December meanderings

Mr. Fix it hates Christmas. Not the true reason for Christmas, but the retail-frenzied, Hallmark-driven Christmas that he claims is designed to send him out into public to deal with idiots at shopping malls, on the roads, in parking lots. Even online shopping makes him grumpy. And inevitably, I hear, "You're so hard to buy for."

I've tried to help him out. Last year, I sent him an e-mail with two links to items I'd appreciate if he were so inclined. All he had to do was click on the link and hit "buy me!" And the total cost was under $100.

This year, I ordered my own gift. He has to wrap it, though. And he can just put the $45 it cost in my stocking. Hah!

Seriously, I'm not hard to buy for (my brother makes this same claim). Maybe it's because I recognize that all this is just STUFF. Extraneous stuff that, to be sure, is nice, but in the grand scheme of things, does it matter? No. What matters is that I have the three most amazing gifts of all in my life, that my family is together, that we cherish the memories we have even as we make new ones.

And what I truly want for Christmas, and the coming year, are things money can't buy: Good health for those we love, especially my two aunts as they battle serious illnesses. That my mom continues to enjoy her jaunts to Vegas and beyond and still has many years of hugs from her granddaughters ahead of her. For my baby brother to be happy. That hubby and I can remain sane in our jobs -- and keep those jobs -- in what is a difficult time for so many workers, especially in our industry. And that our girls are healthy and secure in the knowledge that we love them truly, madly, deeply.

It's a lot to ask, and nothing that can be crossed off the list with a quick trip to the mall. Which, I guess, brings us back to the true meaning of Christmas, eh?

Baby Who is 2!!!

She's been preparing us for months, with her "Noooo!" and insistence on getting her way, but now it's official: Baby Who is 2! It seems like just yesterday that we walked into a warm room in Nanchang and saw the tiniest little girl, somberly observing all the activity around her as strange-looking people entered, then took her into their arms.

Right now she's running around in a onesie with white tights, having ditched her birthday dress and decorating her clothes with blue icing and orange and purple marker from her new art kit. Ain't life grand?

What do you get when you mix Dr. Seuss, a black cat and a fairy princess? Too much sugar, of course!

It's almost 10:30 p.m. and the big girls have finally crashed after a day filled with shaking down unsuspecting grownups for enough sugar to rot the teeth of a small country. Or maybe a big one. I've sorted through the stash to make sure there's nothing offensive, leaving the gummy feet and eyeballs for Who I -- who thinks such things are "Cool, dude!" And I've scarfed down a Tootsie Roll (or two) in the process.

Now I remember why folks used to say that the average American gains 7 pounds between Halloween and New Year's Day.

It's off to the treadmill I go...

5 and Fabulous

How time flies! My big girls turn 5 this week, Who II on Monday and Who I on Thursday. They're not little girls anymore, but teenagers in training (think I'm kidding? Who I informed me yesterday, "Mommy, I need a cell phone." Ack!). They've left Baby Einsteins in the dust in favor of Hannah Montana and are so excited to lose that first tooth that Who I offered to pay the tooth fairy to take it. They never cease to amaze.

We've drawn out the celebration this year, mostly due to my inability to get my act together in time to throw a party. Last week it was a surprise trip to see Steven Curtis Chapman in concert, a two-hour drive after preschool that probably no sane parent would have attempted. Lucky for us, SCC played the first set, so when Who I looked at me at intermission and said, "Mommy, I'm tired and want to go home," we scooted. No offense to Michael W. Smith, whose set we missed, but my Cinderellas were about to turn into pumpkins. But they had a good time while they were awake.

Yesterday was the outing with their BFFs, Thing One and Thing Two and the Mama Thing. We hit a new pumpkin patch and saw four girls run non-stop for two hours. The corn maze was a huge hit, as they tried their best to lose us in the stalks. Came pretty close, too.

No birthday can come without me thinking about their other mothers. So as I kiss them an extra time this week and hold them a moment longer, I'll offer my thanks to their birth mothers. Thank you for giving life to these amazing, beautiful girls. In doing so, you gave me the very reason I breathe.

And for Who II's first adoptive mom, an added thank you, for knowing in your heart that these two were destined to be sisters, and trusting us to make it so.

One year later ...

Oh, how time flies!

Just a year ago today, Mom and I walked into a stuffy room in Nanchang to see the tiniest little girl waiting for us. She was nearly bald, wearing blue pajamas that matched those of her two orphanage mates, and she stood on the lap of the beautiful Chinese woman who was holding her as she looked around the room, taking the new surroundings in and probably wondering why that silly woman with the video camera was blubbering and snuffling and saying, "Oh Mom, there she is! She's so tiny!"

A year later, Baby Who is cruising rapidly toward 2. We've seen her take her first steps, heard her utter her first words (Mama! So eat your heart out, Daddy!) and watched her charm everyone she meets. But more importantly, we have watched her bond with her two big sisters, completing our journey to become a family of five.

Our house is seldom quiet. It most certainly is never dull. We get frustrated and overwhelmed by the day-to-day life that is two working parents, three children under the age of 5 and pets who inevitably do something they shouldn't. And we wouldn't have it any other way. Because amid the chaos is more laughter than I ever thought possible, more joy from a fierce hug and "I love you, mommy" than I believed my heart could handle, and more gratitude to a group of women we'll never meet for making a choice that ultimately led us to the most precious gift of all: our children.

So whether you call it Gotcha Day or Family Day or simply "Thank God we made it" day after a long, agonizing wait, know that the journey IS worth it. And that tiny bundle who captivates you in your dreams is SO much better in reality.

Summer's last hurrah

Labor Day signals the end of summer, regardless of what the calendar says. The pools close. Kids return to school. And you put away those white shoes until Easter if you ever listened to what your mama told you.

So what better way to usher out the dog days of summer than a trip to the beach?

I spent a dozen years in New England and didn't appreciate what I had -- the ocean at my fingertips, some of the best seafood in the world and history galore. But what I did appreciate was my dear friend who anchored me through relationship storms, fed me more meals than I can ever repay, helped housebreak my dog and shoveled me out from a foot of snow one Christmas as I was flying back from a trip to see my folks. They just don't make them better than the Fabulous K.

K and her delightful hubby J hosted the Three Whos, Mama Who and Grandma Who this past week, and a grand time was had by all. We zoo'd it, did a cookout with seven kiddos under the age of 5, checked out the Children's Museum, went north to Beantown and -- oh, yeah -- hit the beach. Ate my favorite foods, drank my favorite frozen lemonade and scarfed down the best cinnamon rolls in the land. But mostly, I had quality time with the Whos. And maybe, just maybe, they'll be Mama's girls for at least a week!