July 7, 2010

July 7 (I think), y2010 (I'm pretty sure)

July 7 (I think), 2010 (I'm pretty sure)

Dear Joshua,

Tonight as I write, Daddy is doing bath duty, if you can call it duty at all. Everything about you is a delight! (Now, your grandmama is in the other room running your brothers and sister through the bath . . . and that might qualify as duty!) You're quietly playing with those stackable cups, filling and pouring, stacking and unstacking. I can see the top of your little head peeking over the bathtub's edge, and it is so cute. I've been looking at pictures of you for over a year now, falling in love with a profile . . . and now you're in the same room, breathing, smiling, and telling your daddy to hang up the bath towel!

The neat factor is an incredible surprise. I'm a strict closet-closer in a family that ranges from occasional closet-closers to closet door delinquents. If you had any idea how many times I've asked our dear family to close the closet, shut the drawer, clear the table, throw away the kleenex, put the dirty socks in the laundry, and for crying out loud pick up those toys – well, I do believe you would understand my irritation. Son, in the closet door department, we are kindred spirits.

Take this evening, for instance. After the Day we had(yes, with a capital D), we decided to go for Dominoes Pizza (more about that) and some English Discovery Channel – a low key evening before baths and bed. With the kids in Grandma's room and Mommy resting, you noticed right away when your dad put on his shoes. You made a sound as if to say “just a second,” and you began to pick up all the colored pencils and crayons lying about where all of you kids had been coloring. Dad said to me, “Watch this.” After you cleaned up the play area, you went to the closet to get your shoes. Before putting them on, you carefully closed the closet door. “Watch his fingers,” I cautioned – but no need. You do everything with accuracy and precision. Back to your shoes, but wait – your eyes caught one stray colored pencil lying on the floor. You walked it over to the play area and dropped it beside the pencil pouch. “Just like his brothers,” I said. But before I finished the thought, you looked at that lonely pencil with an expression that said that's just not right, and you zipped it into the bag with the rest of its family. Only then, did you put on your shoes, with the same precision, making sure you had the right foot in the right shoe. Joshua, you just turned three!

My mind is brimming with thoughts and images, and I want to record every one. If you're following this blog and you think that brevity is the soul of wit . . . then ignore my rambling and go to the photos instead. James is in charge of those, and he's a man of fewer (but wittier) words.

So, more than a few words about . . .

tap water: I miss it. I miss drinkable tap water like I cannot believe. With temps hovering mid-nineties and above . . . add humidity. Add smog. Add 19 million people. Add carting four kids at Shiyan's pace up escalators and across streets. Well, a mama wants access to water. There are water bottles, thank God, but all that plastic is depressing. And then, they're not allowed in places of high security. And they're not all that cold. Today, for lunch, Joshua, we gave you Pepsi. Pepsi! I could only justify it, because it's the kind of forbidden treat your grandpa would have tried to sneak to you. But I was surprised you took it. Your tastes tend toward the healthful and bland, like congee, the rice porridge you eat for breakfast every morning. Or rice. Or sticky buns.

19 million: I believe that is the number of human beings in Shanghai. But with World Expo going on, there may be billions by now. Anyway, all but 19 of them decided to ascend the Pearl Tower today with us. So, we're feeling really close now. And I'm switching deodorant. But the crowds weren't unlike crowds I've seen before – on the MBTA after the Boston Pops or in the square in front of St. Peter's Basilica on Easter Sunday. I just didn't have four kids with me then. But I didn't have James or my mom either. We made it without losing a kid, and I think that's a very good thing.

Pearl Towers: Okay. So there was an unfathomable number of people on the Pearl Tower, today. Still, it was remarkable to see. Zaccheus climbed a sycamore tree. We climb tall buildings. It's what we do. The St. Louis Arch, the Empire State Building, the Eiffel Tower. To get a birds-eye views of the city and (literally) rub elbows with folks from around the world, just. go. up.

glass floors: The most breathtaking part of the Pearl Tower is the glass walk, an outdoor sidewalk around the perimeter of the highest ball made entirely of glass. Dizzying. But Joshua, you were not afraid at all. You crawled out with your siblings, pressed your face to the floor and looked down at the streets below. When our family paused to take a few group photos, we drew a lot of attention. From what I could tell, people were amazed at the size of our family, curious about the origins of the kids, and spellbound by blue eyes and long lashes. Jacob's a bit of a movie star, here. Folks of all ages will approach to ask if they can have a photo taken with him. I'm reminded that when cousin Caitlin asked him how he would communicate without knowing Chinese, he wiggled his eyebrows and said, “I'll just smile.” Well, Jacob, it's working.

river cruises: Where tall towers offer the aerial view, river or harbor cruises give the best glimpses of a city skyline, across the space of a body of water. Our cruise took us along the Huangpu River. 45 minutes with great photo ops. Plus, the cabin had air-conditioning.

Francais: After we walked around the outdoor deck of the river boat and shot a few photos, we settled into the cushy chairs inside the cool cabin. And I met a new friend. Mom found her first. We were looking for someone to take a group photo, and Mom pointed out a French woman nearby. An exchange of photography services broke the ice, and we ended up chatting most of the ride. I adore small world moments like that, an amiable conversation in French aboard a Chinese river cruise. She was even from Nice, where I studied in 1993, and she said she has been there for 39 years. Who knows. Perhaps we've even met before.

Uno: When French fails, try Spanish. Only kidding. Uno is the game that kept a circle of kids entertained while we waited to board our cruise. Although you are all ours, you are a colorful group, with a rich history and homes across the U.S.A. Another small world moment.

table manners: Have I mentioned, Joshua, that you have impeccable table manners? You spoon your food gently into your mouth, wiping any morsel left behind. You want your napkin folded, never crumpled. You want your plate cleared as soon as you've finished eating. And you always remember to wash up before and after a meal. We were sitting near the window at the corner bakery, a restaurant with a mix of delicious Asian and American food, and I thought what a funny pair we made as you wiped your face with a folded napkin while your mama fought chopsticks and pushed noodles oozing with peanut sauce into my mouth. It could not have been pretty. Usually, I hold my own with the chopsticks, but in my defense, this was Becky versus the mile-long noodle.

signage: Oh, this is the stuff of forwarded emails, but it's for real! The sign translations keep us laughing, even when the temps are hot and the lines are long. Here are a few, just for fun:

On an amusement park ride: persons who are too weak, psychotic or drunk may not ride. (Note: the supreme bumper cars across the way may have been for the psychotic – drivers ran into each other and shot each other with laser guns. A successful hit and two padded hammers bonked the heads of the other cars' drivers!)

On a sign beside a lake: Caution, Falling into Water

On a restaurant sign: Restaurant Above Water

On a little girl's shirt: Sweet Perfune

On a man's shirt: Malvin Klein Jeans

At the entrance to the river cruise: Persons who are druck (yes, druck), insane, or not properly dressed may not board.

And my very favorite, on a sleeping dog at the entrance to the Pearl Tower: EXPLOSIVE DOG. (Needless to say, we tried hard not to wake him up!)

bus rides: For a little guy who has been away from the orphanage once or twice, you LOVE the ride. You want the front seat, with a full view out front and side windows, and sometimes you grip the bar in front like you are on a roller coaster ride. Yesterday, as we left the crowds of the Pearl Tower, two hours past your normal 10:30 lunch, we were completely unprepared. When we were told to leave water bottles and sunscreen behind (not allowed past security), we all thought we would be coming back before the river cruise. We weren't. You saw those buses lined up waiting for tours, and you just knew one had your number. You signed wildly. Food. Drink. Hungry. Bus. Over. There. And when we kept carrying you along in a brisk walk to keep up with Shiyan, you finally gave up and cried.

fast food: So we took you to, of all places, KFC. It was not our choice. I think our guide was being kind and assuming that Americans would want a familiar bite of food. Give me wonton soup any day. You managed to eat a roll with bits of shrimp baked inside, but politely declined the chicken. So did I. We were thirsty, so we drank the warm Pepsi . . . but it was not our favorite eatery. It may seem funny that after a bad experience at KFC, we would actually choose Dominoes Pizza for supper. But that was less about food choice, and more about needing a break. We holed up in our cool hotel room, with toys, pillows, and the Discovery Channel. Turns out, Dominoes wasn't bad. I'd say better than in the states. Their Hawaiian pizza had pineapple, ham, and shrimp – and the veggie pizza was topped with corn, beans, peas, tomatoes, mushrooms. Still, after five days of Asian meals – noodles, rice, vegetables, dumplings, and mild broth – it was American fast food that did me in.

potty training: So, this might be a challenge. You learned the sign for potty right away, and you use it any time you'd like your diaper changed. You're even more than happy to provide the diaper. You'll stride over to your suitcase, pull out a diaper, point to the one you're wearing, and sign: potty. But when we sit you on the potty – before bed or bath, when you wake up, any time you're dry – you just smile back at us. Last night, Daddy had you follow him into the bathroom to show you how it's done. You pointed to him as he went and gave him a thumbs up. Then, you pointed to yourself, shook your head no, and went over to grab a diaper. Hmmm.

bedtime tears: All the experts say it's important for you to show a whole range of emotion, so we are thankful for your tears before bed each night. They are short-lived, and a natural response to these long days of over-stimulation. Perhaps you are crying because you do not want the fun to end. Perhaps, in those quiet moments, you remember a special caregiver or a friend. But, we are here to comfort you, and we always will be. Perhaps more remarkable is that you let us. Even in this, you let us into your world and into your heart, accepting our hugs, letting us rub your back or hold you close. We love you so much.

morning smiles: After a night of sleep, you wake with a stretch and a smile. Some children have slow wake-ups, but so far you wake up fast. Ready to dress. Ready to play. Ready for breakfast. You're a seize-the-day little boy. And do you know, in that, you remind me a little bit of your grandpa.

Grandma: Your grandma is amazing. She adores you so much, but she is willing to step back and let you bond first with Mama and Daddy. She watches you with wonder and talks about you all the time. And even when it's hard to coax your siblings away from you – you are the star in our family – Grandma finds a way to carve out a bit of space and quiet time for you. She lures the others away with Bananagrams or Mad Libs, runs them through their baths, and endures their wiggles and kicks the whole night through.

sibling solidarity: Really, Grandma is the reason your brothers and sister were able to come along. And I can't imagine doing this any other way. I do not feel a pull to get back to Iowa, knowing that we are all here together. And you are falling right into your spot as little brother. You hold their hands, give hugs and kisses, and love to play and sign with them. And nobody can make you laugh like those siblings. Knocking down towers, playing the hat game or peek-a-boo, tossing the football or beach balls. Oh, there will be rivalry. Yes. There are hints of it even now. But more than that, we see sibling solidarity among you four. And we pray it lasts your whole life long.