An interesting question ...

Fun at the Cultural Center

As a Westerner living in Kaohsiung, Taiwan with two adorable babies who look nothing like each other, I stand out a fair amount, especially as I spend a lot of time wheeling them around the neighborhood and the Cultural Center in their mondo double stroller.  I also get asked all kinds of questions and launch into all kinds of conversions primarily in Chinese, which is to say that half the time I have no idea what I'm talking about or being asked.  However, they tend to all be in the same vein.  Often they start with comments about how much Vivienne looks like me and then queries about Jonathan not looking like me.  They often just assume my husband is Taiwanese and Jonathan got his looks from him.  Inevitably it leads to me telling them that Jonathan is adopted and more questions usually ensue, some of which I might understand.  Adoption is not something generally done in Taiwan I suspect, and it's rather a new concept for many -- particularly those of an older generation.  Today that got a new response from one grandmotherly-type patron of the children's clothing store downstairs.  She instantly asked me several times if he knew that he was adopted.  I kept telling her, "He's two.  He just knows I'm his mommy." In fact, at this stage, I don't even feel like an adoptive mom most of the time.  I know that questions and struggles will come, but they are far away on the distant horizon.  For now, I'm just the mom of two toddlers with less-than-orthodox bedtimes.

As much as I am looking forward to looking forward to getting to know my kids as little people and as fast as those days are approaching, I know that I am in an easy stage of their lives right now.  OK, so maybe not an easy stage, but a simple one at least.  Things are pretty predictable.  I know that without Baby Giraffe for my boy and nursing for my girl, there's almost no chance of bedtime sticking.  I know that if that's not enough, Pokoyo on the iPad works wonders much of the time.  I know that Jonathan will spit out at least one mouthful of food a day.  I know that Vivienne will only let me be out of her sight for so long.  I know that when Jonathan points to his mouth, he's probably hungry.  I know not to let my son hold his own cup of grape juice unless we want to go for the purple spattered look.  I know that a walk outside brings complete joy (or sleep) to my little ones.  And I know that they are ours and they are beautiful and that God has brought us the perfect children for this family in His own special way.

He's such a wonderful older brother --
most of the time, at least.

Jonathan knows some things, too.  He knows that if you put shoes on, you're going out.  He know that the high chair means food.  He knows the lullaby CD should be playing in his room -- even if you're leaving it and shutting the door.  He knows that if anyone is taking a shower, he should be in there playing in the water, too.  He knows which pacifiers are his and which are Vivienne's.  He knows that elephants roar and toothbrushes are fun.  He knows that the button on top of daddy's computer turns it on.  He knows grandpa and grandma live in the iPad, though they occasionally visit the laptop.  He knows that the DVD's go in the player and that you stomp on empty containers to squish them.  He knows that he should hand the empty bottle out of the crib if he gets a new one.  He knows how to play peek-a-boo and get-in-daddy's-chair-before-daddy-does and how to wave and do "Superbaby!"  He knows a lot of things in Chinese and English when he hears them and how to say "hi," "bye," and "up."  And he knows the people in his life.  Vivienne is awesome.  Daddy is fun.  Nanny is great and feeds him well.  He knows Mike and Lucas and Breanna and Jeanay and Deborah and Fawkes and Andrew and K. Kay and Katie and the big boys at church, Adam and Eden.  And he knows -- and I'm not sure when or how he figured it out, but he really knows -- that I am his mommy.  And at two, that is all he needs to know.  Though it would be nice if he added a bit more vocabulary to this extensive list of his worldly wisdom -- mamma or dadda, for instance, would be nice.

A rare picture of Jonathan and his mommy.