So I’m totally being punished for mocking carnie folk

Yeah, I am. I know it. You remember, right? When we all went to the State Fair and I wore my hair in pigtails and schlepped around like white trash and threw the Dub regularly and dressed my adorable kid in a wife beater onesie and camo overalls and sprayed his hair red? Ring any bells? If not, THIS is what I’m talking about. I thought it was a funny day, but I’ve been punished.

How, you ask?

Because last night, I ended up with a carnie tooth. (J, if you’re reading, I can feel you cringe every time I type “carnie.”)

I know you know what carnie teeth are. For the record, I’ve had back luck with teeth forever, which is why it cracks my shit up every time the dentist, a hygienist, or someone tells me I have “beautiful” teeth. Yeah, the year and half of invisalign and an ungodly amount of money and pain and seriously special lisp for a year a half, followed by some awesome whitening, left me with six really nice, straight, white front teeth. But deep in the back, they’re a freaking disaster. A straight disaster. But a disaster nonetheless.

I’m meticulous about brushing and flossing – always have been, ever since I was five and someone tried to scare us into good dental hygiene by showing us a video of microscopic worms that live on dirty teeth. I’m not sure I buy it any longer, but all I know is that I’m not trying to risk it. I’m a hell of brusher and flosser.

So anyway, I think it’s the Type I diabetic thing, and the shitty teeth gene, passed on by my dad, that has damned me to a life of expensive, painful, horrifying dental needs.

I totally got off topic. So, last night, I was eating a piece of Fu%^ing STRING CHEESE when I nearly choked on HALF of a tooth. I hacked it up, which entertained my son, spit it out, and yup, sure enough, half a tooth.

I prayed really hard that it was one that already had a root canal and that it was a one thousand dollar porcelain crown rather than a virgin tooth. I prayed a lot. I called my mom and cried. I told her I was just going to leave it and wait for the rest of my teeth to fall out so I could join the fair next year, because I was totally being punished for mocking carnie folk because carnie folk are often missing multiple teeth and I was like halfway there.

My mom came over to spend the night (again) because I think she was worried for my mental health (still), although she totally played it off as just trying to help me out a little more since I was so sick and on so many meds and I needed my sleep and blah, blah, blah, but really, I think she was worried I was going to start drinking the NyQuil and mouthwash and stuff so I could get all loaded and pass out like the white trash I was becoming.

So then she came over and we were looking through pictures of Matty on my computer, starting with Vietnam last year, and this one picture came up and she was all, “You have such beautiful teeth.”

The hell? And she was serious. So I lost it and started crying again and talking about needing to get better at sweeping peanut shells and making kettle corn. She was sorry that she really thought my teeth were nice.

So this morning I woke up and called the dentist as soon as they opened and the earliest they could get me in was 3:00 pm.

So I walked around all day and made plans in my mind for my future employment options, then went to the dentist.

On a serious note, I was the queen of all braveness today. I HATE THE DENTIST. If I need anything more than a cleaning, I get nitrous. LOTS OF IT. Lots and lots. It’s nice. It makes me happy. It makes me sweat only half as much during the procedures. Sometimes it makes me think that I might go to dental school just so I can have lots of tanks of nitrous for myself for days when Matty makes me stressed and tired. But anyway, I always get nitrous. But not today, because it wasn’t a “planned” appointment. I’m not sure when one plans to bite off half of their tooth and nearly swallow it, but whatev. I walked out of there soaking wet like a 300 pound football player, with a thrown out back from the contortions I put myself in while trying to hold still on the chair, but I DID IT. No nitrous, two hours in the chair, and I did it.

So backing up, I walked in and was all upset because we have tons of expenses right now and P.S. the economy sucks and I didn’t want to end up with a $3,000 bill for a the removal of a good tooth, plus the replacement (which can actually get far more expensive, as my dad found out, after he had to have major oral surgery that included bone-root implants to replace two teeth to the tune of nine grand) and I was like “Please tell me I just ruined a thousand dollar crown and didn’t bite off half of a good tooth” and they were all looking at me, like they were trying to decide if they felt bad for me or they thought I was a little nutty.

Turns out I bit off half a crown. I’ve been grinding my teeth at night, which I’ve known, because I’ve been all drugged up with naproxen during the day to reduce the jaw pain I have as a result of having TMJ my whole life  and then irritating it by grinding my teeth at night (stupid stress) so I probably ground my crown in half and the it just broke while I was eating freaking string cheese.

So, anyway, lots of Novocaine, NO nitrous, and two hours later, they drilled off the carnie half-crown, did another partial root canal, and placed the temporary. If I could sweat like that every time I went to the gym, I’d be well below my goal weight. But I did it. And it was the crown, so it a thousand bucks, and the insurance company sorta split it with me, except more in their favor, but that’s way better than the alternative.

And now, 24 hours later, I’m not longer carnie material. Except that I walked around like this for another three hours. I was smiling, or so I thought, until my mom made me look in the mirror. Then I had her take a picture for the blog because really, nothing can humiliate me at this point. You saw me looking like a giant man beast on Santa’s lap already. I sweat off any makeup I was wearing, my hair was soaking wet, and my lips are all rubbed raw.

More pirate than carnie, though, wouldn’t you say?

Hanging on…

…barely!

I’m sorry that my blog post before an unintended break was such a downer.Hope nobody new came to read and found that! Thanks so much to my friends who have checked in on me. I read my email tonight, but haven’t responded yet. I promise I will. I spent just a few minutes online tonight and don’t have much energy.

We had an amazing Christmas and I will blog about it with photos AND Video (finally!)  because Mattix was incredibly sweet, adorable and hilarious, as always. Do you know a kid that yells and signs “DONE! DONE!” when he is halfway through unwrapping gifts? Me either, until Christmas day, when Mattix had enough, I guess. And he meant it. He. Was. Done. He left half of his gifts under the tree and walked away. My mom tired to FORCE him to unwrap another gift and he was pissed! The day after Christmas, he decided he would open a few more, before he was once again “DONE!” And on the third day after Christmas, he decided he’d finish up…and then didn’t have enough apparently, because he helped himself to a gift that I had put under the tree for a friend’s daughter. I’ll have to re-wrap that one.

Don’t worry, I couldn’t possibly sum up our first “real” (as in: not just off the plane, traumatized, exhausted) Christmas together. I’ll blog when I’m over the whooping cough/Ebola virus. Even though I was pretty sick, it was a wonderful holiday for our family.

Yup, still dying. I’ve taken on the life of a 90 year old, sleeping at least 18 out of every 24 hours. I went to bed Christmas afternoon and pretty much stayed there until this afternoon.  I’m going to need to find someone to turn me so I don’t get bed sores soon.  My mom finally made me go back to urgent care this afternoon. HOPEFULLY the end is in sight. Truthfully, I’m not sure I’ve ever been this sick for this long. There was a distinct period of time when I was an undergrad that I was much sicker than this, but it lasted about three weeks. I’m working on five weeks, with one week off, and it’s getting old. I usually sleep six hours a night. Lately, I’m AWAKE six hours a day. Ed flew back to DC today, so my mom came over to help me tonight/tomorrow morning.  She took Matty for me when I went to Urgent Care because the last thing we need is a crazy two year old touching all things nasty and contaminated at an urgent care center, thus picking up all sorts of new nasty viruses.  He fell asleep on their way back to my house…at 6:45! If you know Matty, you know that’s crazy early. Grandma wore him out!

Hopefully I’ll be on my way to normal soon. It’s gotten so bad that cold meds like Sud*afed and Day*Quil don’t do a thing.  I’ve never taken cold meds until this recent black plague and for them to stop working…well, it’s not good. I was ready to crush up the Sud*afed and rub it into my gums and snort it. Good thing Mom made me go in, huh? 

The really great news is that Matty is not sick and has managed to stay well since Tuesday. We’re going to make a few appointments and start follow up testing, but I feel confident that the icky nosebleed (and resulting trauma for ME!) was a fluke. Bad luck/timing. Kelly let me know that the same thing happened to her Lucy, who was also really sick. I’m certain that he just had a regular old nosebleed, but we will see the hematologist and finish testing for bleeding/clotting disorders justincase. I’m not overly concerned because I really do think it was just a nosebleed with bad timing on the heels of bleeding that resulted from (a denied) surgical error, but my experiences in life have taught me to be thorough.  

And with that, I’m going back to sleep. I’ve been up for, like, eight hours, which is way more than I’m used to lately, so back to bed I go! I think my body is doing its best to make up for year’s worth of no sleep.

Well, that sucked. Hard.

Today. Today sucked.

Sorry that my blog has become a total bitch fest lately. Do you ever feel like no matter what you do, you can’t catch a break? I’m not going to say that things are just terrible and they couldn’t get any worse, because trust me, if anyone knows that is not true, it’s me.

But I feel like we’re really bending over and taking in the ass around here.

Matty finally stopped moaning and crying in his sleep around midnight last night, so I was able to fall asleep around 12:30 a.m. To be entirely honest, I don’t know if he made any noise between 12:30 a.m. and 4:30 a.m. because I was so tired, I was out like a light. That is very unusual for me, but I had been clearly trying to catch the Death Flu, Round Two, and my body was worn out from the 2.5 to four hours of sleep I’ve been getting for the past few weeks.

I jolted awake at 4:30 this morning because Matty was moaning pretty loudly. I grabbed a dropper of Infant Motrin and a bottle of juice/water. I stopped giving him milk for a few days after the whole projectile vomiting incident (which did repeat, by the way) and switched to a 50-50 juice/water mix. If I give it to him in a bottle, he’ll drink pretty consistently (not in a sippy) and with the fevers he has been running, I do not want him to become dehydrated.  I wish he would drink Pedialite, but he acts like I’m giving him freaking cow piss whenever I try to get him to drink it (any flavor), so the apple juice/water mix is the best I can do. (BTW, Matty is sooo cute. He knows I mix the two together. I’ve been letting him wander around with a bottle since he got sick, which is something  I don’t normally do. Whenever I go to fill up his bottle, he yells, “Jute!!! Wawa!!! Jute!!! Wawa!!!” How cute is that?)

Anyway, I reached into his crib to feel his forehead. Keep in mind it was pitch black, because, you know, it was 4:30 in the morning. He was burning up, so I grabbed the thermometer and took his temp. It was 102.5, so I popped the dropper in his mouth and gave him the Motrin. I was trying to get him to take the bottle from me so I could rub his back and hopefully get him back to sleep (once Matty is out of bed, any time after about 4:00 a.m., he ain’t goin’ back), but he sort of yelped, jumped up, and literally hopped into my arms from his crib, then clung on.

It was a strange reaction, so I turned on the lights and almost lost my $hit. For real this time.

HIS ENTIRE FACE, FROM THE NOSE DOWN, WAS COVERED IN BLOOD. Cheeks, mouth, chin. Covered.

Some of it was dried, some of it was crusted, and a lot of it was fresh, bright red blood.

I couldn’t figure out where it was coming from – it truly looked like he was coughing up/spitting up blood and it also looked like it was coming from his nose.  I’m not one to panic. Sure, I hate puke and I act ridiculous, but I don’t panic. But this morning? Yeah, I panicked.

His sheets had four or five BIG (like four inches in diameter) spots of bright red blood, his face was covered in blood, I hadn’t heard him in four hours, and I was a little freaked out.

Rationally, I thought he probably had a bloody nose, but if you had seen this, you would have gotten a little stressed. We just came off the heels of an emergency surgery for sudden and uncontrolled bleeding, waited three weeks to find out whether he had hemophilia, and now I find him in his crib, covered in blood.

I cleaned up his face, which was all sorts of fun for both of us, with a handful of wet wipes. It appeared that he had a bloody nose and had also spit up some blood. I was pretty sure what had happened was the blood had run back down his throat, and so he’d spit some of it up. A few of the spots in the crib were totally dried, which means it had happened a bit ago, but his nose was still oozing fresh, bright red blood.

I decided he and I would get ready to go to the ER, but not rush, and I’d keep an eye on him. Ultimately, I decided to take him in.  Last week, when his surgeon gave us the results of his blood disorder workups, I really pushed for an answer. Of course I was entirely relieved that my Bug didn’t have any form of hemophilia, mild or otherwise, but I wanted to know WHY that happened. My money was on a surgical error, which sucks, but that’s life and the outcome was that Mattix was okay and that’s what matters to me, but the surgeon INSISTED that it WAS. NOT. AN. ERROR.

I explained to him that I’m not litigious and the fact that I have a law degree does not make me a person looking to place legal blame, but I am a parent and I wanted to know, because if it wasn’t an error, how could he be sure that it was not caused by a clotting or bleeding disorder for which he had not tested? We went back and forth and ultimately, his surgeon insisted he didn’t make a mistake with the original surgery that would have caused the bleeding, was positive that all of the tests were negative, and so he was “stumped.”

To be honest, I felt fairly confident that there may have been an error (a few reasons, including the fact that Matty’s bump where the cyst was removed was remained raised after the first surgery, so much so that I took him in one week post-surgery to ask about it, and the surgeon acknowledged that it must have bled a little bit and it should go down within six months), so instead of fretting over nothing, I decided to be rational.

Well, it’s hard to be rational when all that happened within the last month and you find your child in his crib at 4:30 a.m., covered in blood. My main concern was that I had been giving Mattix Motrin consistently for three days, every 4-6 hours. I’ve never done that before because he has never needed it like he has in the past few days. The most Motrin he had in the past was maybe three or four doses in a week. but this time, without consistent Motrin, his fever spikes to nearly 104 degrees, so obviously I didn’t have much of a choice. I was worried that it wasn’t just coincidental that he was bleeding profusely from his nose after three solid days of Motrin,which thins the blood. Make sense?

So we went to the ER at 6:30. I would have been concerned that we were going to catch the Death Flu while we were there, as we did last time, but not to worry, because Matty already has it and I knew it was only a matter of hours before I did, too. I got hit good and hard while we were there, so no further damage could be done in that respect.

The final outcome is that we are going to see a hematologist, just to be on the safe side, because there are a few other things that we should eliminate, but most likely, it was all just coincidental and unlucky. I’ve said a few prayers that we’re having an unlucky winter and nothing more.

While we were in the ER, the fever that had been trying to get a hold of me finally did. Ugh, that was brutal. On the way home, as I was shaking and shivering while trying to drive, the Bug fell asleep in the car, which SUCKS. No matter how short of a time he’s out, when we get home, he thinks he took his “real” nap and he’s done. I let him stay up for an hour, but by then, my fever was up to 102 degrees and I just couldn’t do it. I put him in the crib with a juice/water bottle (yup, judge away, I suck) and curled up on the floor in the loft with a blanket while I waited for MY Motrin and Sud*afed cocktail to work. He actually just played in his crib for about an hour and a half (I dosed on and off), then passed out. While I”m not going to earn mother of the year here, it’s the best I could do.  

We JUST got over almost three weeks of the Death Flu. Matty JUST went through surgery, then emergency surgery. We JUST waited three weeks to find out whether he was okay. And now, five days before Christmas, we’re both super sick and we’re going to have to put him through more testing. And I fully realize that things could be much, much worse, and I’m grateful for all of the wonderful things in our life (trust me there are a few big ones right now!), but I’m feeling sort of defeated…and like this virus is going to kill me this time. Whatever it is, it is horribly nasty and painful. And it lasts a long, long time. On the upside, I’m now only three two-week death flus away from my pre-adoption weight. Laura: 1, Death Flu: 0

Mattix is the toughest little guy ever. I know that he has sleep issues (meaning he just doesn’t sleep), which is why he’s still going strong, but still. Whatever we have is very, very icky. He feels just terrible – it’s obvious. I really wish he would react like most other kids who are this sick and go. to. bed. Then I could go to bed, too. But, that’s not my Matty, so we’re going to have to make it work.

Poor Ed. He is so worried and stressed and he can’t do anything b/c he’s on the other side of the country, and I’m teetering on the edge of sanity. Following is part of our conversation this morning on the way home from the hospital:

Ed: I can’t believe you caught it again. Didn’t you use lots of hand sanitizer?

Me: No, actually, I didn’t. I didn’t use hand any hand sanitizer and I never washed my hands. Every time I wiped or cleaned out Matty’s nose, I sucked on my fingers. And then I stuck them up my own nose for good measure. I also took swigs off of his bottle after I was sure he had backwashed. And when he puked the other night, I made sure to rub my face in it.

ARE YOU &*^!ing KIDDING ME? Ed, he has sneezed in MY MOUTH at least five times a day since he got sick, Spit from his cough gets in my EYES. I got PUKE BACKSPLASH on my FACE. Unless I start drinking hand sanitizer, I really don’t feel like it’s going to do the trick.

Yeah, I’m super sweet, huh?

Please hope/pray with me that this was just bad luck or a coincidence and that both of us get better this time in less than two-three weeks. I’m thisclose to losing it!

And just because I sounded like a total wus the other day after puking myself while trying to clean up Matty’s puke, you should have seen my expertise today, I got almost every last blood spot out of the sheets, dust ruffle, and mattress pad. 30 minutes of scrubbing with a toothbrush and Oil Eater, rinsing, and repeating, and I did the job. The best parts were the spit up ones, because they were chunky! See – I can handle it!

Remembering Dec. 17th (a “special” massage) & The stomach flu is the DEVIL

Holy all that is nasty, Batman. My kid has the grossest virus EVER. I just finished dry heaving in the corner for the twelfth time tonight. This was just for good measure.  Matty came down with a cold the other day..or so I thought. Last night was terrible. I slept from 9:30 – 11:30, then was up every half an hour with him until 4:30 this morning, when he was done even trying to sleep. He was crying, so I pulled him out of the crib and I laid him down on the changing table to put a dry diaper on him. That’s when he coughed, then started to gag. After our whole choking incident that happened like six months ago, any time the Bug gags, I about lose my shit. I snatched him up, flipped her over my arm (so he was basically parallel to the floor, face down), and then he puked. It was actually quite opportune, because he ended up puking on the wood floor and totally missing the rug by a few inches, which is great, because cleaning the wood, although nauseating, involves a roll of paper towels, some disinfectant, and a little wood floor cleaner. Cleaning the rug involves a call to the Rug Doctor and a hundred and fifty bucks.

So anyway, today was obviously a long day b/c I’m so tired, but Matty played and did his thing and was just a tiny bit cranky. He ran a really low grade fever, but nothing to worry about – I really thought he just had a cold. I made a cake (no shit – I’m telling the truth - I’ll show you the pictures tomorrow) and we took it to my grandfather, who is in a care center right now, for his 78th birthday. Matty was amazingly well behaved and sweet; I was proud of him and so pleased that he has such a kind heart and ability to sense when someone needs him to be gentle and calm. Anyway, he had a snotty nose all day and an icky cough, but I assumed it was from the cold.  Actually, he has had a snotty nose since he and I both came down with the flu the day after his emergency surgery almost four weeks ago.  The snot nose never went away, and when he got sick again the other day, I assumed he had a cold. I thought the drainage is what made him puke this morning.

So…yeah, my mom, Mattty and I went to dinner at a VNese restaurant not too far from the care center. He hasn’t been eating much the past few days and I thought he might eat a little more if we had some of his favorite food. Well, let me give you a little advice: when your kid, who normally has a voracious appetite, continually tells you he’s not hungry, LISTEN to him. My mom and I were doing everything we could to get him to eat, and eat he did. This was a very, very bad decision.

So on the way home, was in the backseat, making funny noises and trying to put himself to sleep. He passed out about ten minutes from home. When I pulled him out of the car, he was BURNING HOT. I hoped it was b/c I forgot to turn the backseat heater down, but no such luck. He was almost delirious and was talking all sorts of nonsense. We came upstairs and I took his temperature.

It was 103.8!

I got panicky. Matty NEVER runs a temp  higher than 101.5. EVER.  I was all ready to call 9-1-1, but then I decided to be sensible and call my mom. I mean, I needed someone to meet us at the hospital.

But mom’s idea of sensible was to wait until the Motrin I gave him took effect. So I did. I gave him a bottle of juice b/c I was worried about him becoming dehydrated (another bad idea) and rocked him. He fell asleep after an hour. I knew he was sick, because he was more than happy to lay there calmly while I rocked him. My Bug hasn’t wanted to be rocked in a long, long time. He let me hold a cool washcloth on his forehead and cheeks the whole time, too. Anyway, after I laid him back in his crib, I took his temperature. It was down to 102.5, so I felt okay about leaving him for an hour.

Yeah, we didn’t make an hour. Over the monitor, I heard him coughing and  gagging. By the time I got upstairs and into his room, he was crying. And the stench…oh, the stench.

Before you guys start to think I’m a total freak, let me explain to you how much I do not like puke. I HATE puke. I’ve been shit on, multiple times, and while it’s not my idea of a fun game, I’m totally okay with it. Yeah, it’s gross, but I can deal with it.

But puke?

Not at all. I don’t like to puke. I hate to puke. I will lay in bed, flat on my back, and hold my breath to avoid puking. When I had undiagnosed Celiac and it was really bad, I often puked after I ate. I would sit on the PUBLIC bathroom floor where I was an intern and CRY because I had puked. Other than that period of time, I just don’t throw up because in my little world, throwing up is the grosses thing ever.

I’ve felt very fortunate, because before tonight, I could count on one hand how many times my Bug has vomited. And it was never really puking – the three of four times he vomited, it was more like a little spit up.

He outdid himself tonight. I called my mom to ask her what to do. His crib was FULL. OF. PUKE. I started gagging and hacking. He had puke all over him, so I had it all over me, it was all over the crib…ohmygawd, I have to stop or I’m going ot dry heave again.

I decided the sheet was a total loss. My mom was all, “No, honey, just rinse it in the sink and then put it in the wash and it’ll be fine.”

The hell?

It was all I could do to get it off the mattress. And she’s still all, “Sweeite, just take the sheet…”

And I was like, “Bitch, you wanna come over here and…ack, ack, ack…clean this up…huuuhh, huuuh, huuuh..you’re more than welcome to, but….ohshit, it’s coming up, I’m gonna puke….until then, I don’t want to hear it.”

And by then, she’s laughing her ass off because the dry heaving was getting so bad and I was getting dizzy and Matty had totally stopped crying and was looking at me with that look he gets, where he’s totally judging my incompetence and he’s all put out that I’m such a pussy.

So I get the sheet off the bed and INTO THE TRASH, I get Matty’s puked on clothes off of him and into the washer, I get the puke out of his hair, I get a new sheet on the bed, I’m all ready to see if he’ll llay down, when he literally rolls to his side (he was on the changing table) and PROJECILE VOMITS all over the place.

And that’s when I stopped dry heaving and actually puked.

‘Cause, f^ck me, there ain’t nothing nastier than pho, lemon grass chicken, and rice, being forcefully HURLED across the room.

So then i cleaned up MY puke, stripped off Matty’s second pair of jammies, chucked ‘em (they were getting too small, anyway), cleaned MORE puke out of his hair, mopped up CHUNKS off the changing pad, dry heaved for good measure,  and took him out to the glider, where he laid on my chest, with his sweet little arms curled up under his body, his face next to mine, which was almost priceless, except for the puke breath,and rocked him back to sleep.

I’m pretty sure his tummy is totally empty. His fever had totally broken, but his cough was still nasty, which means we might be in for more..I can’t even talk about it. I’m going to get sick again.

I don’t know what the hell he has, because I would be inclined to say the puking is from the drainage, except that is a REALLY high fever for a cold. And I really hope it’s nothing, because I don’t want him to be sick and I don’t want to go through another two solid weeks of the both of us being desperately sick, especially over Christmas. I’m sure that I’ll end up with whatever he has, which will make it extra fun to take care of him by myself, being that Ed won’t be home until Tuesday night. So I would vote for the stomach flu, just because that means it should pass within the next 48 hours, but hat means that if I get the stomach flu, I’ll be in the hospital b/c I need an IV whenever I get the stomach flu, so that sucks. But if it’s not the stomach flu, he’s going to be sick for a long time, which means I’ll be sick for a long time when I get it, which means we’ll be sick for Xmas. So I”m not sure what I should hope for, here, but right now, I’m hoping his fever doesn’t come back. Short term goals!

I hate when Matty is sick and I can’t make it better. It makes me feel just terrible and so helpless. He’s just such a sweet little peanut and to see him so miserable upsets me.

And the puke. Oh the puke.

Had enough of my bitching? Mmmkay, I’m tired of it, too. Here, read about our last day in Vietnam and my totally disturbing massage experience.

—————

December 17th:

Long day. Where to start? I think I’ll jump to the end of the day and share my massage experience just to get things going. So, at about 5:00 this evening, we were downstairs in the hotel lobby waiting to finalize our departure time tomorrow with La as well as make sure that Mattix’s Visa came in (one other family that was supposed to leave tonight couldn’t because their child’s Visa wasn’t ready). While we were hanging around the lobby, Ed was walking Mattix around and noticed the sign for the spa. He went to check things out and returned to tell me that I should definitely have a massage tonight, as a 45 minute massage was only $22. I love massages, so I was certainly game. He said he’d take Mattix to the bar area (yeah, that’s the kind of parents we are) and feed him dinner while he (Ed) had a beer. If he finished before me, he said he’d meet me upstairs. Sounded good. Who doesn’t want a massage?

 

And this is when it got interesting. A man walked me upstairs and into a room with two tables and told me to wait (I think). So I waited. And five minutes later, in walked a really tiny, really attractive young Vietnamese woman who said, “You take off clothes.” “Okay,” I said, looking around for the sheet. I couldn’t find one, so I was a little perplexed, but figured I’d just go with the flow. I stood there, patiently waiting for her to leave the room so I could undress and find this invisible sheet with which to cover myself. She looked at me and said sternly, “You undress!” I said, “Now?” and she said, “Yes!” So I motioned to my jeans and said, “Take them off?!” and she said, “Yes! OFF!” and continued to watch me. At this point, it became abundantly clear that I was going to have to strip in front of her. So off came the pants. Then I motioned to my shirt and once again said “Take it off, too?” and of course you know the answer, so off came the shirt. Now, at this point I’m standing there 98% naked when she pointed on my thong. Oh hell no. I said, “I’ll just go ahead and keep that.” I’m not sure she quite understood, but she became distracted by the canula in my stomach (where my insulin pump attaches). She pointed to it and asked, “What?” Try explaining that one with a huge language barrier! I picked up my insulin pump and showed her how it attaches, but I’m not sure that answered the question. Mind you I’m still standing there butt naked (save for a thong) in front of this 90 pound woman, feeling rather awkward. I started feeling strong regret over not bringing a pair of granny panties, but later became thankful that I hadn’t because I’m not sure I would have been able to keep those bad boys on. As it turns out, the butt must apparently be exposed.

She gave up on trying to figure out the pump situation, so she said, “Lie on table.” Oh great. I had to go face down, bare ass up, on the table. I’m trying to figure out how I can just die to avoid this whole situation when she says, “Where you from?” to which I responded “the United States.” She started to giggle. I was a little confused, so I waited a minute and then said, “America” at which point she said, “Really? You not huge and fat like all Americans. You skinny for American. Very good. That funny because most Americans big and fat.” Thanks, I think? I made a mental note to increase her tip from 20% to 40%. Finally, a Vietnamese woman who appreciates my 10 pound weight loss over the last two weeks (I’m nearly back to my pre-August adoption stress weight gain weight for Pete’s sake. It’s about time someone appreciates that, right?) She breaks out a bottle of baby oil (really, actual baby oil) and goes to town on the back end (I’m not making this up). As I lay there far more tense than I have been all week, I’m wondering if she’s still thinking I’m small for an American as she’s elbow deep in cellulite and stretch marks. However, her answer to my next question made things very clear. I figured since we were comfortable enough to chat about fat Americans, I would ask her how long she’s been doing massages. After rephrasing the question ten times (too bad Ed wasn’t there to translate because I’m sure he’s nearly fluent by now), she said, “Two years, but never woman. Always man. No woman.” And there I had it. Yeah, that’s right, compared to American men, I’m small. I made a mental note that a 40% tip was a bit high. Back to 20%.

Well, things just kept getting stranger. I’m used to massages at home where you’re covered with a sheet and the massage therapist only “exposes” the part s/he’s working on, then covers is up when s/he moves onto the next part. That’s not how it goes here. No need for a sheet. Sheets apparently just get in the way. I started realizing that this was actually worse than the dermatologist’s office, where I have the good ‘ol once over every three months so they can check for cancerous moles. I used to feel awkward standing there in shoes and nothing else, arms and legs spread out pat-down style, while the doctor goes over every inch of my naked body with his lighted glasses. In fact, the last time I had an appointment, I forgot about the process and wore heels because I’d just come from a lunch “date” with a few friends. I certainly wasn’t about to stand barefoot on that floor. I thought that nothing could be worse than standing in the dermatologist’s office in a thong and four inch heels, arms and legs spread eagle. To put things in context, that was starting to sound like fun by this point. I’m laying on this woman’s table while she massaged my butt (I’m not messing around here) with enough pressure to make me nauseous (that’s pretty serious, because there are plenty of layers to work through there), thinking about how I could just melt into the table, when I hear said table creak. It took me a few minutes before I realized that she too was up on the table. For the love of God, it does get worse. She’s now up on the table with me, squatted over the above-referenced naked butt, going to town on my back, arms and neck. I think I might have actually enjoyed the massage if I weren’t entirely mortified. But alas, it got worse. She then flipped around so she was facing my feet and started in on the legs. She was squatted over by back, her face only a foot from my naked butt, going after my legs. I was thinking, “How much longer?” when the table suddenly creaked a bit more. She was then standing up, draping a towel over my back (where the hell was this towel twenty minutes ago?). Before I knew what was happening, she was standing on my back. She walked up and down, from the top of my back to my ankles, for about five or six minutes, then hopped down, at which point she crossed one ankle over the other and suddenly bent my pretzeled legs up to my butt. Apparently this woman didn’t get the memo and was unaware of the fact that both of my knees have been surgically altered and put back together and therefore don’t bend so well. I was trying to tell her to stop while at the same time desperately trying not to lose consciousness when she did it again. I was fully seeing black floating stars when she grabbed both of my arms and pulled them behind my back, lifting my entire torso off the table, making my hands touch the back of my ankles. What the hell? I wasn’t aware that I was in some sort of combination S&M/forced yoga session. I’m surprised there were no spiked heels while she walked on my back. That happened two more times. I may or may not have full use of my arms for the next week. It’s too soon to tell and I don’t have the nerve to straighten them out entirely.

After the violent forced contortions, she demanded, “Over.” Fab-u-lous. ‘Cause laying ass up wasn’t bad enough. I somehow managed to flop my injured body over like a dying fish. Back up on the table she went, her tiny butt facing my head; she bent over (in her rather short skirt) and went after my legs and feet. Seriously. I’m not making any of this up. Thank goodness I was allowed to keep the towel, although she had folded it up into a tiny strip across my chest. Better than nothing. Ten minutes later, it was finally over. I need a massage when I get home to mitigate the results of this one.

I came back to the room and warned Ed, who was also considering having a massage around 7:00 (so he’d be back by 8:00). He said that because he knew what to expect (and therefore was prepared to tell her not do certain things), he was good to go. When he came back up to the room, he reported that he received an entirely acceptable massage. He was given a blanket (WHAT?), wore his boxers, and the only “different” part was the walking-on-the-back deal. I guess I learned my lesson. Apparently they don’t work on women here, and if you have the nerve to live dangerously, you will suffer the consequences. Either that, or Ed’s massage was “special” in more ways than mine was and he’s not telling me. At this point, I don’t care.

So back to the beginning of the day. Mattix broke out his 6:00 a.m. wake up call. While I would have preferred 7:00, I have to say that 6:00 beats 5:00! Once again, I woke up to a huge smile two inches from my face. Mattix is an absolute doll in the morning. I want to know where all of this happiness comes from, because I’m exhausted when we wake up. He’s getting about as much sleep as we are (negligible), so why is he so darn happy? I’m glad he’s happy, don’t get me wrong, because if not for that, I’d wake up really, really grumpy from lack of sleep. However, I just don’t get it. He’s all smiles and giggles, ready to tumble around and play with us. I feel like I’m going to vomit I’m so overtired, and yet he’s awake and happy. (I also had an extra long night because the Chinese food we had for dinner last night did me wrong. Really wrong. I’ve been here for nearly two weeks, have eaten at some places that our health department in the states would just burn to the ground because they’re so hopeless, and didn’t get sick once. Then we come to a nice, upscale Chinese restaurant and I spend my entire night regretting it. Go figure.) In Mattix’s usual fashion, once he was sure I was up, he went to work on Ed. Ed resisted quite a bit today, as he’s even more tired than I am b/c he’s working at night, so Mattix eventually gave up and rolled back over to play with me. He’s just so damn precious in the morning. He gives me his two-tooth grin and giggles up a storm.

I decided that I would just hang around the hotel room while Ed and Mattix went on the two hour sightseeing tour. I got up and helped Ed with the whole morning routine (someone tell me how adding one 18 pound child to your family results in a morning routine that takes three times as long as the old one). Ed’s gotten quite clever about these diaper blowouts, so after Mattix’s breakfast, Ed stripped him down to his diaper and set him on the floor in anticipation of the carnage. Two points for Ed, because half an hour later, the familiar stench filled the room and the contents of the diaper started to seep out in all directions. This time, we were able to catch him before he contaminated anything around the room. Very good strategy.

Ed and Mattix went on their tour and I just laid low. Unfortunately, I couldn’t fall asleep, but it was nice to have a few hours of quiet time. When they returned, I did everything humanly possible to get Mattix to sleep for a nap, but to no avail. We finally gave up and headed downstairs to catch a cab. We were going back to the downtown area to buy another suitcase because we didn’t want to deal with the possibility of any of our luggage exceeding 70 pounds. I’m too tired and stressed to handle that right now. Mattix is getting better and better at sitting fairly still in the car. He sat on my lap for half the short ride and stood up and looked out the window for the other. He’s just so interested in the world that it amazes me. He really, really wants to see what’s going on. We had the driver drop us off in front of the theater where the water puppet show takes place and we walked down towards the “mall.” I believe by Vietnamese standards, this is an upscale mall. To my friends at home: you would all die. That’s all I have to say about that. It’s so bizarre and strange to me. There will be a clothing department directly next to a shop that sells refrigerators, which is directly across the isle from a stand that sells irons, blow dryers, and iPods. It’s just so different. It was four floors, and Ed and I checked out each floor, hoping to find a restaurant. Little Mattix was just rolling right along in his stroller, hanging out and taking it all in. Apparently “malls” here don’t have food courts, so we found a Highlands Coffee. I ordered steamed rice with shrimp and a plate of my first American food since arriving in Vietnam. I’m not even going to lie; the French fries were damn good. We fed Mattix his lunch (for some reason, the Veal with tomatoes and carrots that he dined on just didn’t look as good as my fries). He started to get fussy, so I got up and rolled him around for a while until he fell asleep in his stroller. It seems like the only place he’ll sleep during the day is in his stroller. Looks like I’m going to be taking a lot of walks around the neighborhood in the near future. Mattix slept just long enough for Ed and I to finish eating; on the rare occasion that he falls asleep during the day, he seems to like the little catnaps.

We then headed back towards the theater so that we could find a piece of luggage. I can tell I’m ready to go home because happy, nice, American tourist Laura has left the building. I can no longer tolerate people pushing me, trying to sell me things I don’t want, telling me how to care for my baby, and pointing out the scabies rash on his face and alerting me to the fact that my son has a rash. (Really? Cause I didn’t notice. So many people here act as though we’re somehow total morons who don’t notice that our baby’s entire face is covered in scabs and bumps.) The same woman who made me put Mattix’ hood and socks on yesterday (then tried to sell our entire group gum) approached us again today. She made all of us uncomfortable yesterday, and today I was ready to snap, especially when she grabbed my arm. As if that wasn’t enough, another lady who tried to sell me some sort of food actually had the nerve to hoist her entire setup (a really long bamboo stick thing with a basket hung on each end) onto my shoulder. I firmly said, “No, no, no” and pushed it off of me. If Ed hadn’t been there, I think she would have been the recipient of a good old fashioned fat American style beat down.

I’m finding the north to be VERY different than the south, and I don’t think it’s because we’re nearing the end of our trip and I’m ready to leave. I would have easily stayed in Saigon for another week. It’s just very different here. The only thing I like better is the cooler weather, and I’d take the hot, sweltering heat in the south any day because the people there are much friendlier and it’s a much more enjoyable place. I loved every minute of our time in Saigon. Not so much here. I feel like we’re treated very differently, and not in a good way. Our entire group feels this way. Ed said he notices it, but it doesn’t bother him as much. In the south, lots of people gave us “advice,” but it was done in a much more caring, friendly way. People smiled and were more polite. I also enjoyed the city itself more. Although I thought the traffic was out of control, I really had no idea what out of control was until we arrived here. (The pollution here is also worse.) Maybe if we had time to see more, such as Ha Long Bay and some of the rural areas, I’d feel differently. When we return to Vietnam in the future (hopefully sooner rather than later), I think we’ll start up here for a few days and make a point to visit some of the areas outside of the city that we didn’t have time to see this trip. However, I know that I absolutely loved my time in the south and there’s plenty we didn’t experience that we’ll want to do in the future. Plus, Mattix is from the south, so I’m sure I’m biased.

Anyway, I got off track. We found a suitcase, and let me tell you about my name brand bargain. I’m now the proud owner of a 480,000 Dong ($30) Polo Wang suitcase. Yes, that’s right. Polo Wang. Apparently, Vera Wang and Polo Ralph Laruen got together and had a baby in the form of a very strange piece of cheap luggage. We were assured that we were getting a bargain because of the name brand and high quality. I’m going to be shocked if this thing makes it in one piece. All that matters is that it doesn’t open and spill the contents. It can lose both wheels and the handle for all I care.

We caught a cab back to our hotel and were apparently taken on the scenic route, because the cab ride home cost five times as much as the one that got us there and traffic wasn’t any worse than it was a few hours prior. Mattix was good and tired, but he’s a champ. At least one of us enjoyed the cab ride. We got back to the hotel, dropped off our new piece of name brand luggage, and put Mattix back in the stroller and walked around a bit. We walked down a few side streets that reminded me of really run down areas of Mexico.

When we came back to our hotel lobby, the other members of our travel group were a bit distressed. They were supposed to leave tonight but apparently they were having some issues with the childrens’ Visas. As it turns out, only one couple made their flight (barely) and the other will have to leave tomorrow evening. Mattix’s Visa came back just fine, so we’re leaving in the morning as scheduled. I’m a little worried, because I heard form another travel mate that La won’t be accompanying us to the airport beucase she’s apparently going to stay behind to work on their Visa. I’m not entirely excited about that, but I know everything will work out and we’ll be on our way home.

And there you have it. The massage incident happened next. When I got back, Ed had pretty much packed everything up. He’s now wrapping up a few work-related things and I’m going to finish up so we can both get some sleep before our little human alarm clock goes off in the morning. In his defense, we actually have to get up that early tomorrow!

Overall, this entire trip has been an incredible experience, both because of the obvious reason (we adopted our son) and because Vietnam is an amazing country. Like I said, I have not completely loved my time in the north, but perhaps I didn’t experience enough to really appreciate the good parts. Ed said he enjoyed his time here. We both truly loved everything about our time in KG and Saigon. This has been the most amazing two weeks of our lives.

Ed and I both love Mattix so much, it’s unbelievable. I thought I was really going to suck at this parenting thing because up until ten days ago, I had no parenting instincts whatsoever. In the very beginning of this adoption process, I thought that maybe I just needed a few more years before kids. If Ed weren’t sooooooo old (sorry honey) we probably would have waited a bit longer. But, because we want two kids, we felt like it was time to get going. We started the adoption process like traditional families start “trying.” We had the “it’s time for kids” discussion and started the paperwork. Up until we saw Mattix’s photo (and especially when we hit the five month wait for travel), we weren’t in a big hurry or feeling super rushed. I actually had many moments of panic because I was so worried about my (in)ability to take on the parenting gig. Well, I’m still not great (hey, my kid has a goose egg on his forehead), but many of the things I thought I’d have no idea how to handle don’t require much thought at all. Lots of it just kind of comes to me. Of course not all of it, but much more than I expected. I have waaayyy more patience than I ever expected to have. The sleeping thing is definitely hard, both because I don’t feel well when I’m so exhausted (and trust me, I’m tired – I wasn’t this tired during law school), which makes it hard to deal with a screaming baby, and because I hate that he experiences so much distress and unrest. But still, I’m much better off than I anticipated. Ed too. He’s not exactly stellar with patience when Mattix is crying, but he’s getting better every day and handles so much other stuff like a pro. We’re in a third world country, traveling around, with an adopted child that barely knows us. I think that when we get home, have some time to settle in, (hopefully) get some sleep, and establish some semblance of a routine (we have no idea what that is right now), things will just keep getting better. We’ve been blessed with an incredible baby boy that has changed our lives for the better. I often look at Mattix and can’t believe that we’re really going to raise him. I can’t get over how fortunate we are, even if we’re sleep deprived zombies.

We can’t wait for everyone to meet Mattix, but we’re going to need a little time when we get home to settle in and recover. Ed has to continue with work the morning after we get in, so my mom’s going to come stay with us for a bit to help us readjust and hopefully get some sleep. We’re very concerned about and committed to the bonding process, and as such, Mattix needs some pretty limited contact with the “outside” world for while. Because Christmas comes just a week after we return, it’s already going to be a bit disruptive. We need to spend a lot of family time at home so that he can learn that we are indeed going to be his parents permanently and that we (and only we) will be there to meet his needs. It’s important for him to learn that he can’t just go to anyone or trust anyone as though they’re the “same” as his parents. Because he’s experienced so many serious disruptions in his short ten months, we need to help him realize that this is now permanent and that we’re not going away.

We’ll talk to you soon!

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I’m too tired right now to say anything about this or to upload any photos. I’ll do it this weekend, when we’re hopefully puke free and better! I’m STILL behind on blogs and I still promise I’ll catch up. Please keep your fingers crossed that I’m done throwing away sheets!

Remembering Dec. 17th

It’s kind of fitting that one year after we first learned the true meaning of sleep deprivation, I’m back to sleeping three-ish hours a night! I just cannot sleep. I fall asleep around 2:30 or 3:00 a.m., and Mattix is up by 6:00 a.m. every morning, often well before that. Ugh. I’m feeling like my two week streak is going to be broken, because it’s 8:00 and I can barely keep my eyes open.

I have a handful of funny stories from the past few days. I’ve realized exactly how far into the black hole of dumpy, beat down mommy life I have slipped. It was a sad, sad day. If I hadn’t bee so tired and didn’t have, you know, a toddler to take care of, I fully would have opened and polished off a bottle of wine by 5:00 p.m. But of course, it was a Diet Coke instead, further reinforcing exactly how my life has changed! In a good way. But it was funny. And Mattix? He FINALLY learned to use the word “no” and holy shit, he’s making up for lost time. I swear, if the way he says it didn’t just about kill me with cuteness every time, I *would* be polishing off bottles of wine all day, every day.

But, I really am too tired to share my stories, so I’ll do it this weekend. And seriously with the dude at the gym. Another trainer actually looked at him today and said (dead serious), “You. are. a. freak.” Ya think? I really do need video for you.

And I am SO far behind on blogs that I missed entering all of Laurie’s giveaways. Not that I would have won, because I never win anything except for carnie lions at the white trash fair, but the realization that I missed a chance to tell one of my million poop stories nearly made me cry. So, I’m really behind on everyone’s lives, but I do care and will do my best to catch up. Matty and I have been flying solo for a week and a half now (minus 36 hours) and will be doing so until Wednesday of next week, so I’m a little frazzled, trying to keep up with everything and (sort of) get ready for Xams. I have a handful of really important things that have to be taken care of ASAP and I’m a little overwhelmed. Story of my life!

The good news is that tomorrow is the last day of my daily “remembering” posts, which will be kicked off with my massage experience that should scare the life out of anyone even thinking about getting a massage at the Hanoi Hotel in Vietnam. I’m not sure I’m over it yet!

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This morning sucked. I think we had a day last week that sucked. Well, this morning did, too. Mattix woke up tired (imagine that – none of us slept all night), cranky, teething, and with his little adorable face covered in scabies ouchies. Strike Three. I really dropped the ball when I applied the scabies medication the other day. I covered his body in it, but was super ultra conservative with his face because I was paranoid about it. That was stupid, stupid, stupid, because all the scabies have done is simply close up shop on his body, relocate to the untreated area (his face) and go to town. His face is a wreck. I made an executive decision to reapply the medication just to his face. Because I barely put any on his face the other day, I was 99% certain it would do far more good than harm to treat his face. I was correct, because by the end of the day, although his face is still all scabby and itchy, it’s very apparent the evil buggers have all but died off. With scabies bumps, it’s very apparent when the scabies are alive and active vs. dead (leaving just the scabbed over bump behind). By the end of the day, we could all (our travel group) see the big improvement. I can’t wait for the horrible itchy bumps to go away, though, because they just look so uncomfortable. I know that will take a few weeks, but at least all the scabies should finally be dead.

 

The rest of the morning was crappy because Mattix is teething. When you add that to his extreme sleepiness, he was quite the pistol this morning. Nothing was making him happy. I gave him some baby Tylenol and rubbed Ambesol into his gums, hoping to give him a little relief. He was very fussy and cranky. By the time we made it down to the breakfast buffet, we nearly missed it. And for the record, the breakfast buffet here pales in comparison to that at the Rex. The food is not at all traditional Vietnamese (the Rex had lots of good choices) and it’s icky. In fact, even if you don’t compare it to the Rex, it’s a huge letdown. I guess it’s kind of what you’d expect from any buffet (garbage). The Rex was very unexpected in a great way. (Does anyone want to tell me how much time I spend discussing food? It’s no wonder I’m a “big American.”) Ed held Mattix while I shoved my food around my plate (as opposed to the usual shoveling of it down my gullet). We had already fed him baby food this morning when we woke up, so Ed gave him a bottle of apple juice (which I’m going to have to start cutting with water, because he looovveeesss it so much he can drink 10 ounces within a few hours). Poor little guy was so miserable he fell asleep sitting straight up with the bottle in his mouth. Sensing a wonderful opportunity for a nap, we immediately got up and went upstairs, hoping he’d stay asleep. Well, he did…long enough for Ed to put him in his crib and sneak out of here. We haven’t put him in a crib since he joined us last week because I feel adverse to them, given the fact that’s he spent 23 hours a day in a nasty metal crib for almost ten months. The idea of a crib for sleeping really bothers me (this is just my issue). However, because I wasn’t going to lay down with him today and I planned to be in the other room, I didn’t want to leave him on the bed alone and leave the room. He throws himself around the bed so violently that I worry. We usually block him in with pillows just to be safe, but this new bed is much smaller and therefore concerns me. So, Ed carefully laid him down in the crib and we snuck out and shut the door. Ed then went downstairs to get some paperwork done while I was supposed to hang out, relax, and let Mattix sleep.

Right as Ed walked out the door, I heard Mattix let out a cry. He does that often during his sleep, so I held still and prayed it would be short one and he would pass back out. He got quiet quickly, so I assumed that he had never fully woken up. However, five minutes later, I just knew I could hear something in there, so I opened the door. My heart broke. He had woken up and was sitting in his crib, staring longingly through the slats, with a blank look on his face. Even as I approached the crib talking to him, he just stared straight ahead, quiet. I reached into the crib and waited for him to hold his arms out to me (we’re doing this so he learns to reach for us when he needs us). He did, so I scooped him up and nearly cried for him. Once he was out, he lit back up and started smiling at me and giggling. I’m pretty sure that’s the end of the crib situation for a while. Good thing we bought him a beautiful, expensive crib and bedroom set!

We hung out for a few hours and played. Guess what happened next? We had our usual morning diaper blow out. I’m beginning to suspect that Ed knows when to anticipate these, because he wasn’t here to help when it happened (I’m no longer buying into the “I have to get some work done” excuse). This one was sort of expected. Here’s the story. He was on the floor playing with his new toy (an empty plastic garbage can with the plastic liner removed – yeah, we really spoil our kid). I thought his diaper might be wet, so I set him on the bed and removed it. I was in the middle of changing his soaking wet diaper when he dropped one tiny (but horrifyingly stinky) little treat just before I pulled the diaper away. Unlike Ed, I’m not tryin’ to hang around and see how much I can catch, so I quickly stuck the new one on, left his pants off, and set him on the floor to do his thing. I literally sat there and watched him go to town. He’s a grunter for sure. He twists his little face up and grunts like nobody’s business. (These are the kinds of stories I know he’ll want his future girlfriends to hear/read) After each “deposit,” he smiled and giggled, all pleased with himself. He did this for about ten minutes. I gave him an extra two or three just to be sure he’d wrapped it up, because I was not going down Ed-style. Right as I was ready to scoop him up and change his diaper, he threw himself backwards in one of his famous back-arching fits, thereby smearing the mess up the back of and out the top of his cheap garbage crap diaper, all over his back and shirt. I seriously thought I’d hit the jackpot as far as “neat” and to the point, but nooooo, of course not. So, I’m trying to hold him up with one hand, get the diaper off with the other, pull his poopy shirt off, not pass out (because this was the motherload of all stinkfests) and wipe him down with baby wipes all at the same time. Thirty seconds into cleanup duty, Ed walked in. Thank goodness. Double points for Ed. Not only did he get back just in time, but he was carrying a “Coca Cola Light” (VN Diet Coke) for me. We got Mattix cleaned up and redressed and all was well. (And I enjoyed my Coca Cola Light). Mattix returned to his toys: stacking cups and the hotel’s plastic garbage can.

(Note to family: if you bought Mattix any real toys for Christmas, take them back immediately. Just go to Target and buy a brightly colored small plastic garbage can. This thing is like gold, and it’s just a boring solid white hotel version. He pushes it all over the room, bangs on it, and has more fun than imaginable. If you pick it up and toss it five feet in front of him (yes, Ed was doing that, and no, I’m not too impressed), he takes off after it, giggling and smiling. I can’t decide if this is cute or heartbreaking because he’s probably never had any real toys. Either way, we’re having a heck of a time getting him to play with any of the real toys that we brought for him other than those stacking cups. Maybe we’ll have better luck once we’re home.)

Oh, before I forget, the best thing ever happened today. Mattix crawled over to me (which he often does), sat at my feet and actually reached his arms up to me for the first time because he wanted to be picked up. He made an irritated squeaking noise, which is his signature “I want something now” sound. Ed and I were thrilled. He’s learning that someone will indeed respond to him when he makes a “request.” This is great progress. I can’t remember if I mentioned it yet, but I talked with Thuy the other night. I asked her whether the children are slower at language acquisition because although Mattix is young, he’s only heard Vietnamese for the past ten months. I figured that it will take him longer a bit longer to learn to speak because it’s like we’re staring over. Not only did she say that yes, he would most likely start talking a little behind the “normal” schedule, but that even if we spoke Vietnamese, he would probably be slower to learn to talk because the nannies don’t talk to the kids much except briefly during feeding times and play time. I guess they’re just that busy or short staffed. Furthermore, I asked her if he spent most of his time in his crib (b/c of his flat head) and she said that yes, most of his time was spent in a crib. So the whole point of this information is to confirm what Ed and I thought last week. Mattix really didn’t know how to be held and it’s very unnatural for him. Many babies seem to pick it up quickly and just go with it, but Mattix is not so “natural” with the holding thing. However, we’re making a little bit of progress each day and today was a really, really big step.

After more playtime, we headed downstairs to meet the group and go to the United States Embassy for our exit interviews. This may come as a shock, but our government operates the same here as it does in the states: slow and late. We sat in a totally empty room (other than our group’s three families) until someone finally came out and brought the first family in 45 minutes after our appointment time. It’s strange. We entered a small room, where the woman interviewing us (who was very nice) is behind some very thick glass. The good news is that the appointment is quick and easy because the legwork is done before we even get to Vietnam under the new I600 process. I asked the interviewer how she felt about the new procedure. She said that we were her very first “new” Visa interviews, but she thought it would work much, much better.

She only asked us a few questions about whether we were able to spend any time at Mattix’s orphanage, how many babies were there, and the age of the babies. We answered honestly, of course. I know that the reason she asked this was because in the past, rumor has it that a few other agencies were referring out of orphanages with rooms full of healthy, young, female infants. These are the children that Americans seem to want to adopt the most, so it is highly suspect when an orphanage is filled with “in demand” babies, most of similar age and sex. Fortunately, Ed and I had absolutely no concerns when we visited Kien Giang (as far as anything inappropriate with referrals; quality of care is an entirely separate issue that I’m not prepared to deal with right now). His baby room had about eight or so infants of varying ages and sexes and with different physical abilities. Only one of the babies was very young.

After the embassy appointments, we caught cabs to the Water Puppet show. I’m sure the water puppet show is neat and all, but not so much for a ten month old who doesn’t care to sit still. We arrived early, so we walked across the street (I was certain we were going to die, as the traffic here is much worse than in Saigon and they drive so much faster) to another “lake” for some sightseeing and photos. “Lakes” in Vietnam are very different than lakes in the states. It was certainly fairly large, but I believe it’s cemented. I’m not sure we would call it a lake. On a good day, it kind of reminds me of the huge pond at Encanto Park where you go for paddle boat rides (if you’re middle name is “Danger” and you wish to catch a strange, incurable, water-borne disease). On any other day, as our travel mate Karen said, it looks and smells like a wastewater treatment facility. Anyway, Mattix finally conked out. He was so tired and I was so happy. I was praying he’d stay asleep during the Puppet Show, but no such luck. They allowed me to carry his stroller up to the back row so he could sleep in it during the show. He was out like a light, but unfortunately, one of our travel mates sat down on the step in front of him and accidentally gave him a good jar, which ended the very brief nap all too soon. I jumped up and took my crying baby out into the lobby. He was so overtired, he alternated between smiling and giggling and whining. Ed was kind enough to come out about 20 minutes later so I could go back and watch a bit. The water puppet show is definitely neat and the music is pretty, but I think it’s something he’d like in about five years. We didn’t make the whole show because one couple wasn’t feeling well. Oh well. Maybe on the next trip.

One other dad, his mother-in-law, their newly adopted adorable daughter, La, Ed, Mattix, and I went to dinner at the hotel’s restaurant, which serves Chinese food. The food was good and the service was incredible. Even better, they brought out a high chair with an actual real strap to hold the baby in. So far, any restaurant that offered a “high chair” offered just that: a high chair. A narrow, tall version of a chair – totally open in the front, no strap, no tray, nothin’. Each time I was puzzled because I would wonder if other 10 month old Vietnamese babies really stay in those chairs. I’d be shocked. Anyway, we strapped Mattix in and much to our surprise (and delight), he was happy. We cleared away all of the glass items on the table (there were a ton), put some of his toys (stacking cups) out, scooted him really close to the table, and he went to town. He kept dropping his stacking cups, and each time one of the women would stop and pick it up before I even had a chance to grab it. By the tenth time, I was starting to feel bad, so I put the cups away and gave him a magic biscuit. I was a little nervous about the mess, but I was so excited to have him sit still at the table that I decided it was worth it. He had a great time with the biscuits, only throwing them on the floor four or five times (we observe a five second rule in our family now). We ordered apple juice for him, which was fresh squeezed and delicious. Lucky I’m a nice mom, or I would have kept it for myself. I put it in his bottle and that really pleased him. Our dinner came and he was still good to go through most of it. In fact, Ed and I only had to take one turn each, walking him around for five or ten minutes. It was like magic! I’m think he might do better than expected in a high chair once we’re home.

Dinner was not bad, but I was let down that I was eating Chinese food! I love real Vietnamese food so much and I’ve been very disappointed that the food here in northern Vietnam seems so different than in southern Vietnam. When we were in KG and Saigon, I looked forward to eating. Here, it’s just sort of a chore. We did, however, have a really nice time with the Rankeys and La. We laughed a lot and enjoyed their company. It was the first dinner where neither Ed nor I were either holding a baby in our laps or doing laps around the restaurant with a baby in our arms. We were able to eat at the same time with two free hands each, and we weren’t scrambling to stuff our food down so the other could have a turn. Mattix sat between us and was such a sweetheart. He laughed and smiled a lot; I think he’s become comfortable enough with our travel group to behave more like himself when he’s around them. Too bad everyone else is leaving tomorrow!

We came back to the room and Ed volunteered to take on bedtime duty before he started working. Lest he think I’m slow, I know his eager beaver attitude was a result of his after-hours plans. The three guys in our travel group were meeting in the bar downstairs much later tonight for drinks. I was perfectly fine with him leaving for a while, but I’m not going to lie and say I wasn’t glad that he felt obligated to take on bedtime duty tonight! It’s difficult to put Mattix to sleep. Not difficult as in I-don’t-want-to-do-it-because-it’s-a-chore, but rather it is emotionally difficult for me. I’m having a really hard time accepting how tough his life must have been; the absolute trauma he experiences when he tries to sleep is gut wrenching. I know some biological kids have trouble falling asleep, but I don’t believe that this is at all a common issue with non-institutionalized kids. You’d have to see it to really understand how distressing it is for him.

And that’s where I’m at now. I’m typing next to Mattix so that I can give him his bottle and rub his back each time he wakes up crying. I’m waiting for Ed to return because my insulin pump malfunctioned earlier (it didn’t start back up after I changed out an infusion set) and my blood sugar is now 400. Certainly not the end of the world and nothing to complain about, but it’s taking a toll because my blood sugars have been so wonderfully in-line during 90% of our trip. Highs like this are far more impacting when the averages are so great! I took a ton of insulin, so I’m also a little worried that I’ll crash and I certainly don’t want to do that in my sleep, especially when a baby that doesn’t sleep for more than an hour at a time is depending on me. We’re obviously going to be tired in the morning, but probably no more tired than we would have been if we’d been in bed around midnight anyway.

Tomorrow morning La is taking us on a mini-tour around town. Ed offered to take Mattix and let me hang around here if I’m not feeling up to it. Although I want to see a few more sights in Hanoi, I might just take him up on that offer, as the lack of sleep is getting to me. I doubt I’ll be able to go back to sleep at 9:00 after having been up for three or four hours, but it might be nice to have two hours of down time all alone! Tomorrow is our last full day, so I’ll try to get one more journal entry in before we leave. I’m really starting to miss home and can’t wait to see everyone (and my own bed) again

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I mean, really, tell me this isn’t the most depressing post ever. Reality had sunk in by then, I was so tired, and I wanted to go home. I wanted to take Mattix to a doctor very badly. If I could go back in time and do one thing, it would be this:

I would pimp slap myself and say, “Bitch, you know NOTHING about sleep deprivation.”

It just cracks me up right now that I thought I was sleep deprived by the end of our trip. Over the past year, sleep deprivation has taken on a meaning that I wish I didn’t understand. By the end of our trip, I had gone three weeks with three or less hours of sleep each night. That was just the beginning of the sleep hell that we were going to experience. In retrospect, a month of being entirely, purely exhausted is NOTHING.

When I read about or hear people talking about jet lag, I laugh. What the hell is jet lag? We didn’t even get to experience jet lag! After what we went through, jet lag sounds like a freaking party…with gifts…just for me! (Not to minimize people’s experiences with jet lag b/c i realize it’s tough). Jet lag lasts a few weeks, maybe a little longer, and then it’s over. Our hell lasted close to six months. One year later, my little Bug still doesn’t sleep through the night, he still gets up terrifying early (for me), and he still sleeps somewhat fitfully. Nothing like he used to, but it’s not a peaceful sleep.

What else? Oh yes, my overwhelmingly negative attitude about Hanoi. I need to address that. A huge part of it was that we were at the end of an unbelievably difficult time. I’ve said this before, but I can’t openly blog about the extent of the issues Mattix (and therefore our family) faced, but they were serious. We were still able to experience Saigon and the south extensively and we thoroughly enjoyed it, despite what we were going through, but by the time we left for Hanoi, I was beat down, overwhelmed, tired beyond all comprehension, and stressed out. Mattix’s face was honestly infested with scabies. I wanted a REAL doctor for him, I wanted to make everything better, and I wanted some answers for many of the questions I had by then. Beyond that, I can say with some certainty that even when we go back to Vietnam, I will not love Hanoi like I loved Saigon. But I would like to experience it more and do the things we didn’t have time to do while we were there. And of course, different circumstances will make it easier!

Thanks for tolerating all of this! It’s been good for me to go back and read through our journal and look at our photos. My Bug was beautiful back then, but he was blossomed into such an amazing little person and I’m so proud of him.

Remembering Dec. 16th and I’m too tired for anything else!

Well, Mattix got the day going like always: early and poopy. We flew to Hanoi this afternoon, so we had to get up this morning and start packing. YUCK. You should have seen our hotel room. I forgot to ask Ed to take a picture, but it’s probably a good thing because seeing it again would cause me to have severe PTSD. I took one look at all the stuff and curled up in the fetal position. We brought two huge duffle bags of clothes and toys to donate to the orphanage. We kept one empty duffle bag in which to bring all of our purchases home and left the other with the orphanage. We should have kept the second duffle bag as well, because I was certain that there was NO way we were getting everything into the bags we had. However, Ed was able to use the expansion “function” on our small carryon piece of luggage and stuff more things in there than I thought humanly possible to check with the big bags. The problem we had was that after we finished packing, each of the two huge bags weighed 80 pounds, and I’ve heard that if a single bag weighs more than 70 pounds, they won’t take it at all. Furthermore, the weight limit on domestic flights in VN is 20 kg per person, which is about 44 pounds. That’s per PERSON, not per piece of luggage. Mattix counted, as we had to buy him a ticket. But puh-leeze. Forty four pounds per person? Give me a break! More on that later.

So, back to Little Man. He woke us up bright an early, although not as early as usual. Today’s wakeup call came at 6:00 a.m. Once again, the night was a nightmare for all of us. He slept well for maybe two hours, then the screaming, crying, and tossing and turning began. Poor little guy has the hardest time with sleep. Poor mom and dad also have the hardest time with sleep now. I may have to admit to taking two NyQuil to help with the Bird Flu. I NEVER take any sort of cold medication, so I suspect I slept better than Ed, who was on solo duty for half the night. I wouldn’t have taken it because I don’t take over the counter cold/allergy medications, but the Bird Flu is progressing and I was worried that it might turn into something worse. This morning I lived super dangerously and took two DayQuil. I’ve never taken DayQuil before, and I assure I won’t ever take it again. I felt like I was on crack all day, although I’m only guessing what it feels like to be on crack. If it’s anything like this, I’m glad I always said no (not that I was ever offered drugs because I’m just that cool and always have been).

Little Guy was good and active while we worked on packing. We put his stacking cups on the floor and let him crawl around and play with them. He also likes to stand up in front of the mirror and bang on it, smile, and giggle. (We all suspect that the kids have never really had any time in front of a mirror, because the first few times he saw his reflection, he was in absolute awe. He’s still quite font of the mirror.) Mattix was playing with his stacking cups, as well as his reflection in the mirror, or so we thought.

The orphanage may want him back (not in a million years would that happen!), because we were busy packing when we heard a horribly loud thud, followed by screaming. Mattix had hit his head on the chair while he was trying to stand. It sounded HORRIBLE and, as it turns out, it must have felt worse. Within two minutes, a giant goose egg had formed on his poor little forehead. I almost threw up I was so upset. I was far more upset than he was. The sad thing is that these kids are tough. Way too tough. He cried for maybe 60 seconds, then just stopped and wanted to be put down, as though nothing had happened. I was sure he was going to have a concussion because of how hard he hit, so I of course called my mom. She said he would probably be fine, but I was still very worried. I gave him some baby Tylenol because even though he wasn’t crying about it, I knew he must have had a huge headache. I guess Ed and I get the crappy parenting of the year award for that one. (By the way, the goose egg went down by about 50% and turned a lovely shade of black and blue.)

So, after the fall, I stopped packing and sat on the floor with Mattix while Ed packed more. I though this was a much better arrangement, as we didn’t want him to break any bones and I was not doing well with the packing thing anyway. However, I changed my mind when I smelled that familiar horrible stench. Mattix crawled over to me to show me the lovely brown hue that the entire back of his footsie jammies had taken on. Seriously. If I can offer one bit of advice to adoptive parents, it’s this: pack a bag full of quality American diapers. I don’t care how much room they take up. Bring an extra suitcase if necessary. Leave your toiletries and clothes at home if that’s what it takes. Just bring diapers. Now I know why they don’t often bother with disposables at the orphanage. They end up sharding their clothes anyway, so why mess with the middle man (the diaper)? We’ve had a blow out every time he goes poo, except for the times when Ed takes the diaper off mid- or pre-poo, which, although Ed complains about it, seems like a much better plan because at least Mattix’s clothes aren’t covered in poo.

Anyway, I stripped off the footsie jammies and put Mattix in the tub. (RIP Carter’s Footsie Jammies with the airplanes. We loved you the one time Mattix wore you and he sure looked cute in you, but you’re off to bigger and better places – the trash can. No time to get the laundry back from the Rex and you can bet your butt we weren’t going to bag those bad boys up and take ‘em. Wasteful Americans.) Mattix is getting used to the bath-after-the-poo routine, because he doesn’t complain a bit. He just sits there while I hose him off. I wouldn’t complain, either, because I’d much rather have the poo hosed off than sit on my hiney, back, legs, and arms (yup, it spreads quickly).

After the bath, we were trying to figure out what Mattix was fussing about when we realized that we had not fed him breakfast. Strike Two (one was the bump on the head). Up to the breakfast room we went. I am going to miss this food. We have our routine down, so all three of us ate quickly. We were just getting good at it, and now we have to leave.

After breakfast, we met in the lobby and eventually left for the airport. Yeah, the airport was fun. We were worried about missing our flight because we cut it pretty close. Once we were at the check in counter, we learned that our total baggage overage was about 50 kg. We knew we would just have to pay for the overage and we couldn’t have cared less, but we weren’t so thrilled when we learned we had to leave the check in counter (after waiting in line for 20+ minutes), walk back around, and get in another line to pay. Once there, we were told it was going to be $750 American dollars. Okay, seriously. I didn’t mind paying, but $750 in baggage when the tickets cost $100 each? Then the woman realized she hadn’t converted properly and it was actually $75. Much better. We paid more than that to get our bags from home to San Francisco (domestic flights in the states only allow 50 pounds, international 70), so that was a bargain. Anyway, we made it back to the counter, where a few people who probably didn’t realize we had already checked in there were quite unhappy with our “cutting” to the point that they felt it necessary to shove their cart full of luggage into my legs just to show me what was up. Yeah, ‘cause that’s a good idea. Knock over the lady with the baby. Little did they know that my big American ass is hard to knock over. We got our tickets and our passports back and headed for the gate.

Security was an interesting experience. Not quite like in the states. I’ll write more about that when I’m home. Once through security, Kathy told us that our flight was delayed by half an hour and we were relived. Boarding flights here is certainly interesting. By interesting I mean a bit of a mess. There’s no order. When they announce that the plane will begin boarding, everyone just pushes to the counter and forms a pseudo-line. (Pseudo because if you wish for your place in line to be closer to the front, you just make it that. And by “you” I mean everyone else besides us.) And if you think you might get to pre-board because you have kids, think again! All this time, Mattix was a trooper in his stroller, just hanging out with his bottle, looking around. I really wanted to beg the airlines to let me leave him in his stroller for the flight, but I knew it was futile. I reluctantly handed it over right before we boarded and prepared for the storm.

I about started my own storm when I found out that I was on the far right side of the middle section, and Ed was in the middle seat of the left section (about three seats and one isle away). Not so much. We sort of remedied the problem when we switched one of our tickets with a travel mate’s, who was also separated from her spouse. That put them together, and left one seat in between Ed and I. Ed just took the middle seat. We figured that anyone who would actually insist on keeping their own seat in between the parents of a screaming infant would not be stable enough to be let on the flight anyway. We were correct. The woman gladly indicated to Ed that she would take the isle seat. Smart, smart woman.

They give you a silly lap belt to attach to your belt so that the baby is restrained. This part did not please Mattix at all, nor did it please us. Really, all that it would serve to do in an accident is allow the baby to be crushed by the parent’s body weight, or in the alternative, as one of our travel mate’s suggested, keep the baby strapped to your burning body. We were allowed to remove it during takeoff and never had to put it on during landing. Mattix was a champ, really, based on what we had expected. The hour and forty five minutes was definitely long for him (for the love of God, someone tell me how we’re going to make it home), but he never broke out into a full-on screaming fit. He drank his bottle for about 75% of takeoff and another 75% of landing to clear his ears, and only cried and whimpered for about 15 minutes total (but no intense screaming). At one point, we broke out the emergency teething biscuits, which kept him happy for almost 30 minutes. Said biscuits probably did not please the flight crew quite as much as they did Mattix, as the chair and floor (in addition to Ed) were covered in teething biscuit slop. Oh well. I made an executive decision; it’s easier for the flight crew to clean up teething biscuit slop than it is to listen to a screaming baby and/or complaining passengers.

We landed at the Hanoi airport and deplaned onto the tarmac, where we loaded into busses. We were all set for a long ride. Imagine our surprise when the bus literally stopped 20 seconds later. They drove us maybe the length of a quarter of a football field. It was a lot more trouble to get on and off the bus than it would have been to walk. I’m sure it was some sort of security measure, but I’m still slightly confused about that one. Our luggage came out (everyone’s made it!) and the guys loaded it onto the world’s smallest luggage carts. This is important because what happened in the parking lot was hilarious. It might not have been so funny if we weren’t all shot and exhausted, but we were, and so it was very funny. More on that in a minute. In Hanoi, they apparently check all of your bags with your claim tickets. If you have lost your claim tickets, you have to tell them what’s in your bag. They proceed to open it up and check the contents against your verbal list. Apparently, this isn’t like home, where you can take your bags and whomever the hell else’s bags you want and nobody noticed or cares, because they never check bags at home. Claim tickets at home are only good for toilet paper or if (I mean when) they loose your luggage. The line was long and apparently, it’s a free for all. I realized that if I didn’t get aggressive like everyone else, we were never going to get out of there. I stopped letting everyone push in front of me and stood my ground with little Mattix in his stroller. Even that cheap little stroller can serve as a weapon when needed. The woman who nearly knocked Mattix out with her should bag while shoving in front of us learned that the hard way. I’m pretty sure the bruises on her heels will remind her of that for a few days. It turns out the guy behind me wasn’t so thrilled with my stance (I wouldn’t let him past me), as he proceeded to shove his cart FULL of heavy luggage into the back of my legs multiple times. (I have war wounds. Really, the back of my legs are bruised.) At some point, I was certain I was going to end up in Vietnamese jail because I was going to turn around and beat the crap out of him. I sized him up and determined that he maybe weighed a buck ten soaking wet. I had him by a solid 20 pounds and three inches. Plus, Ed always says that in a fight, crazy accounts for about 50%. Well, there was plenty of crazy on my side. I was dying of some mystery illness, I was exhausted, overwhelmed, and done. I gave him one good warning donkey kick to the cart, which knocked him back a few inches, and that ended it. Good thing, ‘cause I’m not messing around. I was ready to rumble. I can see the headlines… “Big American woman lands in jail after fistfight with small local citizen.”

Back to the funny part. First, Ed lost every one of our bags on the way down the ramp to cross the street. All four big bags and two small bags went flying out into the street and into airport traffic. I started laughing so hard I couldn’t see straight. We were all scrambling to help him get it back on when Matt (another travel mate) did the same thing on the other side of the street with his cartful of luggage. So we all helped him. I think you had to be there but it was really funny. Hopefully none of our many fragile, breakable purchases shattered.

La  went and hired a bus driver to take us to the hotel. Bless La, because this was a full sized, air conditioned bus. The drive from the airport to the hotel is one hour, so I was worried about Mattix. He’s not keen on holding still during car rides. However, the bus had huge windows and he was quite pleased. He just sat in my lap for the first 40 minutes, staring out the window in awe, taking everything in, occasionally letting out an excited giggle or squeal. Furthermore, even better, the back of the seat in front of us had a handle on it, so he could stand in my lap, hold the seat handle, bounce up and down, and look out the window all at once. He was in heaven. Mattix is such an inquisitive, interested little guy. He loves to watch what’s going on and take it all in. I would love to know what goes on in his little (goose-egged) head. He just seems like he’s thinking about it all. His eyes follow whatever he’s watching and he has a very serious look on his face. When he does this, he seems like an adult, not a baby (not to worry – he reminds me of his baby status at naptime and bedtime and diaper blowout time). I think that in order to avoid the problem I see coming with strapping Mattix into a car seat in the Tahoe, I’m going to just trade it in for a bus with huge windows and no seatbelts. That should work for him. Who cares what state law and has to say about it. Safety? No worries.

About 20 minutes before we got to the hotel, he passed out in my lap. This was the very first time he’s ever fallen asleep in my arms so calmly. I’m sure it’s because he was just that exhausted, but it’s great nonetheless. Of course, he woke up before we even got upstairs to our hotel room, but still, baby steps. This hotel (Hanoi Hotel) is nicer by western standards than the Rex, but in the short time we’ve been here, it’s apparent that we like the Rex much, much better. The Rex is much more authentic Vietnam, with great service and very friendly people. Here, the rooms are nicer by western standards, but something’s definitely missing. Our room is on the 12th floor and overlooks the Honoi “Lake.” It has a bedroom with a full bath and a sitting room with a half bath. It actually has a real couch and chair (the two wooden chairs at the Rex were so uncomfortable that I spent all my time on the floor or bed), but I’m still not that into it here.

The weather in Hanoi is much cooler and less humid. I’m not good at judging temperatures, but it’s definitely cooler than and not as humid as Saigon. The traffic is horrible! I thought Saigon was crazy, but compared to Hanoi, it’s nothing. There’s more traffic here and even worse, they drive faster. I didn’t think it could possibly be any scarier to cross a street than it was in Hanoi, but I was wrong. I’m not sure that I’ll be crossing any streets here.

I know I said that I wouldn’t be ready to leave after just under two weeks, but I’m prepared to take that back. Today’s traveling made me ready to go home. If we could have just stayed in Saigon for another week, I’d be singing another song, but the packing, airports, plane ride, and pushiness tested my limits. Plus, Mattix’s face is covered in scabies, he’s teething, and his cold all seem to be worse. I just want to get him home and to the pediatrician. Medical care here, even at the international clinic, leaves something to be desired.

Mattix was, as usual, a little doll at bedtime. He gets so adorably giggly, playful, and sweet. I swear it’s his way of stalling. He knows how damn cute he is and how much it makes me want to roll around the bed with him, tossing him around, giggling, and making silly faces and noises. The boy plays rough. The more you throw him up and down, the better. He loves it when I lay on my back and hold him up over me, push him up and down, up and down. He’s like a human dumbbell, which is good, being that I haven’t set foot in a gym in well over two weeks. (At this point, my body has digested all of my lean muscle mass and it’s looking like a total loss.) He’s a little ball of giggling energy at bed time and in the morning, and I love it. What a great way to end and start each day. (It’s the part in between that we need to work on.)

And that’s all for today. Tomorrow we have our embassy interview so that we can get Mattix a Visa and then the water puppet show. I’m slightly skeptical about this water puppet show. What ten month old sits still and remains quiet for an hour long show? Wish us luck with that one.

Remembering Dec. 15th and Blog Update

First, the blog update. I think I’ve sent an email to everyone who requested it, plus a few others I decided would definitely want it and they just totally forgot to ask, but they would have felt really left out if I wouldn’t have sen it to them. Anyway, I’ve figured out what I’m going to do with my blog and it will happen in the near-ish future – within a few months. If I missed you when I sent out the email, please drop a comment or send me an email and let me know.

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December 15th:

Well, you’d think Ed would learn, but apparently that’s not the case. As such, I don’t have any good crappy diaper stories to share because when Ed once again took off Mattix’s diaper this morning too soon, I declined to assist. All I overheard was Ed saying, “Again? Why?” followed by two minutes of Mattix grunting, then “Awesome! I caught it!” This is my life.

As predicted, Little Man woke up at 5:00 a.m. After only sleeping for two hours, I was not pleased. He was fussy and whiny though, so we decided (prayed) that he might be willing to sleep a little longer. Forty five minutes, one bottle, and a lot of tossing and turning later, he was back asleep. At 7:45, I woke up to the sweetest little hand on my face. I opened my eyes too see Mattix’s little face was two inches from mine, smiling at me, saying “Dadadadadada.” Not quite Dada, but I’ll take it. What a great way to wake up. After he was sure I was up, he crawled over to Ed and woke him up, too. This is great – he wants us up and interacting with him. On the first morning, he couldn’t have cared less if we were up or not because he had no expectations of us. Now he wants us to wake up and play with him. Very, very cool.

He was starving by the time we got to breakfast. He ate his entire container of yogurt, some nasty looking “porridge” from the restaurant, and half of a mashed up mini banana. He loves bananas! It was so cute watching him take a bite, then get annoyed while we got the next bite ready. He couldn’t get the banana bites in quickly enough…

…So, I got mine for not helping Ed earlier this morning, While Ed was in the bathroom, Mattix was crawling around the floor, playing with his stacking cups (of course), when I detected a foul odor. I smell pretty terribly these days, but this was much worse than my usual BO. I went for Mattix, because when something stinks, he’s usually suspect. Upon close inspection, I found doody all over the back of his legs and socks. Great. Another blow out. These diapers are so cheap! I got to strip him down, toss him in the tub, and hose him off. Thank goodness for the removable shower heard or we’d be in trouble. I was a little put out because we had dressed him in a onesie and the ONLY pair of elastic waist shorts that I brought. That only pair of shorts was now doody stained.

Why did he need shorts, you ask? Because we’re gluttons for punishment and were headed back to the big market for more shopping. Once we were home the other day, I thought of about 20 things I really needed but didn’t buy. Ed was game because, believe it or not, sometimes he’s in the mood to shop. I had dressed Mattix in a onesie, shorts, and no socks and decided that I didn’t care if anyone (or everyone) had something to say about it. It’s well over 100 degrees in there and the humidity is out of control. Vietnamese or not, the boy was hot the other day.

Well, unfortunately, because his only pair of shorts was covered in doody, Mattix ended up in a onesie and a thin pair of pants, which I pulled up to his knees, and no socks. And off we went, in the stroller, ready to face the stank, heat, and crowd.

Ugh. Long day. We were there for almost four hours. The smell today was so rank, and probably because of my cold (bird flu) and dehydration, there were a few times I really thought I was going to lose my breakfast, which would have really upset me, because that’s now the meal where I eat the most. Of course, I’m not one to give up my food easily, so I managed to keep it down. Like usual, Mattix was a champ in his stroller. He hung out in there for all four hours, only getting fussy a few times. Water, some formula, a little juice, and a few teething biscuits were all it took to make him happy. He doesn’t like to stop moving, so if one of us wanted to stop and browse for long, the other would push him around.

Lots of people were of course interested in him. Many people touched him, talked to him, sang to him, and asked us the usual question, “Vietnam baby?” to which we would respond in the affirmative, followed by, “Go to America?” Today was a little stranger, though, because three separate people asked Ed if he was Vietnamese. One assumed he spoke Vietnamese and started talking to him. When he just smiled and didn’t respond, she said, “You speak Vietnamese?” He shook his head to indicate that he didn’t, and she said, “Ooohhhhh.” Maybe he’s starting to look like the locals the longer we’re here??? I dunno. When he was pushing the stroller and was a few steps ahead of me (so it was difficult to tell that were together), a few people asked him, “You have wife?” and when he would turn around a point to me, I think they were surprised and disappointed. I was waiting for an “Ohhhh, you small Vietnamese man with biiiiggggg American wife.” Apparently the locals are unimpressed with my eight pound weight loss. Whatever. As far as I’m concerned, I rule.

As if my self esteem weren’t damaged enough, I decided that Ed and I needed traditional Vietnamese outfits to go with one (of about eight) that we bought for Mattix for a family photograph when we return home. Ed, who is of course always in need of a self esteem boost because of his poor self image, was quite pleased that the first place we asked had one in his size, and he about threw a party when he found out it was an XL. He’s never been an XL in his entire life, so this is quite the novelty for him. Maybe that’s why Ed’s such a hit here – he might be able to pass as Vietnamese, and he’s really big, so he’s quite the prize. If I have to hear him tell me he looks Vietnamese one more time, all pleased with himself, they can keep him.

Not such a party for me, however. I approached a woman whose booth had one that I liked, pointed at it, and asked for a “big” one and pointed at myself. “Ohhhh nooooooo, not have big,” was the response I got, in addition to some serious head shaking. Apparently, not only can I not pass as Asian, I’m plus sized. Score: Ed 2, Laura -2. That’s okay. I was undeterred. I approached another woman, who shook her head yes (jackpot!) and pulled it out of from a box under the cabinet. Apparently the jumbo sizes are stored away for special occasions. While Ed was quite pleased about being an XL, it didn’t do it for me. For the record, the top half (from the waist up) is too big, so apparently it’s just my hips and butt that are extra super big. The rest is just big. I had enough of this whole shopping for myself thing. My fragile ego can only take so much. I’m going back to the states for the rest of my shopping, where Banana Republic assures me that I’m a size small.

After four hours of torture, Mattix, Ed and I all had enough, so we headed back. During the walk, we bought more stuff of course. I also saw a few of the most horribly disfigured people I’ve seen so far. It’s very difficult to see that, and there are enough individuals who are very unfortunate begging on the streets to remind us how incredibly privileged we are to live where we do and have the medical care that we have.

We were exhausted and really hot by the time we made it back to the hotel. Mattix, who still fights sleep as though it’s his mortal enemy, refused a nap even though he was exhausted. Mommy wanted a nap, but Mattix didn’t care! Ed decided he wanted to walk down to a few camera shops, and I agreed as long as he took Mattix. I needed just half an hour of quiet time to cool off and relax. This bird flu kicking my butt.

We met our entire travel group for dinner, which was fun. We’re definitely here with a fun bunch of people who have similar senses of humor. We had intended to go to the Vietnamese House, but they were booked. Then we thought we might try a restaurant across the street, but one couple went over there and returned saying not so much, as the broken glass all over the floor (really) was not too child friendly. So, in our usual fashion, we ended up at the Rooftop again. Mattix was exhausted because of his new no-napping, no-sleeping-at-night policy, so he alternated between slap happy and fussy. At one point, he was banging away on the table with Khai (travel mate’s son), when he knocked over my entire vodka tonic. Ooooohhhh, Little Man has a lot to learn, such as never mess with mommy’s vodka. And don’t tell me he doesn’t appreciate air conditioning. It doesn’t take long. He was very, very fussy, so Ed walked him into an air conditioned room across the way, where he stopped fussing and started giggling.

We leave for Hanoi tomorrow (Sunday). I’m a little disappointed to leave Saigon. I love it here. It’s hot and humid, but it’s an amazing city with really neat people and incredible food. Ed and I stood outside on our little deck tonight, watching the ridiculous amount of traffic and people. The lights are so bright and the horns are so noisy; it’s a crazy sight. I took some video of it because it’s hard to believe unless you see it. The Christmas music from the Tax market is super loud, but I love it. If you could only see the amount of people gathered on the sidewalk in front of the Tax, you would think it was Macy’s Thanksgiving Day parade, except that there’s no parade. There’s just some Christmas decorations and music. I would like to stay here for at least a few more days, but apparently Mattix’s Visa takes priority.

Wish us luck on our flight. Hopefully Mattix will do well. He doesn’t sit still and he hates to be confined, so we’ll see!

A few more cute things about Mattix:
- He growls. Really, he actually growls. It sounds like something our dog Gidget does when she’s annoyed. I still can’t tell whether he does it when he’s irritated, or whether he just does it because he wants to.
- He’s really starting to teeth. He’s taken to chewing on his little fingers and drooling a lot. I think it’s making him fussy.
- When we hold our arms out to him, he reaches for us (finally) and when he’s really upset, he allows us to hold him for just a few minutes to comfort him.
- He makes a lot of eye contact with Ed and I and is really starting to smile back at us.
- When he cries, there are still no tears. Our travel mates’ son does the same thing, so we’re thinking it has something to do with institutionalization and not having their needs met. I’ll have to ask the doctor if that will ever change.
- He’s getting comfortable enough to throw fits! He arches his back and cries when we do something that displeases him, such as changing his diaper or clothes. Actually, he likes you to take them off, but not to put them back on.
- He sometimes crawls on all fours (hands and legs straight, with his little but straight up in the air). I think he’s trying to walk. I’d be surprised if he doesn’t have it down in two months or so.
- He’s really solid and not at all underweight, but the bottom half of him is so tiny. For footsie jammies, 9 months fit really well. In onesies and tops, 6-9 months fit, but in bottoms, he needs 3-6 months. He has a tiny little hiney. Obviously doesn’t take after his American mom in that department

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Looking at the photo of Matty with his hand on his head, pulling and scratching (while looking at the children behind him) really brought back memories. He doesn’t do that anymore, but helping him stop was such an uphill battle and it made my heart hurt so badly. It really is becoming a very distant memory, as Matty’s behavior now is so different than it was in Vietnam and during our first four-ish months home. To be honest, I haven’t thought about that in a while, but it doesn’t take long for the vivid memories of sitting in the rocking chair, struggling to restrain a little 18 pound body that wanted desperately to tear out his hair and scratch up his head, to return. He used to get so angry and Ed and me for holding his arms down or continually pulling them away from his head.

I’m so glad that Mattix now relies on Ed and me for comfort. It’s a relief that he calls for us when he wakes at night, versus hurting himself. It took a while, but he clearly knows that we’re always here for him and he can rely on us.

I promise these daily posts are almost over! I think there are three more days in our travel journal, then I’ll shut the hell up for the rest of the month. Okay, not totally, but I’ll lay off.

Remembering Dec. 14th and My kid loves snow and zoo lights but hates Santa

December 14th:

Dear Crappy International Clinic “Doctor,”

 

You suck.

Sincerely,
A very unhappy, sick, scabies-infested mom

I’ll get into our day (which was long but good) in a minute, but first, for the future adoptive families reading this, if you think your child is sick or has scabies, and the doctor at the international clinic (which clinic is supposed to be “good”) tells you otherwise, I would follow my instincts. Turns out the rash isn’t just “viral.” The poor kid is infested with scabies. How do I know this? Because I now have them, too. I’m actually glad I ended up with them because that indicated to me that I needed to treat my little guy. I feel terrible that Mattix has had them since he joined us on Sunday (well, I’m sure he’s had them for much, much longer, but I’ve had the ability to do something since Sunday), I’m sitting here with three tubes of Elimite, and he’s scratching away. I started itching last night during my sleep, on my left hand and forearm. It’s a really painful itch, almost aching, then burning. I woke up this morning and told Ed I thought I had scabies, and he told me I was being ridiculous and to stop overreacting. Yeah, well, by this evening, the itchy area on my hand started sprouting a few bumps. I had our travel mate Karen look at Mattix’s rash, especially the one on his feet, and she said that it looked exactly like her son’s rash before they treated it. (Her son, who was from the same orphanage/same baby room as Mattix, had scabies, as diagnosed by an apparently competent doctor at the same international clinic on the same day. It would make sense to me that if one child from the same room has them, another will, too, but nooooo, not so says the incompetent tool bag M.D. from the international clinic.)

So, tonight, we once again called housekeeping and had them strip and replace every last piece of bedding in our room. I think they are starting to wonder what the hell we’re doing in here that necessitates new bedding twice a day (they replace the sheets and pillow cases every morning, and here we are calling them a second time each day to replace those and the comforter). I gave Mattix a bath and covered him with Elimite from head to toe, showered myself and covered myself, and had Ed shower and do the same. Although Ed apparently escaped the wrath of the scabies, we decided that everyone gets treated to avoid re-infestation.

The good news is that it should only take one treatment to get rid of them, and they totally die within 24-48 hours. The bad news is GROSS. Seriously. Gross. I’ve never even had head lice, and here I am sporting skin mites. Cool. Actually, I’m handling this really well. I didn’t even freak out. Having a kid makes you very level-headed. Non-mommy Laura wouldn’t have done so well with having little microscopic bugs hanging out under her skin, but Mommy Laura just went straight for the solution. … And if you Google “scabies” like I did, don’t freak out. Neither Mattix nor I look anything like those horrible pictures. While his rash isn’t exactly lookin’ good, it’s nothing like most of the worst-case scenario pictures on the ‘net, and I only have three small bumps on my hand.

Like I said, I’m mostly upset because this poor little guy has probably had these things for most of his ten months and I should have just known to treat him right away. I could see them in so many sets of photos we received. When we finally had him, I wanted to treat him but Thuy suggested we wait to see if it got better because the kids sometimes just have bad heat rashes or terrible eczema. That’s completely reasonable. However, when it didn’t get better, I should have just treated him instead of assuming that the “doctor” (I use the term loosely) at the clinic knew what she was talking about. Poor little guy. It’s only been three or four hours and already you can tell he’s not itching as much. Karen’s son was feeling better within eight hours as well, so the good news is that he should be like a new baby by tomorrow morning.

Next order of business: not only do I look like a dude, I now sound like one. This may come as a shock, but the “doctor” at the international clinic was….wrong again! Mattix obviously has some sort of nasty infection, and now, so do I. I caught my first illness from my child. This certainly doesn’t feel like a cold, so I’m breaking out the Amoxicillin for myself and the Clamoxly for Mattix (you know, the antibiotics the “doctor” at the clinic gave my “not sick” son). I’m really hopeful that it’s just an infection. Could be the bird flu. Probably a 50-50 shot. There were enough chickens, ducks and roosters living around the places we drove through on the way to KG that you never know. We’ll see. I’ll either die or get better, right? … Ed can’t decide if my new deep voice is low and sexy or creepy (too dude-ish). I suspect he’s having mixed feelings about liking it, yet realizing I sound like a man. He’ll have to sort that out for himself. I’m too busy scratching my scabies to help.

On to more important things…

HAPPY TEN MONTHS, BABY BOY!
Our little guy turned ten months old today! I’m so happy that he’s part of our family now.

 

This morning, our little “birthday boy” decided that he was going to sleep in. I’m happy he had a good night’s sleep. Really, I am. I just want to know why he decided to sleep in on the one day when Mom and Dad had to be downstairs at 8:00 a.m. Instead of his usual 5:00 a.m. wake-up call, WE actually had to wake him up at 7:00. And he was annoyed. Really, really annoyed. I was annoyed that I had to get up at 6:00, so I totally understand. After a little wake-up time, he was back to his happy morning self. He’s starting to like the duck-bath, and today we discovered today that it actually quacks. …

Once we were dressed and ready, we had just enough time to run upstairs to my new favorite place – the breakfast buffet – where Ed and I shoveled down a bit of food in between feeding Mattix. We’re getting really good at this. One of us puts him in our lap, and we alternate giving him bites. Ed gives Mattix a bite of yogurt while I take a bite of my food, then I give Mattix a bite of yogurt while Ed takes a bite of his food (Ed’s food, not Mattix’s!). So much for my weight loss plan.

We left for the Mekong Delta around 8:15. It was a 1.5 hour ride, which seemed like small potatoes compared to the seven hour ride to/from KG. Mattix isn’t going to be keen on his car seat. I see a lot of screaming in the future for us. He does not like to be confined or to hold still. Lucky for him, there are no seatbelts or car seats here, so he doesn’t have to hold still, but things are certainly going to change in a week!

We arrived at the Mekong Delta and met our tour guide, Kim, who was awesome. She speaks (and writes) five languages fluently: Vietnamese (1st language), Russian, French, English, and Mandarin. She studied in Russia for five years when she was in college. Pretty impressive. Her English was amazing. She said that in order to have a good job here, a person must speak English. She told me that we (Americans) are lucky because we can go almost anywhere in the world and get by because English is spoken in so many places.

We had to climb onto an old, rickety boat for the ride across the river. That was interesting. There are no handrails or anything. You just walk down a narrow slab of concrete and onto the front of the boat. Ed carried Mattix because I wasn’t quite ready to fall into the Mekong with the baby. For someone who hates water and used to get nauseous and panicky ridding across the bay to downtown San Diego in a ferry when we lived in Coronado, I certainly didn’t have any issues with what we did today. I’m not even sure there were life vests on the boat. I didn’t think about it, really. I surprise myself sometimes.

We arrived on the other side, climbed off the boat in the same manner, and saw how coconut candy is made. It’s a pretty interesting process. The guy who uses the giant, scary, pointy speak-like device that is anchored in the ground is talented if you ask me. He can apparently peel 1,200 coconuts per day on the spear without decapitating himself. That alone impresses me. The candy is delicious, especially after it is just made and is still warm. We bought a bunch to bring home for you guys to try if you’re interested.

We climbed back on the boat and continued on to the next stop, where we walked through a really beautiful garden. There were a few scary monkeys in cages that Kim fed and one giant, horribly, nasty python …It was huge and not okay at all.

After that, we wandered to the “snack” area, where we had tea and some of the most amazing fruit ever: papaya, dragon fruit, pineapples, and mini bananas. Mattix LOVED the mini bananas. I mashed up little bites in my fingers and let him lick them off. (Yeah, that’s how I do it these days. I squash banana on my fingers and stick them in his mouth. I think I officially qualify as “mom.”)

Next came the worst part of the day. I wasn’t worried about falling in the Mekong and drowning. Whatever. But having a horrible python put around my neck? That about did me in. I included the photos just so you’ll believe that I did it. If you know my extreme fear of snakes, you’ll understand why I look this way in the photo. (Kedra, next time we hike the mountain and there are rattle snakes all over, I’ll be good to go. I’m obviously good with the snakes.)

After doing a few more touristy-things (during which they try, try, try to sell you stuff, and during which Ed and I were weak, weak, weak), we climbed into row boats and headed down the channels. That was actually really neat. By this time, Mattix had fallen asleep in the Baby Bjorn. We knew the sleeping part wouldn’t last long, but we were both really happy about that because he usually resists being held tightly against us enough to relax. He actually fell asleep while we were doing rice wine shots at the tea table (we’re a crazy group of partiers, the Walls – our travel mates – and us), so we transitioned him to the carrier where he fell back to sleep. Climbing into the row boat with the baby strapped to me was certainly interesting. It’s pretty unsteady and it feels like you’re going to tip over into the water. I could just envision Mattix and I going down, poor little guy strapped to me in the carrier. I figured if I fell into that water, I’d prefer them to just let me go down, ‘cause I probably wouldn’t ever be the same again. That water does NOT look clean, and I do NOT want to know what lives in there.

There was more to the tour, but nothing super exciting and this is getting a bit long. We stopped for lunch on the way home, wherein both the babies were not havin’ it and were not interested in allowing their parents to eat at the same time. This restaurant seemed a bit more touristy and most of the food was fried. It was really good, and really, when am I one to turn down fried food? I don’t know exactly what I ate because I chose it based on the pictures, but I really enjoyed it all. Ed had his own little fan club of three (female) Vietnamese servers who gathered around the table and stayed there the entire time, rolling each of his pancakes (something to do with rice, shrimp, crab, cheese, and some other stuff) in lettuce and vegetables for him, then smiling and giggling each time he took a bite and indicated it was good. If I weren’t trying to entertain Mattix, who by that time had made a HUGE mess with some teething biscuits that Karen had given him (and that he LOVES), I might have found the whole fan club amusing. However, lazy, rude American that I am, I was mostly just wondering why one of the fan club didn’t want to hold the baby?!

The highlight of the day for Ed occurred when Kim, the travel guide, told Ed that Mattix looked like him. La also said that last night. Lost of family and friends have told him that over the past nine months each time we received a set of pictures. I used to roll my eyes, but now that two Vietnamese people have validated it, I’ll stop making fun of him and concede the point. Kim also said that Ed could be Vietnamese. We were buying a T-shirt during the tour for someone at home and I asked for a large. Kim engaged in some serious discussion with the vendor, then asked us if it would be for someone “like” Ed or a “big American.” We indicated the latter, so they gave us a 2XL, which honestly is probably slightly smaller than an American size large. Remind me never to shop in Vietnam. My ego can’t handle it. I’m going to keep hitting up Banana Republic, where I totally buy into the theory that I’m a size 2 because that’s what the pants that fit say I am, and there’s no chance that Banana Republic downs their sizes to make consumers feel good about purchasing their clothing, thereby increasing their sales. No, it’s because I’m really a size 2. ThankYouVeryMuch.

Ed asked Huey…to teach him how to say “I love you” to Mattix in Vietnamese. After much gentle correction and practice, he’s fairly sure he has it down. He impressed his fan club at the restaurant with it, so he must be pretty close. If you’ve seen the movie Babe, Ed thinks it sounds like the pig when he says, “Baaa Ram Ewe!” I have no idea how to spell it, but it sounds something like “Ba ew gong.” When the mom says it, she says, “Ma ew gong.” Vietnamese is so difficult because it is all tonal and there are SIX tones. I think that in order to ever really learn to speak Vietnamese with any skill, it would be necessary to live here for a period of time to go for total immersion.

Actually, I need to correct myself. I think the real highlight of Ed’s day happened tonight, when he went out by himself to take photos (while I sat at home with the baby, barefoot, slaving over the stove, cooking him dinner…) First, a few children rooked him into buying gum (that he actually brought back and suggest I chew. Seriously? I think not). He apparently tried to resist first, but when the little girl told him he was handsome, he relented. Much like me at the market yesterday, he’s pretty sure she really thought he was handsome. It had nothing to do with her wanting him to buy the gum. He was most impressed when she skipped (literally skipped) out in the rushing traffic to sell gum on the other side of the street. He said she just took off skipping, out into six lanes of traffic that never stops, and made it to the other side whole, without hesitating once. Scary.

Second, he’s pretty sure he was proposition by a hooker. I asked him how he knew this, and he said he had a good idea when she said, “I go back to room with you.” I guess that might be the first clue. And when he said, “Um, no thank you” and smiled uncomfortably, she said, “Why you make that face? I go back to you room with you, okay?” Here’s what I think. If he’d had his special translation book with him (to read all about the translation book, click here: (12) Adoption Lows and Highs) things might have gone a little differently, but because he didn’t know the important phrases, he was outta luck. Maybe another night.

 

Oh, and Mom, Ed wanted me to tell you that we have yet to find a place that serves sweet & sour sauce or sweet mustard. Strange, huh? Although we didn’t ask anywhere so as not to thoroughly embarrass ourselves, we have not seen either yet. The fish sauce here is amazing, though, and I think even you would love it. If I can find some to bring home, I will because you’re missing out.

A few little Mattix factoids:

- He weighs just over 18 pounds
- He makes the a cute little smacking sounds with his lips when he likes what he’s eating
- He claps his hands when he gets really excited and also bounces up and down
- He started sucking his cheeks in and making a really funny noise while doing it today. We think he might be trying to mimic us giving him kisses, but he’s just a little off
- When we’re playing on the bed, he throws himself down on his stomach and rolls around. If Ed or I lay down next to him, he rolls up to us, looks us in the eye, and smiles. It’s priceless
- He started blowing spit bubbles today. Kinda gross, kinda cute
- He fits right in with his mommy – he’ll eat just about anything. The boy can eat like a champ. If we’re eating, he wants what we have and gets quite irritated when we won’t share. Makes me proud! (Oh, and he’s a messy eater just like me, too!)
- Sometimes he likes having his diaper changed, other times it really, really annoys him and he lets us know.

Time to end today’s novel. It is 2:15 in the morning, I missed the “good” sleeping hours long ago (the first two or three, where Mattix screams, tosses and turns the least), the scabies must be gettin’ busy making baby scabies because I itch like crazy, and I think the bird flu is worsening. Because we don’t actually have to be anywhere tomorrow morning, I’m sure Mattix will wake up around 4:00 a.m., 5:00 at the latest, so I’d better catch a few hours while I can.

We miss you all lots!

OH, AND FOR THE RECORD: I have not posted all these pictures with me in them because I enjoy seeing my slimy skin, frizzy hair, man arms, and lazy eye over and over and think that you will, too. It’s because Ed won’t share his beloved camera very often (he apparently doesn’t trust me with the camera, but no worries with the baby) and all of the photos we have of Mattix today were taken when we were out and therefore I was carrying him. I’m not about to set my baby down in the boat to get a good solo shot, so we’ll all just have to deal with it.

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Saturday was the busiest day ever, but a really great one. First, we went to breakfast, then we went to our community association’s “snow day.’ For an ungodly amount of money, we get a freaking pool, snow day, and two hundred billion regulations. Okay, so there’s a few more “benefits,” but whatever. So, anyway, I want some of my HOA dues back because the damn snow machine broke. The motor FELL OFF of thing.

But I’m not trying to be negative. Mattix loved it and didn’t’ care that there wasn’t enough snow to go sledding, because he doesn’t have a sled, anyway. He had no idea what snow was, but man was he excited. Ed and I kept saying, “We’re going to see the snow!” And Mattix would yell, “SNOW!!!! SNOW!!!” and hop up and down. Then he’d dance a little. I haven’t see him that excited in a while. Either he really does know what snow is, or Ed and I are so lame these days that WE were that excited and he was feeding off our excitement. Anyway, here are some cute photos:

His very first snowball:

Getting ready to throw the snow ball at me, b/c Ed told him that would be funny

And then we went to see Santa and it didn’t go well. Last year, we went to see Santa on December 24th, four days after we came home. Mattix sat on Santa’s lap and did the whole stare thing. This year, he lost his shit and cried. It was sad, but cute.

So Matty’s unhappy and that sucked, but really, he was cute and I was okay with it…but Santa? Not so much. He told me I needed to be in the photo so that Matty would stop crying, and being the stellar mom I am, I was all, “No, that’s okay. I don’t mind crying photos. He looks cute.” And Ed (ass hole) was like, “Really, hon, you should be in pictures so he’ll stop crying.” I gave Ed that look and was like, “No, seriously, IT’S OKAY. WE’RE FINE WITH THESE.” And then Santa was like, “No really, come on!” And by then, Matty’s really wailing.  So Santa makes me heave my fat ass over the barrier (different setup than the mall) in a DRESS with tights and a thong, thankyouverymuch, and he’s all trying to explain to me how I need to put Matty in my left arm and then back up and sit on his lap and then put Matty on my lap.

I sized Santa up and down and decided that he was maybe pushing 190, so you take my buck forty five (yeah, yeah, I’m working on that, okay, and I totally just admitted how much I weight and YES, I need to lose 15 more pounds, but I’m down six so far, so that counts for something, and I am 5′7″, so throw me a bone). Where was I? Oh yeah, you add my buck forty five to Matty’s 25 and now you a buck seventy and I’m thinking that this isn’t going to go well.  Plus, I started having really traumatic flashbacks to this time in high school when my friend and I went to see Santa. We were 16 and had done it every year since we were 12, except the year we were 16, Santa was a perv and when we sat on his lap…well, anyway, I had some flashbacks, because at 16, I was quite innocent. So I was trying to squat on Santa’s lap with Matty on my lap, but I had went to the trainer on Friday and my lower body barely worked. So  mid-squat, I fell onto Santa’s lap with Matty in my lap and it was embarrassing. This was after I climbed over the barrier in my skirt and flashed all 50 people in line.

But that wasn’t the worst part. The worst part was the fact that I look like a beast. Ed needs to learn how to work a camera angle or some shit like that because I kid you not, I look three times the size of Santa. The hell? I promise you, this guy was like six feet tall and 190 pounds, and yes, I’m packing a few extra, but he still has me by five inches 45 pounds.

You want to see it, right? Because you think I’m exaggerating. I’m NOT. Laugh away, ladies.

Great day to skip the make up, huh? Oh, and to not wash my hair (for like the fourth day in a row). So not only do I look like a beast, I look like a man beast with dirty hair.

Moving on.

Continuing our Christmas season day, we went the Zoo Lights. After PRE-PUCHASING tickets and then getting there as soon as the damn place opened at 6:00, we were amongst the last cars to be allowed into the OVERFLOW lot next to the zoo. If we’d missed that, we would have had to park four miles away and take a shuttle with Matty and all our shit and the wagon. ‘Cause that sounds like fun. But we made the overflow lot and we walked half a mile and then got into a line of two million people with our PRE-PURCHASED tickets.

Once inside, I started having flashbacks to my high school concert days and I was all worried I was going to get pushed over and trampled and I briefly considered climbing into Matty’s wagon and sitting in the other seat and making Ed, who definitely weighs LESS than Matty and I combined, haul us around the zoo, but my friend Laura asked if she could put her daughter in the wagon with Matty, so I missed my chance.  I couldn’t get all snotty over giving up the seat to a kid, so I pretended like I didn’t mind. Pfff.

Matty was okay with sharing his wagon, but when Hannah took his crazy ass light up necklace that made me feel like I was going to have a seizure, he wasn’t so pleased:

Okay, I think WP is done with all my photo uploading, because all of my photos of zoo lights are uploading as empty boxes with a red “x.” I can take a hint.

Mattix loved Zoo Lights. He’s really into lights lately, or if you ask him, “Ights.” (There’s no “l” in lights, people.) And Zoo Lights was like lights gone crazy, so he really had a great time. I brought his footie jammies with us and changed him when we got back to the car at 9:00. He was passed out within two minutes of driving away.

It was a long day, but it was a really great family day. You know those perfect days where everything is just great (except for sitting on Santa’s lap and looking like a man beast)? That was yesterday.

Remembering Dec. 13th

Okay, even if you don’t read through this whole thing, which, believe it or not, I did shorten, then read the end.  I put that part in bold. We had such bad luck with crap. Does this stuff happen to anyone else???

Also? We had the BEST day today. I’m too tired to write about it and include the photos of my kid playing in the snow (in the middle of the grass when the high was 68 today) and freaking the f*ck out in Santa’s lap (thus necessitating ME to sit on Santa’s lap, too, which was not. good. at. all)  and going ape @hit at zoo lights (where we were nearly trampled by out of control crowds (families) but Matty loved it, so I did, too), but I have ‘em all and I’ll put them up tomorrow. We had so much fun…it’s not even normal to have that much fun in one day.

December 13th:

Each day just gets better! The nights not so much; last night was another long one…After our morning routine (which somehow takes over two hours), we of course went upstairs for breakfast, then met our group in the lobby because today was shopping day! Mattix was rollin’ in the stroller, ready for action.

We all piled into the van, ready for a nice, air conditioned van ride. Two minutes later, we were there. Huh? It turns out it’s only about five blocks from our hotel. This was a whole new experience. I would give you something to compare it to, but nothing comes to mind. I haven’t been to the fair in YEARS (since I was very young), but I recall going indoors where there were tables set up where people sold different things. Take that concept, but shove hundreds of vendors into a giant, non-air conditioned warehouse with hundreds and hundreds of people shoving, pushing, and shopping. It’s crazy busy and overwhelming. People are trying to sell you things left and right. It’s hard to focus on anything, let LONW make decisions. It is so hot. So. Hot. The air is all hot, humid, stale, and did I mention hot? Some of the “isles” off of the main ones are so narrow that you’re constantly bumping into people. There were many places we couldn’t go with Mattix because they were too narrow to get the stroller down the aisles (and this is a little stroller – comparable to an umbrella stroller in the states).

Mattix lost interest quickly because we would stop moving to look. Every time we stopped, he got irritated. The more irritated he got, the louder he got. Not that it mattered, because the tremendous amount of noise drowned him out. At one point, a vendor came up to the stroller, unbuckled him, and helped herself. She bounced him around and talked to him for a while. He seemed to enjoy it. Ed stood there and watched him while I shopped (of course).

I really can’t stress how packed and tight this place was. I’m no slender princess by any means, but I’m not exactly huge. There was one isle I wasn’t sure I’d make it down. Despite that, this place was great for my self esteem. The women would tell me how “beautiful you face, eyes” are and touch my cheek. Don’t try to tell me it’s because they wanted me to buy their things. I don’t believe it. I’m just looking that good these days. The sweaty pig look suits me. I must have been mistaken yesterday when I thought I was starting to look like a dude, because they said I’m beautiful. I’ll have to look at the photos again to be sure, but I’m inclined to agree with them.

We bought lots of great stuff…I forgot to mention that at one point, Thuy took Mattix in his stroller for us…She pushed him around for at least an hour and we were able to do a lot of shopping during that time. After she returned him (she had to go with Matt to the passport office to pick up the baby’s passports), we shopped some more, but we were all slowly dying. It was a combination of the heat, the sickening stench of some pretty funky foods that were once again festering in the heat, and the fact that we were all very dehydrated. We kept trying to leave, but I would think of “just one more thing” that I really NEEDED, so it took a while to get out of there.

Let me offer a little perspective so you can understand exactly how hot it was in there. When we stepped outside, it felt cool and I was relieved to be in the sickening, hot, sweltering outdoor heat. Mattix just sat there, looking up at me, certainly thinking, “Stupid Americans.” Just wait, little man, until you truly appreciate air conditioning. Then who’s gonna be laughing?! By the time we hoofed it back (crossing a few scary streets), carrying tons of really heavy stuff, I was a D-O-N-E. At first, I carried a few of the boxes because I was too afraid to push Mattix across the street in the stroller. The boxes were very heavy, though, and it got so bad that I set them down on the sidewalk and was ready to take a rest. At that point, I decided I was willing to risk it and Ed and I switched jobs. If I needed a Valium yesterday, I need a horse tranquilizer today…

…by the time we got back, his little diaper was wet and he was exhausted and hungry and I swear, even though he didn’t look like it, he had to be hot. I couldn’t strip my sweaty clothes off quickly enough. We have the temperature in our room set to about 60 degrees, and the cold felt soooooo good. The worst part of this whole thing it that we have to go back on Saturday because I thought of more things that I “need!”

Praise the Lord Mattix finally got good and tired. Now that I think about it, we’ll definitely do this again on Saturday, because all three of us slept from noon until 3:00. He slept fitfully and whimpered and whined, but he only had one or two major crying episodes, which is great for a three hour period. Ed and I both felt great when we woke up.

Matttix woke up in a really sweet, happy mood. He woke up slowly and we talked to him quietly, and he wasn’t at all startled today. In fact, he opened his eyes, rolled over and smiled at us. Oh my gosh. Melt my heart. He has the most beautiful smile. I just can’t seem to catch it on camera because he’ll be laughing, smiling, giggling, and playing, then I pull out the camera, and it just stops and stares at me, as if to say, “I’m not a zoo animal. I will not perform for the camera!” I did have a little more luck today, so I have a few cute pictures to share. We’re going to have to catch this giggling and laughing on camera, because it’s priceless.

We went to a group dinner at a local restaurant. I don’t know the name of the restaurant, but is was very, very good! We sat by the water, so I was the proud recipient of a few mosquito bites. If I come home with dengue fever, don’t worry about it. They do things very differently here. By the time some of our group’s food came out, many of us were done with our dinner. I mean, there was probably a 25 or 30 minute span between the time that the first plates came out and the last. Anyway, the food was good and we all had a nice time. ..

Mattix did surprisingly well. We had to walk him around for about 75% of dinner, but he allowed us to hold him without struggling. He was very curious about what was going on. So was I. It was a strange setup. I guess it was all one restaurant, but it was spread out over a huge space, with different rooms (some enclosed, others open) and spaces. There were two Vietnamese weddings taking place, and they were really going to town with the karaoke at one of them. My favorite is when one totally tone deaf guy broke out in the Vietnamese version of Old Time Rock N’ Roll.

All of the kids started to get tired and cranky by the end of dinner. We were pretty anxious to leave, but another thing that sometimes seems to take while here is figuring out the check so that you can pay. It seems like they sort of come out and figure out what you ordered after the fact, then add it up the old fashioned way. I haven’t seen a single computerized system at a restaurant yet. We have eaten at a few places where they asked us what we had, assumed we were being honest (which we were), then wrote it down and added it up. It’s a process for sure.

I couldn’t wait to climb back into the air conditioned van, so Mattix and I headed back while Ed paid (the driver usually leaves five or ten minutes before the group to get the air going). Yeah, well, I walked out into the parking lot to find about 15 vans that looked exactly like ours. At that point, I didn’t really care whose van I was in, as long as the A/C was one. I found one that was running and guessed. Lucky for us, I guessed correctly.

Because it was past Mattix’s bedtime when we got home, he was overtired and adorable! When he’s really sleepy, he’s either super sweet and giggly, or irritable and cranky. Well tonight was the former and it was so much fun. I almost didn’t want him to fall asleep because we were enjoying him so much. He’s a crackup. Ed was making some silly noises and shaking (sounds weird – I can’t really describe it) and Mattix thought that that was the funniest thing he’d ever seen. He would laugh and laugh. Deep belly laughs to the point where he would have to stop to catch his breath. Then he would clap his hands and scream so that Ed would do it again. All three of us were rolling around the bed, giggling, and making stupid sounds. It’s amazing how silly you’ll act (and enjoy it) just to entertain a baby. It’s also amazing how much fun it is. Mattix is such a blessing. I can’t get over how lucky we are to raise him. He’s funny, smart, curious, and pushy. We love him so much and we probably don’t even know him yet. It’s fascinating to watch him warm up to us more and more each day. Every morning, he wakes up and it seems like he’s ready to show us a new part of him. I love getting to know him. I love the way he engages us with his smiles. He’ll look right at one of us when we’re out (which is when he’s very guarded, quiet, and apprehensive), and crack the biggest, two half-tooth grin ever. Sometimes it is difficult not to cry. However, when other people try to get him to smile or laugh, he usually gives them his “are you done acting stupid yet?” stare. We can see how much more comfortable with us he is becoming because his behavior in our hotel room is such a stark contrast to his behavior outside of it. It’s like we have two different babies.

And now that you I’ve shared how cute Mattix is, I think it’s time to end with the world’s most disgusting story. This morning, after his yogurt, Mattix dropped a load that Ed “detected” early. Ed was quite pleased with himself, even mentioning that it was great he noticed right away so that Mattix knows we’ll change him as soon as he needs it. Hmmmm. I’m not sure if you know where this is going, but for those with a weak stomach (like me), stop reading and skip to the end.

Ed flips him on his back, expertly removes his diaper, and busts out the wipes. Ed said, “Wow, that’s a small one, and not messy, either.” He’s sitting there holding little Mattix’s feet in the air, hog tied-style, wiping away smugly, mumbling about how good he’s getting at this, when he yells, “Holy crap. He’s not done! Get a towel or something.” I turn around to see my adorable, precious little child dumping all over the place with Ed trying to catch it in the folded up used diaper, little legs still straight up in the air, held tightly by Ed. I run to the bathroom and grab and a hand towel just in time. (Sorry, Rex Hotel, this one’s going in the trash. Charge the room.) After what seemed like an eternity and a very large amount of “stuff,” Ed moves the soiled towel and again proceeds to wipe away. I’m half conscious at this point, doubled over in the corner of the room, alternating between laughing and gagging, when Ed yells, “For the love of God, he’s still not done! And now he’s peeing everywhere!” At this point, sweet little Mattix has his face twisted in knots, is grunting loudly, and pee is spraying everywhere. Following each grunt, he giggles and smiles, very pleased with himself, then repeats the whole process. I run to the bathroom again for another towel, but it’s evident to me that things are not looking good for the Rex’s comforter.

We both got Mattix all cleaned up, did what we could with the comforter and a handful of baby wipes, wrapped the towels up in plastic bags and threw them away, and called housekeeping. I’m not sure we were all that popular with the two really nice ladies who came out with only one new sheet in hand. They seemed a little confused when I gestured that the whole thing (comforter, sheets, and all) had to go, but they went replaced all of the bedding. They talked a lot while they were changing the bedding, and I can only imagine what they were saying. Twenty minutes and two large tips later, we were as good as new. As for Mattix, I have yet to see him that happy. If you had seen the amount of stuff that came out of that little 18 pound body, you would understand why.

Tomorrow we tour the Mekong Delta, which should be a very neat, hot, and long experience. I’m sure I’ll have lots to share!

Ed was really annoyed with me when I took this photo (just in case you couldn’t tell – ha)! We were trying to get ready to leave and we were running behind. But Mattix looks adorable, so I told Ed to suck it or something equally sweet.

This was in one of the stalls at the Market. It was one of the more organized displays. This picture is crazy to me because it’s so busy, I almost disappear. Almost. Not quite. Okay, not even close. But still. There’s a lot going on!

Sooo sweet when he slept (for like 20 minutes):

A fun, giggly moment:

Before dinner that night, in front of a “snowman,” with Karen and Khai

In the van, after dinner. Even Matty had bags under his eyes from being so tired!

Remembering Dec. 12th and ohmygosh, the guy at the gym just gets worse

December 12th:

What a difference a day makes. Everyone always says to wait a few days once you have the child out of the orphanage and it’s true. We certainly don’t even know him yet, but this child is amazing. He becomes more and more engaged every minute. Last night, before we fell asleep, we were playing on the bed with stacking cups. (Stacking cups are the only toy we’ve used so far b/c he LOVES them. It’s not even natural how much he loves those stupid cheap plastic stacking cups.) Anyway, I would hold one up to my mouth, make a silly noise, and toss it at him. I’ve never heard a giggle that great. He laughed and laughed and laughed until he was choking. We did that for about 20 minutes. He had both Ed and I crying he was so precious. The smile on his face, with his two little bottom teeth half poking through, is priceless.

Nights are difficult. I hope they get better, but I’m not counting on it any time soon. Nights are when you can really see the effects of his institutionalization. I’ll write more about it later, but it’s sad and upsetting. We’re doing what we’re “supposed” to do; we’ll just keep hoping for progress. The reason he’s bald on each side of his head is not b/c they shaved his head or because he lies on those sides. It’s because he yanks and scratches at his head so forcibly that he has pulled or rubbed all of the hair out. It’s called a self-soothing behavior. Because nobody responded to his needs for ten months, he had to learn how to calm himself and put himself to sleep alone. Institutionalized children often develop different self-soothing behaviors so that they can relax themselves when nobody responds to their cries. It makes my heart ache to watch him. When we prevent him from doing it (which we do), he becomes very, very frustrated. It’s such a strong need that he’ll do it on my (or Ed’s) chest or arms. It’s very painful when he does it to us – he gets his nails in there, pinches, grabs, pulls, and scratches, so I can only imagine how much it hurts his poor little baby head. We hope that over time, he’ll learn to rely on us so that he no longer needs to do this. However, we also know that children sometimes continue this for years. He doesn’t sleep through the night at all; he wakes up crying and sometimes terrified. We’re hopeful that this is due to a change in environment. Needless to say, we’re all very tired.

I don’t want to sound too depressing, because today was really a great day. He allowed us to hold him for short stretches. We couldn’t sit perfectly still, but we also weren’t bouncing him all over the place. Ed is absolutely amazing with Mattix. He’s such an incredible father. I was having a hard time this morning because every time I would try to pick Mattix up and he would cry, I would cry, too (I know – I’m actually crying). Not exactly helpful parenting! Ed worked with him for over an hour this morning, and by the end, Mattix would sit calmly in his arms for ten minutes at a time while they slowly wandered around the room. We played with him on the bed for hours. …

…Oh, before I forget to talk about the most important thing of the day (food), the breakfast at the Rex is freaking awesome. I don’t think I’ve mentioned it yet, but if I have, sorry – skip this part. We all know my day (life) revolves around what I can get down my gullet, and seriously, I could eat here every day. It’s sooo good. They have lots of Vietnamese food, in addition to some American and French dishes. Ed and I have yet to eat anything American because the Vietnamese food is so good! Oh, and I think Ed must have read the blog, because for the past two mornings, he’s walked around with Mattix while I eat first. He even told me today to stop eating so quickly and enjoy it. Nice!

Okay, back to the baby. He took a nap for an hour and a half and woke up all happy and ready to go. We were meeting our travel mates for lunch, but because he slept a little long, we didn’t walk with them. Great idea. We couldn’t find the place. I asked for directions at our hotel. I’m not exactly sure what she said, so we interpreted the best we could and took off. Over the next hour, we walked blocks and blocks, in circles, asking at least five other people for directions. Each pointed is in the opposite way, so we would take off, walk for four or five blocks, then stop and ask someone else. We’re really great world travelers. The good news is that I can cross any street, anywhere. Really, I can now. I just go and pray (out loud). An hour later, sweating like a like a man, we found it. (Side note: I’m starting to look like a dude. Really, I am. I was looking through the photos from the past few days wondering exactly what happened. It’s not normal. I’m blaming it on the weather,) By the time we got there, we were so hot and so tired (and I was a little frazzled from all the street crossing) that I wanted a Valium, not lunch. Nobody had a Valium, so I settled for a Diet Coke and Ed a beer.

Thuy brought us all strollers yesterday and Ed and I gave it a try. I was a little worried but as it turns out, Mattix LOVES the stroller. Absolutely loves it. He hangs out in there, eyes wide open, looking back and forth to check out everything around him. He takes it all in and gives his little contemplative looks. Nothing scares him, which is shocking because all he’s ever known was the orphanage. The kids aren’t taken outside the orphanage, and certainly nowhere like THIS. Hell, I’m not used to this. It’s madness. (Although it could be that he IS scared, but he deals with it by becoming quiet. That’s how he reacted to us when we picked him up. He was very, very quiet and just studied us, but I do think he was upset. Hopefully we’re not traumatizing him.)

Oh, and he doesn’t sweat. I thought he did, which is why I had him in just a onesie the other day (when I got in trouble), but I’m apparently wrong. No sweat. What is up with that? The Americans are dying here, dressed in as little clothes as is socially acceptable, and he’s sporting the pants, long sleeve onesies, shoes, and hat and is as cool as a cucumber.

After lunch, we went sightseeing around town. We saw some really neat things. (Oh, and for my girls at home, authentic Louis Vuitton – they have lots of our favorite upscale boutiques here – does cost as much as it does in the states.) Anyway, by the time we finished, I was soaking wet with my own sweat, certain I was going to die at any moment of heat stroke. You could have rung out my tank top. I’m from the desert and I can’t take this. I’d suggest that Al Gore take a trip to Vietnam to focus his global warming awareness efforts on this place, because something’s got to be going on with that.

Mattix loved every minute of the walk and so did Ed and I. There are so many amazing, old buildings here. It’s neat to walk around the streets and just see everything. There are lots of people on the streets selling stuff. Some of it is interesting, some of it made me throw up a little. There are tons of street vendors with all sorts of food, and all I wanna know is who buys shrimp that is sitting in baskets on the street when it’s 145 degrees out. The smell alone makes you want to die. Bacteria, anyone? Oh, and if anyone wants to learn Vietnamese, Ed purchased a translation book from someone who just wouldn’t let up. Yeah, ‘cause that’s helpful. Just because I can see the word written in Vietnamese certainly doesn’t mean I can pronounce it. The good news is that there’s an entire section apparently focused on picking up hookers, entitled “Sex,” wherein you learn the important stuff, including: “How much?” “Harder!” “I won’t do it without a condom!” and “I love you” (because you’ve gotta be polite, right?). If anyone needs it for a future trip, shoot me an email.

Anyway, after our walk, we came back to the room and hung out together. It was great. Mattix is opening up so much. He smiles at us, giggles, works hard to make eye contact, and gives the sweetest looks. He’s the most precious baby. It makes me cry to think about how much more he deserved for the first ten months of his life. I’ll get through that, but it’s hard, just knowing that someone so sweet and helpless has been through so much. Today he stood up – ON HIS OWN – twice, for a few seconds each time. He’s just a few days shy of ten months, so I believe he’s right on track with that. He walks while holding your hands, and he walks around the bed (really quickly) while holding on to the edge. Now that I think about it, I’m certain he’s highly gifted, possibly a genius. Sorry, I’m just being honest. Even if he’s just right on track, I’ve determined he’s brilliant. (He’s probably going to solve the global warming issue, mentioned above, and show Al Gore that although simply talking about a problem may get you the Nobel Peace Prize, solving it is better.) Anyhoo, I digress. After spending every day of your life in a crib, enough so to make your head flat, you’ve gotta be special to be physically on track, right? It’s too early to make any determinations about his mental and emotional development, but from what we’ve seen, he’s an amazing little boy!

We met our travel mates for dinner on the Rooftop, which was fun (mostly because they have Vodka tonics, but also because it’s fun to eat with them). After that, we went across to the street to the Tax Market to buy more stuff for Mattix. (Seriously, he needs a lot of stuff. If it’s not one thing, it’s another. Diapers, formula, wipes, baby food, blah, blah, blah. Geez.) The Christmas season in Vietnam is cool and weird. I guess the Tax Market is like a mall (nothing like our malls – very strange), and right now, it’s like going to the mall during Christmas, except we’re in Vietnam and all the Christmas music is English rap versions of popular Christmas songs. And there are people, people everywhere. It’s like shopping the day before Christmas, except it’s not the day before Christmas. They have a tree set up in the middle on the ground floor and some Christmas decorations around it, and the way people gather around in awe, laugh, talk loudly, point, and take pictures like crazy posed in front of it, you would think there was a celebrity there. Except there’s not. Very, very interesting.

So that’s all I have today (“all” – I think I wrote too much again). Things are improving each day. Tomorrow is the shopping day, so I’m sure I’ll have exciting things to share. Hope everyone is doing well at home…

 

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The one thing that really sticks out is how much we were trying to hang onto the positive. I’ve noticed other people doing that while they are in country and having a tough time. I didn’t notice it before we were there, but now I see it. You’re overwhelmed and exhausted and slightly freaked out and you grasp at whatever you can. But Mattix did make tiny, little bits of progress. At that point, even allowing Ed to hold him for five minutes was huge.

The nights were terrible in VN and they only got worse once we were home. That’s another thing I pretty much knew right away – that we were going to be really, really tired for a long time.  We co-slept in Vietnam (and after we were home for about two weeks) and it was brutal. Matty was all over the place, all night long. For the short 20 minutes stints that Mattix slept, it was insane. I’ve never seen anybody thrash, move, and cry like that in their sleep.  We were truly exhausted. One year later and he still doesn’t sleep through the night. He did for about a week recently, but it didn’t last, and now we’re up a few times a night again. But, really, nothing is as bad as the first four months home!

And as it turns out, the stroller was okay with Mattix because it meant he was able to avoid human contact. So long as he was in the stroller and the stroller was moving, he dealt with it. That meant we were not holding him, but that stroller is the only thing that allowed us to survive our time there. If we had been required to hold Mattix every time we went out, we never would have been able to go out. Each van ride was murder. I began to dread climbing into the van well before we took a ride anywhere. By this day, I was also starting to become very nervous about the flight from Saigon to Hanoi. Never mind the flight home!

Beyond all of the hard parts, I loved getting out and about in Saigon. It was such an incredibly city – so busy, crowded, full of things to see. Ed and I would really like to move there for a year or two, and one day, I really hope that we can make it happen. It was sooo hot, but I think I’d get used to the heat. It’s not so much the heat, but the combination of heat and humidity. Our summers here reach 115, but they’re usually pretty dry. so the weather there was shocking. The magic weight loss is reason enough to suck it up and deal with the heat! And the magic weight loss combined with the ability to eat as much incredible food as you can is just too much. I get hunger pangs thinking about the food. Then again, what’s new?

Finally, I loved being there before Christmas. I wouldn’t have minded if we had been there ON Christmas, either. It was really neat to see the unusual “Santas” and other variations of our American Christmas. It actually makes me feel a little sad because I’ll always associate Christmas to our time in VN and it makes me want to go back!

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So, just because I haven’t been telling you about my gym adventures doesn’t mean I’m not still experiencing them. Things are ugly. Really ugly.  The stretch marks on my ass got together, mated, and had millions of offspring. The babies, apparently too numerous to fit on my ass, have set up shop on the sides of my thighs. Great. ‘Cause I needed that right now.

So, in an effort to stop the reproduction, I’ve been working really hard. I’ve been to the gym every day since Saturday, so that makes today the seventh day. There was a muscle class, three spinning classes, Zumba and two days of training with Clarence plus 45 minutes on a cardio machine. Clarence took me very literally when I told him that I would feel like I didn’t get my money’s worth if I could walk normally the day after training. Clarence needs to learn that with sarcasm comes overstatements.

It’s gotten so bad that I’m no longer just sore when I try to use my muscles to do really important things, like, you know, getting up off the toilet. No, now every last muscle aches, even when I’m laying flat on my back. (Just laying there, pervs, not doing anything. You think I could do anything else at this point? Pfff. I can barely sneeze without needing  Morphine.) In an effort to deal with this, I’m planning to use 10 crushed Advil in my coffee every morning in place of my usual Splenda.

But you want to know about Ballet Bob, right? He’s there every time I’m training with Clarence. Today, he marched up and down the mat, counting out loud and doing his best to appear very engrossed in some sort of complex math equation. There was a lot of stopping, pausing, looking to the left while appearing to be deep in thought. Unfortunately for Captain Douche, I’m well aware that there is no thought whatsoever going on up there, so complex thought is definitely not an option.

After ten-ish minutes of this, he went and got a stability ball. I was really excited to see where this was going.. He apparently used his math to figure out how many bounces it would take him to get from one end to the other. He started at the far end, sat his ass down on the ball, and literally bounced up and down like a freak show on the ball, propelling himself forward with every bounce. Clarence laughed out loud and mumbled, “Aaahhhh, man.”  I’m thinking he needs one of the kids balls with a character’s head and handles. It would complete the look.

Unrelated to President D-bag, Mattix is doing very well in the child care room. He knows exactly where we’re going when we leave in the mornings because I put on his ID bracelet and tell him we’re going to go “play for an hour” while mommy tries to sweat her second and third asses off. Okay, I leave off the last part, but he does know where we’re heading.  That doesn’t upset him at all and he’s totally fine the whole time, even when I’m signing him in. He still cries for about two minutes when I hand him over to one of the girls, but he wants down after a few minutes and he plays the whole time, often with other kids. When I go get him, he literally squeals as he runs to me. When I pick him up, he pats my back and rubs my cheeks. Sooo sweet. Almost makes this intense throbbing, aching pain that is consuming my body worth it. I’m wondering if anyone at the gym would have a problem with me going in with a bottle of wine and using my time to hang out in the theater room. I could use a few days off!