A Follow Up On the Wicked Child in the Bakery

Thanks to everyone for all the good advice and nice words. Hearing all the differing opinions from all the different parents here helps me sort out the way I can best approach situations like this – and also makes me realize that there is never really one single answer that fixes everything.

I have worked with kids for a good long portion of my life. I am totally comfortable talking with kids, correcting them when necessary, and actually, in other circumstances, I might even have sympathy for this kid – because it was obvious that he learned this behavior somewhere – someone had taught him that it was okay (even necessary) to point out (and laugh at) things that he deemed “different” – and that’s one of the reasons I didn’t approach his mother. I figured that I was probably opening up a whole different fight if I brought this to her attention – one I didn’t really want to start at that moment. On the other hand, I don’t think I have ever felt quite the rush of anger toward a child that I felt toward this particular one. I can’t think of a time when Spike was ever attacked in an equivalent way – and I genuinely felt that if I didn’t leave the room, I would say something incredibly scary and cruel and angry. And I didn’t want to do that. Not even to this kid.

I will also say that there was something about this particular mother that just seemed exhausted and downtrodden. She was talking with a friend – probably trying to steal a few minutes away from her kid (and thus, inflicting him on everyone else in the place) and the set of her shoulders made me fantasize that she was going through a particularly bad divorce, or had just found out some terrible news, and was trying to process it over a cup of coffee while her kid threw blocks. And there is always the possibility that she simply didn’t hear her child. I myself have terrible hearing. Or was so caught up in her conversation that she was innocently tuning her kid out.

And the other child? The little girl. She approached me very sheepishly after I first corrected the little boy and said, “It’s okay. It’s okay. I think your baby is really cute. She’s really, really cute.” So – you know – there was teeny bit of light in that situation that I didn’t write about.

The thing that I liked reading in all the comments was the reminder that it’s important to teach our children that it’s okay to say, “No.” Especially our girls, I think. That society puts such a premium on compliance- expects these girls to bend to everyone’s will - to meekly take what anyone dishes out. And that the best thing we can teach them is a fierce, loud, true and strong NO.

And while I feel very strongly about protecting Bell, I already recognize that she has that strength – that No in her. She is no fragile flower. She is a stubborn, funny, strong little girl who has no problem letting me know what she wants and doesn’t want. She shouts loudly when she calls. She cries with anger when something doesn’t go her way. She loudly and clearly pushes off any unwanted attention she might be getting (poor Spike can attest to this). She grabs my hand and pulls me around to show me what she wants – and if I balk at moving – she just keeps tugging and chattering at me until I capitulate. She is resilient and willful and bossy. And I am so very grateful that she has all these traits. I think they will serve her well. I don’t think she needs to be shut away and hidden, protected like a delicate little butterfly. She doesn’t really need sheltering as much as she needs the tools to deal with these kind of situations. She needs to see me say the right things – see me stand up for her – hear me talk about what just happened with her later. That’s the best thing I can do for her. And I think it’s okay to let her see me walk away occasionally, too. To see that some battles aren’t worth her breath. I think that if I can give her all that – her natural strength will take it from there. There is something tenacious and bold in this child - if she is given the tools, she will stand strong.

Good, Bad, Good, Bad

I'm cross posting this on West Wind as well.

Okay, first the good news – we finally had our initial meeting with Bell’s cleft surgeon on Monday, and it looks like Bell won’t need more surgery until she’s six or seven. The doctor wasn’t totally thrilled with the work done on her palate (apparently the holes left in her gum line were much bigger than it is common practice to leave in the U.S.) but she felt it was probably adequate, and we would be able to wait to address it and combine her bone graft surgery with closing up the purposeful holes. She also felt that her lip had been done very well and didn’t need a revision for now. We will be taking her to an ENT soon to decide whether she needs tubes in her ears – about 90% of cleft affected kids do – but I’m optimistic that she might not – she hasn’t had an ear infection since we met her, our pediatrician has checked her ears a couple of times and never seen fluid, and her hearing seems fine to me. But we’ll see. And of course, this may all have to be reconsidered once Fang Fang has had a chance to get some intensive speech therapy – if the holes are causing problems with speech, or her top lip doesn’t seem to have enough muscle, then we might have to do some work sooner – but for now we can breathe easy for a bit. Our doctor, Dr. Wu, was great. Very open, and warm and approachable. She took a lot of time with us and didn’t make me feel pressured or worried at all. She also can speak and read Chinese, and she translated Bell’s Life Book right then and there for us. This was thrilling – we finally learned when her palate had been repaired (just before her first birthday) and a bunch of other milestones. But the fun ended when Dr. Wu told us that Fang Fang had developed complications – an infection – during her first lip surgery – and had been left in the hospital for a month.

This news took a while to sink in. In fact, I’m still trying to process it- trying to imagine my baby girl, not even a year old yet, left alone in the hospital for a month. I mean, obviously, there had to be nurses and doctors who were caring for her. She pulled through and seems perfectly healthy now. But I doubt that the orphanage could have possibly spared a nanny or caretaker to be with her during that time. She was also returned to the hospital for her palate repair about a month after that – which must have been so terrifying for her. The person writing her life book noted that she wouldn’t eat once she was home from the hospital, and cried every time she saw the rice bowl for weeks after.

I’m trying not to harp on this too much. She’s healthy and thriving now. (Though this goes a long way in explaining her utter terror of doctors and being medically examined). But I went to bed thinking about it last night. And it was the first thing I thought of when I woke up this morning. And amidst a whole range of negative emotions about it, I also feel this incredible awe over my daughter’s tenacity and ability to survive and thrive. Still, it makes me so fucking sad to think about her facing pain and fear alone. I wish that someone (me – or anyone else who loves her!) could have been there hold her through all of it. Though who knows? Maybe there was. I suppose I shouldn’t jump to conclusions. But with this information in hand, it is a relief to think that there is a good chance we won’t have to do more surgeries until she old enough to have a lot more grasp of what’s happening.

The other good news, totally changing the subject for a moment, is that, after a pretty extensive process, Y and I have signed with a manager. And he’s awesome and smart and with a great management agency, and has us very excited about our work prospects. I still can’t really talk publically about the bigger good news that’s happening with our first script – but hopefully I’ll have something to say next week. Or not. But it’s all good and exciting and I feel like we’re about to really shoot forward in our work.

So, on the heels of our appointment with Dr. Wu, I was at The Bakery (I swear – I’m really not there all that often – but it just ends up being blog worthy when I am, for some reason) and Bell and I were having some lunch after our little Mommy and Me Music Class (which is very sweet and nice and taught by Spike’s music teacher from his school who used to be a famous pop star in South Africa) and as I walked upstairs to find a table, a little boy, about four or five, I’d guess (he looked older, but he was there during school hours, so I’m thinking he was pre-school age) immediately ran up to us, took one look at Bell and said, “Chinese, huh?” I was a little taken aback – but not entirely sure of what his attitude was- so I just said, “Yes, she was born in China,” and then sat down and let Bell toddle over to where the little boy and another little girl were playing (rather wildly, I might add). And at first it was totally fine – I mean, they were throwing wood blocks around, but didn’t seem to be aiming at my daughter, but then, all of the sudden, the little boy shouts, “Look at his” (he thought Bell was a boy) “nose! It’s so flat!”

Now, I’ve had this happen a couple of times since she’s been home. And it’s been okay. It almost always comes from really young kids – like three year olds – and they never seem to be making a judgment –just observing – and though it puts my back up a bit, it’s never been a problem before. They say it once, then they go on with whatever they’re doing, and it’s over. But this little boy would not shut the fuck up. “Look! Look! Look at his nose! It’s flat! It’s so flat! Hahahahah!” (all the while pushing on his own nose). And he kept going and going – laughing at her, talking about her – pointing. And his mother – who was maybe three feet away with her back to us, talking to a friend, didn’t even bother to turn around. “Listen,” I growled at him, “It’s not nice to laugh at someone! You could hurt her feelings! And, actually, I think her nose is beautiful!”

And you know, he shut up for a second – looked maybe a little scared because I used my Mean Mom voice – but about five minutes later I caught him staring at her with his finger pressed up against his nose again and his mouth opening to say something else - and that’s when I just took my lunch, and my baby, and just fucking left. Because I was afraid that if I didn’t, I would be moved to say something very, very angry to this little kid and/or his mom.

Okay, the kid was terrible. No doubt (and his mother was worse for letting it go on). But I sometimes wonder how much of this we’re truly going to get. I bring Bell to Spike’s school all the time – and all the little girls – kids who don’t necessarily know me or Spike well, come gathering around, talking about how cute and beautiful she is. And not one of them has ever asked about her scars or her nose. Which I assume to mean that they are not really something that stands out so much for them to notice or wonder about. Ryan had one mother ask if she had fallen down and had a fat lip. I had a couple of very young kids say something about her nose. And that’s it. And you know, before she got here, I was prepared for this – I had all sorts of speeches in my mind – from the scientific truth speech to give to little kids who were just curious, to a big old How is This Your Fucking Business? speech aimed at cruel adults – but then she got here and it honestly felt like a non-issue. She was gorgeous. No one had anything to say but compliments. I relaxed, - my guard was down - and then something like this happens and I am taken by surprise. And obviously, I can’t be impartial – I’m her mother – and I think she is stunning. I think the surgeon who worked on her did an incredible job. I think she is naturally breathtakingly beautiful. I can spend hours staring at her face and it brings me nothing but joy and wonder. And when something like this happens – it’s like a punch to the gut. I wonder just how much of this we are in for. I wonder what other people see when they see my exquisite daughter. I wonder if they are focusing on her beauty or her scars (which, by the way, are beautiful in their own way as well). I wonder how much of this kind of utter bullshit she will have to put up with. And I wonder about the best way to get kids and people like that to back the fuck up and shut the hell up. And you know, I could fucking care less about what other people think – but I do care about what Bell hears. I do care about her getting hurt. And that’s when moments like these feel like a test.

Anyway, again, I don’t want to harp on this, either. 99 people see how beautiful she is, and one ill mannered little boy makes comments on her nose (and, in retrospect, her “otherness” i.e. his comment about her being Chinese – which should have tipped me off from the moment he opened his sassy little mouth). And luckily, she is still too young to understand what he was talking about. But it does put me back on the defensive. And when I told Spike about it, he said, “I would have said, ‘STOP TALKING ABOUT MY SISTER THAT WAY!’ And Mom, I think her nose is really cute.”

Any advice from all you btdt folks would be appreciated.

Pneumonia Signing Scripts

So – it’s been a big week around here. On the not so great side of things – Ryan was diagnosed with viral pneumonia. He’s okay, now, though he had a few bad days. I knew he really had something bad because he is a person who never misses work or takes sick days – and he took two before he went to see the doctor. On the bright
side, because he was, as our doctor put it, “1,000 percent contagious” he got to work from home almost the entire week. I am not, however, going to get it. I just can’t. And I won’t. I suspect the kids both already had it to some degree.

On the great side of things – Fang Fang continues to do beautifully. Her signing has recently exploded – she is getting more and more expressive. She wakes up every morning signing something to me (usually, “Shoes” because she loves shoes and wants them put on her feet ASAP – but sometimes rather random things like, “Dirty” or “Full.” Maybe she’s trying to tell me about her dreams?). Today Spike was crying (literally over spilt milk. He ruined a picture he had been working on and was very upset) and she kept signing “Sad” and “Cry” and looking very worried about her brother. She also attempted to make up a sign today when Ryan made a bonfire – waving her hands in the air to signify “smoke” (I don’t know the sign for that yet, but I imagine it’s not too far from the one she made up). And her relationship with Spike continues to get more and more loving. He is still feeling his way around this new family structure – but I think it will all be okay in the end.

On the non-baby related front – I have had an incredibly busy, exciting work week. Y. and I received some amazingly good news from our agent on Wednesday night. I won’t divulge it publicly just yet because there is more that needs to be worked out – but we are pretty much holding our breath in excitement. We’ll know more in a couple of weeks, and maybe I’ll be able to be more specific then. We also continued to interview managers, and had some really really great meetings with some fantastic people and feel very lucky to have such great choices and options. We should be able to reach a decision about that by the end of next week. I think I will be going to L.A. fairly soon (baby, and possibly Spike, too, in tow) and I’m looking forward to that. So much to do. So much to do!

Anyway, this is basically a post saying that I won’t be posting much for a while – and if people have noticed that I have sort of dropped off the face of the earth – please don’t take it personally. I have basically no extra time and I need to spend the little time I do have on getting some work done. I am still reading all my favorite blogs - maybe not commenting as often as I used to because the baby doesn’t like it when I type. And I’m getting all the emails – but having a hard time finding the time to respond. And I still care people – I sincerely do. But right now I gotta tuck it up and get some serious work done. Strike while the iron is red hot. So – I’ll keep posting the weekly hit of Bell pictures over at West Wind (more tomorrow night, I think) and I’ll definitely be posting here on and off - but if things seem quiet for a while – don’t worry. I’m just really really fuckin’ busy. Or maybe have viral pneumonia. But I will be back and posting like mad, eventually, I’m sure.

Affection

The spring peepers started singing today. It was warm and windy and Fang Fang fell asleep while we sat together on our backyard swing, watching the sky go dark and feeling the warm spring breeze against our bare feet. She had a big day - I resumed
my lunch mom duties and she came with me, and she was led around the muddy playground by a bevy of doting little girls – each one vying to hold her hand or pick her up. It surprised me that she was totally willing to wander off with them – considering how closely she sticks to me when new adults are introduced – but I suppose children are markedly different than adults to her. She went down the slide, sat in the beached paddle boat with her brother and his friends, marched up and down the school’s three steps at least fifty times with a rotating cast of pre-k, kindergartners, first and second graders holding her up, and got very muddy and dirty. Then she came home and I changed her clothes, but it was futile since Spike came rampaging in an hour or so later with two of his friends, all of them stricken with Spring Fever and baby love – and they snatched her up and literally ran with her outside, bare feet and all, to swing her on the hammock and let her squish her toes in the mud. There was a nice moment at the swing set when all three boys were sprawled on the ground, pretending to have been kicked there by her short little legs, and she was swinging and grinning and I thought, how nice to have a big brother. I myself have two, one of whom I absolutely, slavishly adored when I was a kid, but I don’t think I have many memories of either of them or their friends paying much attention to me. For some reason, in this world, Bell is a novelty of the highest order – and Spike and his friends bring her gifts, hold her hands, and just now, are starting to be able to play with her with delight and something bordering on boyish worship. I don’t know how long this will last – but I had a vision of this summer flash before me – big boys running all around my yard, and little Bell toddling to catch up on her plump little legs.

Something in the quality of Bell’s affection has changed this couple of weeks or so. Linda once told me that she remembered the day that Emme Lu’s hugs suddenly became real – not just perfunctory, but with filled with love and emotion. And that has happened with Fang Fang - suddenly she wraps her arms around my neck and nestles her head into my shoulder, and squeezes with warmth and love and delight. Suddenly she gazes soulfully into my eyes and offers up wet, drooling baby kisses pressed passionately against my mouth. She has started making bird like cooing noises of happiness, she has started to sigh contentendly when she is nestled against me, she has started saying something that sounds like a breathy, “haaaaaaaaaaaa” when she hugs up against me or Ryan.

And I think that things are starting to change between her and Spike. I think, for Spike, the hardest part of all of this has been just how much he adores his sister. “Mom, when I look into her eyes, there is nothing I wouldn’t do for her,” he told me the other day. And he wants to hold her and kiss her and hug her (it’s all a little Lenny in Mice and Men like sometimes) and her general reaction (and this is her reaction right now to basically anyone trying to hold her or kiss her or hug her who is not me – not just how she reacts to Spike) is to grimace or push him away or scream with anger. And so he feels horribly rejected by her. All that love from him! All that two handed pushing away from her. And yet she persists in being so adorably cute that he can’t help but grab her up again and start the whole cycle over.

However, this week, now that he is back in school and she gets plenty of Mom and Mom Alone time during the day, she seems more willing to love on her big brother a little. She has granted some kisses, toddled over and fell against him while practicing her walking skills, smiled at him delightedly when she saw him at school, and today, when he raced her outside and popped her into her beloved swing, I think I saw a gear turn in her head when she realized that her brother might actually be good for something – especially when Mama balks at taking her outside, or giving her something off the floor, or doing exactly what she wants at the very moment she wants it. Big Brother might just be a soft touch! So maybe they will be best friends some day after all. Maybe there will be summer days where my little girl chases my beautiful boy – and they are content with each other’s company. I think I see that possibility. The edge of that love. That change in her affection.