All hail!

Hmm…

You know something is a little strange when your two year old’s first choice for a bedtime story is Mao Tsedong’s Little Red Book of sayings.

Better have that chat with his nanny again.

Picture of summer

Summer in the U.S. that is:

Kicked out of Kindergarten?

Leo came home with his Ayi one morning, happily spouting 21 month old nonsensical jargon (which everyone here assumes is English) as usual. Cheng Ayi, however, had a less carefree attitude about her. She had begun in recent months to bring Leo to a local kindergarten to play with the children on their recess. They happen to have a nice playground with slides and swings and jungle gyms (a hard thing to find here), which Leo loves. I had always heard fun stories of their time at the kindergarten, but today was the last day Leo would play there.

Cheng Ayi sheepishly told me that Leo had been asked not to come back. I was slightly dumbfounded, wondering what naughty thing my 21 month old could have done to get kicked out of kindergarten. She explained that Leo was simply "too intense" for the teachers and administrators. I asked what that meant. She told me that Leo was able to climb around the jungle gym and slide down the slides all by himself, and this was very unusual for such a little boy in China. The teachers all were too nervous to continue allowing him to play there. They were also incredulous that such a little boy was able to do these things by himself already.

I had to agree that Leo is unusual for his age here in China. Most children his age are always in the hand of a parent, and have little opportunity to walk or run by themselves. I have been surprised how many times random strangers have come up to me to tell me my son is in mortal danger because he is climbing a set of stairs without my direct help (or touching something on the ground, or jumping up and down, etc). As an American, I tend to encourage Leo to explore and do his own thing while playing, and offer much less overt direction. Of course Chinese children learn to do things on their own too (and very well, I might add!), but on a different timetable, and with differing customs.

Well, Ayi and I were sad that Leo got kicked out of kindergarten, but we both admitted that we harbored some pride at this ‘distinction’!

Happy Labor Day!

Here in China, today is labor day – a national holiday. We celebrated the day off by joining all other parents with small children at the local zoo. A large percentage of China’s 1 billion people seemed to be at the zoo with us. Luckily, we are fairly accustomed to the crowds at this point.

To add to the excitement, the zoo has 3 new pandas, and no animal is more exciting to the Chinese than a fat and happy panda. The pandas didn’t disappoint. JM even got interviewed by a reporter for a news article. This is not the first time this has happened, since he is tall and white and very easy to spot in a crowd here (lucky for me, as crowds are common – I haven’t lost him yet).

Leo seemed most interested in the tigers, he even ventured a tentative, “Meow?” in their direction.

We ended the day by celebrating the fact that we officially found a new apartment for next year. The best part is that it’s on the 3rd floor (instead of the 7th) and that means there are only 36 steps to hike up, instead of 96 – yay!

Surprise!

This morning, after working all day yesterday – I slept in until a glorious 7:30! Our nanny arrives to work at 8 o’clock, so I had just enough time to get Leo up and dressed and was puttering around the house in my pajamas when Cheng Ayi arrived with… her twin sister in tow. Surprise!

Notice I still have bedhead and a squished up sleep face - but Leo looks great!

We’ve heard a lot about her and were delighted to meet her, but having no advance warning of her visit was something of a shock to the system at 8 o’clock. And anyone who knows me can attest to the fact that mornings and I aren’t best friends. But, this is the way things are in China; we really never know quite what to expect. Not much is absolutely certain until it actually happens, and anything really goes. This has its advantages, as one can change one’s mind at the last minute with no penalties or problems. However, it also has the drawback of not really being able to plan for a darn thing, and needing to be ready for anything, anytime. I’m glad I was at least remotely presentable.
This kind of thing happens all the time. The other day, without notice or warning, a security gate was installed in our apartment building and we were locked out without keys the next day. No big deal, because one of the Nainai’s (Leo has two adopted grandmas in the building) was waiting with keys and felt no need to explain anything to us other than that we owed them money for the gate and access; giving us advanced notice was unnecessary. Our landlord calls (at least he calls!) about 15 minutes before he arrives to make a repair or look at something. We’ve gotten used to this over time. Our class schedules are bound to change at any time, which makes arranging childcare a bit tricky, but so far so good. It all seems to work out in the end, but not without stressing us unaccustomed Americans out a little bit. We’re trying our best to adjust and go with the flow, but I’m afraid I’ll just never be able to roll with it like a Chinese would! One of the most important things for us to remember in the midst of this is that in no way is this lack of advanced notice rude here, and we’ve had to check our own reactions and sensitivities at the door more than once.
Cheng Ayi and her sister are now outside with Leo playing and all is back to normal (for now). We’ll see what other surprises are in store; you just never know what’s going to happen!

Life without insurance

A couple of weeks ago, to make a long story short, my naughty little boy stole my house key off of the kitchen table, and hid it in his clothes dresser without either me or his nanny seeing him do it. Thus, later that day, after returning from a run outside, I found our nanny, Cheng Ayi and Leo waiting for me to get into the house (because she thought I had taken the key off the table). At this point, we thought the key must just still be on the table, and with JM gone to school, we had a predicament on our hands. Leo was hungry and in need of lunch and a nap, I was sweaty and in need of lunch and a shower, and all of us had no intention of sitting outside of our apartment for any longer than we had to. Ayi’s sensible first thought was simply to call JM and have him come home to let us in.

Of course, being as impatient as I am, I could not think of waiting that long, and quickly brainstormed a way to break into our house. We have an outdoor patio attached to our top-floor apartment and so I ran up to the roof and looked down to see how far I would have to jump. One story down suddenly looked somewhat daunting. But, if I could successfully make the jump, I would save loads of time and I would be able to get into our house via the patio door (the patio door key is kept outside on the patio in case the door slams locked from the outside while we’re out there).

Usually, I am a pretty sensible person, but my willingness to take physical risks is, for the average person – perhaps a bit higher than normal. I grew up in the country, so as a kid I skittered along high rafters, ran across patches of ice, swung on barn ropes, climbed tall trees, rode our horse as fast as he could go, amongst other things… so I figured I could take this one story jump. However, I now had to contemplate the reality that if something were to happen, I would have to go to a Chinese hospital to get treatment. This was a VERY scary prospect, and certainly made me take much more pause than normal before making the jump. Not having insurance or access to a Western clinic here has made me a more careful person in general, as I really don’t want to step foot in a Chinese hospital unless absolutely necessary. It makes me think that having insurance (while admittedly this industry saves many people from financial disaster) may in fact cause people to be more risky as a result. I wonder if anyone’s ever studied the impact of having insurance on risk taking behavior…

The risk of having to go to a Chinese hospital was outweighed by my desire to keep my son on his normal nap schedule and by my own desire for a hot shower after a long run, and so I made the jump. I lowered myself off the roof and onto the overhang (which I was praying the entire time would hold my weight). After that, I sat for a few minutes figuring out my strategy. I figured I needed to get myself as close to the ground as possible, and so with Jason Bourne as my role model, I flipped my legs over the ledge and used my arms to lower myself another few feet close to the patio floor. I made the jump, and got away with just a couple of scratches. I think Cheng Ayi thought I was a bit insane, but everyone stayed on schedule. Later on, we found the key and realized that our little imp Leo was the cause of all the trouble.

So, the moral of the story is, don’t leave your keys on the table anymore, and proceed carefully if you need to jump off your roof. Life without insurance made me pause, but didn’t stop me. I’m not sure if that makes me brave or stupid, but I’m glad it all worked out.

Leo speaks!

Leo has a few words to say

Our son now understands more Chinese than he does English. We feel like delinquent parents.

His Chinese words that he can speak include: light, no, it fell, thanks, nanny, carry me, food, yes, not okay, grandma(!), and of course, mama and dada.

The Neighborhood Watch

In the past two months, our Ayi has begun to take Leo outside to play during her shifts. Before that, we were a little too worried about him being outside without one of us. But now that he’s a big bad 18 month old – we figure he can handle it and our nanny has proven herself capable of caring for him mostly according to our liking. She still puts multiple layers of clothing on him (sometimes he’s a little too warm when I get home, and I have to strip a layer or two off), and every once in a while she sneaks in a few contraband crackers/sweets, but for the most part, she honors our standards. We joke that she is like his Chinese grandma, and she feels that way too. After 10 months of caring for him, the two of them are peas in a pod in some ways.

A few days after I agreed to let her take Leo out during her shifts, I was doing some shopping at the vegetable market down our street. As usual, the neighbors were all gathered on the street, chatting and joking around. Two ladies and a security guard began playing with Leo, and soon another little boy about his age was in on the action. As they were all having a good time laughing at the little ones trying to climb onto a few stools they had set out, I began chatting with a couple of neighborhood ladies. They instantly began to tell me how things were going with Leo and our nanny. The ladies gave me a full report on their activities outside – how long they were out, what they did, where they went, and who they talked to and played with. I gladly received this information, because although I knew that it was good for Leo to get out of the house with Ayi, it still makes me nervous, even now. I had reiterated a list of rules for her (don’t let other people kiss him, take him out of your sight, or feed him anything, and watch him like a hawk, because he moves fast and the streets are narrow), but all rules aside, it was new territory for me as a mother to have Leo outside in China without a parent. I apparently had nothing to worry about though, because everyone in our neighborhood knows Leo and they were keeping an eye on him just as our ayi was. The report was mostly positive; the ladies’ only exception was that they felt Leo was out a bit too long for his own good.

One of the ladies then asked me, “Does your ayi have culture?” This took me a few seconds to digest, and I truly wasn’t sure how to respond. I sort of knew the answer was no, but I didn’t have any intention of belittling our ayi. I wasn’t sure if I said yes, was I going to look silly? If I said no, was I going to be speaking unkindly? This is one of the challenges of language, the uncertainty of the nuances and meanings of certain words in certain circumstances. I didn’t have to worry about how to answer for long though, because the other lady piped in, “Certainly she does not have culture; she’s from the countryside.” So I surmised that culture meant being from the city and having some education. They didn’t approve of this either, but I assured them that she was very warm and loved Leo very much, and it didn’t matter to us that she was from the countryside. They seemed to accept this. In some ways, being a foreigner is easier than being a local because we can get away with not conforming to certain social standards because we are outsiders. So if I think it’s okay to have an uncultured nanny for my son, then people are for the most part accepting of that and chalk it up to me being a foreigner, even if they think it’s wrong.

Speaking of the language, Leo is starting to sound more and more Chinese as the days pass. We are starting to be more intentional about speaking English with him, as his Chinese is arguably better than his English at the moment. I come home from work to find Leo saying, “Dui!” (Yes or Correct) and “Diaole!” (It fell!) and “Baobao” (Pick me up!). His language is a bit behind his peers, but his comprehension is not. Which, from all reports we’ve heard of children raised in bilingual settings, this language lag is pretty normal and he should catch up as the Chinese and English sort themselves out in his mind. The funniest part is that recently, I’ve had people begin to ask me (when just the two of us are out together) if his Dad is Chinese. People even debate about which of his facial characteristics come from his father (who must be Chinese). Last time I checked, JM was most certainly European American, and I do explain this to dubious strangers on busses and in stores. I really think that the people of China just want to claim Leo as their own, and who can blame them? He’s a pretty cute kid!

Animal intelligence

We are proud to say that Leo is now as smart as a dog!

He has been watching his baby videos a lot lately, one of which explains basic body motions: waving, jumping, spinning, etc. One day we told him to sit down. He looked us straight in the eye, and sat down on the floor.

We have a baby who can follow directions on an animal intelligence level!

But what is even better is that Leo is as smart as a Chinese dog. When Leo climbs on our chair, his nanny tells him in Chinese, “Climb down!” He understands her! In fact, he understands many of her directions, including to give her a kiss, to come over, and even when not to do something.

He must have heard this last one a lot, because now he repeats the words himself, in Chinese! “Bu yao!” – the most important word that children learn in early years – “No!”

Leo has a big head start in a language that has taken us full time study to grasp even a beginner’s command. We’re eager for him to graduate to full rational speech, a bilingual one at that!

A Trip to Nanjing Children’s Hospital

Where to begin? Leo got sick about a week ago, and after a few days of fever, throwing up, and other such symptoms, we were concerned over the weekend that he might really need to see a doctor in person. All along, we’d been receiving excellent advice from Liz’s father, who is a retired doctor. However, on Saturday afternoon we couldn’t call home and wanted to make sure he was okay. So we headed to the Nanjing Children’s Hospital.

Upon arrival, we made the mistake of entering via the emergency department, and our first impression was that of a war zone. Gurneys, IVs, sick and bloody children were everywhere, in the midst of a dirty, smoke-filled atmosphere. Right next to the emergency room, a loud open construction zone completed the picture. Luckily, this was not our department, but it did foreshadow the rest of our experience.

The nurse at the registration desk told us that no one could see us because it was Saturday, and all the specialists were on break. We would have to come back tomorrow. We left, incredulous, and began to walk toward the University Hospital to see if we could get care there. On the way, we thankfully ran into our good friend Robin, who dropped her plans to accompany us. We finally made our way back to the Children’s Hospital, knowing that the original nurse must have been wrong. China must have pediatricians at the Children’s Hospital over the weekend to see sick children, right? We never did find out why we were turned away the first time.

It would take a novel to truly describe our experience, but we’ll give you highlights. After paying the registration fee (all fees are paid upfront, before care is received), we walked up to our assigned doctor’s office. We had paid an extra few kuai to see the head doctor, thinking he’d be great. He was almost indifferent to us, barely allowing us to tell him our son’s symptoms. He demanded that we lie our son down on the examining table, and without further ado, took off his diaper and did a rectal exam with no lubricant. We were horrified (as was Leo, poor little guy) and had no idea why that was his first move. At least he wore a glove. How about looking at his throat, his ears, feeling his tummy? No, he said, we’d have to see a different doctor for that. He ordered blood tests, and a stomach ultrasound, and we were on our way without much conversation.

China is not a country that places a great deal of value on privacy, and nowhere was this fact more apparent to us than at the hospital. It is also a place where people must intensely compete for resources, so mothers and fathers were extremely aggressive at the hospital to see the doctor first or get into a testing area first to get care for their child. For us, this translated into a lot of very pushy people (all holding sick, contagious children way too close for our comfort). Of course, there were people who still, in spite of all the germs flying around the hospital, wanted to touch and fawn over Leo, the cute foreign baby. We always try to be gracious and open because people are friendly and generally well meaning, but on Saturday, Liz acted as a defensive lineman and threw lots of elbows to keep everyone’s hands off of her son. JM acted as quarterback and coach, keeping Liz calm and directing our moves through the maze of testing areas. Thank goodness for Robin, who helped us communicate quickly. We’re not so sure we could have navigated such a crazy place by ourselves – Robin was truly a lifesaver that day.

Hygiene was definitely not up to our hyper-clean American standards. They do not change the paper on the examining tables here after each patient – in fact, there’s no paper. So after a hacking 2-month old was done with her ultrasound, the technician asked us to lay Leo down on her pile of germs. We used our baby blanket as a buffer, and got our hand sanitizer out to use afterward. They did use a new needle for the blood test, but the techs and doctors didn’t wear gloves or wash their hands between patients.

We finally saw the second doctor. After looking at his throat without a light, he confidently stated, “He has a cold.” We marveled at this, since all along he’s had no cough, runny nose, or congestion. Now, mind you, we do not think Chinese doctors are stupid, but this is something we continue to try to understand. How on earth did the doctor think Leo had a cold? We may never know.

At the end of our visit, the original doctor stopped by the new doctor’s office, took one look at his blood test results, and proclaimed that Leo ought to stay in the hospital overnight for observation. Of course, this prompted our alarm and we asked why. He said since Leo’s white blood cell count was low, and since he had a fever and was throwing up, (which he no longer had those symptoms, and we’d already told the doctor as much) he was in some danger. We told him that we did not plan to allow him to stay overnight, and would observe him closely at home. He disinterestedly said ok, and left. We were glad he was gone! The second doctor was about ten times more cordial and communicative, and just told us to come back at the first sign of regression.

We were so happy to get out of there! After all that, Leo made great progress all by himself over the next couple of days, and now seems back to normal. Liz’s Dad was interested to hear of our experience, and gave us some good advice over the phone that night. It makes us extremely grateful for the system in place in America, and we hope we never have to go to the hospital here again!

Interestingly, we asked our friend Robin if she thought that was a crazy experience, and she said it wasn’t and seemed pretty standard to her. She also thought the first doctor was pretty normal as well, not really all that friendly perhaps, but not bad. Perspective, it seems, is everything!