Trailing

New waiters and waitresses spend their first few nights at a restaurant "trailing" a more experienced one; following along to learn what to expect and how to deal with it.

I spent Friday trailing Clare, a friend with a 9 month old and a 2 year old to get a sense of what life is like with a two year old. I learned the following:

1) Two year olds are really fast!

2) Plan any outings with the location of subway elevators in mind. Some have them, some don't and if they don't, you have to schlep both child and stroller up and down many stairs to get to where you want to go.

3) Buy really light stroller with shoulder strap just in case you need to go somewhere on the subway and there are no elevators.

4) Visit the drum museum - they are allowed to touch things and be as loud as they want!!!

5) They love rice balls!!! - these are sticky rice wrapped in seaweed and make a great (if slightly messy) snack!! All the kids here eat them.

6) Wear sensible shoes!!!

7) Buy a knapsack so your bag doesn't slide off your shoulder and hit said two year old in the head.

8) Learn the words to "Old McDonald" - 2 year olds love saying the animal noises and it diverts their attention if they are starting to get bored (or when they get hit in the head with bag - or even worse - fall down and have big grownup fall on top of them because they were holding big grownup's hand and big grownup got off balance when they fell down because big grownup had many bags in her hand!!).

9) Japanese people love babies!!!!

10) Watching a two year old explore the world is priceless!!

The Day After

The entire day yesterday was spent on adrenaline. Having not slept more than a minute or two before "the phonecall" and not a wink after, I survived on excitement, caffeine and sugar as I answered phonecalls and emails and stared at my daughter's (I can finally say that!!!!)face.

I broke away long enough to meet Debra for more coffee and sugar, and a trip to a second hand baby store, where I picked up some of the cutest things for 100 yen (that's less than one dollar!!)

Now, a word about the mystery people leaving comments on my blog. For those who don't know, these are the amazing fellow adoptive parents who I have spent the past many months getting to know online, in cyberspace. Without ever having met, we have supported and encouraged each other through what was THE LONGEST WAIT EVER!!!!!!! Since posting about our referral, I have been contacted by families who have also adopted children from Ariana's orphanage and who are, at this very minute, looking through their photos to see if they have any of her. If so, they have promised to send them. These people are amazing and it makes me proud to be one of them now.

Ariana

She looks just like the girl in my dreams. I am a mother. The longer I look into her eyes, the more I feel it. Older than expected, I don’t care. She is mine. I want to sooth the sad look in her face. I want to make her smile.

I have not slept, being busy making phone calls and answering emails. I keep staring at her face, looking for clues. Who are you little one?

Our Daughter

From May 27, 2005 ....."I had my first baby dream last night. She was a tiny little thing with a full head of shiny black hair. Sometimes she was crawling and at other times she was walking and sometimes running."

From June 19th, 2005..... "Had another dream last night. She was small - maybe 6 months old with a head full of dark, shiny hair".

Today, September 25 (26th if you count being in Japan), 2006, I present Ariana Rose DiLaura, born September 12, 2004 and currently residing in Jaingxi, China.



many tears.........................many happy tears..........

Deep Breath....

It's official - our referral is on the way. By this time tomorrow, you will be able to "call me mama" for real. It is about 3:30pm on Monday here in Tokyo and I won't hear anything until late tonight. Yes, I am going crazy and will continue to do so until the phone rings.

In order to attempt to take my mind off the baby (really and truly impossible) the past few days, I booked myself into many activities just to keep busy (it didn't work). Unfortunately, today I made no plans. So, rather than sit here and hyperventilate, I will tell you about some of the things I've been doing to pass the time.

Thursday - Kita Kamakura

Home of the Kamakura Old Pottery Museum.
Here is the entrance to the museum, housed in a beautiful old farm house that was taken apart out in the countryside somewhere and moved here years ago.



The sign above the door says something to the effect of "you will not get old if you walk through these doors". This led to a discussion about how the Japanese have been interested in anti-aging for thousands of years and how rich people would go though extraordinary means to stay young. Sounds familiar doesn't it??

Here we got a comprehensive history lesson on Japanese pottery, which was originally used for religious purposes. The talk was given by the most engaging man - his sense of humor was evident even through the translation.
We all wanted to take him home.

After a quick lunch, we went to the home and studio of potter Hashimoto Seibin.
He showed us how he works and explained the different techniques he uses. He then invited us into his home for tea. It was so relaxing I forgot about the time and had to rush back to the city to meet Husband-san for a trip out to Jed's school, where we got to meet his teachers and see our own budding artist's work.



Friday - Started a new Japanese class where I learned many useful phrases, how women are thought of as less than most everyone else and how that is reflected in the language and how to avoid buying the really salty raw salmon here. Actually, there was an entire page on the various types of salmon - there are four: no salt, slightly salt, moderately salt and very salt. After buying the very salted by mistake(who knew??) which resulted in Jed probably never even looking at salmon again since he was not really fond of it in the first place, this lesson was particularly valuable.

Then headed out to Tachikawa, home to one of the most diverse group of artists. They all work out of the former warehouses of the US Army. We were taught all about Japanese print making by Oshio Sae, a young artist who combines two different printing techniques in her latest work. She showed us how she does it.


We then went to visit some of the other artists and then stopped at the workshop of Ichiro Yamakami, a young furniture maker. His friend, Hino Iketani makes the most delicious desserts and served us outside on the tables and benches made by Ichiro.
These artists were so generous with their time.

Saturday - Akasaka

For a Japanese cooking class. Got completely lost because my mind was somewhere else (mmm, I wonder where??), I asked a policeman and he pointed - ok, so I followed his finger and seemed more lost, so I hailed a cab and pointed to my Tokyo City Atlas and he got me to where I was going, only 20 minutes late. We made udon noodles from scratch, swordfish in Teriaki sauce and watched the chef make spinach in sesame sauce.
We then sat around eating everything we made.

Latr, the three of us went out for pizza at "La Boheme", a local restaurant where the waiters yell out in unison for no apparant reason. The caesar salad was great (finally!!!) and so was the pizza.

Sunday - Harajuku

We met Debra at "Good Honest Grub" a restaurant owned by a Canadian, where Debra's husband Mark does magic on Sundays. He did a couple of tricks that amazed everyone - one of which he changed a 1000 yen bill into a 5000 yen bill. Everyone decided we really wanted to learn that one!!

This is Maya signaling the waiter for more french toast!!!

I'm done now. It is ten minutes to five. Only six hours to go!!!!

Rumor Has It...

that the referrals are on their way.

Rumor has it that they are in the U.S. now.

Rumor has it that they will be delivered first thing Monday morning .

Rumor has it that the calls will start shortly after that.

Rumor has it that it that I will be a typhoon of emotion and tears. Oh wait, that's not just a rumor..

stay tuned.................

Sleepless Nights

My stomach is doing flips as I read on the boards that people are expecting the referrals any day now. My mind is racing – it is after midnight and I am wide awake. It’s as if I want to be awake when the phone call comes and am going to stay awake until then. Could it come so soon? When did it become the end of September?
It is really torture, sitting and waiting. I can’t stand it – I really can't. I can practically hear my heart beating in my chest. I’m ready to jump out of my skin.
There was just a little earthquake – at least I think it was. I can’t even tell anymore. Sometimes they are so small. I’m sitting on the club chair in the living room watching the lights on the tops of the buildings blink on and off signaling to the planes that they are there.
Everyone else is sleeping soundly. The computer is resting on my legs, and it is hot against my skin. Blink…Blink…Blink go the lights. Still, I wait.
It seems Tokyo is churning with me as it is a morning with lots of little tremors – or is that me??

It's A Small, Small, Small, Small World

A woman approached me at a luncheon today (yes, I am now a “lady who lunches”) and said “I saw your phone number on one of the sign up sheets and we have almost the exact same number”. We compared and sure enough, other than the last digit (mine is 0, hers is 2)it was the same.

“Where do you live?” she asked. I told her and she said “So do I. Where exactly do you live?” I mentioned the street and she shook her head. I then mentioned the building and her eyes lit up. Sure enough, she lives two floors below me.

Now, the building we live in is exactly nine floors, with one apartment on each. I mentioned to Husband-san I thought it strange that other than one family, I had not seen anyone else who lives here. Apparently our schedules are completely different – well, not that I have one. I did see one couple the day before we moved in, but only for a second as they were leaving and we were entering the building.

My point is, had this woman not seen my phone number, not had the thought to approach me, we would have gone on as we had been, not knowing each other. Now, we do and hopefully a chance meeting will turn into a lasting friendship.

"The Name"

In trying to make plane reservations for the holidays, one thing becomes evident - you cannot book a seat without a name. A last name is not good enough, there must be a first as well. And it must match exactly the name on the passport. Here is the dilemma - we don't have a name yet, because we don't have a baby yet. We don't have a passport for said nameless baby for the same reason. Now while we don't actually need the passport yet, we do need the name.

Months ago, before we had even sent off the paperwork, we discussed names. We came up with a few we liked and one we really liked and thought, ok, if when we see the picture, if "the name" fits, "the name" shall be hers. Fine. Ok. On to the next thought. Fast forward months and months and months. And months.

And months.

I frantically email husband-san informing him of this latest obstacle and asks if he still likes "the name". "Yes", he said. Ok then. And then, the spelling of "the name"? There are several variations. Which one to choose? More emails fly by and we choose the one not like the famous person of the same name (probably not who you are thinking of). But. What if she doesn't look like a "the name"? "What if by some slight chance she turns out to be a "he" - rare, but it has happened. Booking these flights means it will be permanent - she will be permanent - she will be real. And if she turns out to be "he", "he" will be in big trouble. Booking these flights means "the name" will be printed on a couple of e-tickets floating around in cyberspace. A name that is not yet attached to a face, but certainly attached to the family. Am I ready for this? It's too soon..........................................................
............................right????

Respect for Elders Day

Yes, an actual holiday in which you are supposed to show respect to your elders. Most honorable and respected husband-san had off today because of this most wonderful holiday. And how did we spend it you ask? After sleeping in, almost causing Jed to miss the bus (his alarm "malfunctioned" and we are his backup), we went out and about in Tokyo.

First we rode in the first car of the subway train, so he got to watch the conductor as he drove the train.

We went sofa shopping and then to Tokyo Hands, my new absolute favorite store ever - even husband-san likes it. They have tools. Lots of them. And he got to play with them for as long as he wanted to.

We ended up at a little cafe for some much needed refreshment and then took a slow stroll home, passing many dogs out for a stroll, several wedding receptions (perhaps getting married on this day is good luck) and a neighborhood ceremony of some kind. It looked festive and they were beating a drum. They do that here. Alot.

Trash

Japanese people are obsessed with it. It must be divided properly. It must be disposed of properly. We even had a visit from the caretaker of the building to remind us to put the trash in the proper container properly. Things must be emptied out, cleaned out, flattened out, straightened out until it barely resembles garbage at all. It is a job, this garbage. No longer just a chore. It requires training - perhaps a course is in order.
Here is one of the illustrations I plastered to the top of one of the cans to remind everyone what goes where. Feel free to click on the picture so you can get an idea of what we are in for. This is for Combustibles. There are equally detailed intsructions for Recyclibles, Non-Conbustibles and PET bottles (extra special plastic bottles that get their own section). Notice the detail about diapers - the "muck" must be removed from them (is this not also combustible? - perhaps the garbage men don't think so) before being placed in the combustible bin.

To make matters worse, if there are things that are too big for the garbage (the pieces of crib for example that will have to be discarded if we can't get the missing pieces replaced), we will have to buy a ticket at the convenience store and attach it to the pieces before we put it out to be taken. Yes, we will have to pay to have it removed.

It is not just at home. We went to McDonald's yesterday. It was Jed's reward for allowing himself to be dragged along as we went sofa shopping and even there, we had to take the plastic covers off the soda cups and put them in the combustible trash, while the other paper things went in combustible trash.

I am a little concerned about what to do with Tess's contribution to the sidewalks of Tokyo. I usually pick this up with a plastic bag. According to Tokyo's garbage laws, I will have to separate the bag from the "you know what". Besides the fact there are no garbage cans on the streets of Tokyo. Exactly what do you do when you are not within walking distance from your house? I've been trying to watch other dog owners, but I have yet to see a dog relieve him/herself in any way on the street. I see people with little bags, but I have never seen anyone use them. Does everyone use wee wee pads and dispose of the "muck" in their own home?

Stay tuned...............

The Time, It is Approaching

When I think about it, my stomach tightens – am I ready? After all of this time waiting, I still wonder. As I relish my last free days, I wait with anticipation and butterflies. Walking through the train station yesterday I wondered if I will be able to make it up and down all of the stairs and escalators with my baby and a stroller? Will I end up sprawled on the floor, in a pile of humiliation and shame, with my child screaming “get this woman away from me!!”

In about two more weeks my life will change in ways I cannot yet imagine. In about 14 days from now, I may have a name. A place. A little face to stare at wondering “who are you little one?” In about two weeks, I may be a mom.

I’m scared. This child has been “in theory” for so long, I’ve almost forgotten that a real live breathing child will be joining our family soon. Will I be ready? I was at my friend Lori’s house yesterday and I asked if her daughter Angelina was eating “people food” yet. She said not really, and until she got some more teeth, it would be hard. But then, other than peanut butter and honey, she will eat whatever they eat. It got me thinking, what DO they eat?? What can’t they eat? I don’t know nothin’ bout feeding babies!!

That "Feeling"

Five years ago today, the unimaginable happened in New York. Since then, New Yorkers have had to get used to things like random searches, building evacuations, the metal detectors that greet you at almost every public place and police in full body armor and machine guns standing alertly on street corners. New Yorkers now observe people – they notice the unusual; it’s their new job. Every loud truck backfire sends up a momentary panic and any lengthy siren is reason for alarm. There is a low grade anxiety that every New Yorker feels on a daily basis – we are tough, we can handle it. We absorb it like we do every other inconvenience and just chalk it up to “living in the city”.

After a few weeks here, I heard a siren and thought “how strange”. It dawned on me I hadn’t heard that sound since I arrived. And then it came; the realization that the very same low grade anxiety I had lived with for so long was gone. We hardly hear sirens here in Tokyo – instead we hear a song every day at five o’clock signaling to children all over Tokyo that it is time to go home. I have not had to go through one metal detector or bag search at any city office or museum I have been to since arriving. Instead, I am welcomed politely. The few policeman I see on the streets don’t carry machine guns – on the contrary, not even are they not armed with big guns, they are dressed in uniforms barely noticeable.

Sadly, the only metal detector and armed guard I did encounter were at the US Embassy. Prior to going through the detector, I had to empty my bag of any food, drink, phone, i-pod. etc. – all of these items were checked to be claimed later. Then, both my bag and I went through the metal devise. It is sad that here in my host country, the only place that I may not be safe was my own country’s embassy.

We will be returning to the states for the holidays and while I can’t wait to see family and friends, I dread having to feel that anxious "feeling". Even for a few days.

Because life is so much better without it.

Me and the PTA

I went to my first (and maybe last) PTA meeting today. Yes. I know. For most of the people who know me, this will come as a complete shock. You see, I’m just not a “big group” kind of person. I tend to misbehave just a little bit, doing slightly inappropriate things that just reinforces the fact I am better suited for activities where “appropriate behavior” is not required.


Anyway, I got a little lost and ended up in back of the building at the employee entrance to the club the meeting was being held in. I was already late, so I walked in, thinking I could explain and they would let me in. As expected, security guard stopped me. Being the polite Japanese man he was, he listened as I explained I was late, new to Tokyo (just how long am I going to be able to get away with that?) and really had to get to the meeting. He said he understood and walked back to his desk (I'm thinking he is going to sign me in), but no, he brings back a map for me to get to the front of the building. Now I am late, it is hot outside and I am having a hot flash, making the sweat on my neck drip down my shirt. But Japanese people have rules and you can’t expect them to break them because that would certainly upset the harmony that is created by having rules.

So of course, I have to go outside (after politely thanking the man who just as easily COULD HAVE LET ME IN THE EMPLOYEE ENTRANCE JUST THIS ONCE), up a really steep hill and around the corner, just to arrive in the building a sweaty, stinking mess. I wonder if that's why no one would talk to me. That’s not really true. Besides, I went to the bathroom before the meeting and tried to wash up and make myself look “parent-like”.

Walking into the room, I immediately had a sense of panic as everyone seemed to be engaged in energetic conversation. Since I am not one to confidently insert myself into a conversation, I made my way over to the table with the beverages and spotted a woman who had a nametag on with 11 on it, meaning her child was in the same grade as Jed. “Hi” I said nervously. “It seems we both have kids in 11th grade”. We started talking and immediately there was this “I’m not good at this either” connection, which was a huge relief.

She was impressed that I was doing all of this for the first time. Most people have years of this and by the time their kids are in 11th grade, they are experts. Since Jed has been living with us for about 3 weeks, I am far from one, still just trying to figure out my place in this whole “stepparent” thing. Seriously, what exactly do you do with a 17 year old, besides nagging him to clean up his dishes and asking him how school was?

I spoke with some other people, compared notes with some of Jed’s friend’s mothers, listened to speeches about volunteering and donating money and was on my way. Am I PTA material? I’m not so sure yet……there’s a coffee next week, perhaps I go and investigate more…

Boxes and Bubble Wrap

Next time I move, I'm going to hire the employees from Costco to pack up our belongings. I have never seen more carefully packed boxes; shampoo wrapped in plastic; olive oil in bubble wrap; every space in the box taken - if not with our purchases, then with cardboard.

Let me back up to Saturday. Husband-san and I made a pilgrimage to the Tokyo Costco. We decided we were tired of shopping almost every day for the staples and having to lug home heavy things on a regular basis. The trip required three different trains, which we made with no trouble at all. The trouble came when we got to the Tamasakei station and got off the train. Where exactly was the Costco? There was not a sign to be seen, so we asked the train guy behind the window and he said "go to the light". That sounded straightforward until we got to the light - there was no Costco. We had a choice - right or left, so we went left to what looked like a shopping center. I went up to the guy directing traffic and said "Costco?" He repeated "Costeko??" I motioned "big store" and he started pointing and telling us with great authority and pride at his ability to speak English the stores that were in each direction. He pointed to his left "Food", to his right "Books" and in back of him "Baby" (it should be so easy!!). We said thank you, realizing Costco was not yet in his vocabulary and headed towards the intersection ahead. We looked and saw several stores, none of which was a Costco. We saw a family and I went up and said "sumimasen" which means excuse me. The man said "yes?". I said, a little surprised, "you speak English?" He said "yes". Yes!!! I asked about the Costco and he pointed back in the direction we came from and said "it's about 500 meters". His wife spoke up. "No, it's more than that, more like 750 meters". They started arguing and we said thanks and quickly left, feeling just a little sorry that we were the cause of disharmony between a husband and wife, but sort of relieved that even Japanese couples snip at each other every once in awhile.

About ten minutes later we saw the familiar red letters and smiled. As a line of cars were pulling into the garage, we made our way to the registration counter and got our membership cards – complete with ugly pictures. I am talking grainy, black and white, never would have even dated; forget about marrying you, if we saw these pictures ugly. We grabbed a cart and made it a little ways into the store when Husband-san stopped, his eyes glazed over - flat panel televisions!!!!

Two and a half hours and two carts full of stuff (not the flat panel TV) later, we pushed and pulled our way over to the delivery area where we were told our things would arrive on Monday before noon. We headed back to the train, perishables in hand, satisfied we had made it through a weekend day at Costco. Husband-san, who normally sneers at even the hint of a shopping excursion, was particularly proud. So much so that Sunday, we ventured out again to BIC Camera, 7 floors of everything electronic and houseware oriented where he tried out his Japanese. "Hai" he would reply when one of the salespeople would say something he agreed with (Hai means yes). And the salespeople were thrilled to have a gaijin speak even a word of Japanese. This time, we carried our purchases out to the nearest cab, where again Husband-san impressed the cabdriver with his expert use of the word "hai". Jed was also impressive as he actually knew the word for 16, which is part of our address.

About 10am on Monday the bell rang and sure enough, the delivery man from Costco was at our door, bringing all of our carefully wrapped soap, olive oil, soy sauce - not to mention a barbeque grill for the balcony!! I ran out and got what I hoped was lighter fluid and we ended up having our very first grilled meal, complete with rice made in our very own rice cooker -delish!!!!.