Of Date Night, Babysitters and SCC

The Three Whos have actually survived their first night with a babysitter who isn't related to them. Better yet, the babysitter survived and is willing to come back!

The occasion? Date night for Mama and Papa Who, consisting of front-row concert tickets and a meet-and-greet with Steven Curtis Chapman afterward.

For anyone who doesn't know, SCC is a popular Christian music singer who has adopted three daughters from China, and he and his wife have set up a foundation to help others bridge the financial gap so they can help children all over find their forever families. His adoption ministry is phenomenal and is a wonderful example of how people can use the gifts they're given to change the world. It's a message that resonates with us even as it moves us to tears. This is the second time we've seen him since we adopted Who I in 2004, and both times I've left the show inspired to find more ways to help bring children and families together.

One thing he said was really sobering: Every 18 seconds, a child somewhere in the world becomes an orphan. They had a counter running during last night's show that brought home the point -- I think it was up past 500 by the end of the evening.

Proceeds from the auction go to the adoption foundation he and his wife established, Shaohannah's Hope. Friends of ours probably could not have brought their daughter home without the help of a grant they received in 2004, so I was eager to share our own adoption story and theirs as thanks for what he does for so many adoptive families. He was really gracious and touched by our family's story, and tickled to see a photo of our friend's daughter. Theirs is one of 1,600 families the foundation has helped so far, and a new family is being helped at each stop on the tour. Last night, an adoptive family received a $4,500 grant.

If you get a chance, check him out. It's time well-spent.

All dogs go to heaven

After 12.5 years, the day I'd been dreading finally came yesterday -- I had to let my "first baby" go. She was hanging on physically, but mentally we'd seen a downward spiral, with her days and nights confused. She couldn't sleep when she needed to and couldn't hear very well.

This past week, she just seemed so sad. I made the appointment for yesterday morning so my mom could go with me, and I spent three nights on the family room couch with the dog, never sleeping more than about 15 minutes at a time before she would want in or out.

Even though I had cats before I got her, Josie (named because I had Josie & the Pussycats) was my first baby, the first time I felt really needed. She gave me a reason to get up each day, something to come home to, at a time when my personal life pretty much sucked. I tell people she kept me from throwing myself in front of a bus.

We had great adventures. We hung out at the beach in New England, a pale-skinned mama and her too-hot fuzzy sled dog. We made the 900-mile journey by van back to the Midwest, with her refusing to pee the entire way. She became the expert bunny killer in our old neighborhood -- I'm convinced there's still a chalk outline from the time DH found just ears and a tail. Dumb bunny!

She even tolerated the arrival of Who I, followed too soo for her liking by Whos II and III. Once she figured out they were a food source, she was OK with them. I'm sure she ate her weight in macaroni and cheese and stolen chicken nuggets in the last three years.

She had the softest ears and most beautiful white eyelashes. She sang -- "ah-roo-roo-roo" -- for treats, our own fuzzy opera gal. And she gave the absolute best kisses.

In the end, she let me know when she was ready. I'm grateful I was able to listen to her. Keeping her going would have been so selfish.

We told our big girls that Josie was going to heaven, and why. We cried a lot and tried to explain it in terms a 4-year-old could understand. It was especially important for DD#2, who has already experienced so much loss in her life, to know that you CAN say goodbye, that it's OK to be sad.

And bless her heart, while I was at the vet, Who II drew me a picture that now sits on the refrigerator, right next to a photo of Josie as a puppy.

It's a dog with angel wings.

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.