The perfect parasite

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I don't write so much on this blog anymore (though I think you'll agree there are more than enough photos!). In part, it's because I don't have time. This is painfully true. I don't use daycare - I prefer to spend all my time with my girl. I still feel so dazzlingly, surreally fortunate to have her, to have this one (and probably only) opportunity to raise a child. And yes, I am currently working. I am fortunate enough also to have good jobs! My husband is also working, and "fulltime" is an understatement for what he does in this bizarre economy. He has triple his former workload, and an additional day in the mix. Not only that, but he has just started school again. So to say our plate is "full" really doesn't come close to describing it. We need about twice an many hours in a day in order to keep our heads above water.

But the other reason I haven't been writing is that I come off as sounding so over-the-top. You'd think I must be exaggerating wildly, or slightly tipsy, or both when I talk about QQ. You'd think: it can't possibly be that good!

So I thought of a metaphor to describe what it is that comes over me when I'm in the presence of our daughter. I'm sorry to say that the metaphor involves that gorilla of a watered-down vampire story that has been obsessing tweens and susceptible adults everywhere: Twilight.
Yes, I blush to admit, I did read Twilight - well, actually I listened to it on my iPod while out running. That's how I do the lightest of my light reading. And to tell you the truth, I only made it through the first two and a half books before permanently and fatally losing interest. But since so many people have, like me, been seduced by Twilight's frivolous confection at some point or other, I think I'm safe in assuming that many people will know what I'm talking about.

OK, you know how Twilight's vampires are designed to be "the perfect predator" for humans? The scent of their skin, the perfection of their features, the allure of their gaze, their voices, their charm, everything perfectly and meticulously designed to be utterly irresistible to any and every mortal. A sort of undead human flytrap.

Are you with me?

OK, so here's my theory: QQ was perfectly designed to be our perfect parasite - to so entrance and intoxicate us that we would do, literally, anything for her. We can't keep our hands or lips off her. Her faintest cry is a siren's song to us. No whim of hers goes unnoticed or unindulged. We can't tear our eyes away from her even for a moment. In her presence, we are giddy with joy - no matter that we are exhausted, overstretched and overworked. No matter that she has just turned over her plate of food on the kilim rug. No matter that she has thoroughly and uncompromisingly destroyed the house for the third time in 24 hours. No matter that she has just awakened us from a deep sleep at 4:30 in the morning. One sidelong glance, one crooked smile, and a rose-colored scrim is drawn instantly across our eyes. Little cartoon birds and butterflies twitter around our heads. We grin like idiots at her every antic. We would take a bullet for her.

I swear, this is what it feels like. The scent of her skin, the shape of her forehead, the slant of her mischievous glance, the sound of her breathing - each of these things seems carefully engineered to hold the most possible allure for us. Her funny half-smile, the exact timbre of her giggle, the taut curve of her baby cheek, her laugh like a rusty hinge, the whorled shape of her hairline...Each and every fiber of her is perfectly designed to entrance us.

So I hope you'll understand and cut me a little slack if I sound like a teenager in love when I talk about our daughter. There's really no help for me. I am, in fact, bewitched.

Gifts from the north

Yesterday QQ received a package from our friends Vivian and Kerri in Canada. Vivian and Kerri have been long-distance friends since early on in the adoption journey (I still wear - and Q loves to play with - the sweet adoption bracelet that Viv sent me during the worst part of the wait!).
There were many lovely things in the package, but what Q ended up donning was a set of Chinese cotton pjs. Doesn't she look perfect in them? There were two pairs (she's carrying the pink and lavender ones in the first photo).
Again, you can see how fond QQ is of her balls. We had a dog once who used to try to stuff as many tennis balls in his mouth as he could fit, stretching his cheeks to the bursting, in the interest of having ALL the tennis balls at the dogpark to himself. QQ has a bit of the same sensibility. She will carry as many of her balls around as she can hold at any given time. She's also getting quite good at throwing.
How cute is this outfit? Thanks, Viv and Kerri!

QiuQiu eats

Just two weeks of eating therapy under our belt...and this is the result! QiuQiu eats!
She loves risotto. I made this one from a cooking blog I like, and it was not an obvious choice for a toddler: green tea risotto with mint and shaved parmesan. But she gobbled it up three days running. We also discovered in the process that she loves peas....so I just let her go to town on them. Next we'll have to try fresh ones - so much sweeter!
Peking duck. I went to the Asian market and got a whole one, which we ate with stir-fried vegetables. Mike made the most delicious Peking Duck pressed sandwiches the next day, with warm hoisin sauce. Yum. As you can see, QQ now expects cheering every time she takes a bite (yes, that was part of the therapy) and will clap and raise her hands in the air if no one cheers.

Oatmeal.
Click on the photo for a closer look - her little smirk is to die for!
After this last shot, she poured the entire cup down the front of her shirt. But we're getting close, I think!
Impressive for only two therapy sessions, no?
We're tickled pink, obviously.

Family history

My mum brought this silver baby cup last time she came to visit us. It has a history - four generations of history, now! This cup was given to my Dutch great grandmother when she was born. It was in turn given to my mother at her birth, and then traveled to the US where it was eventually given to me at my birth. My mum just added Flynn QiuQiu's name to those engraved on the cup, four generations, two on each side. Holland (both my great grandmother and my mother were born there), New York, and China. It is treasured.

Workin' the hat

As you can see, we're still working on our hat issues. She has really come to enjoy the game - as long as she gets to pick the hat.
Certain hats are still just plain unacceptable. But she seems to like the straw ones. Why? I wish I knew.
Like a little (and much jollier) Paddington bear.

bubblehead

In the heart of the art district

We met up with our friend Jena (the one who took those beautiful photos of me and Q at the birthday party, and the aunt of Q's best buddy, Esme) the other day for coffee in the heart of Denver's Santa Fe gallery district (Santa Fe being a street, in these parts. Not to be confused with the city in NM, though the colors are not dissimilar). Jena has been spending time there studying for her next round of architecture exams. She was kind enough to make some time for us while on a study break from her massive texts.
M. and I took a screen printing class near here our first season in Denver, back when QQ was just a twinkle in our eyes, as they say. Back when we were still at liberty to do frivolous things like taking art classes for fun. Not that we have even a single regret.
QQ seemed to very much enjoy Jena's company, now that she has ditched that pesky baseball cap she likes to wear. While QQ has negotiated an uneasy truce with many forms of "hat", there are two types that remain in her no-fly zone: baseball, and fur. The evilest of those being baseball.
Playing peek-a-boo through a coffee sleeve.

QQ is always willing to forgive and forget when it comes to those who have worn hats in her presence in the past. Just so long as they repent their evil ways.