Half a Year Home

6 months.

It's been 6 months since we scooped up a tiny little girl on the other side of the world and promised to love her for always.

Sometimes I look at the pictures of before we adopted her, right after we adopted her, and now and cannot believe how she's changed.

The referral picture - the very first time we saw her sweet face.

Right after her heart surgery in Shanghai (July 8). She looked so forlorn and alone. Her face haunted me when I tried to sleep at night. I would whisper to her "We're almost there, Tali. We're almost there."

One of the last pictures we got before we left for China. This was the end of July.

When we first met her, I was struck by how little she was, how frail. She couldn't walk or stand on her own at 21 months. She gorged on food if we didn't parcel out the noodles or fruit or whatever. She loved tentatively.

Oh how Talitha Ruby has grown. We've watched her transform from a thin baby who guarded her heart so fiercely to a toddler - a little girl! - who runs on her almost chubby legs to the arms of a parent, a brother, a sister, where a hug and kiss is reciprocated with laughter. 

The first few months were a big learning curve, much like bringing home your first newborn. I never ever knew if I was doing anything right but prayed that God would fill in the gaps of my parenting. There have been a lot of struggles with attachment and putting love into action even when the emotion is not there. Sometimes it's so real and so right and she reaches up to pat my face or kisses me with her eyes closed tight with anticipation. Sometimes it's not. It just isn't. But everyday I make the choice, over and over and over again, to love. To mother. To be present.

The last few months have still been difficult but there is so much sweetness, so many moments where it is obvious that she has chosen to love us. To be a daughter and sister. She engages us, she grabs our faces and demands we look her in the eyes and connect. She smiles and scowls, she throws fits and gives long hugs and pats on the back. 

The last three pictures were taken today - I wanted to have the most recent pictures for her 6 month update. Yes, they were taken in the bathroom while Noah sat on the potty and made random observations in an attempt to get out of peeing.

I can see that Talitha's changed a lot over the past 6 months but these next two pictures were really astounding. Noah has changed too, of course. But Tali? A different person.

The week we came home, September 2013

Six months home, February 2014

And for the next 6 months and then rest of our lives together? I can't hardly wait.

Fancy Feast

On Saturday we had friends over for dinner. The mom is a hospitalist (physician) where I work and I've had a playdate with her and her little one. Saturday was the first time we met her husband. They stepped out of their car and I noted with dread that he was nicely turned out in a crisp sport coat. I slowly looked down at myself - 'Oh please don't say that I...yup. I'm still wearing my yoga pants and t-shirt that I had put on that morning with the intent of cleaning and making dinner all day. Are they sufficiently flour-encrusted from the bread I made? Sure are!'

No matter. They were wonderful. It's always a bit nerve-wracking inviting new friends over for dinner. You never know how comfortable it will be. Will Matt and I be making imploring eyes at one another as the evening drags on close to midnight? Will they recite a detailed monologue about their toenail fungus while you are trying to enjoy your pudding? Will they drone on and on about something or other while you drop weighty hints about the kids bedtime - "Oh look at the time! We all have bobsled practice in the morning, better hit the hay...Oh, still talking huh? Alright then. I'll check back in an hour"

This was quite comfortable. Jack was really excited to meet the dad - he's a cardiologist. Jack greeted him at the door in his heart shirt and doctor coat, surgical tools in his pocket and his heart model in his hand. They hit it off. The dad was impressed by Jack's passion, excitedly pointing out things on Jack's shrine to the heart in the homeschool room. Exhibit A - Jack's desk and wall:

Honestly, it's just a teensy bit creepy. You know that scene in A Beautiful Mind where the woman opens the shed and all those mathematical papers are plastered on the walls and she stares in horrified dread? It feels a bit like that. It's all he wants to draw and all he wants to write about. Let's get real for a moment - how much excitement can you truly muster when told about the aorta multiple times a day everyday? Yes, it's amazing. We know.

But this guy and Jack are kindred spirits. He happily read Jack's illustrated book on the heart (complete with Fast Facts on every page). He quizzed Jack on topics such as "How does a heart attack occur?" which Jack answered with gusto. I was pleasantly surprised by Jack's social graces when the cardiologist pulled out his phone to show Jack a video on heart bypass surgery. We've seen the video several times already but Jack didn't say anything and let the good man point out the arteries and such without cutting him off with a curt "I know."

I'm not showing his face as I don't know if he's ready to handle the inevitable fame that will come with being shown on my blog. Some people can't handle becoming an instant celebrity.

All through dinner, the guy kept complimenting my cooking:

"You made this bread? How did you do that? It's amazing."

"Your mom is a wonderful cook, you know?" (Jack shrugs "I guess.")

"You made these cookies too? You should open a bakery!"

We are definitely having this guy over again for dinner. They might have me beat in IQ and income but I can follow recipes like a champ. They brought with them two containers of Haagen-Daz ice cream and a bottle of wine. 

We set out the ice cream with the cookies and the kids immediately began pouring cheap chocolate sauce and sprinkles on it. 

NOOOOO! Don't put that crap on there - this is Haagen-Daz! I know that name means nothing to you as we've never ever bought such expensive ice cream but this isn't cheap Wal-cream. This is special. Savor it.

Nope, they just swirled the sauce and sprinkles and the ice cream together to make it soupy. It's painfully obvious that we're used to covering up the taste of poverty.

Later that evening, Matt opened the wine. A few things I noticed: 

It's not in a box. There are no pictures of animals on the label, no "Uncle Billy Bob's Mississippi Moonshine." The top didn't twist off. I can't pronounce the type of wine it is. It all came to a head when Matt brought out the corkscrew. He shows me the cork and states "Is that a real cork?" We stared at it, slightly dumbfounded. Not a plastic cork. A real one. 

It dawned on me - the sports coat, the good wine, the Haagen-Daz. We have fancy friends!

(Now before you get all insulted that I'm implying you're basically an uncultured swine, be rest assured I'm not talking about you. The rest of my friends? Absolutely. An uncouth group if ever I've seen one.

But you...you are a shining beacon of dignity and sophistication.)

So that was our Saturday evening. Next time we'll probably bump it up a notch (pants that button and non-Crocs on our feet) for our fancy friends.

We Are Currently Unable to Move

So Matt and I started working out. Not together, of course. I think we tried running together. Once.

"So, do you want to actually start running now?"

"I am running. Look at me. This is running."

"No, I mean like real running. Like fast."

Anyway, we joined the local Y. Our kids are already part of the swim team and they go to a homeschool PE class (yes, it's a thing). Matt is working out with his dad M-W-F and I'm taking a Tabata class with my mother-in-law Tuesdays and Thursday. Tabata is a circuit training class consisting of 20 seconds of torture and 10 seconds of rest.

The workouts start at 5:30 (in the morning! it's crazy!) and we both get up then just to keep a schedule. Matt and his dad worked on shoulders and arms Monday so he was really sore the next day.

I went to my Tabata class Tues all full of hope and confidence which is how I usually am but even I admit it's strange to have confidence despite having no good reason to have it. First everyone warms up on the treadmill for 5 minutes. After the 5 minutes, I really felt like I was done. 'Ok, that was fun but it really feels like I should be done with the workout now...' But no, into another room for the class. First off, I notice that one wall is completely covered in wall to floor mirrors. That was the first indication of something terrible about to happen. Then the warm-up began (the treadmill warm-up was apparently the pre-warm-up). We're tapping our toes side to side and lunging a little bit and I'm thinking 'Alright, ok, feels good. I can totally handle this. I work out with Denise Austin, who seems like she genuinely likes me and thinks I'm doing a great job. Heck, sometimes I work out with Jillian Michaels, who seems like she genuinely wants to punch me in the face for being such a huge waste of space.' But after about 20 seconds of this, the alarm bells in my mind start ringing. My thighs are burning. Geez, how much longer of this hour class do I have?

53 minutes.

A little while later we're doing jumping jacks and let me tell you: There is nothing like watching yourself perform jumping jacks in front of a mirror to make yourself realize that you have made a very bad decision regarding your sports bra. Those ligaments will never be the same. Ever.

We did these strange oblique exercises where we're lying on our backs up on one hip and scrunching forward, scrissoring our legs. The teacher keeps saying "Get on the meaty part of your backside!" and I can't figure out what part of it would be considered not meaty. It's probably not a good thing to be proud of but I seemed to be comfortable cushioned no matter what.

So the whole day Tuesday my thighs hurt whenever I moved up or down.

(Slowly getting up from a chair) "Ahhhh no, that's terrible, ahhhh..."

(Slowly lowering myself to pee) "You know, I can pee later. No big deal. I just won't drink today. I can drink tomorrow."

Matt was also faring poorly. He couldn't raise his arms much so had to drive just gripping the wheel with his fingers at the bottom. Tuesday night he was unbuttoning his dress shirt and taking it off slowly while grimacing. It reminded me of a movie scene where someone has been shot in the torso and is taking off his shirt in painstaking motions.

We are quite the pair.

It will get better working out this coming week but I still have a problem. If I'm not exercising much and am eating a lot I just think 'Oh well, I'm already squishy. What's the harm in another cupcake?'

If I'm exercising regularly I think 'I've already burned this cupcake off this morning so it cancels it out. Also, yay me for doing stuff. I deserve a reward after all those flipping jumping jacks. Good job, me. Enjoy that cupcake.'

Mmmm, cupcakes. Now if only my legs could make it to the kitchen...