Sanctuary

We've been twice to the antique carousel at Heritage Gardens in Sandwich. The gardens are proving to be a godsend to me, acres and acres of arboretum with choice conifers, towering deciduous trees, winding lanes (no cars!), quiet, exquisite breathing room. I feel a sense of renewal simply driving down the road to get there. How I need sanctuary, especially now that it's "boy: 24/7." If I ever get around to writing a book about this experience, that might make a good title.

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More on sanctuary in a future posting. Once again it grows late, nearly midnight, and Daniil and I have a big day tomorrow: his first Suzuki violin lesson. This will be an experiment. At 3.5, he may or may not be able to concentrate and hold it together. But he sure is keen on the violin, pretending often that his right-hand index finger is a tiny bow.

All Boy

No gender boxes for this boy. Rambunctious as all get-out on the playground, Daniil also likes to put on Mama's lipstick, clomp around in my red heels, and insist on wearing my pink flowery apron, not his little one featuring a brown bear, whenever we cook side by side. Today it was homemade pesto in the blender, followed by ridiculously healthy bran muffins packed with fresh cranberries.

I consciously am not going to squeeze Daniil into any traditional gender roles. I pray that the entire world remains open to him for as long as possible before he has to start making amendments to fit into "acceptable" society.

Banjo, for Real

Why is Daniil nuts for the banjo? You got me. But every time he hears one on a CD--we listen to a lot of bluegrass, along with Pete Seeger--he correctly identifies it and exclaims: "Banjo!" And most mornings of late, he requests to see and hear banjo on YouTube. Here's the clip I show him, from Dave Letterman featuring two of our country's finest banjo players, Tony Tricshka and Bela Fleck, along with the multi-talented Steve Martin. And, to boot, check out the "girl" fiddle player. That's my very own teacher, Brittany Hass.

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p.s. Daniil got to hold his first banjo, for real, this past weekend in Cambridge. Three-year-old heaven.

PreSchool

Choosing a college? It's got to be a cinch compared to all we've been through choosing a pre-school. Finally. Eight weeks and 15 schools later, I've landed on the Sandwich Montessori School. Will this be the perfect fit for my son? I don't pretend to know what that would look like at this point, only 9+ weeks into mothering Daniil. I do know that the teachers are skilled and caring and communicate constantly, the environment is inviting and stimulating, and that there will be small chance that Daniil will grow bored and restless, as he seemed at the first school we checked out.

Daniil starts next week. I'll have two weeks to ease him into school, into his morning nanny, and into his afternoon pick-up with another Montessori family who lives in the neighborhood, before I return to work full time.

More later on the countless things I've learned along the way about early childhood education. For now, I'm simply exhausted--and relieved to know my son has an educational home.

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Like everything else right now in my new "life with boy"--and perhaps in all of our lives--this school is an experiment. I've taken the best action I know how and now turn over the results. It will be interesting to see what happens... May there be joy and light and ease during this next major transition both for Daniil and for me, a first-time Mama who is learning many ropes fast.

Memory Lane

This is the email I sent to everyone back in February when I met Daniil for the first time. I recently re-discovered it and am delighted to report that my initial impressions continue to bear out. (Note that I hadn't yet changed the spelling of Daniil's name.) Photo is the very first one taken of Daniil and me together, five minutes post meeting. He tentatively took my hand and we slid down the indoor slide in the orphange side by side.

2/11/10

The boy is a treasure. My little mishka. I've officially "agreed": if all remaining paperwork goes well, Danil is my son. My meeting with him felt graced. This is what many adoptive parents say about their children. How grateful I feel to be able to say the same.

Thumbnail sketch: The Baby Home Director said of Danil, after describing in detail the sad circumstances of his life before his arrival: "This boy is open to life and open to love. He is ready to love and be loved." What glorious statements, and she is so right. Over the course of several meetings Danil sang and danced, recited a little poem he had memorized, did yoga with me (a tippy little tree and ferocious little lion), sat in my lap and named bears and cats in story books, played hide and seek, threw an impressive overhand fast-ball, squealed with delight in response to every funny face, dove with me into the "ball pool," let me gallop him around the room while he clicked his tongue like horses' hooves, quietly watched the falling snow outside the window (“Snyek,” he said softly, correctly identifying snow in Russian), gently rocked and sang to a baby doll, and learned to say two words in English, hello and goodbye, in the sweetest little voice in all of Russia. All to say, he appears to be a multi-dimensional 2.5 year old, game for everything and able to fully connect with his world.

The Baby Home itself shattered all stereotypes of a sad, paint-peeling orphanage: it features a Montessori classroom, speech therapists, play rooms, a swimming pool, hearty meals and, most importantly, a loving and devoted staff. But still, it is an institution, not a home.

The Kremlin left me awestruck. I'm hooked on blinis with butter and caviar. Everyone wears the most outrageously beautiful (politically-incorrect) furs. Classical music at the Tchaikovsky Conservatory blew me away.

All to say, I’m off on the grand adventure of parenting!

Thank you for your ongoing support. I can’t wait for you to meet Danil! Hopefully I'll be able to return within 2 months to bring him home. It was hard to leave him in Apatity, but I know that he's in caring hands.

Da svidániya!

One smitten, excited Mama bear,
Lisa

"Create fun and a little weirdness."

This is one of Zappos' core values. Also good advice for getting through the day with a toddler. Come to think of it, this might be one of Daniil's unwritten values too.

Dancing in the Streets

Daniil was pumped after his first parade, the Honk parade marching down Mass. Ave. featuring activist street bands from around the country. Drums booming! Horns blaring! People dancing on crazy high stilts! Lots of lefty chants about boycotting Monsanto and freeing immigrants held in detention. Gotta love the People's Republic, as Cambridge is fondly known. Daniil did his own little sidewalk dance caught by our friend Sara.
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We see so many friends in Cambridge and I feel buoyed by a level of love and support I simply haven't cultivated in my mere two years on the Cape. It's always a rather sad drive home, as Daniil continues to say goodbye to everyone he's met: "Goodbye, Uncle Matt... Where's Shelley?... No kisses, Vashti [Bill and Mea's collie dog]... Where's Beryl?..." Tonight, Daniil had had it by Exit 6 on the Cape. We were almost home, but he couldn't hold out and started to cry. "What do you want?" I asked, as has become my custom whenever he whines or cries. No response, simply a high-pitched whine-cry. "Do you want a hug?" I asked. "Da," Daniil nodded his head. "Right now?" I asked. Another nod in the affirmative. "We'll get off at the next exit," I said, and did.

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I pulled off Exit 6 and onto a gravelly area on the right of the road. I got out of the car, opened the back door, and reached in to hug Daniil in his car seat. "Seat belt off," he said. I hesitated, concerned that we'd have a struggle putting it back on. But I looked at his sad little face and decided to go with it. I picked him up out of the car, held all 40 pounds of him in my arms, and rocked him back and forth, back and forth, as cars zoomed by and dusk fell. He held me tight and wrapped his legs around me, letting his head fall on my shoulder, utterly releasing and relaxing into Mama. I sang softly in his ear "You are My Sunshine," the first verse, and then his favorite "Hush, Little Baby." We rocked and I sang, and then Daniil looked up and saw the first star. Likely it was a planet, so big and bright, but we called it a star anyway and Daniil was mesmerized. "A star," he said quietly. And then we turned and saw a bright crescent moon. "The moon!" he declared, more loudly. I placed him back in his carseat, no struggle, and we drove the final 10 minutes home. "Where's the moon?" Daniil contined to ask. "Behind us," I replied. "It's still in the sky, you just can't see it right now."
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No bedtime story, Daniil was too tired, so we simply turned off the light and jumped into bed, tonight with his school bus right beside him, not the beloved tractor trailer. Per this week's new custom, Daniil asked for kisses: “Big kisses… small kisses… big kisses… small kisses…” He softly whispered over and over, in nearly perfect English: “Big kisses… small kisses… big kisses… small kisses…” as he turned his head this way and that so I’d kiss exactly where he wanted on his neck. So very beautiful and sweet. He said goodnight to both the star and the moon before falling asleep.

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I've had my moments, believe me. Unbearable moments when I've completely broken down sobbing: what have I gotten myself into? Single motherhood is no picnic. Let's be blunt: it sucks a lot of the time. I've got to be constantly "on" as there's no one else here to provide respite, even a short 20-minute break during the day to make a phone call, vacuum the kitchen, wrap a present or run to the grocery store without toddler in tow, let alone read a poem, think or reflect. (I thank heaven daily for my incredibly generous mom who stops by whenever possible to lend a hand.)

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But then there are these other moments, counter-balancing times like tonight, when I get to stand by the side of the highway and reassure my son that his Mama loves him, that all is right in his world. Perhaps needless to say, I wouldn't trade this tenderness for anything.

Moy Zychick (My Bunny) Wears Prada

It was all Daniil's idea. I didn't put him up to it, honestly, I didn't!

Music's Where It's At

Harmonica, piano, violin, drums and now the vibes... Daniil's into them all... with a particular 3-year-old spin, of course...