Monthly Archives: August 2011

Oh the Humanity

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Tonight we have a very special guest blogger- Mr. Andy Beach is going to tell his side of the story

Tonight was not a good night. It might have been the most gross night of my adult life. Really disgusting. Epically disgusting.

note from Andy: While it was very disgusting, I’m not sure it qualifies as the grossest, though the smell was something i will take to my grave.

Today was a beautiful day in Portland. It’s warm and sunny. Tomorrow its suppose to go up to 90 degrees which makes people out here freak out. It’s about as hot as it gets. We have all of these adorable little dresses. We never really put Davy in them because its a little cold here. Today, because of the sunshine and because I was feeling sunny and optimistic we put Miz Davy in one of those super cute summer dresses. It’s part onsey (has snaps) and part dress. It was (I say WAS) bright green. It had a dragon fly on it. The three of us are going to Salt Lake City next week and I was telling Andy that it’s the perfect little outfit for her to travel in- when it’s hot out.

We had a plan, we were going to go to Target and then out for Vietnamese food. Here is what happened in Target. Davy shat all over herself AND because there wasn’t really anything to hold it “in” no shorts, no pants, she shat all over the shopping cart. Here is how we discovered it. Davy got quiet and then she looked at us sheepishly. I smiled back sheepishly. Then Andy started screaming “Oh MY GOD OH MY GOD What what wa wha wha OH MY GOD- what what do we do?” Me, “I Don’t know? Just leave her here’? Go back to Ethiopia for another child? I DONT KNOW WHAT TO DO”. We were obviously past rational at this point. It was really bad. Also because Davy is a wiggle worm, she was rolling around it, it was up her leg, on her hands, on her shoes. ALL OVER the poor innocent shopping cart. Everywhere.

note from Andy: I don’t recall actually screaming, though the fumes may be effecting my memory. We were a lllooonnnggg way from the bathroom and really did have to have a discussion about where it was best to change her in the car, in the bathroom, or just go back to ethiopia and start over.

We ran to the front of the store. Avoiding eye contact of all the people. We were giggling hysterically at this point. Actually so was Davy. She just didnt know why, just that her parents had clearly lost their minds. We went to the front of the store. I grabbed a ton of target shopping bags. I wrapped DAvy up in the bags and carried her to the restroom. Andy was stuck dealing with the cart. Davy got her first bath in the Target bathroom. She thought it was neat. After a comprehensive wipe down, change of clothing, our girl was as good as new. Frankly our meltdown was worse then hers (her’s came later).

note from andy: I was standing in a heavily trafficked hallway near two very popular water fountains trying to clean feces. at some point a guy was getting really eggy because i couldn’t let him past so i stood back and let him pass right through. The surprise on his face when he saw the cart plus the smell hit him was almost worth it.

I went to the woman’s department, bought a new t-shirt (cause mine was covered in baby shit). She got a new pair of socks (note to self- bring socks in her go bag next time). We fed her dinner at the starbucks in Target, then we had Vietnamese food as planned (I was dubious, but Davy was fine- she just really doesn’t like Vietnamese food).

note from Andy: Im giving Davy the benefit of the doubt here – she had a full meal sitting at target (where I by the way needed a slushy to call my nerves – frozen courage, we’ll say). I think she’ll come around to vietnamese food. If she doesn’t, she’s going to be disappointed a lot when we go out to eat.

As for the shopping cart? Andy wiped it down and handed it to a teenage boy who works at Target. Poor Poor kid. He doesn’t know what was about to hit him.

note from Andy: In retrospect, I wish i’d given him a $20 too…

Moral of the story: Don’t feed your kid homemade baby food with highly fibrous Khol Rabi two meals in a row.

note from Andy: I’m with you on that one, Lisey.

Davy Has Lots of Grandparents

My parents are divorced. They have been divorced since I was 15. What is unusual about my story is that my grandparents (on both sides) were also divorced. As a kid I had 4 grandmothers and 2 grandfathers. On my dads side: Grandpa David (Davy’s namesake and my dad’s dad) Grandma Sophie (Grandpa David’s wife), Grandma Lena (Dad’s mom) and Grandpa Sam (Grandma Lena’s husband). Mom had Grandma Leah (Mom’s mom) and Grandma Belle (Mom’s stepmom). That is a heck of a lot of grandparents for one person.

My dad married Adela almost 25 years ago. Adela has 2 kids and they have two kids- four grandkids in total (on her side)- need a chart yet? These grandkids absolutely adore my father and love him dearly. My step sibs all live in Michigan and dad sees them a lot. At some point I was visiting Michigan and it occurred to me that the upside of the pain of divorce is that all of these kids get more grandparents to love on them when they get older. It’s really true. My grandma Sophie and I were SO close growing up. We had such a bond. It never really occurred to me that she was a “step” grandparent until someone pointed it out to me in my 20s!

So when it comes to grandparents our Davy girl is a lucky ducky. My mom and her are already SO close. My mom has been with us from day one in this process. She has cried when I cried and celebrated all of our joy. She knows a ton of adoptive families and for her, adoption has become the new norm. She has been an intrinsic part of Davy’s life since we got home. Her and Davy LOVE each other. My mom can literally spend hours just watching Davy bang on stuff in her play room (now dubbed Disneyland- cause of all of the toys there). Mom offers (not quite altruistically) to babysit on the weekend so she can come over and hang with our girl. They are so funny and sweet together.

Andy’s parents live in Atlanta and are yet to be able to come out. They have also been super supportive of our adoption. They had actually considered adoption when they were building their family and it’s something close to their heart. When we told them we were adopting Andy’s parents were laughably the least surprised out of any of our parents. Their response was “of course you are”. We are going to travel out east over Thanksgiving. Davy will meet the Beach side of her family then. Andy’s grandmother Davy’s GREAT Grandmother lives in rural West Virginia and we are going to spend some time there. Oy vey.

My Dad had the hardest time accepting the adoption. I knew (always did) that he would come around. Us Weisman’s don’t like change very much. Also, he really had to go through the mourning of the loss of his bloodline. We started the adoption process not so long after my grandfather David passed away, and all of that is really important to him. It’s just me and my brother and Jay doesn’t have any kids yet. He also has had the least bit of exposure to adoptive families. I have to say that my stepmother Adela really had a lot to do with him coming along. She poked and prodded him to accept our family. He spoke to lots of his friends and found out (shock and awe) that happy families come in all shapes and sizes. His resistance to the adoption didn’t last long- it really really didn’t. He was on board in just a few short months. I don’t mean to over dramatize this story, or even under dramatize it. It’s just an example of acceptance. And now, well let’s just say our Davy has her wrapped around her tiny perfect little finger.

Also- for me yet another miracle of adoption. Jack Weisman, who was born in Poland during the heart of World War 2, escaped Nazis, lived in a DP camp, moved to the United States. His story is a miracle of survival. He survived some pretty horrific stuff so that 60 years later he could hold his beautiful granddaughter, born in Ethiopia, who lived in an orphanage and then came to the United States where she is, now, the apple of her grandfathers eye.

Wanna know what happened when Grandpa Jack and Grandma Adela met Davy, it was a pretty darn glorious weekend in our sweet girls life:


Davy’s Bountiful Nicknames

Knish
Dinku
Davy Dinku
Dav-a-la
France Ford Dav-a-la
Davydu
Davy Duke
Daisy Duke
Mrs. Short Shorts
Tiny Dancer
JimmyLegs
Sweet Potato
Sweet Potato Pie
Sweet Potato Knish
Po-TAT-to
Ketesla (yiddish for kitten-what my grandfather used to call me)
Ketsle
Dovidel
Super Tush
The Girl (as in The Girl Puts the Lotion in the Basket)


When teething:
Sybil
Psycho Killer Keska Say Fafa fa fa fafafa
Drool bug

And finally, Jazz Hands Beach (as seen in this video)