Eight is Great

Noah is 8 months old, and I feel the baby-days slipping through my fingers. I went back and looked at Willow's post from when she reached the 8 month marker, and enjoyed reading about what she was like two years ago.

Two years ago! How time is flying.

You might also enjoy 'comparing' Noah and Willow after reading this post. Read about Willow at 8 months here: Eight is Enough

They are actually strikingly similar in looks and development at 8 months old. The only thing Noah is not doing now, what Willow was doing at 8 months, is trying to climb ON TOP of the couch. As far as I am aware, he has yet to attempt that feat for himself. But that's probably because Willow will hand him what he is reaching for.

Up until yesterday, he also wasn't standing up in his crib. Which meant he wasn't reaching his toothbrush, tooth paste, or the wipey container. Willow had been making huge messes with those items by the time she was 8 months. Well, as of yesterday, Noah has continued the tradition of making messes in his bed during nap times. So now I have to hide these items while he's supposed to be sleeping. It really isn't smart to put the changing table next to the crib. You'd think we would have rearranged the furniture by now.

Things I love about Noah at 8 months...

• He's so chunky, thick, and tubby! Although it breaks my back to lug around a 24 pound baby, at least I get to burn some extra calories in the process. He's so huggable with all his rolls! As Willow says, while squeezing Noah's fat legs, "Noah is squishy-squishy!" 
• He's so happy! With an even temperament, and a propensity to smile at just about anyone or anything, it's amazing how content this little guy constantly is. I cannot get enough of his cabbage-patch-baby-doll face, his delightful smiles, and myriad styles of laughing. He thinks many things are funny, especially his sister and dad. 
• He's so cuddly! Enough said.
• He's so mobile! Gone are the days of the 'butterfly-stroke-crawl'. He's full-on crawling and into everything. At least he hasn't discovered how to open cupboards yet. Not looking forward to that skill being developed. He's pulling himself up on everything--growing some more muscle mass along the way. He's cruising around the furniture, and determined to follow us wherever we go. 
• He's eager and curious! Noah wants desperately to play with Willow's more advanced toys (who wants baby toys, anyway?), or to get into the trash can, or the wires and cords, or technology. He wants to eat whatever we are eating--and I'm constantly telling Willow to not give him food. On a side note, I also have to save Noah's food from Willow--who thinks she should be able to eat the baby food that is just for him. 
• He's so excited! When Adam comes home, he's ecstatic. He flails about, waving his arms and kicking his legs, grinning like a little fool--ust waitng to be noticed. He usually is pretty silent though, and waits until Willow is finished shrieking and yelling and talking in her own excited way. Second born issues are real. 
• He's mischievous! He's already learning and enjoying his role of 'little brother' which he was born to fill. Willow can't stand water on her face during bath time. He makes sure she is repeatedly splashed in the face during their short baths. He pulls her hair, gnaws on her face, and breaks her toys. He puts up with a lot of crap from the sister too. Sometimes, I feel like I'm watching some strange version of mine and Adam's lives on replay. Of course, we were not each other's siblings, but I think it's funny when Willow is bossy to Noah and orders him around. Adam is appalled and runs to Noah's rescue frequently. Adam is Noah's advocate in many ways. 

He's also teething again. The fifth tooth recently popped through, and he has probably three more close to surfacing. He's been waking up so often at night, I am more sleep deprived now than I was during his newborn days. Sometimes he wakes up as many as 8 times. I think he's in pain from teething, and also crawling around in his sleep and waking himself up that way too. It's been an exhausting life, lately.

I love this face, so wondefully and completely.

Willow cannot stand it when I take 'milestone' pictuers of Noah. She HAS to get in on the action. We actually fought quite a lot during Noah's little picture session. It was a debacle.

Noah also learned how to give kisses this month! It's so precious to be the recipient of his little kisses.

I think these pictures of Noah in his stroller with his sunglasses are hilarious. But maybe that's just me....

Noah is eating a variety of food now. I'm making most of his baby food the old fashioned way, which makes me feel a tiny bit proud. Yet another thing that China has taught me to do.

If you would like to pray for Noah, please lift up his nightly sleeping habits. I've literally tried EVERYTHING, and NOTHING is breaking the cycle. I'm praying too; I don't believe anything will change the course except for divine intervention. Also, pray for energy and patience on my part.
You can also lift up Noah's upcoming surgery. We don't know when it will be or who will be the surgeon, at this point. So we are asking the Lord for guidance and wisdom as we seek out His plan for Noah's hand. In any case, we believe the surgery will be sometime this year.

Thank you friends.
Noah sends you a slobbery kiss!

five, six, seven

The problem with being behind on these types of posts, is that I have trouble remembering what was happening two months ago. I guess it defeats the purpose of writing these posts, since I will be unable to write much about Noah's development. 

Oh look, here's some text I wrote about Noah when he was five months old! Phew.

He started eating solid food towards the end of his fifth month, but like Willow, had some sort of allergic reaction to it. Lots of throwing up in a short amount of time, followed by complete exhaustion. It's very strange that both of my kids have reacted to rice cereal this way. The first several times he ate rice cereal he was completely fine, just like Willow. So weird. 

He does like to eat food, however. I'm just horrible about making sure he gets to eat some solid food everyday. I really need to get better about that. 

Noah started scooting hard-core around 6 months. It looks like he's swimming the butterfly stroke. He shows impressive strength with his version of crawling. Although, last night, he was crawling for real in pursuit of the vacuum cleaner. I guess machines are an adequate enticement for him. 

In February, Noah had his horrible hospital experience.
He also went in for his 6 month wellness check up.
He's 23 pounds, and in the 98 percentile for weight.
He's 26 inches long, and 50 percentile for height.

So: still short and fat.

He didn't cry for his vaccination, yet again. He's so tough! He had a little whimpering and a few tears when the nurse took the needle out of his leg, but that was all.

Happy Valentine's Day! 

Then Noah reached the grand number of 7 months! 

Yesterday, I was just in shock that my newborn baby boy was already seven months old. 

It feels like he was just born yesterday. 

I was thinking that he will be celebrating his first birthday soon. 

I wonder what it's like to be Noah? He is almost always happy, and he never seems to be discontent. 

"Thickness" is the nickname that Adam has given to Noah. 

The play group that my kids are a part of every Friday is growing! Yesterday, everyone was able to come, so there were four babies and four toddlers playing around (not present were three school-aged older siblings, and three babies in utero).

 This picture is significant because it is the first time all four babies have been in the same room together outside of the womb. There is a picture of all the moms together when we were still pregnant. There is a fifth baby as well, but he has moved to America with his family. 

One of the biggest updates about Noah so far in 2014 is that we finally received that 'okay' from our insurance company for Noah's DNA to be tested. A few weeks later, we received the gist of his results. On February 15, I opened an email from our genetic counselor that said Noah's micro array results returned as 'normal'. No syndromes were identified, and we'll be scheduling a follow-up appointment to go over the official results the next time we're in America! Praise the Lord that all the waiting is over and we can move forward with a better understanding of Noah's overall health. 

If you could hold Noah today, you would find him to be very smiley, chunky, and lovable.

Poop Happens

I've titled many posts about Noah's physical health in a similar theme (His Ears, His Blood, His Hands, etc.). I wasn't really sure what I should title this post...His Poop? Or another less proper word for fecal matter? I mean, Noah's not even a year old, but boy do we have poop stories! This one, tops them all. This is the story of how we set out to get ultra sounds on Noah's heart and kidneys, and instead got covered in poop.

An excerpt of something I wrote the day it happened 3 weeks ago.

Any day that starts of at 6:00 am, is not my cup of tea. Today, I had to rise at 5:30, since that's what time Noah woke up for his 'middle of the night' snack. Yes, 5:30 is the middle of the night for me.There are things that equivocate a 'bad day'. Like, waking up early, walking out to the main road with with a 22 pound baby in the frigid temps of Northern China. It's not a good day when you don't have time to drink coffee beforehand, you get stuck in rush hour traffic, and you can't find the nurse on the side of the road (the nurse wanted me to pick her up on the curb of a busy street--but it's like trying to find a needle in a haystack!), not to mention you and the taxi driver are having a hard time communicating. But really, none of those things bothered me because I'm used to all that stuff. 

Let me tell you the story of my horrible, no good, very bad day. 

The morning was crazy. Things that would normally stress me out were hardly bothering me. I don't know if that's because God was protecting me, or because I knew I couldn't afford to be stressed with little inconveniences. Noah and I were headed for his second trip to the Children's Hospital where his heart and kidneys would be checked. I hopeful and optimistic about the results, but I also wanted to be realistic with potential results.

The hole in his heart might still be there.
His kidneys might have tumors.
The hole in his heart might be healed.
His kidneys might be totally fine.

I kept thinking about these options as objectively as possible. Knowing that God would guide us whatever the results would be was actually the only thing that comforted me. I really was wishing that Adam had taken off of work to come with me. I hate being by myself in situations like this.

So picture this. I'm physically weary, stressed by my environment (but pretending that I'm okay), and emotionally confused. I'm not just saying that God was helping me through this morning; I really would have been a wreck without His constant support.

Like I've mentioned before in hospital posts---the medical system is so different in China.
In America, our primary doctor would schedule an appointment with the appropriate hospital. We'd be ushered into a well-decorated, sterile, efficiently staffed hospital. We would check in, wait a reasonable amount of time before being taken into a private room by a knowledgable nurse. It would be clean. It would be professional. It would be mostly quiet, except for maybe some chattering people or a TV playing Soap Operas in the corner. There would be kid-friendly art work and ferns scattered about. We'd sign some papers, flash our insurance cards. The actual tests would be explained to us, performed without a hitch, and finished with a promise that a doctor would phone us with the results sometime that week.

In China, I need a nurse to accompany me, because my Mandarin is not fluent enough. She will not only translate dialogue for me, but also navigate the system for us. I counted 9 different counters, in many different rooms and halls that she had to check-in at. I'm not sure what was happening at each counter. Sometimes she was registering, sometimes she was signing-in, sometimes she was paying, or getting a little medical spread sheet that would record everything Noah had done to him while at the hospital (like a running receipt, I guess). You have to pay for everything BEFORE the procedure is performed. You stand in lines. You don't make appointments. You can cut in line if you feel your case is more important than those that standing in front of you. You're surrounded by families holding their terminally ill children and babies. You don't understand how the building is designed or where to go, or how to read the signs. Even your helpful nurse, who has great English, stumbles across some translations. At the second counter she went to, she told me that the doctor behind that desk wanted Noah to be 'put to sleep'. The nurse looked just as confused as I did. She said, "He didn't have to do that last time, right?" No. They didn't 'put him to sleep'. I didn't even want to know what that statement meant--but my nurse said that we could try to get Noah's tests without worrying about that. He did get an ultrasound in the past without the hospital putting him to sleep.

Finally got into the color sonogram room (where we had pushed and shoved our way forward to keep our place in line) where privacy is a laughing matter. Anyone can walk into the room at any time. There's no clean tissue paper on the exam table. It's just a wooden cot.

The technician took one look at Noah and demanded that he be he be given an injection so that "he will not move". Maybe this is a normal practice in America  too, but I was feeling a little uncertain at this point. I couldn't call Adam to ask him what he thought.

Okay..."be put to sleep" + "an injection so that he will not move". I was starting to think that the word the nurse was searching for was 'sedative'.

The technician gave an extremely lackluster attempt at viewing Noah's heart and kidneys and then waved her hands saying that it was impossible to see anything--even though he was hardly moving. All I had to go on was when he was there at 3 months, and the guy who looked at Noah's kidneys did so without a sedative.

My main thought was that I wanted Noah's heart and kidneys to be checked; the technician wasn't willing to do it without Noah being sedated; so I should let them sedate Noah. What if something WAS wrong with Noah and I hadn't allowed them to give him a simple sedative for whatever reason? I would feel so guilty.

To get a sedative, we had to go through 5 more counters. At one point, the nurse wanted to take Noah away from me and bring him to another part of the building without me. I was shocked, and absolutely unwilling to let that happen--so I grabbed Noah back and followed her. To a cluttered, dirty, crowded rooom where they 'weighed' Noah. First they weighed me holding him, then I returned to the scale without Noah. So precise, right?

After the weigh in, someone at a desk gave us a slip of paper that announce how much of a sedative Noah needed. We walked to another counter--which was basically in the hallway. It was a very wide hallway, and there were chairs set up like in an airplane terminal. Behind the counter were four nurses, each with a medical cart, and a computer. Above each nurse, a medal rod was hanging from the ceiling, for IV bags. On the wooden counter that they were sitting behind, were small plastic cushions for babies/children to sit on. This is where Noah was to get his sedative. When we saw an opening, we walked up to the counter, where I was told to sign a medical release. I couldn't read the characters. The nurse told me of the side effects that might occur from the sedative. I signed in English.

Side effects included child being unable to breathe well. What does that mean?!!!
I asked how long it would make him sleep--the hospital worker said "Maybe 20 minutes. Maybe several hours. We don't know".

Wow--we're just brimming with reassurances!

The nurse brought out a large syringe with a long plastic tube attached to it. It was filled with a clear liquid. She had me take Noah's diaper off. We're in a hallway, in a relatively cold hospital with people all around. Babies and children are screaming because their sick and in pain. Some are getting blood drawn out of their feet, a meter to my right. Someone else is getting an IV hooked up to her head. Every kid seems to have their mom, their dad, their grandparents, a nurse, a nanny....And there's me, with the international clinic nurse.

So I take Noah's diaper off, and watch as the hospital worker sticks the tube up my son's 'acne' (as the international nurse kept mistakingly calling it). The hospital worker then injects Noah with the sedative, and squeezes his butt cheeks together tightly. She tells me to squeeze his but together as tightly as I can for 20 minutes. Then she tells me to pick him, and sit over there, in the waiting section.

What the heck? How am I supposed to hold a squirming, heavy, unhappy baby--while carrying him naked, while squeezing his butt cheeks with two hands? The international clinic nurse helped me as much as possible, and we shuffled over to the nearest seat--with my diaper bag and her big purse--and Noah's stroller.

This is a bad idea.

I had no idea how they were going to sedate Noah, but I thought it would be more like a tranquilizer dart or something involving a needle. Not a tube up his but. Not a liquid that I had to hold within his colon by squeezing his butt. Not something that had to be held inside of him for twenty minutes before it would start to work.

Do you know Noah? He poops a lot. Every day, several times, huge explosions.

This is a very bad idea.

I was not amused in the slightest. If anything, I had forgotten how to even panic or worry--because I already knew that this story was going to end in a lot of poop.

How badly to I want this ultra sound? I wanted it...so I waited. I sat there for about two minutes, with a very unhappy Noah--who wanted to move, and for us to stop bruising his dimpled butt cheeks.

Then, the front of my shirt was soaking wet with pee, and I felt that my hands were full of something very smooth and warm. I looked at the nurse and said quite calmly, "He's pooping on me, can you grab a diaper?" With an audience of Chinese people looking on, we tried to clean up the mess. It was everywhere on me, on Noah, on the nurse....we used nearly all the wipes.

She had some antibacterial soap, and we tried to clean up as best as possible. But my jeans were now yellow, and my shirt was beyond help.

After we cleaned up, I looked up at the hospital worker, who was sitting behind her stupid wooden counter very dispassionately. "You have to do it again." she said so vindictively, as if it's my fault that injecting a baby through his anus makes them poop.

At Chinese hospitals, they provide nothing as far as tissues, towels, bandaids, etc. As all the kids are screaming and crying around us, and I'm watching kids that have very serious illnesses walking away with multiple IV's that their parents hold on metal rods as they walk away...I was wondering if we should try again. I had one wipe left  and one diaper. No one told me to prepare for this eventuality.

The poor international clinic nurse who had been translating for me, and helping me to navigate the system is a single lady. And she had my son's poop on her. I slipped my poop encrusted wedding rings into my coat pocket.

Okay, let's do it again.

Which meant going to all the counters again. Paying again. Getting weighed again. Getting yet another prescription that was the exact same as before. Going back to the assembly-line-esque-injection counter. Having the same nurse tell me to take Noah's diaper off. Watching Noah's little face contort as she shoved the tube up his butt, for a second time.

Being smart enough to squeeze his butt cheeks with a diaper barrier this time (even though the hospital worker protested and said I shouldn't do that--I am not THAT stupid).

I could see that the line to get an ultrasound was now very long, stretch thing far down the hall. No wonder we had made such an effort to get there first thing in the morning.

This time, Noah made it about 15 minutes. And then he pooped all over me for a second time. I was kind of relieved, actually, because my arms were shaking with the strain of holding him still while squeezing his butt.

But I still wanted to cry. No one likes to be covered in poop, least of all me. I remember thinking with wonder, as I looked up at all the Chinese faces watching me, "it's amazing that I'm not sobbing right now".

At this point, we'd been at the hospital for 4 hours. Standing in multiple lines. Being covered in poop twice. Having the humiliation of watching your son poop on someone who is trying to help you (i.e. the nurse). Paying for tests that you can't receive because of the uncooperative technician, and not being able to call Adam just made it worse. I didn't know how Willow was behaving for her babysitter, and that was another stress on my day. I didn't know how long it would take to get a taxi (it actually did take a long time). Noah hadn't been able to eat all morning. He missed both of his naps. I rescheduled his follow up at the international clinic for another day and decided it was time to quit.

Later, when I finally got home, I put both kids in their beds for naps. I just sat on the couch and didn't move for a few hours. Wow, was I tired! Talk about an exhausting cultural experience, not to mention parenting adventure. Adam said that I shouldn't have even let them try to sedate Noah. Later, Noah's pediatrician said that we could wait until we're back in America next to get his echo-cardiogram.

I had a friend who understands the system a little better explain why the technician wasn't willing to check Noah's heart and kidneys without him being sedated. She probably makes a very small amount of money a month (maybe less than $500 a month) and for her to go through the extra trouble with an un-sedated baby was not worth it to her. If I had handed her 100 kuai under the table, maybe she would have done it, because then it would have been worth it. I'm not sure if Noah will have to go through the same rigors in America or not--but at least I'll understand the system, the language, and the culture.

One thing that shocked me the most while I was at the hospital was how little compassion I saw around me. Whether it was the worker/nurses at the assembly line counter who were so emotionally distant, it was disturbing. They would watch the babies and kids were in legitimate pain or great fear and offer no comfort or reassurance. Or the people shoving you out of place while you're standing in line. Or the uncooperative technicians or arrogant doctors.

Now, I really appreciate having compassionate medical professionals.

This is the best children's hospital in a city of several million people--and I am so thankful I have other options. I'm thankful Noah doesn't have to get his hand surgery there. And I admire all the families that travel from many cities and towns away to get the best care possible at that hospital. Life is different here, where a bribe can get you the test you need, and a shove can cut you to the front of the line.

On a spiritual level, I was reminded that when we knowingly walk into a difficult situation, we should prepare ourselves properly. Though I had forgotten to pack enough antibacterial-related items and diapers, I was still supported by the strength of God to get through those disgusting, humiliating, frustrating, and culturally confusing moments. There were many moments when I knew I couldn't survive that particular situation without Him, and I chose to obey Him with my words and actions. And there were many moments more when I failed to live in a way that would please Him. Fortunately, for reasons I cannot fully understand, His grace is sufficient for all those moments. If I had to choose between remembering to pack enough diapers or remembering to focus on God and His plan, I will strive to chose the Lord.

After all, diapers are made to cover behinds. 

But God covers His children with saving grace.

No time, no internet, no motivation

Well, it's literally been two months since I've updated last. As always, there are lots of great reasons why I haven't been able to keep up...mostly, though I can blame the internet. It seems that China doesn't like my blog and has been VERY effective with keeping me off of it. I am so glad that I am able to get on right now, for however brief a time. I can still access many sites (like facebook, youtube, and even others' blogs), but just not my own. Grrrr...

So what happened?

January:
-Willow turned 2.5 years old. I had intentions of throwing her a half-birthday-party. A plan that only existed in my head, and got stuck in brain matter.
-Noah reached the 5 month marker
-Celebrated another Chinese New Year. It was Noah's first, and Willow's third! Not as many fireworks this year, but enough to keep Willow equal parts fascinated and terrified. We bought a large box ourselves, and lit it off--much to Willow's horror. We have a video of us all freezing outside for the sake of gunpowder--and Willow is sobbing. Noah is nonchalant as usual. If our internet was faster, I'd upload it, because it's might entertain you.
-Adam enjoyed (I think...) a two week break from teaching
-Selfishly, I enjoyed not hosting anything during that two week break. I had a break from just about all my commitments, which was just what my introverted-self needed.
-We didn't eat a whole lot of meat during Chun Jie, since restaurants were closed, and the market wasn't selling any. How is Adam still alive?!

February
-Noah passed the 6 month mark.
-We continued to endure the brutally cold weather, with a few teasers of an approaching spring mixed in there.
-We received Noah's DNA microarray test results--which were normal! I hope to write more about this in the future.
-The attempt to get Noah's heart and kidneys checked via ultrasound failed. I also will write about this in the future. It was, in a word, traumatic. And in retrospect, it's hilarious.
-Willow became obsessed with Frozen, even more. She has most of the lyrics memorized, and works on the choreography. She would like nothing more than to have a single, thick braid draped over one shoulder.
-Um...I don't remember what we did in Februrary.

Now it's March! Tomorrow, Noah will be 7 months, and if China will let me on my blog--I really will try to update about Noah's development, personality, and health....for like the past three months.

In the mean time, here are some pictures for you.

We spent the big night of Chun Jie at a nice hotel--where we had a suite (for less than $100) that was larger and nicer than our apartment. Super nice! We ate dinner at Pizza Hut, and stopped at Starbucks the next morning. Pretty much the only places that were open, in the usually very busy Tai Yuan shopping/touristy area.

Comfort & Joy

Christmas traditions are seeming a little more important, now that Willow is an active participant. What do I want her to know about Christmas and how will we start filling her memory bank this year? Noah isn't far behind in this train of thought either.

Being in China, away from family can be hard during the holidays. But we still enjoy our own little traditions (such as opening gifts on Christmas Eve and eating tacos). We are still tempted to over-program our time. Like last year, it got a little out of control, and we ended up going to 12 Christmas parties. 

Christmas Eve we spent our time with just the four of us together. We watched a Veggie Tales Christmas movie with Willow, ate popcorn, drank hot chocolate and wore new pajamas. We ate mexican food for dinner and opened presents soon after. Opening presents was more like Willow opening everything. Actually, she had the most presents anyway, so it was no big deal to let her open the few others that were not intended for Willow.

Away from the major commercialism of Christmas (which is felt not as significantly here, though definitely still around), I'm tempted to start a new tradition of only buying each child one gift each. As it was, we bought Willow 4 gifts (and Noah none…poor dude…though he doesn't care). I felt a little guilty for even that much! I found a cute little tea set for Willow, some play dough toys we had been saving to give to her since the summer when we were in America, puzzles, and legos.

But after all the presents were opened, she had quite a bit more! That's probably because we received several boxes from our loving family members in America who sent many thoughtful gifts. And Willow definitely won the award for quantity of gifts! The pile of toys, clothes, books, art supplies, and candy was pretty impressive afterwards. Since our apartment is so small, we had to do a toy purge in order to find places for all the new additions.

I can at least rest in the fact that everything she received is very developmental and educational by nature. She will be practicing skills with all her imaginative and creative toys for months to come and it has been keeping her very entertained of the last week. She loves her new dress up clothes, backpack, and play-dough. She's been painting, drawing with magic markers, building lego towers, and giving tea parties. Not to mention all the lip gloss and chap stick she received….that has been a huge hit around here.

I think in a few years, when the kids are able to understand the principle behind the matter a little more, we might limit gifts to 1 per child from us. At least for this year, there were no major melt downs since Willow was completely entranced by the wonder of it all. The only time she grew upset was when it was time to go to bed and she couldn't play with her new toys any longer.

Willow helped me to make sugar cookies for our Tuesday group to decorate before Christmas. She was really into the whole process and managed to eat quite a lot of cookie dough (as in, I kept missing unbaked cookies off of the baking pans every time I turned my back).

We even made a W cookie--since Willow is currently obsessed with the letter W.

 

Christmas morning was spent with friends. Eating a delicious pot luck breakfast together and then exchanging stocking stuffers. Willow was once again excited about all the little treats she received.
Noah thought the event to be rather lackluster and opted for a nap instead.

When we were decorating the house for Christmas, we realized that we could not find our Christmas lights. I thought that they must have burned out last year and so we were unable to decorate our tree after we set it up. Several days later, I was able to get to a market and ended up on a very 'mafan' shopping trip in which I had all sorts of inconvenient experiences (the definition of mafan, basically) transpire. At the end of which, I finally was able to purchase new twinkle lights and return home. Only to discover, almost as soon as I entered the house (without even looking for them) our bag of old twinkle lights. Oh the horrors!

Since we couldn't decorate our tree for a few days, Willow got to work hanging ornaments in other locations. I kid you not, she did this on her own volition and I am pretty proud of her creativity.

I was so happy to have our lights and ornaments up! One thing I do appreciate about all the tacky Christmas decor that is sold in China is that all ornaments are VERY cheap looking. They're all plastic or styrofoam which means that they are virtually indestructible--or at least not capable of harming a destructive 2-year-old.

We also spent Christmas afternoon sky ping family in America, and Christmas evening with more friends over a delicious pot luck dinner. As you can see, Willow loves owls. 

She also loves her stuffed cat/puppet named Poppy (named after a friend's cat that Willow likes). Willow sleeps with Poppy at nap time and throughout the night. My hand is often sweating because Willow insists I wear Poppy for hours on end so that she can pretend that Poppy is real. She also likes to pretend that she is pregnant with Poppy. So weird.

This particular day, Willow tied one of Adam's neckties around her waist as well and asked for her picture to be taken. She insisted on standing side ways, because that's what one does when taking maternity shots, apparently.
Later, she added some cardboard tubes in her shirt so that Poppy would have some toys to play with. The mind of a toddler is fascinating.

Willow also drinks coffee. She has for awhile, but not by an encouragement from me. Adam actually hates that I allow this. But, in all seriousness, if I leave a cup of coffee unattended it will be bone dry by the time I turn around. She slurps up every last drop of it. So I've started giving her either chocolate milk as a substitute (which does not fool her), or watered down coffee. If she's going to insist on a morning cup of joe, I would prefer it to be watered down and not the last few ounces of what is in my own mug.

Willow's hair is also growing longer! Still very short on the sides. Still baby-fine and very wispy. Still curly and wavy. But at least we can get some variety of styles now. These are not all legitimate hair styles. Most of these are Willow goofing around and telling me she looks like a beautiful princess named Rapunzel. I guess if you remember being virtually bald for most of your life, a little hair on your head is an exciting prospect. The poor girl has already experienced a receding hair line as she lost her newborn hair, baldness, a mohawk, and now is living through various stages of mullet-ness.

It's a party in the back, everyone.

So, this has been a very random Christmas/Willow update. I feel like I should write something about Adam or Noah now.

I am so thankful that God sent His Son, in bodily form--as a helpless baby--to grow and mature in wisdom and grace, that he would minister to the lost and save us all from the consequences of our sin. I cannot conceive of such a love, as God's sacrifice for us, that while we were still sinners, He gave us His only Son to die on the cross, so that we could be with Him forever. I cannot wait to fully understand the mystery that He has revealed to the nations. To have faith in Jesus is to know saving grace, to be assured of hope, to be redeemed for eternity.

Merry Christmas, friends!