Danger Mouse

I can't believe it's only been two and a half months since QQ has been home. I already can't imagine a time that she wasn't in our life. Maybe it's the fact that she packs so many revelations, epiphanies and accomplishments into each and every day. Time has certainly slowed down, as full as every hour has been. And it's exciting to see how far she has come...

Here she was with her LaoLao in August, just a week after we brought her home from China. I can see now, looking at her face in these pictures, that much of her personality was still concealed within her at this point. The fearlessness was there...she was game, brave, ready to take whatever came. But the vividness inside her was still deep under the surface.

She was all internalized at this point, a very muted version of her real personality.

And here she is now, vivid and alive with pleasure (and trying to open her diaper pail. What is it that draws children most irresistibly to the things they should absolutely stay away from? Hmmmm...is it the same thing that, in their teenage years, draws them to all the wrong kinds of boys?? I wonder...)

Look how excited she is just to be alive and feeling better. It's something to behold.

Her "new" post-surgery personality has brought with it many surprises....some good, and some not so much! Her new affection and level of attachment has come hand in hand with the ability to get really, really angry. At first, it was difficult to distinguish between the part that was pure pain and the part that was a nascent call for attention.
I think the surgery has taught her to cling to us more often, and to show her affection more. But as the pain recedes to just a trickle, you can see that she has also learned to demand.
We know that this is a healthy part of the attachment process. She needs to learn to call for us and know that we will always come. She needs to test the boundaries of what she can ask from us. She probably needs to find out how bad she can be, and still have us be there for her in the morning. She has a new confidence level with us. We've been there for her through the nitty-gritty now, and she realizes that she doesn't have to be all sweetness and light in order to keep us coming back with the food every day. These are things that are taken for granted by a child born into a loving family. But for a child from an orphanage, with too few nannies watching too many babies, there is no foundation for that sort of understanding. She has to learn it all from scratch with us.
But let me tell you, hers is no gentle plea! The girl can get a-n-g-r-y when the attention stops. Put her down for bed when she's not ready, and she turns into a hissing, spitting little tasmanian devil. She'll give you three or four warning hisses first, a sound not unlike one of those Madagascar hissing cockroaches. If you fail to heed the warning salvo, she'll go into full cry.
There are no tears - this is pure, unadulterated, righteous anger. She will stop immediately, like a flipped switch, if you pick her up, and her little mask of anger will turn mid-scream into a glowing smile. But have the audacity to set her down again, and you're in for it. She takes no prisoners. I fear for the man who will someday ask for her hand in marriage. I hope he knows what he's taking on. The QiuQiu is no blushing flower.

But all of her newfound emotions are well worth it. And it's a joy to watch her mobility in action. She is all over the place these days, moving from one piece of furniture to the next. She doesn't really need the support anymore...I've seen her two or three times stand on her own when she forgets she's not holding on to anything, only to topple as soon as she realizes what she's doing.
She still needs the support, mentally. And that's fine. She will be liberated soon enough, and then everything will change for us.

But it's hilarious to watch her find her way around the house from one object to the next.

Setting her sights on the next goal, calculating the distances.

And I love the pride in her face with each new achievement.

As for the crawl...just ask the dog. She's a terror on wheels. When she decides on a destination, she's in the next room before you can blink...which is a little scary in a house that is not yet childproofed (M. did the kitchen cabinets last week...it's a start). The other day she went hauling across the kitchen all of a sudden, reared up and barged headfirst through the back door...not realizing there was a six-inch step and she had on arm braces. She fell flat on her forehead on the rubber doormat, arms helplessly under her.
The worst part about it is that she tried it again about four hours later, and again the following morning.
Given her need for speed, her adoration of her Speed Racer racing car with its sound of screeching tires, her propensity for hanging upside-down, and her will to go headfirst off anything she can get away with, I think we may have a tiny stuntman on our hands.
That's my Danger Mouse.
You wouldn't think that so much danger could come in such an itty-bitty package!

Yup, this kid is yearning to escape her confines and explore the world.


There's devious intent in that face if I ever saw it!

The joy that escapes her at random intervals, too great to contain, is worth every painful moment, every hour of lost sleep, every midnight hissing session.

You are my sunshine

It has been 14 days since QQ's surgery, and she is finally emerging from the woods. It's palpable - you can see her rediscover her comfort. She's catching up on sleep, both at night and during her naps, and you can feel the heaviness of her repose, the depth of it that hasn't been there for the past two weeks. Awake, she is finally really happy again, full of energy and vigor and her old, unsullied joy in life. Happily, the new affection and attachment that emerged post-surgery has stayed with her, and incorporated itself into her joyful play. She is more connected, more attuned, eager to draw us in close, instead of just playing on her own.

The other day, when I was describing the pain and difficulty of her recovery, her discomfort and our lack of sleep, the stress we all felt, someone said to me, "It's a hard road you picked, with the cleft palate."

I was taken aback by that thought. I was speechless for a moment, and the only thing I could think of to say was, "But...she's THE ONE."

That's how I see it. I don't see the choice anymore, the decision we made some 20 months ago when we decided to adopt through the medical needs program. All I see now is that, through choice or through fate or through whatever you believe in, we got the one child...the only child that was intended for us.

I feel so incredibly lucky. The difficulty, the pain, the tears, the sleep-loss, all of it is incidental. I take it all for granted now. I see no other possible path. Because if we had not made the decisions we made, we would not have found her. And what's worse: she would be with someone else. Some other family would have the privilege of loving and helping and raising this amazing child. I just can not support that thought.

For the record, when I first considered the Waiting Child program, I was not at all certain. I was nervous about it. But I talked to my husband, and really it was his immediate enthusiasm, his certainty that we were the right people for this path, that made it possible for me to trust my gut instinct and dive in headfirst. As soon as we made the decision, I knew it was the right thing for us. My gut told me we were on the right track. I would never encourage anyone to adopt special needs against their better judgement. It's a very personal decision. But for us, it was the right thing.

Some would say that QQ was born with a difficult path to tread, that she was born with disadvantages. And she was, in her society, in her time. She will have more pain in her life than some people. But I don't think of her as unfortunate. I think of her as charmed.

No one would wish to be abandoned by their parents, just days after birth. Of course it's difficult, and it will come back to revisit her. She will, I imagine, struggle with it at various points during her life. But we all struggle with something. No one of us is free of strife, regrets, doubts, the occasional bout of self-loathing. Yes, she was born with a physical "defect". But who among us can say that we were born "perfect"?

She is undeniably beautiful, both pre-surgery and post-surgery. But beauty can be a heavy burden to bear, for unexpected reasons. My guess is that her "flaw" will be the thing that gives her the gifts of strength and character. She will be even luckier for having both beauty and strength. We, her parents, will also be stronger for the process of nursing her through the pain of her various surgeries, so we will gain as well.

My gut feeling about QQ is that she is one of the charmed people. She has a magic in her. Few people in our country have seen a child with an open cleft, since cleft surgery is well advanced in our society and generally happens not long after birth. Some people suggested that we conceal her face when we first adopted her, to save her from the reaction of those who were unprepared for the way she looked. We didn't do that. We saw her as beautiful from the start, and we assumed that others would, too. There is no shame in her "condition", and we didn't want to create shame where none was necessary. So we took her out in public right from the start, and she rose to the occasion. Contrary to what some had feared, she received no looks of horror, no inappropriate comments. Both in China and in the USA, people were charmed by her and drawn to her, as we knew they would be. It's her personality, her openness, her lack of self-consciousness. She is confident and open. She loves people, and that attitude shines through. She has had strangers wrapped around her finger from the get-go.

I am confident that her beauty (both interior and exterior, spiritual and physical), and her personality will carry her through her life. I sense that she will be one of those people toward whom others gravitate, for the sheer power of her aura, in the hopes that some of it will rub off on them. People will, as they do now, want to absorb a bit of the glow that she radiates. That kind of power is rare, and can make a person vain. I think that her disadvantages will give her the strength of character to resist that vanity and all its attendant pitfalls.

So, no, I don't feel that we're sacrificing anything for her. I don't feel that we've taken on anything we can't handle. And I don't feel that she was born with misfortunes. Some say that she's lucky to have us, but I feel the exact opposite...we are incredibly lucky to have her. We could not, in fact, have been more fortunate.

She is our magic child. When she is happy, the sun comes out over our world. She has given us a joy greater than anything we ever imagined. And we cannot conceive of life without her.

More gifts from long-lost friends

Seems that this is my month to go back in time, drawn by threads of memory woven by those I love across the miles. The latest was a little box from my friend Carol Ann in Manhattan, my sidekick from my NY years, and before. We met as teenagers while working at the Williamstown Theater Festival in MA, and have been fast friends ever since.
Carol sent this sweet sweatshirt for QQ (who, as ever, looks good in bright colors!) It's a little big yet but I just measured her today and she's grown another 3/4 of an inch. By spring, I think it will fit just right! (And I will no longer be able to call her "Tiny Choo". I'll miss that.)

Ready for her closeup. I don't know what's with the tongue these days...I think she's just getting the hang of her new mouth. Whatever the reason, I'm not sure I've ever seen anything quite so cute as that miniature tongue.

Under the sweatshirt, a CD of new music, and several layers of bubble wrap (QQ's favorite part) lurked more treasures...the best of all!

At first glance, just two pretty antique bottles.

Carol is a set decorator (sorry, CA, I never can remember what is the proper technical term?) for stage and film, and she spends a lot of time in antique shops. In one near her hometown of Kingston, she found these. They were so photogenic, you'll notice, that I couldn't resist taking a few different shots of them.

Can you read it?
Larkin Soap Co., Buffalo, NY.
How cool is that?
M. and I have decided that "soap" was just a cover for bootleg whiskey. These were actually the first "airplane bottles" of Irish hooch. Heheh.

Unfortunately (or fortunately, depending on your perspective), I don't have any old and incriminating pictures of us from the '80s (and I hope that Carol doesn't either, because there is a great deal of incrimination to be had). If I seldom took pictures during college, I took almost none during our subsequent years in The City. I had a curious aversion to cameras at that point, which has saved me from the discovery of any embarrassing photos from that era of sartorial travesty. (Sorry, I just can't get behind the recent resurgence of '80s fashion...hope I'm not offending anyone. Actually, I don't care if I'm offending anyone. It's just so, so wrong.)
All I can find is this blurry picture of the two of us at my dad's retrospective show in Windham, NY a couple of years ago.

Much, much better is this photo of Carol with Kermit the frog, during her latest stint working on the next muppet movie. That's my girl!

We've created a monster

OK, I know this isn't exactly cool...but I just can't step away from the irony...

...QQ loves my Starbucks cups.

She turns them over and over in her hands, pats the logo and grins at me. What is this black magic that Starbucks has going on? Initially, I was convinced that they put drugs in the coffee. But according to QQ, even the logo has some faerie dust in it that makes it instantly irresistible.

"I know you want this back, Mommy..."

"...So much, that I'm willing to give it back to you. You know, just so you don't go into some sort of withdrawal..."
(Fear not, this cup had already been drained. Our child was exposed neither to caffeine nor to whipped cream).

We all really love it when M. plays hookey from work for 45 mins or so in the afternoon, and comes home to play with us.

Especially when the weather is so nice and the light so gorgeous.



Happy girl peeking over shoulder.

We have a lot of jack'o'lanterns this year. All carved by daddy. Two of them were grown in our own flower garden. If I carve, I always end up with some elaborate project which takes hours and hours. M. cranks 'em out. And it's not worth it for the elaborate ones around here because we have a handful of squirrels plus a fox who likes to chew pumpkin faces, starting with the mouth. One night, and it's all over.


Check out the pumpkin closest to M. which was given a frontal lobotomy by some wiseass squirrel.


Look at that cute behind!

She just kills me.

Still with the Starbucks fascination. (She's only sucking on the rim, much as it looks like she's chugging it).

The outfit is another from Maia R's loot, btw. I have to say, the kid can rock the tie-dye!

See? Empty.

They should be sponsoring this kid.

Why is she standing in her highchair, you might well ask? She's a risk taker. Stitches and all. Last night, she stood up in the running stroller, while I was running. I don't even know how she did it. Maybe she's going to be one of those circus girls who stands on the back of a galloping horse (my best friend and I used to try that when we were kids...we never got past a walk, however). Needless to say, I had to pull the screen down over the stroller after that. I'd strap her in, but it just makes her crazy, so I use the screen topper instead. She gets angry, but not quite AS angry.

Attack of the tickle monster.

You don't scare me, mommy.

Funnyface is BACK!!

Sometimes all it takes is the threat of a trip to the doctor for a breakthrough to happen. Why is that? For the past two days, QQ has been markedly more herself than she has been yet.

She is playing happily again, shooting me grins across the room. I spent most of last night and this morning organizing her copious quantities of clothing, putting summer things in storage and bringing out the winter stuff. Once again, I am astounded by the size of this kid's wardrobe. I don't know how she got so lucky...how come nobody sends me designer duds??
I must say, she really does enjoy looking at her new clothes, and is even willing to wear a hat for a minute or two in the bargain.

In fact, as we go through boxes upon boxes of winter clothes...and with her arms under restraint...I've had an evil plan of putting every hat I can find on her head whilst she is unable to object. Sometimes she still cries a few crocodile tears, but I think she's secretly getting over her chapeau-phobia.

This one's for mum. I caught her doing this while I was packing up her summer clothes for the basement. She's pushing herself up on this three-inch step...

...to her feet!


She's pretty proud of herself.

She'll pull herself up on absolutely anything these days, arm restraints no object!


Look at that face!

Yup, I'm pretty sure she's the most beautiful girl in the world.

She likes to ring the reindeer bell on our door.

Just so happened there was a ladybug up there too today.

Trying to have her cake and eat it too.




And there it is...the smile for no reason, just because.


She's been doing it all day.

Plus a few funny-faces tossed in for good measure.

Jennie brought homemade chicken soup over yesterday, and I puréed some of it in with QQ's lunch today. Must've been what her body needed, because she loved it so much that she fell asleep while eating it, and still would not release the bottle. I had to put her down for her nap with bottle still clutched to her mouth.

Then I realized I was going to have to put her arm braces back on while she was sleeping. Let me tell you, she was NOT going to give that bottle up. I could actually lift her whole body by the bottle before she'd release her death-grip on it. She settled down for a good long nap after that....now, if only we can get that to work at night...