Legal in Arizona

What an amazing day.

Here's the legal rundown: Violet is now a US Citizen, and has been re-adopted according to the state of Arizona.

Here's the real rundown: We have a new bond with our daughter, and have never been so aware of the incredibly support network surrounding her and our family.

We arrived at the courthouse on time, passed through security, and met up with our friends, family and social worker outside the courtroom door. We weren't allowed to take cameras inside, but were allowed to snap a few photos of us with the judge afterwards.

During the actual hearing, we sat in front of the bench at a rectangular table (Me, Fernando, Daniel, Violet and Terri, our social worker). Everyone else sat behind us in pew type seats. It actually felt a little like some kind of business interrogation - a little scary at first.

They asked us basic information for the record, then the judge went over it again. The highlight of the hearing was when he asked Daniel (in a loud booming voice from his elevated seat) to state his name. Daniel looked up with big eyes and whispered into the microphone: "Astroboy." The judge said, "Excuse me?" And Daniel said a little louder: "Astroboy."

Our friends died laughing and thankfully the judge did too. The rest was easy.

Except at the part near the end when the judge looked at me and said, very meaningfully, "Carrie... you are now her mother. Your relationship with Violet is that of mother and child." And right in that beautiful moment, Violet whacked herself in the head with a plastic water bottle and started to cry. Perfect.

On the way out, we were such a big group that some of my friends carrying their baby got congratulated on their adoption! (Their baby is not adopted).

We took some photos, then headed to The Good Egg for a big group breakfast. Celebration time!

There are a series of paperwork items we'll need to take care of given Violet's new legal name (she is finally, officially Violet Mariam) but for now we'll just take a deep breath and enjoy the "end of the legal journey" feeling!

BITING 101

Well, the biting issue hasn't gone away. In fact, it's been escalating at home with me and with Daniel. Violet only bites the two of us, and it's always out of jealousy ("I want your attention") or anger from discipline ("I'm mad I just got in trouble").

But today things took a turn for the worse.

She bit another kid in school - a first for her. We were greeted with an incident report when we went to pick her up, and an explanation: She was angry at a kid for stealing a toy so she bit his arm as he pulled the toy away. This was a new motive for biting.

I headed straight to the director's office to talk things through, sure that this was the start of a biting spree for her. We formulated a temporary plan that involved them calling my cell immediately after a bite and me running over to pull her out of the room and discipline her with our standard method: A flick on the lip (which obviously, the teachers aren't allowed to do).

Thankfully, we never had to use this method.

That night, Violet bit me again. With the same motive as earlier in the day: She wanted a fork I had in my hand, and bit me out of anger as I took it away. Something snapped in me (granted, I was still extremely upset about the school incident) and I bit her back.

I feel the need to qualify the statement - I did bite her, but it was lightly. No marks were left.

Still, she cried a new cry. A cry of "how could you do that to me, Mommy"... and it lasted for a good five minutes.

No incidents for the next two days and then a brilliant moment of breakthrough. We were tickling/wrestling and her teeth accidently hit my arm. Not a big deal at all, but she sat straight up with huge eyes. She pointed at my arm, then her mouth and said, "No bite! No bite!"

It worked! Turns out my mom was right all along... apparently this method was used on my little sister as well.

Update: Violet has bitten only a handful of times since then, but very spread out and only at home. She responds beautifully to correction!

Holy Vocabulary

Violet is on some kind of crazy turbo-language-acquisition jag. That little lady repeats EVERYTHING and retains most of it.

She knows nearly 10 animal noises (the tiger and monkey are her best, in my opinion)... Knows the names of the whole family... can ask for food/toys/etc by name... knows most of the basic body parts, has learned a bunch of new verbs... it just doesn't end. I'm newly amazed each minute I spend with her.

My favorite part of her recent new skills is this: She could not say "Daniel" until tonight. For the past week, she's been calling him "Ah-to-boy". Daniel is going on his fourth week of pretending to be Astroboy and apparently it's worn off on Violet. I don't know which is funnier - that she thinks that's his name or that my 17 month old can say "Astroboy".

I haven't yet tried to create a list of the words she now knows, so here we go:

Outside, Violet (ya-ya), Dada, Mama, Up, Down, Hair, Teeth, Mouth, Ears, Eyes, Nose, Bootie (Boobie :), Tummy, Milk, Agua, Amen, Baby, Teddy, Pee-Pee, Thank You, More, Again, Please, Walk, Bounce, Dance, Pound (for "Give Me Pound!"), Shoes, Feet, Kitty-Cat, Clean, Eat, Emma, Happy, Hi, Bye-Bye, Banana (Nana), Apple, Cheese, Duck, Night-Night (Ni-Ni), High-Five (Hi-Fi), Bubble, Book, Astroboy... and I know there are more. But for now, that's 45 words for a girl that said only 1 just six months ago (exactly six months ago today, actually).

She also still responds to her three names... Violet, Mari and Maramawit. She tries to say all of them, and seems to know they all belong to her.

In one of the most beautiful moments she and I have shared yet, I called her "beautiful baby" in her native language while rocking her to sleep. With great interest and concentration, she imitated the words as I kept repeating the phrase. The irony and beauty of ME teaching HER her native language was not lost on me.

Violet is blossoming before our eyes - hearing the voice that goes with the spark and life is beyond gratifying. And the more we hear that sweet little voice, the more we want to hear it.

Green Shoes

This week, Violet entered into what is SURE to become her favorite "era" so far in our home: The Era of the Green Shoes.

These are Daniel's shoes from a few years back and have been waiting in Violet's shoe drawer since April (complete with plentiful scuff marks and countless memories).

Daniel lived in these shoes back when his feet were half of their current size and we have been eagerly waiting for Violet to inherit the legacy. And the coolness. And the undeniable style.

The time has come. They finally fit... let the retro-sheek-envy-inducing fun begin.

(It also means that our little lightweight's feet have grown 3 sizes since April. I'm pretty sure that's not normal.)

Elephant Night

The first of many family fun nights (henceforth known as Fam Jams!)... we celebrated "Elephant Night" tonight.

I think it was international elephant day or something... but for whatever reason we just decided to have a fun elephant-themed evening.

We ate elephant food. We played elephant games. We stomped in chalk elephant foot prints. We sprayed each other with our trunks (straws) at the watering hole (tupperware full of water). We soaked the littlest elephant (Violet). We played with all of our elephant toys. We all wore elephant colors = gray. We tried to watch Horton Hears a Hoo... but the disc didn't work. Elephant night ended a little early.

BUT it was so much fun!

That Face

Home Sick

Well, I finally got the first of many calls from the preschool... Violet had a fever and needed to be picked up. Poor little thing was burning up and just miserable/exhausted. Honestly I'm surprised she lasted this long without coming down with "The Preschool" disease.

As I'm writing this, she's napping fitfully, but at least she's in her own bed. Every few minutes I head in there to console her and rock her back to sleep. We all know how it feels to be feverish and I wish I could just fix it for her.

However, the sweet cuddle time is nice. I'm not gonna lie.

Lately I have been noticing that I'm drawing out the "she's my baby" stage a little longer than is probably necessary. She doesn't need a bottle anymore, but I still like to give her some milk in a Nuby before bed. She doesn't need to be rocked to sleep anymore (she's amazing at going to sleep on her own) but I'm not quite ready to be done with that yet.

Maybe it's because I missed the first 11 months of babydom with her and I'm making up for lost time. Or maybe it's just because she's such a little lady already and I'm missing the baby in her.

Either way, it's my perogative and I make no apologies: As long as Violet will let me rock/cuddle/baby/indulge her, I will do so.

Measurement

After yet another fun visit to the doctor's office (that was actually NOT sarcastic... I love showing Violet off anywhere!) we received some updated stats on her growth.


She gained inches and lost ounces. I was bummed to see that she had LOST weight but encouraged by the doctor saying it was nothing to worry about since she had gotten so much taller. He said all the running and walking eats up more calories than they can keep down... even for my little eating machine.

The digits: She is now 30 inches long/tall (30th percentile)... Weighs 19 lbs 14 oz ("below" the chart)... and has a 46 cm head circumference (41st percentile)! She has some serious brains.


I think it's funny how our pediatrician tells me at every visit that Violet "is just going to be a petite girl". What he is really saying: "Mrs. Amaro, you have a large son. Big and tall. He will probably always be a big man. I know it must be hard to understand that Violet is small AND healthy but that is the case. So get used to it."

I will say this - it's a whole new world having a child who wears clothes at or below her designated age. She's still in 9-12 month sizes for the most part.

I asked the doctor about a few behavioral questions - her biting, tantrums and other issues - and he had to contain his laughter in a professional little cough. He said everything I described was 100% normal for her age. Adopted or not, this is part of what most one-year-olds go through (and put their parents through). Violet even was kind enough to demonstrate a tantrum right there in the doctor's office. She flung herself onto the floor, belly down, scream/crying and oozing the biggest crocodile tears you have ever seen into little puddles on the floor.

The doctor just smiled that knowing smile and said, "She has adjusted perfectly. She is displaying perfect attachment to you. She is healthy. And ... she is one."

Cousins + Otter Pops

Texas in August

Another amazing Texas trip... as usual, photos tell the story better.

Beauty

Violet's beauty takes my breath away. Sometimes it actually makes me cry.
Fact: She is a deeply, devastatingly beautiful child.



Everything about her is perfection. Her round, liquid eyes. Her petite button nose. Her exquisitely defined lips. Her impossibly long lashes. Every detail about her is intentional - God delighted in crafting her, down to every last immaculately shaped ringlet.

I love the way her neck arches up into her head. She looks like royalty and often, I feel silly and plain in the presence of such dramatic beauty. And it's more than her physical features... it's the expressions she wears on them. Such grace and poise. Such depth and knowing. She is 14 months... going on 30 years.

Daniel is a beautiful child - we are constantly told how incredibly handsome he is. Fernando and I have spent countless hours admiring the unlikely genetic truth: Something THAT beautiful came out of US. But still, he came from us. He is beautiful in a familiar way.

Violet is a kind of beauty my genes wouldn't know what to do with. She is the definition of femininity. Every pore oozes sophistication and (strange as this may sound) sensuality. She is still so petite even after gaining weight, and the absence of baby fat has left her body delicate and shapely for a toddler. Her legs and arms are long, lean and muscular. Her waist is narrow - my two hands easily wrap around it.

Tonight, as I rocked her, I got lost in her sleeping face. My brain just couldn't process the amount of beauty I was beholding.

I love that baby more than I ever dreamed I could. I already treasure the little girl she's becoming. And I cannot wait to get to know the sophisticated, smart woman I can already see in her eyes.

She has brought a whole new level of beauty into my life.

Preschool Panic

And I only use the word "panic" because it applies to me, not Violet.

Against all odds, Violet is rocking the world of preschool. She simply loves it - the other kids, the new toys, the activities, the food, and more than anything else, the little wooden chair she gets to sit in for snack time. She is obsessed with that thing. Obsessed.

Her mother, on the other hand, has cried more tears this week than in the past few months. She is a basket case and cannot get it together. She even has to write about it in the third person to avoid another meltdown.

She probably should stop writing about it now before she short circuits the computer electronics with her tears.

(Enjoy the photo of "helicopter mom"... we phased Violet in slowly, and I didn't leave my post outside the one-way mirror. I watched her every move. I'm sure the teachers LOVED me.)

Same Sex Parenting

No, this post isn't about parents of the same gender.

It's about the way parents parent different genders differently. (Say that ten times fast.) And honestly, before now, it's something I hadn't really given any serious thought towards.

Before having kids, you consistently hear general statements like "Oh, there's nothing more tender than the bond between a mother and her son" or "Fathers just can't say no to their sweet little daughters". At the time, I just dismissed them as stereotypes to be ignored.

But lately I have started noticing some patterns in our home. And as much as I loathe fitting stereotypes, the patterns align as follows: Fernando and I both are stricter with the kid of the same gender. The old sayings appear to be at least partially true.

Try this on for size: My theory is that it's easier to afford grace to someone you don't entirely understand - it's easier to overlook manipulation and testing when you aren't 100% sure if that's what it really is.

We both love both kids beyond comprehension - with our entire hearts - past what we thought possible. But the fact remains: Men understand how boys think and women understand how girls think. With the kids of the same gender, we have higher expectations based on what we understand.

For example. I'm more likely to give Daniel that 20th hug goodnight when he comes out of his room (again) saying that he's scared (again) - and Fernando is more likely to be tough with him, knowing that he's playing me like a shiny new fiddle. But Daddy's more likely to pick Violet up and comfort her when she's throwing a tantrum while I'm more likely to make her tough it out and use her manners no matter how much she's crying.

Yes, I realize that particular example just highlights my inability to choose my battles (I'm working on this). But I hold to my theory: Dads hold their sons to a higher standard than their daughters and vice versa.

I have heard these words come out of my mouth numerous times towards Violet: "That is not how we act, Violet. We are nice ladies." We. Ladies. Likewise, Fernando often explains to Daniel what it means to be a "big boy" and what kind of behavior is required. When Daniel suddenly excelled in swim classes, Fernando felt a stronger and deeper pride than I did. Why? Because dads know that their sons need to acquire a type of learned courage and adventure to become the kind of men God designed them to be. And right or wrong, moms would be fine with their sons clinging to them in the pool for just one more summer.

Now I know this theory has all kind of exceptions and caveats (like genetics, how much time is spent with the kids and how much coffee each parent has consumed that day) but for the most part, it's true. And aside from simply being interesting food for thought, it's actually been helpful to consider as we continually "fine tune" our parenting styles.

Now, if you'll excuse me - my kids need me. Violet is crying and Daniel is standing by her holding a big stick. But I know my sweet little man would never hurt his sister, so she must have grabbed it and hit herself in the head. And ladies do NOT hit themselves in the head with sticks.

The Knot in my Stomach

I think I have been avoiding blogging because I'm trying to evade the inevitable: Tuesday is coming.

Tuesday is Violet's first day at preschool. I will be with her, and it will only last an hour. But Wednesday will be longer, and then Thursday, Friday, the weekend, and then POOF... the following week she'll be full time.

The time has gone faster than I imagined it would, and I feel less "ready" than I hoped. Frankly, I'm terrified. And heartbroken.

This is just different this time... Daniel was in preschool from 7 weeks old. Before a personality had emerged, really. (No offense, little guy.) I didn't know any other option existed. This time, it's a walking, talking (kind of) little lady with personality and attachment needs. A little lady I have gotten to know (and adore) at home for months. This is a hundred times harder.

I'm sure she'll do fine. Daniel thrives in preschool. The structure... the social aspect... he loves it. Violet will too, right?

Secretly, though, I'm hoping that she DOESN'T do well so I have to pull her out and figure out some way to stay home.

That doesn't make me a bad mom, does it?

Flower Power

Maternity leave has resurrected the crafty side of my personality. Crafty as in "arts and crafts", not crafty as in sneaky.

The glue gun and sewing kits have gotten more use in the past eight weeks than in the previous eight years. Violet's collection of flower hair clips and lace headbands is growing daily. But a problem has arisen: Where does one keep dozens of flower hair clips? The shoe box was busting at the seams (and was damaging the flower petals by having so many crammed into there.)

Another equally daunting problem was bugging me: The giant blank purple wall in Violet's room.

Problem #1 + Problem #2 = LIGHTBULB moment.

I went to Michaels and found some chocolate cork board on sale, along with some chocolate ribbon. A few minor hot-glue-related-burns later, all four boards were wrapped in ribbon and ready for use. Thanks to a hammer... some nails... a laser level... and two kids banging toys on the wall to "help" me hammer... we were set. They look great and actually add the splash of bright color I was looking for in that room.

Check it out:

Because. I'm. Addicted.

Just two more fun iPhone shots. Because I'm addicted. And because at some point, Violet will want to think she was raised in the 70's, right?

Blue Snack

Anyone who has ever parented a child with a gift for getting into messy things understands "the absence of noise". It's the sound that immediately precedes the impending disaster.

This morning, Fernando and I heard "the absence of noise". Sure enough, seconds later, Violet comes toddling around the couch with a big BLUE smile (which perfectly matched her blue face, teeth, tongue, hands and shirt). It took about 2.5 seconds to register what had happened. She had found the box of finger paints and figured out how to unscrew the cap. (Might I add that Daniel has played with these paints for years, stacking the bottles... making lines out of the bottles... sorting the bottles by color... without ever even WANTING to take those little lids off.)

But I digress. Fernando grabbed her and headed for the sink and I tended to our newly blue carpet. Everyone (and everything) previously blue turned back to it's normal shade quickly - thanks to water-dissolvant paint. It's like the paint makers already knew about Violet when they made this paint. They knew.

And may I also point out that I didn't photograph my child while she was blue. I consider this a fairly big step forward in my "learning to balance being a parent and a photographer" process. (I am embarrassed to say that I have a photo of an 11-month old Daniel AS his face crumbles AS his little fingers touch a blazing hot lightbulb.)

There are perks to being child #2.

Leaps and Bounds

Violet is progressing and adjusting better than anyone guessed she would - better than any of the books tell you adopted kids will adjust. It's simply ridiculous how well she is doing.

She is sleeping all night, every night. She naps well, and long. She plays happily alone or with people. She still eats and poops like a champ. She laughs harder every day and cries harder too (which is ok). She responds to discipline and more often than not, corrects her behavior when asked. She is growing like a weed and her hair and skin look incredible (ignore this photo though... she's in a highchair, covered in oreos and boogars).

Her language is still on turbo speed - the most recent new words include Gramma (ga ga), Kitty Cat (kee kah), Again (ghen a), Tickle (tick-uhl) and a whole host of new syllables and clicks (that interestingly enough don't sound like standard "english-speaking-baby" babble).

She walks so steadily that it's nearly a run. She dives face first into any pool without fear and attempts to ride any tricycle or scooter she can get her hands on. She is still aggressive in her play, but seems to be learning to control her hands better - "Nice touches, Violet. Nice touches."

Her nighttime self-soothing rocking has completely stopped and we've even let her cry herself to sleep a time or two. Within a minute or two of crying, she's peacefully asleep. It might sound like a little thing - but this is a big step forward for Violet.

All signs point to one thing: She feels secure with us - and secure in our love for her.