The Three Amigos

When Mollie & Charlie first came home, there was definitely tension between them and Grace.  They easily understood Henry's role as big brother, but who was this person who was Charlie's same age and not much bigger than Mollie? Combine this with Grace's utter confusion as to why her new little sister didn't immediately worship her and why were Mommy and Daddy paying so much attention to these new kids and it kinda was a debacle.  Seriously.  

Grace had a tantrum during our "airport moment" because Mollie didn't know who she was and wouldn't kiss her.  

There were also moments early on when I thought Grace was going to hate her new siblings forever and vice versa.  We called Charlie & Grace the Weasley Twins (and still do) because for certain the only times they got along was when they were managing mischief. 

But then one day I realized their fights were no longer born of fear or insecurity, but plain old sibling rivalry.  Charlie & Grace discovered they had similar energy levels and interests:  gymnastics, Little Einsteins, dress up, Ninjago, dancing, eating, and idolizing Henry.  Grace began including Mollie in more of her traditionally "girlie" pursuits and found that they both could cook a mean wooden food soup, had an affinity for cell phones, tutus, and My Little Ponies, that when it came to stuffed animals, Ketchup, or Snappea Crisps--more is always better.

I am so moved by the work that God is doing in each of their hearts. It's an encouragement to my weary soul.  He's truly knitting those three together.  They play so well together out of thin air, creating a world full of dragons and fairies and ninjas and babies out of nothing but a blanket and all the couch cushions.  I often hear then telling each other they like one another or that they're each other's best friends.  

I rarely am concerned that Grace & Charlie are secretly plotting to take over the world and make us their minions.  (I mean I'm certain they have a plan in place, just that they're delaying putting it into operation.  At least until they get more chocolate chips.)

But Grace got a medal at school today during an Olympics game.  She promptly gave it to Mollie for being the best little sister ever.  And then she said, "Sorry Charlie.  I don't have anuvah medal for you.  But you are my bestest 4 year old brother and I love you."  He said, "I loves you too!" And then squeezed her tight til they fell over laughing.  

My cup runneth over. 

Bowl full of grace

This blue bowl.

There’s nothing special about it.  But don’t tell my kids that. To them, it’s the all coveted LIGHT BLUE BOWL.  It is THE bowl from which to eat cereal, goldfish, ice cream.  In the morning, the first words out of each of my kids’ mouths is “I want the light blue bowl!  I’m gonna get the light blue bowl!”  They scurry and flutter to be the first child dressed and down in the kitchen, skidding to the cupboard in their socks, to snag the coveted light blue bowl.

The winning child usually gloats and cuddles the bowl until its filled with Cheerios.  The loser usually falls in a puddle crying, shouting about the injustice of it all.  When the bowl is dirty, it is suddenly my fault that none of the other 15 bowls in the cupboard will do.  It doesn’t help that my response is usually one of complete impatience.

I’m so over the light blue bowl.

My knee jerk reaction was to get a 2^nd blue bowl.  $2 and problem solved, right?  Sloan wants to throw the bowl away.  After all, if your eye causes you to sin, you’re to cut it out, right? However, both solutions are insufficient.

We could make sure they each had their own light blue bowl.  Or we could toss it.  But sooner or later they’d find something else to throw elbows over.  Perhaps suddenly the Spiderman bowl would be all the rage.

But the problem isn’t the bowl.  It’s them.  It’s us.  It’s me.  At some point, we've all got to learn to handle someone else having that thing which we most want or how to be gracious to those waiting patiently.  And perhaps we need to learn that the blessings we have right at our fingertips is all that we really need.

We want a thing so much that we’re willing to fight for it.  Never mind that our having that thing makes our brother cry.  After all, he should not have doddled while getting dressed.  No matter that we promised him yesterday he could have it.  

Or maybe it’s me that is crying about how you have the bowl and I don’t.  Sure, I could get another bowl that’s just as good or maybe even better, but that fact that you want it makes me NEED it.  And to get it I will whine and complain and perhaps even pull you out of your chair to get it.

Most times, I treat God’s favor and blessing like that light blue bowl.  If you have it, then I do not.  Maybe I’ll get it if I just try harder.  Maybe I can guilt you into sharing your blessings with me.  Maybe I’ll just blame God for blessing you and not me.

But y’all, hear me when I say this:

GOD’S GRACE IS NOT A PIE.

We do not get less blessing because someone else seems to have more.  Grace isn’t doled out first come first serve.  It’s not reserved for the most eloquent, spiritual, best dressed, or level headed.  It cannot, in fact, be earned.  Nor is it something to be Lorded over others or clung to, white knuckled, for fear that we might lose it.  Grace is ours to keep.  No take backs.

In God’s economy, grace multiplies when shared.  Even the tiniest amount of grace, when lifted up in thanksgiving and poured out for others, can feed multitudes.  With buckets of leftovers.  

Because GOD’S GRACE IS NOT A PIE.

It’s a person.  And from His fullness we have all received grace upon grace.

So what’s  your blue bowl?

Good things are coming...

So you were probably expecting this to be a post about how we only have two more nights in this house.  How Henry helped me pack up all his Thomas trains and tracks and said, "I guess this is really real because where my trains go, I'm going too.  Two more nights and then I get my new room!" 

But the post about the new house will have to wait. 

Why?

What could be more exciting than the new house?

This.  That's two signed and sealed referral acceptance letters.  That's right.  We've got kids! 

(And sorry if these descriptions are kinda cryptic.  I don't want to divulge too much identifying information on the interwebs that could possibly interfere with our adoption.) Our children are biological siblings from a town whose primary language is Swahili.  And because God likes to mock me with His sovereignty, the city where they are from was called Elizabethville under Dutch rule.  And we got the referral the day after we closed on the new house.  You know, when we actually had room for 4 kids.  One year to the day from when we learned that Grace had two younger birth siblings and we first thought that perhaps we'd be a family of 6 one day. 

Classic Jesus showing me what's up.  I get it.  I get it.  You've got this.  I'll just hold the tail while You skin this cat.

Our son, C, is a few months younger than Gracie.  Our daughter, A, turned 1 over the summer.  It is our fervent hope to have the kids home prior to her 2nd birthday.  From this point, the average time frame is typically 6-9 months.

We haven't yet decided 100% on what we plan to name our children.  With K and N, we planned to bump their African names to their middle names and give them family first names.  We had planned to call K an American nickname for his African name.  But our children's names given to them by their African birth mother are not your typical African names.  They are French and the family names we had picked out just don't seem to fit them.  We think we've settled on their names, but we aren't sure.  So we are going to hold those close to the vest for a little while.  So as for now, we are simply calling them their given names.  But Gracie calls her little sister something completely different.  She can say her sister's actual name, but prefers a nickname she has given her.

She is acting like a big sister already.  Bossy and planning to not share her toys. 

But we did get to send in packages for them to get at Christmas.  

For A. 

For C. 



Next month, we hope to send them shoes, but we don't know their actual shoe sizes, so I think we will try to get them some Crocs.  In order to insure that the packages make it through customs, it is best if we send them gently used items. Thankfully, I have friends who have kids roughly the same age as my youngest children. 


We are over the moon. 

A Change in Perspective

What if we've been going about this adoption the wrong way?  Searching the world over for the children who will fit into our family.  Scanning waiting children websites hoping to imprint on a child that pulls at some abstract maternal heart-string. 

What if, and here's a novel idea, this adoption isn't about me? 

What if the question is not what children will mesh well with our family but what children need what we have to offer?

What if this adoption is about meeting the needs of some Congolese children?

What if it isn't even about what I have to offer?  But perhaps what Henry and Grace have to offer as a brother and sister?

What if there is a little boy who needs a brother to hold his hand in school and to cheer him on? A brother who is tenderhearted and prone to compassion.

What if there is a little girl who needs a big sister to laugh with her?  To dance with her?  To share some space during an illegal bed jumping session? 

What if we just said to God "Take our meager loaves and fishes and dole them out"?  What would that look like? 

I'm not quite sure.  But I'm hopeful we will find out soon...

A Real Conversation

Henry:  Mommy, we need green pigs.

Me:  Green pigs?  What?

Henry:  Gracie and I built buildings for the green pigs.

Me:  What are you talking about?

Henry:  (laughing)  You know, for the angry birds.  

Nice.  Me thinks Henry's had a little too much Ipad time.  And to answer your next question, yes, they did throw stuffed animals at the towers to knock them down. 

My Two Favorites

To say that my kids love each other would be an understatement. 

Gracie chases Henry into the pool until she is nothing but a tilted head and two little nostrils poking above the water.  When I grab her and tell her I wish she was more afraid, she simply says, "Blah, blah, wah, wah, HENWY!" 

This afternoon, during a playdate with Henry's girlfriend, A, Gracie was none too thrilled A was sharing the teeter totter with Henry.  Gracie shoved her chubby body between them, wrapping her arms around her big brother while the two four year olds giggled at how cute she was.  

If Henry makes a silly face, Grace is soon to follow.  Most car rides always end with me seeing two children in my rear view mirror with their thumbs in their ears, tongues stuck out, and heads bobbing to and fro. 

Henry enters Grace's room each morning joyful to see her, exclaiming, "Good morning, sweetness!" or princess or beautiful or lovely or precious or angel.  When Grace wakes up first, she toddles into his room, arms waving above her head, shouting "BUDDA!  BUDDA!  Wuv budda!  Wuv budda!"  (And while her chubbiness may lead you to believe that she is proclaiming her love for butter, I assure you, it is only her love for Henry that is this steadfast.)

When watching a show, each child has their own little chair.  But inevitably, they end up sharing the same one, cuddled up in each other's arms under a Thomas blanket.  That is, until Grace gets handsy and restless and starts climbing over Henry.  Then Henry quietly moves to the empty chair.  At which point Grace follows him and the game begins again. 

Grace can be a little pigheaded and doesn't share so well, but NEVER has Henry raised his voice or his hands to her.  He will kindly ask her if he can have a turn with Percy and she will pound Henry on the head with the train, screaming "No! No! No!"  To which he will calmly respond, "Gracie, no hitting and you need to take turns." 

Of course, then he comes to me and lets the whining rip, but with Grace he has endless patience. 

They also like to wrestle.  Gracie will tackle Henry and then they just roll around on the floor giggling, kissing, and hugging one another.  Henry will exclaim, "Gracie is on me!  I love it!"  It is only concerning when they do this out in public.  We were once at our local mall's indoor play place and someone commented on how "That little white boy in the blue shirt was playing a little rough with that baby.  Do you know who his mother is?"  To which I snarked, "One, that baby is the one who tackled him and two, his mother is her mother.  Who is also me and I say it's fine. "

Oh, My Margaret, Little Margaret Grace

This girl is sweet as pie.  She loves to kiss and cuddle, particularly her Daddy.  She talks ALL the time.  Sometimes she even uses words.  If she is really emphatic, she'll use words and her entire body. 
Say, perhaps, she wants more milk.  First, she'll bring me her empty sippy cup.  To which I'll say, "Oh, Grace, you have an empty sippy cup."  Then she'll start signing "more".  I'll say, "Oh,  you want more.  More of what?"  Then it is full body signing, jumping up and down, saying "Mo, mo, mo!!!"  Were I to ask if she wanted more juice, she would throw the back of her hand up to her forehead and say, "No, no, no!"  and then she would once again start jumping, chanting "Mo mo mo!"  So I say, "Oh, you want more milk?" at which point, she chips "Yes" and gently tosses me her cup.
She also says the following words (yes, it's a long list): Momma, Dadda, Budder (brother), Aimee, more, up, down, dog, monkey, duck, NO!, yes, hi! (and dang it you better wave at her when she waves at you!), poopy, diaper, jump, ball, moo, woof, quack, shoe, truck, choo choo, baby, share, mine, juice (although, to be clear, she says "Jews" and I really hope no one is offended by that), cracker, cookie, book, chair, hug, kiss, thank you, please, and done.

I've taken to changing the tune of the folk song "Eliza Jane" and changing the words to Margaret Grace.  We like to hold hands and dance around the family room as I sing, "Come my love and go with me, Little Margaret Grace, come my love and go with me, little Margaret Grace!"  Henry is more of a willing dancer, holding hands and sashaying around the room with me, while Grace prefers to freestyle.  And sometimes she just wants to hold Henry's hands and not mine, which makes for dancing in a cirlce kinda hard.  So we just promenade in a wonky line.
She also is a fan of just jumping up and down.  And has been for awhile.  In fact, she can get more air than her brother.  And I'm not talking that whole body seizure that is most toddlers jumping a piddly quarter inch off of the ground: my baby gets hang time.  

 She likes to put things away.  If she sees shoes laying out around the house, she will quickly take them and put them in the shoe cabinet in the foyer.  She also, without being asked, is quick to put her empty sippy cup in the sink.  When she finishes her meal, she lets you know by waving at you (one half of the all done sign) and then handing you her plate.  It doesn't matter if you are still eating or if she still has a pile of untouched green beans on her plate, if she hands you her plate--you should take it.  If you don't take it, she will slowly and carefully, one by one, take each and every item off of her plate.  But not to worry, because then, just as methodically, she will neatly rearrange it back on her plate.
She prefers to simply carb load.  Gone are the days when she would eat any and everything I feed her.  Now that she is self-feeding and eating everything we eat, she is more picky.  It used to be that if we were having steak of fish or something chewy, I'd also serve her sliced turkey.  At one lunch, because I was multi-tasking and not really paying attention, and just handing her more turkey to keep her quiet while I  Facebooked cleaned the kitchen, she ate a half pound of sliced turkey.  Now she has gone on turkey strike. (Hmm, wonder why?)  But she loves rice (brown, curry, Mexican, white, fried), yogurt, Cheerios, Cinnamon Toast Crunch, Oatmeal squares, peanut butter, apples, pears, bananas, french fries, strawberries, cheese, spinach pizza, chips and salsa, quesadillas, pasta (both with and without sauce), taco meat, McDonald's chicken nuggets (don't even think about getting her to eat a Chick-fil-A nugget--it looks far too much like actual chicken!), quinoa, bacon, any and all types of Girl Scout cookies, macaroni and cheese, avacado, and crackers.  I promise she gets served vegetables at every dinner and most lunches.  I got really excited the other night when we were having steak, potatoes, and sauteed zuchini and squash.  But no, she was just dipping her zuchinni in the A1 sauce and then sucking it off.  And she is too young to enforce the same rules as Henry.  For Henry, we have the "No, thank you" bite rule.  He has to take one bite of everything on his plate before he can say "No, thank  you".  Last night, I tried to tell Grace that a green bean was like a green french fry and she saw right through it.  So yeah, a lot of nights she just eats rice at dinner and then cries as she sees Henry eating his dessert. 

 And while she is super extra sweet when she is sweet, if you tell her no, she jumps up and down and beats her chest while screaming "No! No! No!"  It is not unlike a gorilla.  No idea where she gets this willful streak from.  (Though my mother tells me she's seen this move before in a little girl...) 
Sometimes she'll even laugh at me when I tell her no.  So I try not to poke the bear. 
And should you be her older brother and kindly ask to take a turn at a toy (to which she will respond, "NO! NO! NO!), and then you take the toy anyways, prepare for total meltdown that you'd swear he poked her with a steak knife.  But she can stop the meltdown on a dime which tells me she is almost as good as her Momma at manipulation.  So Grace, be warned, challenge accepted.

She is loyal.  She will go easily into nurseries and play well with others, but upon seeing me to come get her, she jumps and leaps into my arms and snuggles her curls into my neck.  She adores her Daddy most of all and loves to smother him with kisses.  And sometimes while playing, she'll just randomly go up to Henry and give him kisses.  She'll kiss his arm, his knee, his toes.  This makes Henry fall on the floor with laughter and then they are both lost to giggling for at least ten minutes.
She is also a big fan of blowing kisses.  Big fan. 
And I am her biggest fan.

Oh, my darling, Margaret Grace, you make our lives extraordinary.  Thanks be to God for your sweet life!

High threshold for pain, Low threshold for discomfort

This morning my son had a meltdown.  We're talking Chernobyl.  The reason?  There was only one Nutrigrain Bar left and I was forcing him to choose between sharing it with his sister or having none at all. 


Me:  There's only one left.  You'll have to share it.
Henry (through immediate uncontrollable sobs)  But I want to eat all of it!
Me:  Do you think Gracie likes Nutrigrain bars?
Henry:  (gasping for breath) Yes.
Me:  Do you think it would make her sad to see you eating the bar if she couldn't have any of it?
Henry:  (literally falling out of his chair onto the floor he is so distraught)  Yes.
Me:  (choking back laughter) And do you want to make her sad?
Henry:  (Attempting to climb back into his chair while writhing in agony) No, I don't want to make her sad.  BUT I WANT TO EAT ALL OF IT!  I DON'T WANT TO SHARE IT!
Me: (Putting offending nutrigrain bar back in the pantry and making a mental note to get more at the store.)  Ahhh, and there's the rub, Henry.  You being selfish makes her sad.  And that's not loving her very well, is it?
Henry:  (Head on kitchen island, covered with crossed arms) I WANT TO LOVE HER BUT I WANT IT FOR MYSELF!
Me:  (convicted for hearing my own sin in my son's words, suddenly NOT so funny).  Loving well is hard.  It IS.  But you CAN do it.   Jesus gave us everything he had in order to love us, so I think you can give Gracie half of your Nutrigrain bar.
Henry:  (Pops his head up, face splotchy, not crying, but still gasping for breath.)  How 'bout we just give her a little bit of it?  Is that loving her enough?
Me:  (laughing, once again hearing my own voice in my son's.) You want to share the Nutrigain bar?
Henry:  Yes.  But not all of it.  Not all of it, Mommy.


This transaction ended much better than the Banana splitting episode of yesterday (because he just can't eat an entire banana), the turn off the TV showdown of pretty much everyday (because why would you be okay with one show if you think you should be able to watch two?), or the uber-earth shattering meltdown of going to a new Sunday School class from Mother's Day. 

So, could someone please explain to me why it is that this very same boy does NOT freak out at his 4 year well visit when it was time for his shots?  He was sitting all cuddled up in my lap so the nurse could stab his thigh once and his arm twice.  I told him the nurse was going to give him some medicine in his arm and leg.

Upon the shot in his thigh...
Henry:  (deadpan) Ooh.  That hurts.  That medicine is giving me a boo boo.

Upon the first shot in his arm....
Henry:  That pinches.

And the second...
Henry:  I'm sorry, Nurse, I don't think I like this.

And as she donned his superhero band-aids...
Henry:  Thank you for the medicine, Nurse Johnston.  Sorry I not like it.


I'm sorry?  I don't think I like this?  Thank you? 

And yet at the prospect of only getting half of a Nutrigrain bar he melts down.  I suppose my son is more like me than I realized...high threshold for pain, low threshold for discomfort. 

Heaven help us all...

All Clear!!

It is with great news that I can report that Gracie passed her most recent blood tests with flying colors.  All threats of lasting health issues posed by her birthmother are done with.  There is not a trace of her birthmothers yucko immune system left in sweet Grace and we never again have to go to the clinic at MCV for blood draws.  Which is a blessing as when we went in December they dug around in her chubby little arm four times without being able to get a vein.  We went again this past Tuesday and thanks to the many prayers of my bible study ladies and orphan care community friends, they found a vein on the first try!  Yes, she still cried the entire time and I had to literally lay across her, but we have been given the go ahead to never return again.

I still try and read as to whether the drugs sent through her system in utero will have a lasting effect on her development.  For now, she shows no signs of any delays.  She is easily soothed, quick to laugh with Henry, and is chatting up a storm.  I can't remember what all she is supposed to be doing at 15 months as Henry did have a speech delay at this point and had just begun to walk. 

But as for now, she can say the following...
Mama, Dada, Budda (for brother), baby, no, uh-oh (though like most toddlers, she has yet to discover hurling your sippy cup across the room does not warrant an uh-oh), yum yum yum (when she wants to be fed), banana (though, like her brother, and now her parents, she says buena), makes monkey noises whenever she sees a buena (thanks, Henry), and, of course, choo choo.

She loves to empty her kitchen cupboards.  She loves to drag the broom and dustpan around the house.  I'm thinking of getting her her own swiffer broom so it can actually be a useful habit.  She loves to lunge towards people, so be prepared for big hugs.  She loves to sit in her booster seat and often drags it to various places just to sit a spell.  She loves to lunge and ping-pong between the two orange kids chairs we have.  She prefers to look at regular books as opposed to board books and is surprisingly gentle with the pages.  She does not, however, sit still for anyone to read her a book.  This does not stop Henry from trying to "read" her Hop on Pop and Green Eggs and Ham.  She enjoys climbing the stairs.  She likes building with blocks, playing trains, and pushing baby dolls around in her grocery cart.  It may be time for a baby doll stroller.  Unlike Henry, Gracie will eat anything set before her, but especially loves avocado and bacon. Both of these foods make her shake with delight.

She can find her nose and belly button and when I ask for a kiss, she attacks my face open mouthed.  Her favorite person continues to be Henry.  They roughouse and often roll around the floor, kissing one another and laughing.  I am thankful that she is big enough to hold her own.  She is all smiles when being watched by others, but when I return, she suddenly needs to be held by me STAT.  Her favorite sitters are her Auntie Ann and Mrs. Scoggins. 

At present, she currently uses more hair products than I do.  Her daytime routine includes a hair moisturizer called "Curl Creme Brulee."  So she now smells like Caramel.  Because, you know, she wasn't delicious enough already!  She loves bath time, in particular, splashing.  Policeman Henry is quick to gently grab her hands and remind her "No splashing."  We wash her hair once a week and co-wash it (wash it with just conditioner) once as well. 

She has 14 teeth.  6 of which "erupted" last week.  You know, when Daddy was out of town.  Awesome. 

Gracie continues to be beloved by all who meet her.  And she is the apple of her big brother's eye.  When someone else holds her, he is quick to let them know that she is his baby.  Sometimes he will be playing with trains and just stop, get up, go give her kisses and then return to what he is doing.  Yesterday he told me he needed to give her at least 16 kisses a day.  On the mornings he does not climb into her crib to snuggle her, he empties her bookshelf into her bed.  I am ever so thankful he loves her so dearly.  It is why we have instated the following rule--

Gracie will never be allowed to date someone larger than her brother. 

The Sweetness

Without the month to month "birthdays", I haven't done a Gracie update in forever.  But here is how the Sweetness is doing. 

She has many names: the Sweetness, the Princess, the Pumpkin, the big baby, Gracezilla, Chubby McChubberkins, Graciekins, the bag lady.   Where as Henry's nickname of the Pickle stuck, she responds to any and all of them, however, she is called the Sweetness most frequently.

She is a chatterbox.  Henry delights in trying to teach her new words.  Say "Momma,"  say "Gwacie,"  say "Cat in the Hat."  It is quite sweet.  So far she can say Momma, Dada, and Budda (for brother).  Henry has also taught her to make monkey noises when she is hungry.  Or whenever she sees a banana.  Or whenever he makes monkey noises, she'll follow suit.  Awesome.  She will not, however, perform monkey noises per her Mommy's request, say on the phone for her Gigi or Aunt Sonya.  Apparently, she is more Gibbon than circus monkey and I'm left playing the fool on the phone, squawking my monkey noises over the line.

She also likes to wake up in the middle of the night just to chat.  I did this as well as a child and did not sleep through the night until I was two.  Our response to her middle of the night chatfest?  We shut the door and turn up the ceiling fan so that we cannot hear her.  We stocked her crib with some buddies and books.  Also, for Christmas, Henry got her this pelican ball thingy that will attach to her crib.

She loves to be near Mommy.  Unlike her wondering brother, I can put this toddler down and she will stay near me.  She particularly enjoys emptying the dishwasher of dirty silverware as I fill it.  Second to that game is the game I call the "Fill and Dump."  She finds an empty bag and fills it with things she finds around the house--Little People characters, Legos, my car keys, sippy cups--and then dumps them in the Tupperware drawer.  At my parents' house last week, she played for 45 minutes with a paper grocery bag and an empty CD case.  We may have over thought her Christmas present (which is awesome, even if I did paint it myself).    She will also toddle off after Henry while we are at home.  If you can swing it, I highly recommend having a boy who plays well by himself prior to having a needy girl.  He really does a great job of parenting her, monkey noises notwithstanding.  Except for when she goes all "Gracezilla" and destroys the track on the train table, they play well together.  Henry has gotten the hang of preemptively giving her toys to play with so he can be free to play with Thomas.  Yes, she is stuck with Lego Salty and a random freight car, but she doesn't seem to mind the B-list trains. 

We've begun the process of taking away her pacifier.  My hope is to be passie free by next Fall.  She no longer receives it during the day unless we are at the doctor and they are going to be giving her shots.  There is also one in her diaper bag should the folks in nursery need it.  She seems to be fine with this.  She now looks forward to nap time.  As soon as I set her in her crib for a nap, she eagerly crawls up to the passie, plops it in her mouth, and then sets about trying to attach the clip to her collar.  The plan is to take it away from her during naps this Spring, and then at night in the Fall to be passie free by age 2.  (That's the plan, anywho...)

Her hair.

Her hair has a mind of its own.  I had expected this to a degree when we adopted her.  I had visions of braiding parties and learning to do fancy fingerweaves and the like.  But Gracie's hair, while super curly, also shows off her Japanese heritage by being super fine and silky.  I really am at a loss.  I know how to deal with curly hair as I have it as well, but my hair is really more wavy and poofy to Grace's tight curls.  But what we've come to is that we wash it once a week with Johnson's baby shampoo specifically formulated for curly hair (it has Glycerin in it).  Then I slather it with Pink's Oil Conditioner and comb it with a wide tooth comb.  For day to day maintenance, if it needs combing, I spray the heck out of it with detangling spray.  She is adorable whenever she sees this come out as she immediately throws her hands up over her eyes and face.  (She also mimicks me lubing her up with Grapeseed Oil by rubbing her hands together and then patting her belly.  Geesh, I love that girl!)  But mostly, I just use my fingers to comb it, carefully dividing the curls one by one.  If, for example, Daddy just decides to comb it out without spray, it ends up looking like a big brown football helmet.  (See photo above.) 

Alright, it is now 8:30 am.  And from the sounds I hear from upstairs, I either have a monkey infestation, or Henry has gone into Gracie's room to "wake her up" by climbing into her crib. 

Merry Monkey Christmas!

A Real Conversation

(Alternate titles:  Fairy tales for the 21st century and beyond, or Redefining Gender Roles)

Henry: (as he pulls all of the couch cushions on top of himself) OK, Gracie.  I'm da dwagon.  You da Pwincess.  I am hiding in da cave.  Come and save me!  Pwincess Gwacie, come and save da Henwe dwagon!

Grace: (toddling over to the shaking pile of pillows on the floor)  Ba-ba!  Ba-ba!  Ba-Ba! (She pulls one pillow over then launches herself at her brother.)

Henry:  (As he kisses his sister.)  Thank you, thank you, beautiful Pwincess Gracie!  You saved the dwagon!  You win a hug!  (He bear hugs the Princess.)

Grace:  Doo-doo-da-da-bbllllleeee...

Henry:  Ok, Gwacie.  I hide in da pillows again.  You come save me again.

Are you kidding me?

Yeah...  I have the cutest kids on the planet.  And what is even more dear is how they love each other.