Dire conditions

News accounts of the winter storms that have crippled China have failed to mention an area very close to my heart -- the conditions in the orphanages. But through a couple of fantastic organizations that help the children still waiting for families, the adoption community has gotten a pretty clear picture of how things are going.

It's grim.

Many orphanages have no heat and can't afford coal, which has skyrocketed. They're running out of disposable diapers. Food supplies are dwindling, and at least one city I've read about is rationing noodles to four packs per family. And, especially in the southern provinces, which are ill-equipped to deal with prolonged cold, it's a monumental challenge just to keep the children warm.

There has been no word about my daughters' two orphanages. Both are in southern provinces heavily affected by the snow, so I can only assume they are struggling. Baby Who's orphanage, in particular, is a poor one.

My children are safe and sound in their beds tonight, tucked under blankets with full bellies and parents who love them more than life itself. But there are children suffering. There are parents waiting to travel, not able to find out if the children whose pictures they've held for weeks are OK.

I am grateful to organizations like Half the Sky and Our Chinese Daughters Foundation, which are trying heroically to get supplies to those in need. I'm humbled by the outpouring from the adoptive community, which just rallied to help Love Without Boundaries win a $50,000 Facebook charitable challenge to perform life-saving surgery on Chinese orphans with heart conditions and is now stepping up in droves to help children most will never meet.

I'm proud to be part of this community. And I'm off to do my part.

Santa and cookies -- oh my!

In the category of kids say the darnedest things:

Who I was worried about Santa and all the cookies he eats. Not so much his waistline, mind you, but the -- shall we say, residual effects? -- of all that sugar. So she asked daddy a Very Important Question before hitting slumberland on Christmas Eve.

Who I: "Daddy, what if Santa eats all those cookies and has to poop?"

Daddy: "Um, I think he feeds some to his reindeer, so it shouldn't be a problem."

Who I: "But Daddy, what if he has to poop in our BATHROOM?"

Daddy: Speechless. Finally, "I think Santa has a trap door that he can use if he has to poop while he flies his sleigh."

Who I: "Ewww. But I don't want him to poop in our bathroom. That would be DISGUSTING!"

I'm pleased to report that Christmas has come and gone with no Santa "presents" in the commode, just under the tree as planned. We have survived a church service in which someone -- hint: not me -- decided it was a good idea to give two 4-year-olds a lit candle for the final song. I had visions of having to invoke "Stop, drop and roll" in the church balcony as tendrils of nicely coiffed hair drifted perilously close to the flame. Super Daddy survived potential hypothermia as he assembled Santa's gifts (including the aforementioned eBay toybox, which looks lovely, I might add!) in 20-degree weather in the garage. And I, mama, plan to don my kerchief for a long winter's nap this evening as I prepare for my return tomorrow to the working world after three blissful months as a full-time mom.

But before the hurly burly hits full-force, I'd be remiss not to acknowledge all we've been blessed with. Our riches can't be counted in dollars and cents; two adoptions in 18 months does not a happy bank balance make, and nearly three months with only one income is the nail in that coffin.

Rather, we have Who I, who came home from grandma's tonight with her new camera and announced she was "going to turn on the beautiful Christmas lights and take a picture to remember Christmas."

We have Who III, who might never had had a Christmas with us if not for the hard work of our adoption agency and a lot of divine intervention.

And we have Who II, our daughter who went to hell and back in her first three years, clamoring for my attention in the car on Christmas Eve. Suddenly, sweetly, she proclaimed: "Mommy? I love you."

All may not be calm in our household, but it's certainly bright. Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night.

Top 3 reasons 4-year-olds and computers don't mix

1) eBay.
2) eBay.
3) eBay.

I was surfing said auction site for a last Santa item for Baby Who, but also looking at other sites to see if the prices I saw were, indeed, good deals. While deep in the throes of power shopping, Who I called for assistance from the bathroom, so off I went to do bottom duty -- foolishly forgetting to close all windows before leaving the poor computer vulnerable to attack.

In swoops Who II, who apparently liked the looks of the pretty yellow 'Buy it Now' button and clicked. After all, you just click the button to start the educational Elmo games, right? Makes perfect sense.

The pretty yellow button has cost Mommy Santa $108.95. But Baby Who will be overjoyed with her new Nantucket toy box. Right? RIGHT????

Ack.

Let her eat cake!

Baby Who has turned 1, and we marked the occasion today with cake and gifts.

Little Miss Persnickety was having none of the throw-your-hand-in-the-cake-and-smear-it-in-your-hair foolishness that Who I embraced. No siree Bob, Baby Who just stared blankly at us when we put the cake in front of her. After about 5 minutes of me eagerly saying "Go for it! Smash that cake!" with camera at the ready, I finally got her a spoon to see if that would help. Yes! Apparently, we have a Miss Manners in the works -- it must be way uncool in Baby Whodom to eat birthday cake with her grubby little mitts.

So off she went, smearing a wee bit o' icing in the process -- but nothing resembling the Great Cake Smashing of Who I in 2004. Oh well, it saved me a bath! But she licked the plate clean!

Now, if I could just figure out how to get her to like whole milk ...

A state of neglect

I've been informed that I've been derelict in my duty to update the blog. "Nothing since Halloween???" the adoring masses cry. "What's new???" others demand.

Honestly, I don't have the energy to argue. So even though it's nearly midnight, and the wee Whos will be up way too early, here ya go.

Our big excitement since Halloween has been the big trek out East to show off the Whos to grandma and great-grandma. Over the river, through the woods we went -- stopping at every potty along the way. But we made it there and back safe and sound, and the kiddos were a hit with all who encountered their active little butts.

But I've never been so happy to see my own house and bed in my life. Close to 11 hours in a car with three kids under 5 is not my idea of a good time.

And I'm still wondering how one tiny baby can require me to pack SO MUCH CRAP. Portable crib. Portable high chair. Clothes out the wazoo, because heaven forbid she soil herself and require me to do laundry in a foreign environment. It's just unimaginable. We had so much stuff wedged in the Mazda that it lost its zoom zoom. Make a commercial about THAT, folks!

With that, I bid you adieu. Coming up: The cake-smearing festival, or Baby Who's 1st birthday.

Halloween treats

OK, I admit it. My munchkins are unique. Take their Halloween experience, for example.

Instead of racing door to door demanding candy like the other crazed goblins in our neighborhood, they wanted to stay home and hand out candy. And not just when kids rang the doorbell.

They solicited trick-or-treaters. Threw open the door and Who II bellowed, in her best Ethel Merman impersonation, "HEY, KIDS! We got a LOT of CANDY HERE!"

Then, they'd yell, "You have to ring the doorbell!" and slam the door, refusing to open it until the goblins did their bidding.

Who I would carefully count the number of kids awaiting treats, then dole out the appropriate amount of treats. Who II had door duty, opening and closing, hollering "BYE BYE!" as the ghouls and monsters (and a couple of girls dressed as the "Deal or No Deal" bimbos) trotted off to their next conquest.

Baby Who was adorable in her pumpkin costume and scoped out the treat bowl -- even figuring out how to unwrap a lollipop all by herself.

Imagine the disappointment when 8 p.m. came and we informed the Big Whos that all the trick-or-treaters were back at their houses, basking in sugar highs. "No, some people might still come," Who I insisted. She finally gave up the ghost about 8:15.

Now, don't think I've sucked the joy out of the ghostly activities. They DID trick-or-treat at preschool -- and came home with such a mother lode that I could have avoided buying candy at all and just "regifted" what they got. They'll NEVER eat it all in a year. And they did visit a handful of houses in the neighborhood to show off their costumes and see their friends. But their true joy was in giving out the candy.

'Tis definitely better to give than receive, even on Halloween.

Cheetah girl and the Princess

Here they are, off for a sugar-filled day at school, trick-or-treating 'til they turn into pumpkins themselves.

Speaking of which, where, oh where, is the baby's pumpkin outfit? Must find!