Operation Saint Nicholas

Rose doesn't believe in Santa Claus. She is 10, so I'm not surprised.  When I asked why, though, she said someone told her Santa was invented by the Devil to take attention away from Jesus.

Whoa. Now, I am not one to use a blog to publicize my religious beliefs. I also try to be open-minded about beliefs contradicting mine. This presents a struggle because I don't agree with what Rose was told.  So if you agree with it you might want to stop reading.

I guess that reasoning was better than, "Well, Santa, just didn't like you" when asked by 7-year-old why Santa has never visited her. Yet it seems worse than just saying: "Santa isn't real, honey." Why bring Jesus and the Devil into it at all? I am freaked out by people who throw out religion in that way. Seems cowardly.

Plus, when Roes repeated it I could tell by the tone of her voice she didn't really believe it. She was just parroting something to protect herself from the real reason why Santa never visited. Rose is smart. She knows why.

I don't have the heart to tell her the total truth, either. I don't think she's ready for it. Or maybe I'm not ready. Instead, I told her Santa Claus came from the story of Saint Nicholas. Saint Nicholas was sainted by the church because he treated children kindly, I said.  (Then I chuckled to myself because they way I explained the saint made him sound like a pedophile, but I digress.)

"Well, I believe in Saint Nicholas, just not Santa," she said. Of course I know she just wants to be liked and seems inclined to agree with anything to achieve that goal. So I am determined to change her agreement to belief. Here begins Operation Saint Nicholas. Not to fill her life with more lies but to bring a little much needed magic and wonder to it. She'll decide on her own what she believes and doesn't.

After all, what better to boost a child's self esteem than gifts from a kindred spirit regardless of the stickers she's earned or the number of friends she has.

My plans are a little hazy, so feel free to add new suggestions:
Step 1: Have her watch Miracle on 34th Street, the old version - Check.
Step 2: Ask a male coworker/friend to send a card to Rose from Saint Nicholas
Step 3: Leave a few other small gifts from the Saint between now and Christmas with the same handwriting on the tags as the card
Step 4: Allow Rose to open Christmas gifts from Mom and Dad Christmas Eve once we're home from the Schulte's celebration again with the same handwriting from steps 2 and 3.
Step 5: Place Saint Nicholas gifts under the tree for discovery Christmas morning in the same handwriting as steps 2 and 3.

Think it'll work?

Jealousy

Today I worked while Mike's company was closed, and the Norman Rockwell holiday continued. They went swimming, joined me for lunch at work, and then spent the afternoon at the Science Museum.

It feels strange to say this after the drama of Sunday, but I was jealous of Mike's day with Rose. When I got home, I spent some quality time playing dominoes with her. Here's a video of Rose explaining our creation.

Daughter Goes to Work with Dad Day

I could have alternatively called this post, "whoops, we didn't confirm our babysitting in time." Thankfully, Mike's work is accommodating so Rose got to be a chemist's helper for the day. Er, well, she got to play her DS, read, and watch movies.

She was so excited to go and wear a dress she asked, yes asked, for the following three photos.

The first was too goofy, she said.

The second was perfect.

The third was because Mom wasn't in the first two.

Thanksgiving

Monday, Rose confided in me that she felt like she'd become too close to us, which scared her. She would rather live with foster parents. She also said she feels more comfortable with people who treat her poorly.

I listened and sympathized. I told her I can't imagine what she's been through, but she can't be emotionally abusive toward her new family. She agreed. We strategized she could excuse herself to her room when she was feeling that scared.

Then the mood passed. Since our exchange everything has seemed more normal, almost Norman Rockwell-esque. We had a first Thanksgiving. It was awesome. Instead of getting everyone out of the house in time for the official Turkey Trot in Minneapolis, we relaxed.

We watched the Macy's Parade. Then, we leisurely held our own Turkey Day 5k. Rose ran about a half mile before she joined Mike and the dogs while I finished my run. It didn't have all the camaraderie of the one in the city, but it was less crowded and more enjoyable overall. Plus, I didn't gain another shirt I'd have to toss out later.

After the exercise we went to my family's get together where ate too much and enjoyed the company of family. We ended the day playing Simpson's Clue. Gotta LOVE how Rose was trying to act annoyed by my photo but you can see the joy in being the center of attention.

When a real tornado seems unremarkable

There is a piece of this year I have struggled to document and hesitant to write about. I didn't want to betray the family intimacy. I wasn't ready to really process it. Yet, I feel somewhat ready now and feel this year would be remiss if I didn't.

Just 5 days before this picture was taken, we'd learned that Mike's dad, Grandpa Schulte, had lung cancer. After learning that, we sat outside the VA Hospital debating if we should meet Rose or delay adoption. Yet, Grandpa insisted we proceed, so we did. We were very happy when this moment arrived. Grandpa was wise.

Seven days before this picture was taken, we learned Grandpa's cancer was terminal and seven days after this photo, Rose moved in for good.

Then, it seems, time flew as we became engrossed in learning to parent Rose and coping with the emotions she brought with her. It almost became easy to ignore our fears and sadness about Grandpa. Almost. The school suspension helped. So did the formal adoption on July 19th.

Yet, of course the cancer didn't go away despite all the other things going on in our lives or how much we wished, prayed and hoped it would. So we tried to ensure Grandpa and Rose had as much time together as possible.This was their first meeting.

The tornado of May was pretty unremarkable in comparison with the emotional tornado we were swept into, but it provided a nice distraction, once again, as did our trip to South Dakota, the start of 5th grade, and Rose's baptism.We purposely held the baptism in the Schulte family church.

Grandpa was able to attend the baptism, but he was very weak at the end of August and had to get home to rest before we could get a picture with him. He told us in September he wished he could have been more involved. Grandpa was proud of his new granddaughter, and he had always been a man of faith.

Grandpa's wisdom encouraging us to push on was more helpful than he could have known. One night, in late September we wrapped up dinner with Grandma and Grandpa. Rose and I hugged our goodbyes as Mike stood by the door in typical, "I don't hug" fashion when Rose said, "Dad, how come you don't hug your dad." Mike responded about men not hugging and Grandpa said, "Come on." So Mike when and hugged his dad.

I looked at Rose and marveled at her ability to create a hug between them and felt certain without her, it probably wouldn't have happened. I know I wouldn't have said anything even if I felt I should.

The third week of October Grandpa lost his fight with cancer. Two days before his passing, the whole family gathered for October birthdays. I didn't take pictures of either event. Needless to say, despite the bright spot Rose brought to our lives this year, this loss is a very dark cloud we continue to live with: the loss of a wonderful father, father-in-law, grandfather and friend.

A cloud even darker than the one that plopped a tree on our house.

Things hurt more when you're attached

We regressed to May levels of anger and defiance today.

It all started this morning when I asked Rose not to wear her PJs outside under her snow clothes. I know, I know, not something you'd have to fight a kid on.

I really didn't fight though. When she said "no" and in typical 10-year-old fashion marched into her room to defy me, I was calm and said, "Rose, I want you to wear your normal clothes outside." I reminded her she had said she was going to work on listening.

"I don't care." She retorted.

"OK," I said, still calm. "You seem to need some time in your room to adjust your attitude."

She refused to go to her room. She decided to hound me. I was proud I stayed mostly calm most of the time, but when she berated me with "You're not my mom" "I hate this family" and so on and so forth, I nearly broke down. "I just want you to go to your room." Is all I kept asking--in a tone that hid my sense of defeat at that moment.

Sure, she was just angry. Yet, these words stung more than they had in the past. I can only assume because unlike in the spring, I do feel connected to her. It hurts to know this connection is possibly only on my side and/or she seems to take pride in hurting me emotionally. Even if she is only 10 and wounded.

Mike was getting us bagels during this argument, and when he returned home I was able to better ignore her taunts and attempts at negative attention. So she did retreat to her room, finally. I retreated to mine, and I felt as if a weight was placed on me. I crawled into bed and wept. I couldn't leave the bed until 2:30 when I had to because I'd promised to help my sister who recently had back surgery.


Now I sit, spent and exhausted hoping this strange regression will not last long. When I put Rose to bed tonight she admitted she was scared but couldn't say why. I told her I think it's because she feels herself growing closer to us and she's scared we'll reject her. So she's trying to reject us first.

She blew my guess off. Who knows, maybe that's not what's going on but only what I hope is going on cause I'm really attached to this kid.

Overreacting?

Rose proudly told me she kissed her "boyfriend" at taekwondoe. I suddenly and unexpectedly turned into my mom and said, "You are 10. You are not allowed to kiss boys. You need to be respectable." Even reading the word respectable in that context freaks me out. I don't know that I even believe that. It had just been so ingrained in my psyche throughout puberty and teenage years that poof, it just slipped out at the mention of a kiss.

Knowing I was irritated, though, Rose said, "it wasn't even a real kiss, Mom, just an air kiss." At that point I wasn't sure if I believed her. Then I didn't leave her side at taekwondoe--even when she went down to the stretching area where parents typically don't go.

I felt out of place in the stretching are--the lone adult being eyed suspiciously by the children. She hissed at me "this is embarrassing." I couldn't agree more. It was awkward for me, too, and "boyfriend" wasn't even there, but I stuck it out. I was sending a message. I swear. Or really, I was in no mom's land unsure of what to do. I needed a drink.

In fact, as I nurse a beer now, I wonder, am I over reacting? It was just a kiss, maybe even something as harmless as an air kiss. Yet, setting our boundaries seems important. I just need to find middle ground between my response and my mom's response.