Suck it George Vernon Hudson

Whoever invented the daylight-standard time rodeo obviously did not have children, specifically toddlers experiencing their first post-Halloween candy, tiger print hangover. Here's the Wiki situation on this.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Daylight_saving_time

B. Franklin had 17 children. He's somehow tied to this catastrophe. Ole Ben must have stored his numerous tots in the barn on this day and let the cows tend to them. George Vernon Hudson (the true architect of the disaster) had no children. So there you go. The bastard had spare time to screw around with the well being of his broody neighbors.

Thank you Wikipedia for useless nonesense related to daylights savings time.

Now back to present time. Holy crap. Misho awoke bright and frisky on the dot to what would have been his normal time of wakening and woo. I caved and sent Big D to do the morning needful. I stayed in bed, with a sore throat, attempting to make myself sicker than I was. I was sick. I am sick. I'm not kidding. But I did feel guilty. And then the day just spiraled downward from there.

Misho was cute. He's always cute. Evidence below:



But then he got sort of evil. Like the play on time made him realize his evil powers as a toddler. His nails instantaneously grew five inches. Blood spouted from his nose (he actually had a nosebleed from the runny nose he's been sportin for five days). He spoke in tongues. He went for the eyes. His head spun. I blame the timechange, plain and simple. Out of sorts, longer time till first nap, strange fall to winter lighting - good for a movie but not good for playtime - sun quitting early, parents wanting a nap desperately, perhaps just five minutes of this precious additional time so graciously bestowed to us by bastard George Vernon Hudson.

It was rough. Not real rough, but rough enough to provide some material for day one of "30 days and 30 blog entries." Some exaggeration allowed.

But serious, this is what I stared into most of the day:



Those eyes were staring at my throat. So cold...i'm so cold...

Boo!

Misho's first cognizant Halloween. Viva la difference:

Last Year - 2008



This Year - 2009



He still retains suspicions of animal costumes put upon him. Who wouldn't? But he's definitely more relaxed and a gamer. Laid chill in his ride (stroller) for the trick or treat parade. Said, "thank you" in the most charming of ways to each house, except ours. Dada got a grunt. Ate a toddler's fill of candy. This had the expected effect - hallucinations, screaming, cold sweats, requests for water and cold towels, lots of "I love you man" and then he crashed.

All in all a great H-ween.

Here's some highlights:



A tiger roar or bowel movement. Not sure.



Mama having to be weird.

Again.



His m.o. for most of the trickertreater cruise. "so this candy is 'free'?" kind of look.



Mama in her nighttime candy distribution outfit. Or, Blanket Jackson escaping Dubai.

Happy Halloween everyone!

30 posts in 30 days

The Big Woo has once again been MIA. But now, I've somehow been self-compelled to participate in a blog challenge. 30 posts for the 30 days of November. I'm not sure if this is a wise expectation to place on my head, but I'm gonna give it a shot. If interested in joining blogpeople, here's the link: http://www.nablopomo.com/

I noticed Julie at "the eyes of my eyes..." took up the challenge and she has TWO kids. I would die and be unable to function with two Mr. Ms roaming around the house, so I figure, with one, I could squeeze a verbal burp out at least once a day.

The days are dark and rainy, winter is upon us, and that's the time when the Woo gets weird. And think how much weirder it could be with pressure (of some unknown origin) to write something, anything, every day.

My call for questions reared one. From the delightful PooPooFart gang in Oregon. I'll leave the answer to that question for next week when I'm dying for content.

Otherwise, Mr. M is doing splendidly. He can now walk backwards, or moonwalk, as I like to exaggerate.

More musings to come. And oh yeah! I'm going back to Ethiopia November 27th. More about that later.

In the meantime, here are some pics of the French-Pehlke men enjoying the fun of eyewear.




Shelby

The First Day

October 3rd, 2008 was the day we met our delightful Mr. M. The event was life changing, crazy, scary, amazing, wonderful, surreal and everything in between. Nothing in your life can prepare you for this. There is video but I can't figure out how to cut it down for sharing purposes. You are escorted into a room full of babies. A very good looking Ethiopian camera man video tapes you. A delightful woman in blue lovingly hands you "your son." Cut to emotional breakdown. The video shows two overwhelmed trembling tall people, pimping their best baby selves to Mr. M, while trying not to break down into tears.

We'll celebrate this day differently each year. Today we hung out over very delicious pizza, attended a b-day bash for Mr. M's BFF Asher, and watched the video of our first meeting. I gathered the M on my lap and clicked play. He gazed at it like something he knew but didn't and then some recognition of the main players took place. He seemed really into it for about a developmentally-appropriate one minute. Smiled a sweet smile the whole time, identified all the right folk, and then abruptly yelled, "car!", and he was off to find one of his rides. We'll try for a full two minutes next year.

Shout outs again to our fabu travel group. Nowhere would my meager, yet timely Sarah Palin impersonation have gone over so well. We were in Ethiopia during the whole the pres/vice-pres debates & global stock market crash fiasco. Ethiopians would kindly come up to us and ask if we had a home to go to when we returned. Frankly, at that point, who knew?

Tried to get a one year anniversary shot for the archives. Well. Here's what we got.

The Family of Spaz.

The Budding Skillbase of Mr. M (and a Big Woo invite for questions)

We're working on Mr M's resume.

So far, he's demonstrated a real talent and inclination for Swiffing (hence reducing the need to promote my latest invention: The Swiffer OnsieTM). This makes me extremely excited. If I can find a smaller version, his efficiency for cleaning up dog hair could increase by 50%.



He also enjoys inspecting the insides of cupboards or armoires for doggies, cars, or bottles.



We're trying to get M into music but currently he seems more interested in guitar descruction. We thought we'd start him with street performance. Here he is. Busking. We made a couple of quid.



While we're obviously hard at work developing M's skill base, I thought I would shake things up here at the Big Woo and get into some deeper analysis and rambling retrospection about adoption, transracial parenting, and other deeper motherhoodian concerns. Shocking! I know. Where did my commitment to the shallow and mundane go? It will still be there, but I thought I'd stretch my little brain a bit and give some deeper stuff a go. Now, we all know where my commitment to a blog post a day went, so don't hold the collective breath too long. This could be a random post here or there that I bust out like a summer month.

Anyway - to start the party, I thought I would put out a call for questions. Anything really. Many Woo visitors are exploring adoption as an option and perhaps there is something about our experience that you would like to know more about.

Is this how Dear Abby started? Or, should the Big Woo keeps its big lid shut? Let's find out.

Shelby

Big Woo Sick. Outside Rain.

The Big Woo is sick. Everyone. The whole tribe is hacking like slot machine playing grannies in Reno. I blame the weather. Poor Misho was cheated out of a decent Chicago summer. Only a day or two over 90 degrees! I like it hot. And steamy. I want to be overcome with the vapors and flit around in flowing fabrics proclaiming my desire on some street. I believe Misho has the same desire but the poor kid can't seem to catch a break in the weather department. We've been rained on most of the week, and thank god he's been sick. Didn't feel like going out in the first place. But, the collective pants are getting itchy, cause he's twirling around like a dervish and climbing the walls. Or the bed.





I'm doing weird things to entertain him.



Whether he's into Psycho Mother Butterfly (my name of choice this week) is another thing.

Winter sucked. Summer blowing pretty hard. Don't get me wrong, I hugely heart rain and all it's natural consequences. But now I'm a parent. And there's daily agendas to put together. It's not even winter and we're engaging in weird indoor antics.

Most disturbing, and through no effort on my part, the rain filled air causes my hair to spontaneously bust out into an exploitative baby beauty pageant up-do.



I'll work on my baton twirling.

June (and now July) Bust Out!

I'm a bad bad blogger. Here's the beef: the warm(ish) weather, multiple weekend Chicagoland festivities, and my own special style of laziness have kept mama far away from refreshing the Woo. On the bright side, I offer a straight-to-the-point, no nonsense recap of what's been bubblin in the land of Woo over the days of June and July.

Visit from the California Peaks!

A fantastic visit from a wonderful family from our ET adoption group: Lyn-Dee, Dan, & the adorable Lincoln (check out their blog - http://web.me.com/sparkie09/PeakSite/Sparkies_Blog/Sparkies_Blog.html). These cats and kitten are so lovely and the best guests ever. Hardy folk they are, through some of the most god awful summer weather we've had in years. Promises were made to perhaps maybe consider Chicago a permanent location? We're holding it to you Peaks! Come back soon!



Referral-versary! 11 June 2008

We heard the name "Mishamo" for the first time on June 11, 2008. It was the first day we saw that cute little mug peaking out from a lacy pink onsie, looking a bit chagrin, but more than confident in his rose-hued masculinity. Love at first site? Most definitely. Exactly how it worked out for me with Big D.

The story in short - I had just dropped David off at home after his first post-back surgery check up and was making my way up to Evanston for work. For some reason, I knew it...as soon as I sit down at my desk the phone would ring with the referral. And boom, there it was. Took the call in my boss' office, looped in Big D and got the first stats of Mr. M. After promising not to look at the emailed photo until I got home, I did a spastic victory lap around the perimeter of the office, whooping, hollaring, speaking in tongues, and bascially descending into a slobbery mess. Got back in the car, amazingly made it home without killing anyone, and jumped onto the computer. This is what we saw:



40th B-Day in Vegas!

What does one do for your 40th birthday and first year as mom? Bring your baby to Vegas! I had doubts, but Vegas and all its horrific glory is like a big inflatable, shiny, sparkly crib mobile. I've said it before, but strippers love my son. Especially those with large inflatable breasts. We were stopped constantly. The most absurd moments (two well endowed ladies fighting over who holds Mr. M, & and an Elvis serenade) happened without camera immediately in hand. Mr M had a delightful time, and won big at craps (tee-hee).

Here's Misho preparing for Vegas:



Here's Misho after winning nickel slots:



Here's Misho and his lovely Oma B:



Here's me waking up, day one, 40 years:



That's right Perez Hilton - Celebs without makeup.

Here's me trying to throw myself out the hotel window on day two.



Mr. M Walks!

A huge benchmark moment that was seriously blog-neglected. Mr. M walks. And runs. And skateboards. He toyed with walking for so long. He teased us. A couple of steps here and there. One weekend, we focused all energy on perpetuating forward upright momentum - employing outlawed Béla Károlyi type training techniques. Nothing. Two days later, he, all of sudden and seriously out of the blue, was toddling all over the local park. Hasn't looked back. And we are doomed. Video to come.

But with mobility comes...

THREE STITCHES

"Hello ER social worker. Yes, this is our son. Yes he did fall by himself. No I wasn't drinking. Yes, I will repeat the story at least three or four times to ensure consistency of events."

That's the conversation I had in my head while I carted a bleeding Mr. M to the emergency room. He was in a fabu mood. A little crying when his head slammed into the coffee table (sound still echoes in my head to this day) but was quickly smiles and sunshine through his blood stained face. Took on as much guilt as I could; I blamed the lame but cute sandals that I bought him on sale. They stuck ruthlessly to the floor as he twisted around, lost balance, and took the plunge head first into wood. Long story short, he's doing fine, three stitches. Even while they strapped M to a restraint board (or a "papoose" as the non-Native American nurses lovingly called it) I remained a delightfully witty, a go with the flow mom that medical professionals die for in the ER. "I so understand how busy you all are. We are more than happy to wait here in a cold examining room for three hours with a bleeding hungry baby. You crazy kids go have sex with each other in the broom closet" - until.

Until, some overarching "doctor of the gods" showed up to inspect the stitchery of the residents. "Wrong stitches," he said. "That's not what I wanted." That is when, at close to midnight, the flesh peeled back from my skull and a sound of a 1,000 hounds came from hell's entrance...or my throat as we call it. Didn't redo the work, but the removal of the "wrong stitches" a few days later was a bit messy.

With medical care like this, I will be arrested one day. It's just a matter of time. Death to K. Heigel!



More to recap to come. I've been working on this for a week and have to post it before Misho graduates from high school.