday, we visited my grandmother. Uncle David (my mother’s brother) and Doreen came to meet Evan.  Uncle David has always had as much fun as the kids at Christmas playing with all the toys.  Doreen gave Ben and Evan some wonderful (and practical) clothes.  They also brought a few small toys, including a tiny plastic pool table, fake money, and a gun which shoots nerf-like disks.  I knew where this was going.

Evan and Ben started off shooting a target, supervised by Doreen.  In time, though, Evan was off and running, shooting everyone in the head.  We tried to play Parchesi, but Evan found it boring after a few turns.  He excused himself to count his play money.  Evan loaded the pockets of his cargo shorts with loot and clipped the gold plastic money clip to his shirt.  Then he went back to shooting everyone.  My son – the Gangsta.

When the noise had reached a crescendo and both boys were worked up to a lather, Uncle David and Doreen said their goodbyes to retreat to a much needed vacation on Block Island.   The children slowly deflated, and we headed home also.

Integrating Evan into our family is not all that different from welcoming a new baby.  You can have all of your plans and methods in place, but each child is an individual with his own personality.  There are children who can make you look like a Parenting-Star.  (Thanks, Ben!) Then there are kids who make you feel you are on the low end of the learning curve.  As I remind myself to have patience with Evan, I need to remember to have patience with myself.

We are all slowly releasing our preconceived notions of what our new life would look like. Evan is letting go of his fantasy of family life meaning an endless flood of food and gifts.  He is beginning to grasp that a Mom is a bossy-thing, who also doles out hugs and kisses on the forehead.  Ben is letting go of his fantasy of a small, sweet, scared brother who needs him to lead and protect. I am letting go of any thought that my new son will be a mini-Ben.  Together, we are becoming a family, different than any of us imagined, but still good. 

Brotherly Love... not exactly as Ben imagined....

The Italian-Chinese-American contingent representing Block Island, Rhode Island...Thanks,  Uncle Dave and Doreen!