A night out...

I went to the symphony last night. It was a delightful, relaxing evening.

Sitting on one side of me was a boy, probably about nine or ten. Next to him was a woman, probably his mother – maybe his grandmother. I know better then to jump to conclusions.

About twenty minutes in, the boy gave a completely silent, but much exaggerated yawn and did a little fidgeting. The woman snapped her head around to look at him.

I was expecting an equally silent, but furious “shushing” gesture or some kind of admonishment. Instead, she smiled at him in an incredibly sweet loving and understanding way. Honestly, it was so obvious to me, a total stranger, how much she loved this boy. It took my breath away. She was still putting him on notice that he needed to settle down. But in her look was the complete understanding of what it was to be a nine-year-old boy having to try to sit still through a concert, and how much she loved him for who he was.

Such a simple, beautiful gesture reminded me that the underlying message of unconditional love is the most important thing we can communicate to our kids. I want my kids to know that they can turn to me for love, even in a moment of chaos or anger and find it instantly. Mozart’s Jupiter Symphony was lovely, but that mother’s smile is a lesson I’ll remember forever.

For every season...

For some reason I still don’t fully understand, (probably temporary insanity) I decided to potty train Gracie in the midst of the scabies adventure. Logically I suppose, I figured a few more loads of laundry here and there wouldn’t make much difference.

I know I waited too long. I’d heard so many stories of kids waking up one morning and casting aside diapers never to look back. I was hoping this lucky scenario would happen in our household. Alas, it was not to be. Each time I tried, Gracie was emphatic about not being ready, not being interested, needing to stay in diapers. Then our Guatemala trip was on the horizon and the vision of trying to find bathrooms in emergency situations scared me. So I waited until now to take the plunge.

Things were rocky in the first week, but now Gracie is doing a great job. I could tell you stories, believe me. I could tell you about Gracie proudly sloshing down the stairs with her morning output in the little potty bowl – informing us over splashes that she stayed dry all night only to be soaked by the time she reached the bottom of the stairs. I could tell you about a particularly well aimed, hurled toy from Danny that landed in a very unfortunate spot just as we were all exclaiming at a monumental accomplishment.

But this post is about an unexpected discovery I made about myself during this process. Maybe it was me who wasn’t ready.

During that first rather horrific week, I did some research in between loads of laundry. One recommendation from Dr. Sears was not to equate potty training with being a “big girl” when there’s a new baby in the house. Sometimes, being bigger isn’t always better. When a new little one is on the scene, handing over the “baby” spot isn’t all that appealing.

I started to think about what goes into a diaper change. There’s the obvious which I’m sure none of you need to be reminded about. But then there’s also the little break from the day: just the two of us. There’s no sharing of this moment. We hunker down, faces less then three feet apart. Between the pair of us, one needs help; the other is there to give it. There’s physical contact, perhaps a kiss on the foot, maybe a tickle or two. There’s a bit of conversation, the wonderful feeling of being clean and fresh, and a hug and off you go.

Am I ready to say goodbye to that little girl? When week one was over and Gracie was staying dry through the night, I peeked in on her before going to bed as usual. Suddenly she looked a little more grown up. I felt a pang for her, for me. I could see a bit of the past fading into memory.

I went to bed that night and cried. So much has changed for Gracie in such a short time. She’s a very determined little girl. Usually, things swing her way. But she can’t stop growing up. She can’t go back to being the baby of the family.

Things are right with the world. We have the family we’re supposed to have. I’m grateful every day for the five of us. But as always happens with the addition of another child, the older one didn’t get a vote – her spot in the center of the universe now must be shared, and sometimes seems to have been ceded altogether.

Gracie will be fine. So will I. But some nights I still go to bed and cry.

Here are a few moments from the Gracie play book. Some of the moments I treasure most.


Some art work from Gracie. Two are hers alone, one is a collaboration between her and daddy. I'll let you figure out which is which...

"A green caterpillar"


"Mice eating"

"Pelican eating an eel"

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My determined girl... The more I emphasize that Gracie needs to stay in bed, the less likely she is to stay there. This first one came after a particularly heated discussion about the need to stay in bed. Well...since she's sleeping in the "bedside table" technically I guess she's within the law. Her closet is another favorite retreat

Finally, a picture of Gracie taking care of herself after a very "serious" injury.

Half in, half out of her bee costume.

Gracie's "sets" are infamous around our house. We don't know why she calls them sets. But a cry heard daily is "Get Danny away, he's ruining my set!!" Here are a few...

My personal favorite: the Potato Heads break into the doll house.

Finally, Gracie's new talent as a big sister is under construction. Here are a few moments with baby brother preparing for Halloween...

Misc...

I don’t understand. I will never understand. I thought I would avoid it this time; after all they were all going in together.

But still…

Where do they go? How can they get away without me noticing?

After the scabies eradication, we have socks without partners. All those little guys above went into the washing machine with their buddies, but came out alone.

So they’ll go in the bag with all the other socks without partners languishing in the laundry room. Which leads me to the next deep question: Why do I keep these wayward socks around? Does it say something about my psyche that I’m certain that the day I toss a sock its lost love will show up only to be disappointed?

Oh well…

There are a few other miscellaneous items of note around here. And not to worry, I’ve got a few pictures of actual people to catch you up with what’s been going on.

We’re at three weeks out from the Scabies and still Danny’s rash has only been reduced by about half. I keep reminding myself that the doctor at the International Adoption Clinic (IAC) cautioned us that it could be weeks if not months before all the bumps went away.

But things are complicated by the fact that our pediatrician adamantly insisted that Danny’s rash is not scabies but a dry skin rash. She didn’t deny the diagnosis, but feels the remaining bumps are a dry skin rash. The remedy for this we’re told is gooping on Aquaphor over a layer of hydrocortisone 1% solution. Our pediatrician even went as far as to say that she’d bet the IAC $100 that Danny’s rash wasn’t scabies.

Doctor's Orders

What’s a parent to do? The doctor from the IAC assures us that the goopy treatment will not interfere with the scabies healing, but she’s just as adamant about the bumps being “classic” scabies. She did caution against using the hydrocortisone any longer then about 10 days in a row. However our clinic says to use the hydrocortisone indefinitely on the bumpy areas.

I’m at a loss. I just want this poor kid to be comfortable and for his skin to clear up. I try not to worry about a scabies relapse. (But if it happens, I’ll give you some insider trading information about investing in laundry detergent stocks before I go out and replenish my supply.) Every now and then in the middle of the night I feel an itch and I’m sure those pesky bugs are back.
I’ve decided to wait another week and if there’s no further change, I’m going to start making calls to get to the bottom of this. If I have to get our two doctors into the ring together, I’ll do it for poor Danny’s sake.

In the meantime…

We’re battling a pest of another kind. For about as long as the scabies have been around, we’ve been trying to catch a mouse (mice!?!) that have left obvious clues behind. Thankfully they’ve never left a trace in our kitchen (which I would think would be paradise for a mouse given our food slinging little boy.) But every night, Gordon sets about two dozen traps and so far, we haven’t caught a thing.

Honestly, we are not slovenly people! What’s with all these pests?

Lately, very few friends have been stopping by for visits. I’m trying not to believe that it’s because they’re worried about catching something, or being caught by something!

Today when the kids and I were in the back yard, I found what looked like an obvious mouse tunnel under our back stoop. Traps are set outside and in tonight, and maybe tomorrow we’ll get lucky. If not, please send me any mouse eradication tips you have!

And now on to some pictures of much more pleasant little ones running around our house…

Most of the time, he really cracks her up! Or maybe she's just laughing about four more singlton socks!

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Ready for winter!

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Ensemble by Gracie. That's the border of a foam tile sticking out of Danny's back.

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A couple more weeks and they should have these all bagged!

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Make a wish!

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Gracie has elevated her penguin so Danny can't get to it.

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This is cute on so many levels. But my favorite is what you can barely see. Gracie dressed herself and she chose this dress to put on over a white fleece pull-over and white corduroy pants.

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Danny gets a start on his memiors

Eight Days and the Beat Goes On....

10/03/08: From this....

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To This...

("Apply head to toe; rinse with water after 8 - 14 hours." Benadryl as needed for itching.)

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10/04/08: To this....

(Gracie's Closet)

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To this....

(Our Closet)

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To This...

(All clothes...stuffed animals...dress up...puppets, bagged - twenty-two 45 gallon hefty bags in all)

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To This....

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10/06/08: To This...

(Danny sleeping on my back while I do...guess what: laundry!)

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To This...

(All bagged things that can't be washed, must remain bagged for at least 2 weeks.)

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10/08/08: To This...

(Washing Machine gives up; one day and $230 later, it is fixed!)

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To This...

(Jackpot in the dryer vent. My take: $17.00)

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To This...

(Started with a brand new bottle.)

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Meanwhile...This!!

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10/11/08: Now all I need is a little more of this!

EEEEWW!!!!!

No – nothing gross about this one – a little chocolate never hurt anyone

This certainly doesn’t offend, what’s cuter then a kid who’s just learned how to empty a sippy cup?

After you realize this is not a scene from "Nightmare on Elm Street", but rather the end result of a chocolate raspberry pudding pie that Gracie and I made, this isn’t so bad either
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Now this is what I’m talking about.

That’s right, one last gift that keeps on giving from the Eagle’s Nest : Scabies!! Yuck!!

Danny has been itchy and rashy since the day we brought him home. At first I thought it was just dry bumpy skin. So did our doctor.

After a couple weeks she had us treat it more aggressively with hydrocortisone and anti-itch cream plus a super-duper moisturizer.

Still, no resolution… Then I read an article about Scabies in the New York Times. The article talked about how often they’re mis-diagnosed when someone living in a group home type setting comes by them honestly if you know what I mean.

I asked our doctor, she and a colleague looked at the rash and said it was definitely not Scabies.

Fortunately we had an appointment at the adoption clinic this week also. One look from across the room and the doctor diagnosed Scabies. She said that while she’s seen it hundreds of times, most pediatricians have never seen this in American kids. It is very frequently misdiagnosed.

What does that mean for us? We’re all slathered with “kill-cream” as I speak. Tomorrow we shower and then the laundry begins. EVERYTHING has to be washed. Stuffed animals, bedding, clothes…everything. There are three ways to kill these nasty beasties: hot water wash followed by a hot dryer; freeze for 24 hours; seal in a plastic bag for two weeks to let mites and eggs die. Oh how I wish we were in the middle of our great northland winter! I could just put everything outside for a night.

I have giant leaf bag after giant leaf bag in the basement filled with clothes, bedding, pillows, puppets, dolls and of course thousands of stuffed animals!

All summer I've been hanging clothes on the line to save money and energy and in one day of laundry I'm blowing it all!

The upside is that this is not a very contagious disease. Prolonged skin-to-skin contact, or prolonged contact with something that the infected person has had prolonged contact with such as bedding are the primary culprits.

The other good thing is that hopefully we know the cause of Danny’s frequent night waking. Poor kid. Gordon was reading that after two weeks the pain of Scabies, which intensifies at night, makes sleep almost impossible. Yes, we know this.

Danny and Gracie are lubed up with permethrin cream and drugged with Benadryl. I am leaving little greasy fingerprints on the keyboard. Hopefully tomorrow will be a mite-free day!

I’ve e-mailed friends I know who have recently come home from Guatemala with their children. But if you know someone else who may be in the same situation, please let them know. Further information on this pesky problem can be found at: www.med.umn.edu/print/peds/iac/scabies.html

We might be hippies, but trust me - we bathe regularly!