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- CM & DD

December 8, 1936 - April 29, 2008

Yesterday, Thumblini's grandpa, my father, died unexpectedly. He was an avid participant in our search for the little one, and he followed our blog religiously. He was able to share in 4 glorious months with his granddaughter, and theirs was already a special relationship. He was there for her first (delayed) Christmas and he was present for her first birthday. But, no, he will not get to see her graduate Gymboree, or perform her first (fill-in-the-blank) recital. He won't get to watch her grow into a beautiful young woman, and she will, sadly, know him primarily from the multitude of stories we will tell, the avalanche of photographs and video, and the legion of friends who loved him.

He was my best friend (my best-longest, friend, anyway - Curlymom is tops).

- DD

Thumblini & The Boothbay Beauty

When we entered into the adoption process, we could never have guessed how many wonderful things would happen to us. Certainly, nothing can top the experiences of meeting our daughter and bringing her home for good. She is quite spectacular and she has brightened our lives in ways we could never have imagined possible. We just could not have anticipated the other things, like the powerful life-changing impact of meeting other Kaz-adoptive families.

This past weekend, we had the opportunity to spend time with the Boothbay Gang. To think that we almost missed the chance to know and love this family - it is too horrible to imagine! We only discovered their blog during our last week in Semey - just as they were preparing to leave Astana with their precious daughter, (hereafter known as...) Beauty. 

Fortunately, we all found ourselves stuck in Almaty together (which, at the time felt only frustrating and nerve-wracking) and so we spent a few days getting to know one another - and had a great time. We even shared a gloriously fun Christmas Eve at the Hilton.

So, although we were seriously grieving the loss of our sweet doggy this weekend, we ventured out to the Cape to meet up with the Boothbay Gang and boy are we glad we did. It was a short visit, but it was full and fulfilling. They are very special people, and the bond we all share is profound.


We look forward to seeing them all again - we are even considering crashing Kazapalooza in June because it just really is that special to connect with families who have gone through what we have gone through.

One last thing: Thank you all for the tremendous outpouring of support about our loss. It helps a lot to know you are all out there caring so much for us. We are grateful.

- CM

An Unanticipated Goodbye

This is a post about our baby, us, and our dog, Holly. When we thought about bringing a baby home from Kaz, we had our worries: would the baby be allergic to the dog? What would we do? Luckily, we were confronted with no sneezes or wheezes, and Thumblini appears singularly in love with every dog she meets. Our worries were allayed only briefly, however, before it began to creep up on us that all was not right with the transition to a family of four.

We have come to discover that Holly has dementia. She barks at phantoms. She stares at walls. She lunges for things that are not there. Her eyes have faded, as has her hearing. Sometimes she stares at me, trying to place the face, even when I am calling her by name. Once diagnosed with dementia, she was put on Anipryl (15mg), but to no noticeable effect. She can no longer be redirected or disciplined effectively. She is motivated only by food and nothing else. It has been for the last several years that she has slid progressively into a ghosted image of that daring, fierce, loyal, lickety-split beauty who won Most Obedient at the Provincetown Dog Show 1996.

When she is not sleeping, she cruises the house for food. Oftentimes, this involves circling Thumblini's high chair like a shark. Twice, now she has snapped at the baby's foot while foraging for scraps. Once, she mistook the pacifier (in use at the time) for a tasty morsel, and was relentless in her efforts to get at it. That makes three close calls - two too many for most. Beloved Holly, so long the fur-baby, cannot be redirected or dissuaded from her quest for human/baby food (largely due to her diminished capacity and compromised sensory input). When sequestered (via dog door/baby gate, for example), she barks and screams in the feral-dog-in-a-trap way that is oh so unique to the Shiba Inu.

Holly, in her Golden Years, turns out to be a risk to our daughter. Holly has teeth. Holly lacks discretion. Holly is plagued with the dark anxiety of senility, a weakening grasp of her environment, and an intractable resistance to correction and redirection. Medication and behavioral interventions have not worked, and we have run out of options.

***

As you read this post, the fabric of our family, once a pack, has changed. Thumblini's safety and the ultimate comfort of the pet as well as her caregivers moved us to do what I have always anticipated in the abstract, but have now participted in carrying out myself. From the moment I met that tiny puppy, I knew I would have to face her demise, however it was to come, and this was that time.

I miss her terribly. And I miss the dog she used to be. While alive she was a touchstone to my 20s, and life before my two human loves. For CM and myself, she was present the entire length of our relationship, from the moment we met.

Goodbye, Holly. May you find fields full of rabbits to chase, may you eat birthday steak every night without side effects, and may you forever have a soft, warm spot to sleep in.

- DD

Spring Has Sprung

I have tried to write a post numerous times in the past month or two. What I have found is that when I sit down to write, I have so much to share, so many things I want to say, that I become overwhelmed and my post ends up all over the place. So rather than publish it, I trash it.

Here I go again. Only this time, I am determined to write something that we’ll publish.

This morning, while we were strolling by the water and feeding the ducks with Thumblini, I realized that today is only the 2nd time she has ever experienced the feeling of the sun shining down on her face. In all of her little life. She was never allowed outside while living in the Baby House, and the past 4 ½ months (since she became our daughter) have been total winter – it has felt endless. Thank God it is not. Suddenly, the birds are tweeting, the flowers are blooming and she doesn’t need a jacket! There is just something about this that hits me hard. My sweet little girl finally gets to see spring!

I guess what makes this such a big deal for me is how little I feel we can take for granted. I take T to Gymboree every week, and we are surrounded with moms and babies (many pregnant moms) and I am often struck by how much the people around me assume certain things about their children and about T. They are nice people and I think T has a great time tumbling about with their children, but I am constantly amazed at the fact that only a few months ago my little girl had never seen so much color and had no freedom whatsoever. The children surrounding us have had parents their whole lives and while I am happy for them, it breaks my heart for T. I love her so much and have become so profoundly attached to her, that even as we have a blast together, I find myself reflecting on how new everything is for her – having parents, being surrounded by fun and color, experiencing sunshine, playing on a playground. She is taking it all in beautifully – she screams with delight as she slides down the slide, she smiles from ear to ear as we “bounce and bounce and bounce” and she is overjoyed when the Gymboree teacher blows bubbles. I love watching her revel in the fun and yet somehow, I just cannot get it out of my head that she hasn’t had access to such joy her whole life. I know everyone is going to comment and tell me “but she has it now!” and that is true, but this is one of the things that makes being an adoptive parent different…there is a certain awareness that makes things both magnificently special and deeply sad all at once.

So, it has been 15 weeks since our return to the States. I’d say that for me, the first 10 weeks were brutally difficult. What an adjustment. Flying home for 28 hours and recovering from jet lag seemed easy compared to the intensity of what followed: hosting & introducing friends and family to T, reorienting our home to make it welcoming and safe for T, falling down the stairs with T in my arms, trying to learn how to cram work in while caring for T, trying to figure out how to be a wife and mother all at once and just not sleeping at all most of the time.

And then around week 11 or 12, something began to shift for me. I started to get a bit more into a routine and T started to settle in a bit more. I stopped focusing on managing the logistics of my new life and started focusing on building a relationship with my charismatic, engaging, ever-evolving daughter. I shifted over from being scared I would damage her if I put her diaper on too tightly, to having fun chasing her around the house and then at some point finding that she needed a diaper change. I am really getting to know this little person who is my daughter, and I am finding her to be a wonder. I am completely and totally in love with her. It turns out that now – just 15 weeks in - this little person is someone with whom I share my whole life, and I just happen to have to change her diapers and feed her.

After 5 ½ years of trying to become a mom, the shock of actually being a mom has taken me by surprise. I confess that I spent a great deal of energy avoiding thinking about what it would be like to be a mom. It was just too painful. But now here I am, I am coming out of shock and settling into my new role. And I love it. I absolutely and completely love being T’s mommy. It was worth the wait. It was worth everything I went through to get here. Everything. And now we emerge from a dark, cold winter together – and spring is here!!!


- CM

Thumblini OWNS Borders

...and she'll be 14 months old tomorrow which also happens to be three months to the day since our touchdown in the U.S.

- DD & CM

Firsts

Thumblini's First Budding Flower


Thumblini's First Rainbow-In-Hand


Thumblini's First Asparagus Spear

...did we mention that she's already walking? She can foxtrot up the block and back without missing a beat. Our not-so-little-baby has made the evolutionary step from Infant to Toddler (see? she toddles:)



- CM & DD

Banana Kisses

Boy does she love bananas. As much as we know she loves bananas, we were still holding out hope that her first word would be "mama" or "dada." Instead, our little monkey pointed at the luscious yellow fruit (which comes in its own wrapping, no less) and squealed: "ANANA!" This was independently confirmed by a research team several times over the next few days - no coincidence, her first word was a fruit.

Now DocDad and CurlyMom are jockeying for Second Place.

HOWEVER, bananas get eaten and turned into little girls. DD and CM get KISSES from the baby. That's right, just the other day, Thumblini turned her head, mouth in a perfect "o" and leaned in for a kiss from CM. THEN she turned with the same little (banana covered?) "o" and leaned in for a kiss from her daddy. If you happened to see that shooting star in the middle of the day (Eastern), that was us. Many more (self-initiated) kisses followed. Astronomers likened the atmospheric phenomena to the Leonid Meteor shower for its volume and sparkling brightness.



- DD & CM

Quarterly Report - Q1

It was a mere 3 months ago today that we spirited Thumblini away from her communal nursery, away from the rotating caregivers, and began our journey home from a cold city at the edge of endless plains.

We've been giving her sun and watering her regularly ever since. Here she is, stylishly wearing her first taste of avocado:



- DD

PS: Many many warm wishes to those compatriots heading out in the VERY near future, including Sandi and Shannon, and to those who have just arrived, including Catalina & Calin, Karen & Bob, and Kristi (Semey!). Don't forget your daily dose of Kefir, people!

T

We want to acknowledge and thank everyone for the supportive comments on CM's last post. It is our intent here at Thumblini Central to provide honest, potentially provocative reflections (and cutesy photos), and we very are thankful for the hear hears. Sometimes this parenthood thing is messy, sometimes even the hardiest binding ties tend to pinch a little, and (to really mix the metaphors) it seems somehow inevitable that as new parents we find ourselves stepping into thin air on a regular basis.

Hey, how 'bout those cutesy photos!?

Here, Thumblini catches up with her extremely special friend, The Toogster: a buddy from the Old Country who managed to convince her parents to come to Thumblini's party many leagues from home. The Bliniesque-One was touched (see above), but the parents were dumbstruck with happiness and a general sense of The Shivers. Soon, Boothbay friends, we meet again. 

What the heck's in there? Is that an economy-sized tub of Gerber's Stage One Beef and Vegetables, or is Daddy brewing up another batch of porter? Either way: kids, large buckets are not toys.

Just being cute. See how I've been packing on the grams since I got home?

Thumblini, it turns out, is very sensitive to the sun (must be the eyes, methinks). We have known for some time that she fusses in the car, turning this way and that, but when it was finally warm enough to run some errands outside, we broke out the new stroller and started on our way. We'd made it only feet before the screaming began, so we high-tailed it to the nearest The Children's Place and outfitted the baby in this year's finest pinks. The shades and shading seemed to soothe her. Maybe everyone should wear these kind of glasses?...

- DD

Two Parties And A Tumble

One of my clients hosted a surprise baby shower for me on Tuesday. I walked into a meeting only to find 35 people staring at me with smiles on their faces, flowers, a library of books for Thumblini, and a gorgeous cake on the table. I never experienced a surprise like this before, and because of my infertility history I had avoided baby showers for years. Turns out, they're not so bad!

The next morning, still woozy with cake, I headed downstairs with Thumblini in my arms and - whoops! - the dog under my feet. The three of us slid and thumped down the length of the staircase, in what was the longest and scariest moment of my entire life. No exaggeration. Even my colon cancer scare had nothing on thinking I had just banged Thumblini's head on each post in the bannister as we fell uncontrollably down the stairs. I swear as we fell, I saw her hit her head over and over again. My husband heard the shrieking and the commotion, and crossed the dining room to meet us at the bottom of the stairs, catching Thumblini as she flew out of my arms at the last step. I was hysterical, the baby was screaming, and somehow, and - it had to be a miracle - Thumblini survived without a scratch. After a couple of hours, the shock wore off and I found out I was not so lucky: my legs and back were painted with broad purple bruises, and I hurt all over.

Yesterday (seventeen ibuprofen later), four dear friends of mine threw a wonderful party for us. They organized an elegant and warm event with all of our friends, a magnificent cake, champagne, and a beautiful ceremony of thanksgiving for Thumblini's birth and adoption. The 15-minute ceremony was led by two of our dearest friends, and it reflected on our whole journey, from infertility, to Kazakhstan, and finally to parenthood. They helped us celebrate our coming together as a family, and they welcomed Thumblini into the community. It was magnificent.

And now I sit in my cozy gingerbread cottage on a cold winter day in New England thinking about what it is to be a new mom. No, I have nothing profound to share, but I have noticed some differences in my life: Where once I kept a meticulous calendar and never missed a deadline, I now find it difficult to even find my calendar and I have inadvertently stood up friends more than once. I have started working again, but I find myself frantically cramming work in-between diaper changes, feedings, laundry, playtimes and naptimes. I discovered this weekend that I am a MUCH more tentative, nervous mom than I had ever thought I would be. After speaking with 2 other parents about how and what they feed their babies, I realized I'm petrified I'll give Thumblini a stomach ache or bring about her death by choking on a Cheerio.

And then there is my relationship with my husband. He is patient and kind and attentive, and is the dad any child would wish for (and can I just say one more time thank GOD he was home when we fell??!!!) But, we have been finding it difficult to connect in the midst of this adjustment. I have been a bitch and unpleasant a lot of the time, and we have argued more in the past month than we ever have in all our years together. Yes, I know it's only been 7 weeks since we returned home with a new baby, but we checked in yesterday and it is clear that we miss each other deeply. So after a good, long (and long-overdue), talk, we are feeling more hopeful and connected. We have to be vigilant to remind ourselves that part of the reason we sought to be parents was to enrich our life as a couple, not drive it into the ground.

Such a week. The warm fuzzies proliferate in our house, and the glow of those around us will surely be around for some time...but tomorrow, Dr. Dad goes back to work, and Thumblini and I will be alone with the taunting stairs. Even with all of the wonderful, generous people in my life, I still feel scared and alone sometimes. This new mommy thing is the best and hardest thing I have ever done. It is worth it, but anyone who says that being a new mom is easy is either totally checked out or is totally lying.

- CM

PS: More photos soon...

It's Always Just A Pillow

What a month it has been.

In the four short weeks since we returned home from Kazakhstan with Thumblini, I have experienced so many overwhelming feelings. I have no idea how to describe the intensity of returning home as a new mom to an adopted daughter who is in her 11th month of life. I have found myself laughing harder than ever, crying with unprecedented frustration, missing the little one terribly while she sleeps, and yearning deeply for quiet, quality (awake) time with my husband.

Thumblini has completely stolen my heart and she has bewitched me for good. I adore and admire her spunkiness, and her infectious glee at being alive. I think she might even be enjoying her time as our daughter. This makes me very, very happy. Nothing seems to bother her for more than a moment, and she is far more adaptable than either of her parents! I am in awe of this little girl.

It is not her, then, but I who struggles through the day. There are times when I am very depressed (!!??!), times when I am frantic to keep ahead of her and the house, and many are the times when I completely forget to eat (though I have managed somehow to gain back most of the weight I lost in Kazakshtan!) I continue to have a hard time sleeping because I wake up constantly: sometimes just to check on her, and sometimes because I hallucinate that she is in my bed and I am unable to find her. I wake up terrified, searching through the bedclothes, only to find a pillow in my hands. My poor husband. Thank goodness for his sense of humor...Sometimes I stroke his shoulder, thinking he is the baby, he wakes up and he laughs and tells me he is not the baby, and that the baby is sound asleep in her crib! Oh dear. I am a mess.

Finding space or time or energy or focus to sit still and write is very difficult. However, I can feel in my bones that things are beginning to shift just a bit, because as she sleeps tonight, I find myself writing. And, as she sleeps tonight, I can breath a bit more easily than I did yesterday. And I am smiling...but in an hour, I will probably fall apart in my husband's arms! :)

- CM

Birthday Girl

Thumblini is now one year old.

It is hard to believe that we met her only 2 months ago, as she is absolutely the glowing bright light at the center of our world.
What on earth did we do without her...besides sleep?

Thank you to those of you who sent birthday greetings and gifts. Our family of relatives and friends is much larger than we'd ever imagined :) Here are some photos of our little sweetheart celebrating.





PS: TIP - Never feed a Gremlin after midnight, and NEVER feed a baby birthday cake after 7pm!..alas, if only our friends A & P had mentioned this BEFORE yesterday's candle-lighting, perhaps our little 'blini would have made it through the night without opting for the All-Night Jumping-Bean-a-Thon. Ay carumba!

- CM & DD

Beach Blanket 'Blini

No, it has nothing to do with you, Dear Reader. Me & the Mrs. have just been struggling to hold on to our best-intended blogging spirit. We continue to navigate the management of daily life as New Parents, and in-between gawking at Thumblini, working, attending to Chateau Nous, and remembering to eat, we are finding only the thinnest of slivers of "free" time. 'Spose this is the normal, natural way of things, but it does impinge on, oh, reflection and posting. So, a few updates and some photos are overdue:

1. We had a Christmas/Thanksgiving In January last weekend at my parents' house at the shore. Thumblini staggered under a technicolor plastic avalanche of goodies, and chased down every last rippable shred of wrapping paper. The adults fawned and doted, and Little T was overstimulated to say the least, but it was a wonderful time and a great visit.


2. We took her to the water ("the big bathtub") for the first time. She didn't know what was up with wave action, and she definitely was unimpressed with the cold sand on her foot (oops, Mommy!).

3. For ThanksChristmas, I got a lesson in oyster shucking. I even have my own gloves now. I will teach Thumblini as soon as she is cleared to eat raw shellfish and wield a 3" knife.

- DD

Missing the Munchkin

Dateline - My Office

Just finishing up for the week and reflecting on some major Thumblini Withdrawal. While the stouthearted Mrs. has carried the Parent torch with cunning and stamina (and binkies), I had to return this week to work from an unnaturally pruned paternity leave. Some might applaud the sudden ice water dunking (builds character after all, right?), but I’m of a different mind. At the beach, it’s toes-first into the surf. After a sensible period of time, we’re up to the shins. Some time before sunset, it’s (zowie!) thigh high. The Great Thumblini Adventure, with it’s Kazakhraziness, sudden twists and turns, button hooks, feints and 28 hour return trip has not disabused me of my desire to ease into my warm bath of comfort. Sure, I can take it, but now that I have my own bed, food I select, and plenty of access to non-rationed Pepto (if needed), I’d like to soak in the cozy, albeit bleary-eyed nascency of fatherhood. The Mrs. knows this and has promised to salve my misery by making frequent attempts to bring the Blini’d One by the office for coffee and juice as often as possible. Like today. That was real nice.

So what can we do but make lemonade from the lemony-fresh smell of baby wipes? Though my time with the child has been suddenly and drastically reduced, I am now home and I was able to end the week not on the slightly sour note of a cantankerous couple’s session, but on the sweet high of rocking Miss T to sleep after her mother had scrubbed her and rubbed her. I held the baby, sang a few songs and mangled some lyrics - but she didn’t care. And though I nearly woke her with suppressed chuckles (see other blog) after finding myself inadvertently promising that “if that muddy puddle don’t dry, papa’s gonna buy you a chicken pot pie,” she still didn’t care. Heck, after skipping her afternoon nap, she wouldn’t care if we were cruising down the middle of I-95 on a pavement grader.

Did somebody say "weekend?"

- DD

PS: I realize we're loading up on Thumblini-in-a-pen photos (and striped onesie to match), but by pure coincidence this is where the cutest things happen. Stay tuned, though, we're taking a little road trip this weekend, so we'll have more photos to share - maybe even some out-of-doors!

The Curious Incident of the Binkie in the Nighttime – or - How I Learned My Lesson

Each time Thumblini was placed into a crib in the Baby House, they would pop a pacifier in her mouth. This occurred whether she was tired or not. And there she would sit, binking away on that tiny sliver of comfort. No longer in the BH (!), but still in a major life transition, we didn’t feel comfortable taking away this aid in self-soothing. So we decided that we would let her keep the pacifier, and save the weaning for later. We did tons of research, and felt comfortable with our decision.

We understood that before she came to us full-time, she was getting by on only the absolute minimum of care. She was fed and diapered and bathed on a schedule, rather than according to her personal needs, but she never cried or complained - after all, what was the point? They’d just pop in a pacifier.

I was hoping that even though it might be more work for me/us, she’d start to feel entitled to cry sooner rather than later after starting her life with us. I wanted her to feel loved and attended to, and I needed her to know that she could let it all hang out and I’d be right there for her every step of the way.

So, over the past month since she started living with us full-time, her habits have changed quite a bit, and in particular, her nighttime sleeping habits. She began with us, sleeping like the proverbial baby through the night. If she rolled over or made a peep, I’d be there to make sure she was OK, or to put her pacifier back in her mouth. As the days and nights progressed, she started to figure out that I’d come to her every time she cried out, so she started doing this once or twice each night. But then, she began crying out more and more when she’d lose her pacifier, and by the time we hit this past Sunday night, I was popping that thing back into her mouth 10+ times! Needless to say, by yesterday “binkie sherpa” duties had worn me down to a nub, and I started asking for advice and input from doctors and friends.

Two things became clear as I talked it through with trusted people: First, my baby has awakened! She is beginning to “get” that I am here for her and will attend to her needs when she cries. This is the WONDERFUL upside to what felt like a very sticky situation. The downside, in case it’s not yet clear, is that while she has awakened, I cannot sleep! To remedy this, I had one friend suggest that I place lots of pacifiers into her crib so that when she wakes up, she can easily find one. Sounded silly at first, but I figured it would be worth a try. However, I also had a doctor say that this has nothing to do with pacifiers. It has to do with her attaching to me and the fact that she is testing to see if I’ll come to her when she cries out. I completely agreed...with both. It has become clear that Thumblini has been testing my limits to figure out how our relationship works.

So my sweet-but-sometimes-salty husband and I discussed it last night (I cried a lot and he bit his lip) and we decided to place a bucketful of pacifiers in the crib for the little one. We also decided that he would hold me when she cried, so that I would be comforted (and not completely tortured) as we let her search for her own pacifier. As we went to bed, I was scared that I was about to be EVIL MOM. How would I fare, let alone Thumblini?


The lights went out. She tried to get my attention in a myriad of hilarious and heartbreaking ways (did she really use her blanket as a distress beacon?). I had to discipline myself over and over again not to go to her. But each time, she would eventually cut her shenanigans short, fumble for a pacifier, and fall back asleep. This morning when she woke up, I peeked reluctantly through my fingers only to find...I was Evil Mom no more. Signed, sealed, and delivered with that perfect ear-to-ear grin on Thumblini’s face.

- CM

PS Special Thanks to DD - my dear husband and the managing editor of this blog - for helping to make this post readable....In my exhaustion it hasn't been so easy to write clearly.

Hold The Phone

Well, we’ve reached the end of our first week home in New England, and we are commemorating the 1st month as a legal family. (Previously outlaws, we went legit on December 4th at 6pm in the city of Semey (neé Semipalatinsk), in the former SSR of Kazakhstan. It was chilly inside and outside the courtroom, but we managed to ply our case (with considerable expert help), and with a stroke of the judge’s pen, we were grafted to Thumblini until the hereafter. Hurrah!

The little one? After her bath tonight, I carried her upstairs in a plush terry towel hooded with a sun and the approximation (in cotton, of course) of the sun’s rays. In my opinion, this getup transforms her from my beloved, Siberian Thumblini into a pastel-colored Aztec priest. Then she gets a baby oil spa treatment at the hands of the Mrs. I get to do the dishes.

So, yesterday, as part of the slow return to a routine, we went to the dry cleaners. The two sisters who run the place were so excited to see the baby, that they ran out in 17 degree weather, forgetting their coats. Then, of course, they ran back in (were the coats theirs, or just borrowed from the customer rack?) and returned, be-downed. One of them jumped into the car and sat with me, fawning over the baby. These women could not keep their hands away from the baby. They seemed compelled to reach for her as though she were a sliver of the True Cross, and entitled to reach for her feet and make what appeared to be gang signs in the air in front of Thumblini as they cooed, smiled, and otherwise contorted their tan faces (lovingly conditioned in UV booths). It was then I realized: babies are communal property. Babies are the touchstones to our dreams, desires, and our fantasies of regression, a sure shot back to a person’s own child-rearing encounters, and a window to what is profound about the human experience. The kid, in other words, transforms in a moment from the flesh-and-blood, spit-upping, gurgling, sleeps-with-the-pacifier-dangling-from-her-mouth human who is my daughter, into a mirror reflecting the person looking at her fat, rosy cheeks. Although I know it is futile, and that judgments will be made of her, and that people will experience her as they wish, and possibly to her future consternation, I must entreat:

People of earth: Co-opt somebody else’s kid. Me & the Mrs. have worked so dang hard to find her, and now you want to fill the air around her with so much pablum about how your nephew pees in his bed? You can’t possibly see the gravity and joy in our simple, family stroll through the aisles at CVS to select from among the four available flavors of Pedialyte. And you want to get your french-manicured hands on her tiny socks? Oh, she might look like a China Doll, but she can bench press 350 without breaking a sweat, so be warned, my friends...

OK, I know no one means any harm, but I resist the pigeonholing and the reductionism: yes, she’s a cutie, but she’s lived a heckuva life, and its a privilege to be in the same room with her. Harumph.

- DD

Presenting our Pre Post-Placement Post

Greetings and Salutations to our family, to our friends new (silver) and old (gold), to internet gadflies and to those who have inadvertently strayed into our li’l slice of cyberspace. Me and The Mrs. welcome you to the blog to end all blogs about New Englanders who fall in love with a Kazakhstani from the Steppes, name her Thumblini (among other things), and live ever after as they comment in perilous detail about the mundanities of life, adoptive parenting, the world at large, current events, politics, sartorial missteps, and the merits of the Diaper Duck. Yeah, one of those blogs. Oh, and we’re also planning to let it all hang out. You might find yourself encountering something that rings true for you (even if you’re not an “AP” as they say, or even if you’re not from Kazakhstan), or you might find something that’s more raw and emotional than you expect. We aim to please all comers.

In a previous blog, we documented the last six months of trials, travails and travels encountered on the road to meeting Thumblini (* more on the name in a moment). Home from Central Asia just five days, we already have to prepare our first of many post-placement reports spanning out into the future until the Little One is Of Age at 18. This first report is due in two weeks (!) to our adoption agency, which will forward it on to some Faceless Bureaucrat in the Kazakhstan Ministry of Education, Eastern Division. We figured this blog might be a good way to document what happens in-between these mandatory disclosures about how well we’re looking after the baby. If we have to submit these regular, official time capsules of checkboxes, short essays, frozen-smile photos and notary stamps, we thought we might at least digest, reflect, and make something of our parenting experiences that won’t fit on any form.

* Thumblini: contraction of “Thumbelina” (cause she’s tiny) and “blini” (cause she’s probably mostly ethnic Russian - and she seems to like pancakes).

Editorial note: We’re presenting this blog as a catchment for the slice-of-life moments we encounter and dream up, but as it’s fully public, we’re taking a lower-than-usual profile. To this end, we’re sticking with our noms des plumes and also (it is an autocracy in blog-land, after all), we’re pre-screening the comments. Feel free to comment early and often, but try to avoid mentioning us or using language that we simply can’t abide (there are minors involved, people). In advance, then, we apologize if your carefully-crafted comment is mysteriously disappeared. Likely, you inadvertently included names, home address and phone number. Oops!

- CM & DD