Please choose to be and to do.

Many days I come home from work, and can hear Leilei laughing and playing halfway down the street. I spot her among the kids playing basketball and riding bikes, and call out "Hi Leilei!' Sometimes she runs to me, and sometimes she's too busy playing to do more than yell back "Hi!"
Some days Libby is playing too, but often these days I don't see her till I come inside. There she is, sprawled in the big chair, watching TV. Her eyes literally glazed over.
"Don't you want to play outside with the kids?" I ask, as I bend down to kiss her.
Sometimes I stop myself from asking this, because I know the answer, and that kind of question always seems like a judgement.
She might say "It's too hot," or "It's too wet outside" or "there's no one to play with"--and I hate that last reply, because I know what she means--there might be kids outside, but there's no one to play with Libby, no one who gets her right at that moment. She's a sensitive girl. I am a sensitive girl, too, so I know how that can be.
I know how much easier it is to be quiet than to make suggestions. I know how much easier, because it is less painful, it is to remove yourself, rather than push yourself into a situation. Because you can't be rejected if you don't try to join in. Rejection hurts, so avoiding the group gives an immediate payoff--no pain. Trying to fit in might work, and would be fun, but that payoff is not definite, and the threat of pain is far stronger than the possibility of happiness.
It can be, in fact, easier to be sad than to be happy.
I want to say, "Libby, listen to me, because I know. In the long run, it is better to play. It is better to risk pain, in the hope of happiness. It is better to do and to be."
It is easy to be lonely, and easy to be sad. Just like it is easy to eat a bag of potato chips, and easy to watch TV hour after hour.
So, though I am not averse to taking the easy way out, in the case of the human heart, I urge my girl to be strong. Pain goes away eventually, but the fun times and friendships and memories you may collect, will be with you always.
Do I always set a good example? No way. I am an expert at retreat. But I'll try harder. Some are given the gift of a light heart, like my Leilei. Libby and I don't have that gift. But the heart is a muscle, and we can toughen it up if we try.

My Favorite New (to me) Movie

I'm working nights this week, so I had the chance to watch Howard Snyder's documentary My Beijing Birthday. I knew in advance that I would like this movie, because it is all about Chinese kids. And I did like it. It's made by this guy who has fabulous Mandarin skills, and we never find out in this movie how he got this fluent--and this was my question throughout--how did this guy learn Mandarin???? Anyway, he went to Beijing to study the ancient Chinese folk art of xiansheng, which I had never heard of, but which is Chinese stand-up comedy, and he studied it in a class run by a Mrs. Ma--who makes a little girl CRY! In a comedy class!--with a bunch of little kids. Later in the film Mr. Snyder says the best way to learn a language is to speak it with kids. So maybe I should try this!
12 years later he goes back and reunites with Mrs. Ma, and some of the kids. It's interesting to see how they grew up--sort of a Chinese "Up" series.
There is, of course, lots of adorable footage of the kids doing their comedy routines, but there is also footage of Mao, and discussion of the impact of the Cultural Revolution, and the effects of western marketing on China, and on the generation of "little emperors", and how much they are loved and focused on by their parents.
I'm intrigued by this Snyder fellow. On the website for the film it says he worked in China as a debt collector. Jessh, I don't like that, despite his admirable language skills and evident sense of humor.
Makes me want to go back to China. But speaking better Mandarin.

Leilei is 7

Leilei turned 7 on June 8. It's been my custom to write my children birthday letters, not usually shared, but for their future reading, perhaps. I like to do this on the actual birthday, but somehow the day came and went . . . and after that, I drifted into a sort of depression . . . not at all related to my darling girl, but it consumed a lot of my energy . . . so time passed, and the letter wasn't written until now.

so . . .
Darling Leilei,
You have reached the exalted age of 7!!! Your birthday came and went in a frenzy of celebration--I wonder will you remember it when you're grown up? The Calico Critters (or, as you call them, the Critical Critters) party, for which you put out all your doll houses, and supervised the hanging of the crepe paper streamers . . . and then collapsed in a tantrum from sheer anticipation . . . and then sobbed in my arms, " I don't WANT this party! The streamers aren't like I WANT them!!!" until your friend Jada showed up (an hour early). "Jada's here!" Libby called out merrily as you wailed. You perked up immediately. "Jada???"
Wonderful Jada, and wonderful Jada's grandmother, to be fuzzy about the time.

I've talked to you about the tantrums, and the sassy behavior. You know, I do it half-heartedly. Truthfully, I do it because other people point out to me that you are "too big" for this sort of thing. But my heart isn't in it, Leilei.

These people forget--or never knew--that you came to me only a few years ago. This May marked the point at which you had lived half your life in China, and half your life here. So for those first 3 years, you were one little girl among many children. I have no doubt you were the most charming, the most lovely, the most delightful of all the children. But I will never forget that for that time, people tried their best, I'm sure of it, but there must have been times when you cried, that no one came. You couldn't always be picked up when you wanted cuddling. If you wanted something very much, you couldn't count on getting it.

So when you refuse to share a treat--I understand. When you beg me to pick you up in public, I'm going to try to do it, as long as my back holds out. If you cry as if your heart is broken--if you rage as if you hate the world,--I can't hold it against you, ever. I did those things--I still do some of them--and I had much less reason.

Once you and I talked about your life before you came to me. I made it into a story, ending it, "So then I came and got you." You asked me, "What took you so long?"

Now that I've found you, I promise to make up for lost time. If it takes forever to make you feel safe, and entitled to my love, I have nothing better to do. Take your time growing up. I will take my time letting you find your way.
all my love,
Mama

Charming conversation on the way to school

On the way to school, we see little Nico from across the street boarding a school bus.
"Nico goes to a school with a weird name," Leilei observes. "It's called the Arm-burger."
"Do you mean the Ohrenberger?" I ask, helpfully.
"No! It's the Arm-burger."
"That sounds gross," says Libby.
"yeah, kind of like poop," Leilei agrees.
"Well, to me it sounds more like somebody could come along and take a bite of your arm," I remark.
"Euuuu!" is the general consensus.

Random things . . .

Random thing #1: Tale from the T.
Libby, Leilei, and I were riding the Orange line to Chinese school last Saturday. I was drinking coffee, and the girls had snacks. Across from us, on the largely empty car, sat a dad and his young daughter--she might have been 6. As the girls and I chatted, I noticed the girl whisper something to her father. I listened to the girls with one ear, and with the other (mothers' ears can operate independently) I listened to the father give his daughter a very reasonable explanation of adoption. "Those girls needed a home, and the mother needed a baby" variant. Though it was close to explanation I use myself, I nonetheless felt a bristling of my emotions. "He doesn't really know us," I thought.

Random thing #2:
Libby, Leilei, and I were leaving church, the church we attend weekly. Actually, it's usually just Libby and me, but this time Leilei asked to come along. Both girls behaved well, for which I was grateful. It's crowded at the main door, so we were moving kind of slowly, and close to other families. Behind me a child said, "Chinese people!" in a tone like "puppies!" I mean, there was nothing really mean or derogatory about his tone. Still, my head whirled round like Linda Blair's, and I gave the boy, again, probably about 6, a hard stare. His father said, "What did he say????" and then, to the boy, "What did you say????" I said, "I think he was just making an observation," but I didn't smile. Libby and Leilei were oblivious to the whole thing. "Sorry," the father said, and we walked away. I saw the father stop to talk to his son. I wondered what he was saying to him.

Random thing #3:
At bedtime, the girls and I were looking at books. Leilei was looking at a picture book of photographs of China, and was enjoying it, commenting on the pictures. I let the girls take their books to bed, but when I was kissing Leilei good night, she said, "Mama, can you take my book and put it away?" I asked her why, because I knew she had been really into it. "It makes me a little sad. It makes me miss my . . . my babysitter . . . " (for a minute, she had forgotten what she called her, but then) "my ayah." Then, sheepishly, "I still miss her." Of course she does. She lived half her life with her. I told her again that we will go back and visit someday. But when Leilei asked "when?", I wished I could tell her a definite date.

Happy Lent, Everyone!

I know it is not a theologically sound position, but I like Lent. Besides the transgressive satisfaction afforded by going around with a dirty face on Ash Wednesday, I look forward to the Lenten sacrifice fun, where I get to give up something bad for me, and I REALLY have to do it!!!! One year I gave up TV, though, and that was not an experiment I wish to repeat.

Lent reminds me of a Marathon, which is probably one reason I like it. I like things that are kind of tests, where I have to push myself in some way, but that have a clear deadline, at which point I can revert to my former slovenly, chocolate-eating self, with a clear conscience and a smug, celebratory attitude!

So this year I'm giving up pastry, (donuts, etc.) which is not easy for one whose daughter works in a bakery!

And I JUST realized this means no hot cross buns!!! A Lenten treat!!!!! I'll have to stockpile some for Easter morning.

One thing that puzzles me about Lent is that we're supposed to fast from meat, but not fish. What is the difference? They're both animals. If anyone knows why this is, please let me know.

Something I really enjoy during Lent is participating in Operation Rice Bowl.
I'm sure this link, like most of my others, won't work, so if you want to find out more about it just google Catholic Relief Services Operation Rice Bowl. Basically,
you have a little paper "bowl" (more like a box) and you are supposed to contribute the money you save by fasting to the bowl. But it comes with a family Lenten calendar with a prayer, reflection, or activity for each day, as well as recipes for meatless meals that might be eaten in other countries. This year they include recipes from Egypt, Ghana, the Philippines, Honduras, and Tanzania. It's a masterpiece of instructional design, and you know I'm a sucker for that kind of stuff!

So let the season begin!