They say that if you never take your kids to the hospital, you are over-protecting them.
Saturday, Eileen and I worked many long hours trying to cover up our dirt and clay with flagstones. We had a nice size patio before the construction started. We took pictures of the stones before we moved them out of the way, so when construction was done, we would be able to put them back together. The pictures helped a lot. We should also have numbered or lettered each stone. Guessing is fun, but time consuming.
Sunday, my muscles were achy. We had a picnic planned for Mother's day, but the weather did not cooperate. So I took Sophia and Anna swimming. I was going to spend a long time in the hot tub, relaxing the sore muscles. After 10 minutes in the tub, Anna wanted me to come slide down the slide with her. OK, I'll come back to the hot tub later. We got to the child's pool, and were then told by one of the life guards that everyone had to get out of the pool. OK, not sure what was going on, but I can follow directions. Anna and I waited near the locker rooms. Where was Sophia? Anna, go check the ladies locker room. No, not there. I wandered out to the pool area and asked a life guard, "Did someone get hurt?" "Yes." "Was it a 10 year old girl?" "Yes." Sigh.
I found Sophia strapped to a board with her head immobilized. Supposedly, she had tried a back flip from the diving board. The life guards thought they saw her hit her head on the diving board. They did not want to take any chances. After I got our gear together, Anna and I changed into clothes, and we followed the ambulance to the hospital.
Of course, Sophia was scared. She did not want doctors poking on her. And her leg hurt. A doctor came in, checked her neck, and declared it to be ok. The neck brace could come off. After a long wait, we were wheeled down to the CAT scan room for pictures. Not too scary, and a warm blanket to boot. Back down to the trauma room, for another long wait. This time, the X-ray technician came in and took pictures of the leg. Another long wait. A nurse wheeled in a cart for doing sutures. Another long wait. Sophia was ready to go home. So was Anna. Anna reached under the little stool that can raise or lower, and got grease all over her hand. We walked down to the bathroom and got the grease off. And of course, the doctor who wanted to do the sutures came in while we were out. When Anna and I got back, we had to wait some more.
Sophia was now quite scared. She did NOT want stitches. She saw this in Ukraine, or had it done, and was certain it was going to hurt like blazes. Her leg had had a topical anesthetic applied, and was changing colors nicely. I don't remember which came first, the local anesthetic or the washing. The local hurt a little, but I don't think it hurt as much as Sophia thought it would. The nurse who came to do the washing brought a huge syringe to squirt saline in the wound, and Sophia almost had a cow. She had to be shown that there was no needle on this thing. She had to be shown that it squirted water, by making the bed wet. OK, now she could accept the washing.
Finally, the doctor came back in. Sophia saw the used hypo in his shirt pocket, and started panicking. The doctor pitched hypo onto a counter, which helped calm her down. Then he took out the needle and sutures, and again the fear reached great heights. With the help of other nurses, they held her leg still, blocked her view, and got the first stitch in. With that, all fear was gone. Hey! That didnt' hurt!. Now she wanted to watch the next stitch go in. I think she would have done it herself if the doctors would let her.
Two stitches done, all bandged up, ready to go... except for the final papers. So we waited another long while. I think the whole process took more than three hours. Now the girls have seen an American hospital (this is twice for Sophia). Maybe next time won't be as scary.
Rolan
Us
Monday, May 11, 2009
Tuesday, May 5, 2009
Enough About Me
Thank you for that little diversion, Dear Readers. (Read below)
The kids are doing great. I still get tears in my eyes when the school bus pulls up to take or deliver Sophia and Anna. Hey, I know I'm not alone. You know who you are. Admit it. School buses do the same to you.
I'm getting used to the differences between boys and girls. My guys were never interested in "The Suite Life of Cody and Zach," or "The Princess Diaries" or "Strawberry Shortcake." But they also never covered an ordinary rock with glitter or sat with a lap full of dandelions and wove crowns of flowers (I've always wanted to know how to do that!). I never had to scold them for clothing that didn't cover properly or tell them they can't wear lip gloss for eye shadow. But its nice not to have constant discussion about body functions, explosions and other forms of destruction. I love my boys and brothers, don't get me wrong. I just find this change in environment . . . refreshing.
Ann (alias Tanya) has gotten her first report card. "A"s and "B"s. I'm proud. She was concerned about one N/C grade from a teacher that didn't finish her point count in time. This week she decided she wants to be a flight attendant. I'm thrilled. She has settled down and isn't quite so restless or blue. The phone calls to Ukraine have lessened. She has found some other teens that speak Russian and connected with some good Christians in the Russian community in Denver. She struggles with the shock of having spending money and sometimes I see temper tantrums over what we can't buy but I think (hope) she is catching on to the concept that any bankruptcy and God-fearing parent has to have a budget and can't give their children everything they want. I wish we could still get her out of her current High School but there are only a few days left so we are bearing with it. I've enrolled her in summer school and have heard great things about the teacher who teaches ESL at Boulder High, where Ann may go next fall. We are getting her High School papers from Ukraine transcribed to find out what her options are. If the school district accepts her Ukraine education then we can go from there, either putting her into a final year of high school here, just for fun and further English education, or move her on to the community college where she can learn skills that will help her with her future plans. We will give her that choice. Right now, she just wants to live with mom and dad forever and I take that as a good sign.
Sophia is hardly the same girl we hosted last summer. She struggles, still, to be as independent (and free of guidance) as possible but has learned our boundaries and those at school too. Her teacher is an angel and e-mails me constantly with joys and concerns. She loves Sophia and has solicited the help of the whole class to make Sophia comfortable. In the almost 10 weeks the kids have been home, she has changed more than I thought possible. That girl needed a family!
Anna still remains passive and reserved. I wonder who this girl is. She is happy but I think it will be awhile before her true heart comes out. She needs more one-on-one with us. In the mean time there is much love and guidance to give her the structure and safety she needs to open up when she is ready. I long to heal her too.
The first anniversary of bio mom's death is the 22nd. Ive been told to put her photo in a frame on a little table with some bread and meat and a little alcohol and a candle. There is also a liturgy to be read. I may need to call an orthodox minister to help make this comfortable for the girls. Does anyone know of other cultural practices I may have missed that would help?
The kids are doing great. I still get tears in my eyes when the school bus pulls up to take or deliver Sophia and Anna. Hey, I know I'm not alone. You know who you are. Admit it. School buses do the same to you.
I'm getting used to the differences between boys and girls. My guys were never interested in "The Suite Life of Cody and Zach," or "The Princess Diaries" or "Strawberry Shortcake." But they also never covered an ordinary rock with glitter or sat with a lap full of dandelions and wove crowns of flowers (I've always wanted to know how to do that!). I never had to scold them for clothing that didn't cover properly or tell them they can't wear lip gloss for eye shadow. But its nice not to have constant discussion about body functions, explosions and other forms of destruction. I love my boys and brothers, don't get me wrong. I just find this change in environment . . . refreshing.
Ann (alias Tanya) has gotten her first report card. "A"s and "B"s. I'm proud. She was concerned about one N/C grade from a teacher that didn't finish her point count in time. This week she decided she wants to be a flight attendant. I'm thrilled. She has settled down and isn't quite so restless or blue. The phone calls to Ukraine have lessened. She has found some other teens that speak Russian and connected with some good Christians in the Russian community in Denver. She struggles with the shock of having spending money and sometimes I see temper tantrums over what we can't buy but I think (hope) she is catching on to the concept that any bankruptcy and God-fearing parent has to have a budget and can't give their children everything they want. I wish we could still get her out of her current High School but there are only a few days left so we are bearing with it. I've enrolled her in summer school and have heard great things about the teacher who teaches ESL at Boulder High, where Ann may go next fall. We are getting her High School papers from Ukraine transcribed to find out what her options are. If the school district accepts her Ukraine education then we can go from there, either putting her into a final year of high school here, just for fun and further English education, or move her on to the community college where she can learn skills that will help her with her future plans. We will give her that choice. Right now, she just wants to live with mom and dad forever and I take that as a good sign.
Sophia is hardly the same girl we hosted last summer. She struggles, still, to be as independent (and free of guidance) as possible but has learned our boundaries and those at school too. Her teacher is an angel and e-mails me constantly with joys and concerns. She loves Sophia and has solicited the help of the whole class to make Sophia comfortable. In the almost 10 weeks the kids have been home, she has changed more than I thought possible. That girl needed a family!
Anna still remains passive and reserved. I wonder who this girl is. She is happy but I think it will be awhile before her true heart comes out. She needs more one-on-one with us. In the mean time there is much love and guidance to give her the structure and safety she needs to open up when she is ready. I long to heal her too.
The first anniversary of bio mom's death is the 22nd. Ive been told to put her photo in a frame on a little table with some bread and meat and a little alcohol and a candle. There is also a liturgy to be read. I may need to call an orthodox minister to help make this comfortable for the girls. Does anyone know of other cultural practices I may have missed that would help?
So Much Time, So Little To Do
Uh . . . wait. Reverse that.
For those of you who don't know me well, I have to tell you I am a Dirt Head. A Plant Nerd. A perennial, foam-at-the-mouth, pull-me-in-at-night gardener. The months of April and May are torture for me. I WANT TO BE IN THE GARDEN. When it snows or rains, as it does frequently here during those months, I stand and the window and whine incessantly. It's rather pathetic.
I knew of this malady when I adopted kids. I knew there are 10 other months of the year when I could be a somewhat acceptable, caring, attentive mother-type but I knew May would be difficult. "Self-discipline," I say to myself. It's over whelming. I've dished out for myself a huge yard of delectable blooming plants that all need attention. "Feed me! Trim me! Transplant me! Divide me!" They all shout as I walk by to my car for yet another child-related appointment. "Quiet!" I shout back. I know you will be unbearably beautiful if I stop and take care of you before next month but you will just have to wait your turn! Jesus, is there some special reward for this sort of self sacrifice?
For those of you who don't know me well, I have to tell you I am a Dirt Head. A Plant Nerd. A perennial, foam-at-the-mouth, pull-me-in-at-night gardener. The months of April and May are torture for me. I WANT TO BE IN THE GARDEN. When it snows or rains, as it does frequently here during those months, I stand and the window and whine incessantly. It's rather pathetic.
I knew of this malady when I adopted kids. I knew there are 10 other months of the year when I could be a somewhat acceptable, caring, attentive mother-type but I knew May would be difficult. "Self-discipline," I say to myself. It's over whelming. I've dished out for myself a huge yard of delectable blooming plants that all need attention. "Feed me! Trim me! Transplant me! Divide me!" They all shout as I walk by to my car for yet another child-related appointment. "Quiet!" I shout back. I know you will be unbearably beautiful if I stop and take care of you before next month but you will just have to wait your turn! Jesus, is there some special reward for this sort of self sacrifice?
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