Pros and Cons
Being a new mother in my 40s makes me older than most mothers when their children arrive. This is a common occurrence, however, among adoptive parents, many of whom have gone through years of infertility treatments and adoption paperwork. My sister, who had her first child biologically in her late 30s, saw the label "geriatric" on her medical file. What did that make me at 44 when we adopted our kids?
As an "older mom," I am challenged by:Needing trifocals for reading, organ-playing, and distance vision. The worst thing to read are those miniscule directions on children's medicine bottles!
Sore muscles after restraining children.
Fatigue.
Lifting a laundry basket and having my back go out.
Wanting to impress my sons by a throwing their football in a spiral, but seeing it wobble end over end instead. They don't believe me that I could do it when I was younger. Tendonitis has taken its toll.
Sometimes taking Tylenol PM to get a good night's sleep, since I'm waking up earlier and earlier the older I get.
Being asked to join with other parents to play against Bogdan's team when the other Little League team didn't show. I was pleasantly surprised with my batting and fielding, but running to base was hard. The batter's helmet started to fall off and distracted me to the point I almost fell down. If that had happened, I'm sure Bogdan would have been even more embarassed than me.
Advantages of being an "older mom":My education is completed, and I have many years of career experience behind me. During the first few months with the kids, my church job was very good for me psychologically. It was the only place that I felt competent.
The day we adopted the children (August 18, 2005) was the exact day of our 15th wedding anniversary. A long marriage and even longer time of knowing each other (we met in 1980) has given us a foundation with each other that is helping us immensely now.
More life experience to draw on than when I was in my 20s. Older does mean wiser, and even if I can't keep up with the kids physically, I can often (but not always) outsmart them.
More years to build a support network of family and friends, who are instrumental in keeping us going. It really does take a village to raise a child. And more years has also deepend my faith in God, who has blessed me richly and guides me every day.
The Boys' First Pie
Two days ago, Ruslan ran up to me and asked if they could pick mulberries from a neighbor's tree. He had received permission from her, so with some supervision from Jonathan, Ruslan and Bogdan picked a LOT of mulberries.
(I was pleasantly surprised she said yes. Most of our neighbors are very apprehensive when the kids climb trees. They do climb quite high and with very little fear. Many of the high wire troupes in today's circuses come from Ukraine, so it may be an inborne ability.)
We asked the boys if we could serve the berries as fruit for breakfast the next day. "No, they would be better in a pie." That was new--before coming to the US they had never eaten pie. But our friend Susan often sends pies among her weekly gifts of dessert, so they have become accustomed to them.
Pie is a little hard in the summer, however. We haven't put the a/c units in the windows yet, so I avoid using the oven. The boys were so set on pie, however, that I made it this morning when the house is the coolest. Ruslan was going to help me, but when he heard he'd have to get up early, he decided that it would be fine if I made it for him. He is a teenager, after all, and needs his sleep. I was a little relieved, actually, because I was improvising to make this pie, and I didn't want him to see me taking chances with their berries.
I'm not very good at pie crusts, so Jonathan bought me two crusts last night at the grocery store. The fruit filled one crust, and then I saw the kicker in the recipe. It needed a top crust! I could just see the precious mulberries all burnt without one. Then I noticed the second pie crust in the package and realized I could slice it into strips and make a lattice top. Whew!
The boys were very happy to see it baking in the oven this morning. We'll see how it turned out when we have snack this afternoon.
Mrs. M
Jonathan plays the disciplinary role with the children more than I do. But when he's gone from the house, it does fall to me. I don't usually think through the psychology of it as much as he does. In my mind, they should do what they're told and not have to be cajoled into it. But I'm learning from watching him that an indirect method is often better . . .
On our recent trip to Colorado, we spent one of the nights at my cousin's home. She asked that the girls and I sleep in one bedroom, and Jonathan and the boys in another. The bedroom for the "girls" had a double bed, a low couch with a futon, and an eggshell foam mattress on the floor. Luda and Lena knew that I would sleep on the bed, but they negotiated with each other for the other two spots. They agreed that Luda would take the futon and Lena would get the eggshell foam.
Later that evening, Lena took her bath first and therefore got to the bedroom before Luda. Lena stretched her sleeping bag out on the futon and quickly started to fall asleep. When Luda arrived later and saw Lena in the favored bed, she protested. I could see a battle brewing. I didn't want to move Lena because she was almost asleep, but Luda complained bitterly that she had been wronged.
So . . . I offered Luda my spot on the double bed and told her I'd sleep on the floor. That took her by surprise. She looked at me in disbelief but then promptly hopped in the double bed. I could tell by her face that this was looking pretty good. But when I came back a little later to say goodnight, guilt was setting in. I assured her that it was ok for her to have the double bed, and that I didn't mind sleeping on the floor. Now her face had a very confused look. This situation wasn't turning out as she had hoped.
When I came to bed an hour later, both girls were fast asleep, with Luda stretched out on the floor. I smiled triumphantly to myself, got in the double bed, and slept very well.
Mr. M
My husband's new nickname is Mr. M . . .
While Jonathan's degrees are primarily in music composition, he has also been a conductor for most of his adult life. One of the skills that aids him immensely in conducting is his ability to recruit people to play, sing, or otherwise help out. His axiom in achieving this is to find out what a particular person would want to do anyway and then ask them to do that.
When he started the orchestra at Concordia, he worked with players both from Concordia and from the community. He structured the orchestra experience in a way that would attract them. He needed cellists, and one community woman didn't have a car. For several years, he gave her a ride home after rehearsals. For another example, he knows how excited college players get about performing concertos (when a soloist is accompanied by orchestra). So fairly soon after the orchestra was founded, he set up a concerto contest and offered the winners a place on the spring orchestra concert. The audiences were often the largest for this particular concert, since friends and relatives of the soloists were all wanting to attend.
Jonathan's ability to motivate people has helped us immensely with the children. He spends a lot of his free time thinking about how to structure things so that discipline is automatic rather than forced. This is especially criticial with Ruslan, who is now a teenager. As the former head of the family, it has been difficult for Ruslan to give up the parenting role with his younger siblings. We've been advised by counselors to give him face-saving options when he is disciplined. So Jonathan will often set up a situation with choices for Ruslan, rather than the one option available to the younger children. The trick is to make the choices palatable, rather than obviously favorable and unfavorable, which Ruslan sees through in an instant.
When Jonathan succeeds with Ruslan, he'll often glance at me in triumph, and I'll compliment him later as Mr. M[achiavelli].
Postscript to "Holidays"
After I wrote the last blog post, I looked more carefully at the materials from the St. Patrick Day treasure hunt. First of all, I found eleven clues around the house, mostly small squares of notebook paper with pictures drawn on them. Almost all are labeled "from leprikon" and feature a small man with a green suit and a pipe. There is also one with a shamrock alone and another with just a green hat decorated with a shamrock. I wasn't sure how these pictures led to further clues until I found one with the following note in Luda's handwriting:
Dear Stahlkes,
I heve a
soprise in
the house for
you look
evry ver
in the
home
and
you will
find lits
of them
LOVE Leprokon
So I guess the point was to find the notes and enjoy their contents. They are pretty cute. When I get a chance, I'll ask Luda if I'm right about her game.
Holidays
Sometimes it's hard for Jonathan and me to tell which holidays in the US have resonance for the children from their time in Ukraine. They get very excited about any holiday with costumes, gifts, or candy. Halloween, as it is celebrated in the US, is one of the best, and they are positive that we've forgotten the gifts that day!
Jonathan and I have German and Swedish roots, so St. Patrick's Day has never been an important holiday in our families. But it is a big deal in Chicago, with its large population of Irish Americans. The school teachers tell the kids to watch for the mess created by leprechans. Sure enough, items in their classrooms get moved around that day! Our children liked St. Patrick's Day so much that they created their own customs since they didn't have ones from Ukraine to draw upon. We still find small pieces of paper signed by "leprikon" that were part of a treasure hunt. And first-grader Misha wrote the following note, hoping to see a leprechaun:
Dear Leprechaun
can you be by my tre at
my hos the frent
won by 6=00.
I will be thir aftor school.
ples. do you wir a hat.
live
David
[Translation:
Dear Leprechaun,
Can you be by my tree at
the front lawn of my house
at 6:00?
I will be there after school.
Please, do you wear a hat?
Love,
David]
Yesterday was another holiday--Midsummer's Day. The children begged us to let them stay up until nightfall, which in Chicago is past their bedtimes. They talked of staying up late while camping on June 21 in Ukraine. But since the children are in summer school, we couldn't let them stay up that late on a school night. So we celebrated instead by having popsicles before bed. It was also a very special day because my parents were married on the first day of summer in 1957, fifty years ago. Mom and Dad, congratulations! We love you!
Possible News; The Rockies
Jonathan talked to Darlene, our social worker at LSS-New England, a few days ago. She told him that it is likely, though not certain, that Masha submitted our dossier to the Ukrainian government (the SDA) on Monday, June 4. If so, parents travel on average about 12 weeks after the dossier submission. That means we may be leaving for Ukraine in early September. The operative word here, however, is "maybe" since much is still unknown--whether or not the dossier was submitted, if the paperwork is all correctly done, whether the SDA is working fast or slow, if the political situation in Ukraine stays calm, etc., etc.
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We returned last night from a ten-day trip to the Rocky Mountains. Besides three days driving there and three days returning, we spent three days in Fairplay (two hours west of Denver) with my brother's family and one day in Denver with my cousin's family.
During their years in Ukraine, the children traveled in their immediate area and once or twice north to Kyiv, so they did not see the mountains on Ukraine's western border. A year ago, they saw their first mountains, the Appalachians, on a trip to Washington, D.C. to visit my sister's family. While the Appalachians are very beautiful, the view of the Rockies as you approach Denver is something really special. They rise from the plains like an enormous jumbled and snow-covered wall that stretches as far north and south as you can see. One child said it looked like a wall had fallen down. In general, the children's comments reflected both their age and interests. Ruslan, the oldest and also our best handyman, wanted to know if the mountains had been flattened to make a place to build Denver. Misha, the youngest and one most likely to fantasize, made comments showing that his experience with hills is pretty much limited to the garbage dump in Hillside, Illinois, on our way to church. He asked if the mountains had trash underneath the surface to make them so high!
The three days in Fairplay were the first time since Ukraine that the children spent an extended time in a rural area. My brother lives on fifty acres of land close to the town, and his children raise horses, pigs, and chickens through the 4-H program. Our children had the run of the land and could play with cousins and lots of new toys. We also fished, hiked, and went four-wheeling in the mountains. What a fantastic time for all of us! And the opportunity to spend time and meet relatives in Fairplay and Denver was very important--extended family is a key part of Ukrainian culture and also a strong value in my family and Jonathan's.
"Can You Check on Me?"
Most of our books on parenting talk about the importance of consistency. For children like ours who have experienced such tremendous amounts of change and loss, consistency has even a larger importance than for other children. We work to keep our routine as constant as possible, which luckily also helps Jonathan and me when our lives get challenging.
For children from troubled backgrounds, any kind of change, even good change, brings back the adrenaline flush they experienced in difficult times. This adrenaline flush is physically very unpleasant, and makes the person avoid situations that bring it on. Fortunately, over time, this reaction lessens. We've already seen improvement in the 20 months we've had the children.
The end of the school year is a time of great change for our children. The structure of the school day ends, and the uncertainty of the coming school year is on their minds. Who will be my next teacher? Who will be in my class? Is it really hard in the next grade?
At times like these, they act out a lot and also resist change. For example, the visit to the Sacred Harp event that I wrote about recently actually never happened. My blog described what I thought would happen that day. But when it came time for Jonathan to take the kids to the event, some of them put up such a fuss that he canceled the whole trip. One of the comments was "it's too new."
So to combat these stressful times, we make our routine even more structured. Bedtime is especially that way, pleasantly so. One by one, I tuck the younger ones in their beds. We sing a song together, and I kiss them goodnight, Then the two youngest always ask, "Can you check on me?" Their question is as routine as anything we do during the rest of the day. I always answer "yes" and stop back in their bedrooms at least once to "check on them." I'm not sure that they can fall asleep if I don't.
Worry Stones
The children have been collecting stones--many stones. Most of them choose their stones based on their color or shape, but the two youngest are also looking for worry stones.
A worry stone is small and fits easily in your pocket. It's smooth and feels good between your fingers. When you have worries, you can pull the stone out and rub it as long as you like, and the worries go into the stone to make you feel better.
The kids don't know that my counselor suggested worry stones for them as a way to handle anxiety. It's better than biting their nails, or rocking, or any number of other activities they use to relieve stress. Because the stones are so small, the rhythmic motion and the tactile stimulation from rubbing the stone can be done in an inobtrusive way, and the stone is small enough to transport easily to wherever they go.
One of the kids gave me a worry stone today--probably so they could keep choosing stones, which they love to do. I found myself rubbing it between my fingers for quite a while--it felt really good.
Postscript to "That Baseball Song"
About a month ago, I wrote that the kids wanted to hear a "baseball song" before bed. I couldn't remember the words to "Take Me Out to the Ball Game" but it was ok since they really wanted to hear the "Star-Spangled Banner."
One of my friends wanted to help me out, in case the children wanted to hear "Take Me Out to the Ballgame," and she sent me the whole thing and a short history of the piece. The music historian in me can't help sharing it with you. The web address is:
niehs.nih.gov/kids/lyrics/ballgame.htm
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Take Me Out to the Ball Game!
This song was written in 1908 by a man named Jack Norworth. One day when he was riding a New York City subway train, he spotted a sign that said "Ballgame Today at the Polo Grounds." Some baseball-related lyrics popped into his head, that were later set to some music by Albert Von Tilzer, to become the well known baseball song, "Take Me Out To The Ballgame." Despite the fact that neither Norworth or Tilzer had ever been to a baseball game at the time the song was written, it is one of the most widely sung songs in America.(1927 version)
Nelly Kelly loved baseball games,
Knew the players, knew all their names,
You could see her there ev'ry day,
Shout "Hurray" when they'd play.
Her boy friend by the name of Joe
Said, "To Coney Isle, dear, let's go,"
Then Nelly started to fret and pout,
And to him I heard her shout.
"Take me out to the ball game,
Take me out with the crowd.
Buy me some peanuts and Cracker Jack,
I don't care if I never get back,
Let me root, root, root for the home team,
If they don't win it's a shame.
For it's one, two, three strikes, you're out,
At the old ball game."
Nelly Kely was sure some fan,
She would root just like any man,
Told the umpire he was wrong,
All along, good and strong.
When the score was just two to two,
Nelly Kelly knew what to do,
Just to cheer up the boys she knew,
She made the game sing this song.
"Take me out to the ball game,
Take me out with the crowd.
Buy me some peanuts and Cracker Jack,
I don't care if I never get back,
Let me root, root, root for the home team,
If they don't win it's a shame.
For it's one, two, three strikes, you're out,
At the old ball game."
Postscript to "Misha's Mop"
Last night, we attended an ice cream social at the children's elementary school. Jonathan and I talked at length with Misha's first grade teacher. He's been having some discipline problems, but she also told us how much she enjoyed his big smile and sunny disposition.
Misha himself had told her that he was growing his hair long so he could tie it back "to be like Papa." On the first day that it was long enough for him to wear a ponytail, his teacher greeted him that morning by saying, "Well, it looks like Jonathan Stahlke is coming to school today." She described his smile following that comment as the biggest one she'd ever seen from him.
A Little News
Darlene, our social worker in Connecticut, received an Email from Masha, our facilitator in Ukraine. Masha explained that her phone and Internet access had been out for a full week due to technical problems. That must be very frustrating for her, since phoning and Email are such an important part of how she does her work. The sound of music when her phone rang is one of my memories from our time in Ukraine.
Masha wrote the Email last Thursday, and Darlene received it on Sunday. We saw it today. The Email contained information about several adoptive families, and Darlene forwarded to us the paragraph about Mikola. Masha is needing some legal advice concerning his case, and the lawyer she consulted was on vacation. But the lawyer asked her to telephone back last Friday, so we are very interested to hear the results of that meeting.
Rewards of Motherhood
During our recent interviews with reporters, I have often been asked, "What do you like about being a mother?" So when we were waiting to speak on live radio a few weeks ago, that was a question I could anticipate. The overarching answers escape me, and my answer that day was "the little things." For example, I was thrilled each day after school when our kindergartner would run into my arms.
One of those moments happened about two weeks ago. The children in turn had raided the recycling bin for materials to make "projects." Most of them were variations of either aliens or musical instruments, but Lena decided to make a lighthouse. She took a pie plate for the water, with dabs of purple Playdo to signify the waves. (She told me it was the only color available, or it would have been blue.) The lighthouse itself was a cardboard tube from a paper towel roll. At the base of the lighthouse sat two Playdo figures, one in the lap of the other. I asked her who they were, and she answered, "me and you." She then said it could also be Anne, my sister, and her toddler, Annika, but on second thought, she decided that it was "me and Mama."
I felt such joy from her comment, for she was telling me that I provide love and safety for her in the same way mothers do with very young children. To know that she feels safe with me means a tremendous amount.
Misha's Mop
Attachment occurs in many ways, and seven-year-old Misha is doing it by emulating Mom and Dad. For example, the charger for my electric toothbrush sits on the bathroom counter, and right next to it one always finds Misha's electric toothbrush.
As for connecting with Jonathan, Misha is growing his hair out so he can tie it back like Papa's. The problem, however, is how long it takes until he's able to tie it back. Most of the school year, it's been hanging down in his eyes and looking like "surfer's hair," as one woman at school described it. His hair is driving me crazy, although Misha doesn't seem to mind. Part of the problem is that his brown hair is so thick, so it doesn't stay back. So every morning for months, Jonathan or one of the older siblings has been fixing Misha's hair with gel to give it at least some chance of staying out of his face. I've considered insisting that he get his hair cut, but his need to "be like Papa" is also pretty important.
Last Monday, much to my relief, he finally tied it back in a very short pony tail. That day, we attended a Memorial Day parade in nearby River Forest, and enjoyed the small-town parade experience. Some of the parade entries were groups in period costumes from the various wars in U.S. history. First we saw people dressed in Civil War-era clothing, and later came the DAR (Daughters of the American Revolution) with both men and women in Revolutionary War garb.
Ruslan looked at the DAR group and turned to his dad. "Pop, what is the name of the war that America fought with England?" Jonathan answered him, "The War of Independence." Then Ruslan looked at our Misha, running around with his short brown ponytail, and commented, "He's got War-of-Independence hair."
