Wednesday, November 23, 2011
Sunday, October 9, 2011
Together Wing to Wing and Oar to Oar
It is hard to believe that it was only six years ago that we said our vows...
...or that I was ever that skinny!
Love, respect, trust...
We have it all and I am grateful to travel this life with you by my side.
Happy Anniversary, My Love.
The Master Speed by Robert Frost
No speed of wind or water rushing by
But you have speed far greater. You can climb
Back up a stream of radiance to the sky,
And back through history up the stream of time.
And you were given this swiftness, not for haste
Nor chiefly that you may go where you will,
But in the rush of everything to waste,
That you may have the power of standing still-
Off any still or moving thing you say.
Two such as you with such a master speed
Cannot be parted nor be swept away
From one another once you are agreed
That life is only life forevermore
Together wing to wing and oar to oar
And back through history up the stream of time.
And you were given this swiftness, not for haste
Nor chiefly that you may go where you will,
But in the rush of everything to waste,
That you may have the power of standing still-
Off any still or moving thing you say.
Two such as you with such a master speed
Cannot be parted nor be swept away
From one another once you are agreed
That life is only life forevermore
Together wing to wing and oar to oar
Wednesday, October 5, 2011
Monday, October 3, 2011
Betty Ann Newcombe
These pictures of the boys with their grandmother, my mother-in-law, were taken last February. It was a good visit full of mischief and laughter and I am grateful we had it. A few weeks after this we learned of the illness that ultimately took Betty from us last week.
It is hard to find the words to express how much this woman meant to us. Betty was the kind of person who loved her family with all her heart and who celebrated each milestone in her children’s lives with unabashed enthusiasm. Her generosity was unfailing and she had a terrific sense of humor, two qualities that my husband inherited. When we adopted puppies years ago, Betty put pictures of the dogs on her shelves alongside other important family pictures and looked forward to their visits—she never asked us when we were going to give her the more traditional kind of grandchild. When we purchased our first home, she was thrilled for us—she never asked why we didn't move closer to where she lived, although I’m sure she would have preferred that. When we told her we were adopting I don’t think I have ever seen anyone so excited. She weathered every step of the wait with as much fervor as we did and she loved her grandsons with all her heart before she ever met them. There are a million stories of how she supported us like this, in ways both big and small, and life will not be the same without her.
Today would have been Betty's 69th birthday. I wish we could have had more time but I am trying to focus on being grateful for the time that we did have, and I am most certainly grateful that she had the chance to know the boys. While they probably won't remember her, indirectly they most certainly will come to know her, for her son is like her in so many ways. I suspect that my children will inherit their grandmother's sense of humor, and they will be lucky if they gain her generous and supportive heart.
Rest in peace, Betty. We miss you dearly.
Friday, September 23, 2011
Feeling Safe
We hit a major milestone this week. The boys actually fell asleep WHILE I was reading to them. A year ago our bedtime routine was as far as it can get from snuggles and quiet story time with relaxed, sleepy children. Getting the boys to fall asleep and stay asleep has been an ongoing challenge, as it is in many families, so this is a big deal for us and we are celebrating.
Before the boys came home we had grand plans of co-sleeping with them. We thought it would provide much needed bonding time and that they would benefit from the added security of having us close at night. Once we became actual parents, while those reasons certainly held true, we also realized that we - mom and dad - needed time to re-coop and recharge. Given the hectic nature of our transition last year, our bedroom felt like the one place we could find that time. I have this mental image of Mark and I last year, retreating to our bedroom after epic long bedtime battles, with books about "parenting your adopted child" or "dealing with toddlers" on our laps. Mostly we just sat there dazed in front of the TV until we crashed. The only time we co-slept with the boys in our bed was the day we arrived home from Ethiopia.
Even though the boys were two months shy of turning three when we came home, I deliberated for a very long time about whether to buy cribs or beds. We had been told time and again that a child of that age would probably climb right out of a crib, but they looked so tiny in their pictures and I knew that they had been in cribs in Ethiopia. Ultimately we decided on two little, low to the ground beds. The day after we arrived home from Ethiopia we put the boys down for a nap in those little beds and they fell instantly asleep and didn't move an inch. Mark and I congratulated ourselves on making the right decision.
The next day the honeymoon ended and the boys' anxiety about sleep went through the roof. The only way to get them to sleep, and we tried almost everything, was to hold them in bed until exhaustion overtook their fight and flight instincts. We pushed those little beds together and one of us climbed in between them for however long it took. For many months that time was two hours+ on average, and it was not the sweet snuggle time I had dreamed of. They did not yet know the benefits of lying still and close to someone who loved them and their survival skills and fears were in control, making it impossible for them to relax. Some of those fears they expressed while I held them in the dark, like their fear of wild animals. Other fears went unspoken but I suspect that they wondered what would happen to them next. They would talk and joke and cajole and push buttons and try to escape, and when that didn't work they would cry so loudly that I thought the neighbors were going to call child services. In the very early months, bedtime was so stressful that I lamented our decision to forego the cribs and I considered packing up the beds and sprinting to IKEA. Ultimately my initial belief that our bonding and their fears would benefit from lying in the same bed together won and we stuck it out with this semi-cosleeping method.
As far as staying asleep went, in the beginning they would stay asleep, alone in their bed, until 7 AM like clock work. I was grateful for this and needed it at the time but I suspected that once they realized I would come if they called, they would call. Quietly I wanted them to reach that stage, as in my heart I saw it as progression in their understanding of family and their attachment to us as their parents. Sure enough, shortly after I returned to work a year ago, they began calling. They missed me during the day and I missed them. Coming to them when they called felt right, as a parent would do in the middle of a night during the first year when a birth child enters a family. My feeling that co-sleeping was right for our family outweighed other alternatives and I began crawling into bed between them in the middle of the night. This allowed me to go back to sleep fairly quickly, gave them the close contact they craved, and mornings became a special time together where we could read and talk and practice snuggling without the anxiety that surrounded bedtime.
Last spring I emerged from a particularly stressful few months at work, where I had been away from home a lot and when I was home the boys' night time make-up sessions were more demanding than usual. I began to feel drained by this routine that had previously been working so well for us and I started wondering if I needed to make a change. Serendipitously, one of the lovely adoptive moms that I am so grateful to know invited several adoptive mom's to her house that week. I shared some of this story that night and on the walk to our cars one friend stopped me and said something to the effect of, "I think what you are doing is the right thing to do, and I think it will get better soon. Hang in there." It was such a simple gesture but it meant so much to me and it helped me rally the strength to continue. A few weeks later the boys started sleeping through the night.
I began writing a post in celebration of that milestone at the beginning of August but I never finished it. By the end of August we were feeling so confident in where we were as a family that we asked one of the boys' preschool teachers, whom they adore, to babysit for a couple hours while we went out to dinner - our second date night and our first with a babysitter other than their grandparents! On the surface it seemed to go well but it brought an immediate halt to sleeping through the night. It's hard to be sure, but I do think the two events were related. That was almost a month ago, and just this week they started sleeping through the night again, and now we've had two nights where they were able to relax enough to fall asleep while I read to them! We are going on our second "date" next week, so we'll see what happens next, but overall I'm pretty thrilled with where we are and it feels great to see tangible evidence that our boys feel safe enough to relax in my arms and on their own. What a difference a year makes!!
* In no way do I presume that our approach is THE one right approach to getting your child to sleep. Everyone must do what feels right for their own family and no two families are alike.
Before the boys came home we had grand plans of co-sleeping with them. We thought it would provide much needed bonding time and that they would benefit from the added security of having us close at night. Once we became actual parents, while those reasons certainly held true, we also realized that we - mom and dad - needed time to re-coop and recharge. Given the hectic nature of our transition last year, our bedroom felt like the one place we could find that time. I have this mental image of Mark and I last year, retreating to our bedroom after epic long bedtime battles, with books about "parenting your adopted child" or "dealing with toddlers" on our laps. Mostly we just sat there dazed in front of the TV until we crashed. The only time we co-slept with the boys in our bed was the day we arrived home from Ethiopia.
Even though the boys were two months shy of turning three when we came home, I deliberated for a very long time about whether to buy cribs or beds. We had been told time and again that a child of that age would probably climb right out of a crib, but they looked so tiny in their pictures and I knew that they had been in cribs in Ethiopia. Ultimately we decided on two little, low to the ground beds. The day after we arrived home from Ethiopia we put the boys down for a nap in those little beds and they fell instantly asleep and didn't move an inch. Mark and I congratulated ourselves on making the right decision.
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As far as staying asleep went, in the beginning they would stay asleep, alone in their bed, until 7 AM like clock work. I was grateful for this and needed it at the time but I suspected that once they realized I would come if they called, they would call. Quietly I wanted them to reach that stage, as in my heart I saw it as progression in their understanding of family and their attachment to us as their parents. Sure enough, shortly after I returned to work a year ago, they began calling. They missed me during the day and I missed them. Coming to them when they called felt right, as a parent would do in the middle of a night during the first year when a birth child enters a family. My feeling that co-sleeping was right for our family outweighed other alternatives and I began crawling into bed between them in the middle of the night. This allowed me to go back to sleep fairly quickly, gave them the close contact they craved, and mornings became a special time together where we could read and talk and practice snuggling without the anxiety that surrounded bedtime.
Last spring I emerged from a particularly stressful few months at work, where I had been away from home a lot and when I was home the boys' night time make-up sessions were more demanding than usual. I began to feel drained by this routine that had previously been working so well for us and I started wondering if I needed to make a change. Serendipitously, one of the lovely adoptive moms that I am so grateful to know invited several adoptive mom's to her house that week. I shared some of this story that night and on the walk to our cars one friend stopped me and said something to the effect of, "I think what you are doing is the right thing to do, and I think it will get better soon. Hang in there." It was such a simple gesture but it meant so much to me and it helped me rally the strength to continue. A few weeks later the boys started sleeping through the night.
I began writing a post in celebration of that milestone at the beginning of August but I never finished it. By the end of August we were feeling so confident in where we were as a family that we asked one of the boys' preschool teachers, whom they adore, to babysit for a couple hours while we went out to dinner - our second date night and our first with a babysitter other than their grandparents! On the surface it seemed to go well but it brought an immediate halt to sleeping through the night. It's hard to be sure, but I do think the two events were related. That was almost a month ago, and just this week they started sleeping through the night again, and now we've had two nights where they were able to relax enough to fall asleep while I read to them! We are going on our second "date" next week, so we'll see what happens next, but overall I'm pretty thrilled with where we are and it feels great to see tangible evidence that our boys feel safe enough to relax in my arms and on their own. What a difference a year makes!!
* In no way do I presume that our approach is THE one right approach to getting your child to sleep. Everyone must do what feels right for their own family and no two families are alike.
Wednesday, September 21, 2011
Wednesday, September 14, 2011
Sunday, September 11, 2011
Remembering
Ten years ago I lived in Manhattan a few blocks from the World Trade Center. It was so beautiful outside that morning that in spite of my rush to get to work, I paused in front of my living room window to note the crystal-clear blue sky and the way the sun sparkled off the Twin Towers. I had given my apartment a thorough cleaning the day before and I hesitated for a moment before throwing open the windows. Even on the thirtieth floor, dust has a way of quickly finding it's way into a NYC apartment.
I was planning to drop my laundry off at the dry cleaners that morning but I was running late and decided I didn't have the minutes to spare. Walking to the subway I passed throngs of small children on their way to school. Some of the littlest ones looked nervous, it being the beginning of a new school year. On my way down the stairs into the subway at World Trade Center I heard a loud crash and thought there must have been a car accident right outside the subway entrance, but I didn't have time to investigate and hurried on.
The subway platform was surprisingly empty and the train took an unusually long time to arrive. I thought nothing of it other than how the delay was making me even later. Finally a train arrived and I waited for the packed cars to unload. Men and women in suits hurried past me on their way to work. Just as the doors were closing a woman ran onto the train at the other end of the nearly empty car. She was visibly upset and I overheard her telling the other passengers something. I thought I heard her say "train crash" and I figured that must have been the reason for the delay.
When I got to midtown everything seemed normal. I went into the deli I frequented every morning and ordered my usual breakfast. I asked if anyone had heard anything about a train crash. No one had.
When I got to my desk the message light on my phone was blinking. I was surprised to hear that I had a few messages and then listened in bewilderment to the voices of friends asking if I was ok, had I made it to the office, call when I got the message. All the friends worked downtown. I quickly dialed a number and listened in shock as my friend described what was happening. The burning plane in the side of the North Tower. The sky filled with smoke and office papers. My mind filled with images of a small plane whose course had somehow gone woefully off track. I hung up and called my father to tell him I was safe just before the phones went down. When I got off the call the office was buzzing with the word terrorism.
I spent the rest of the morning with my coworkers, huddled around the one TV in the office, watching those unbelievable events unfold. That afternoon I grabbed my gym bag and a few things from my desk drawers, realizing that I probably would not be able to return home that night. I began walking downtown to stay with friends in the East Village and watched in horror as first one, then a few, then throngs of ash and dust covered people passed me on their way uptown. They all wore the same expression. It was a look I had never seen before and hope I never see again. That night I couldn't stop thinking about all the people I had passed on my walk to work that day. The people who got off the subway when I got on. The children on their way to school, a school that was engulfed in dust when the towers fell.
A week later I showed a piece of mail to prove my residence and was allowed to pass the barriers that separated ground zero from the rest of the world. This place was not recognizable as my neighborhood, it was a war zone. After some time I was escorted to my apartment by an armed soldier and given 15 minutes to pack a bag. I don't remember what I packed other than a sentimental old stuffed animal that became a source of embarrassment when my bag was dumped out moments later for a thorough search. It was another ten days before I was able to return home for good. 65% of the people who lived in my 40 floor building never did return. Some didn't make it out of those buildings. Others took themselves to a neighborhood where you didn't have to walk for blocks and blocks because cabs and subways didn't go there. Some took their children where the air was cleaner and you didn't have to pass security checkpoints with armed soldiers to get home. For reasons that I still cannot fully explain, I stayed. From my apartment windows I watched the fires burn for months. Military helicopters used the lawn in front of my building as a landing pad. Twenty four hours a day for eight months and nineteen days I listened to the unearthly sound of the cranes as they lifted debris onto barges beneath my window. I got to know my neighbors. People I passed on the sidewalk or shared an elevator with were no longer strangers to be ignored. It was a strange time.
I grew up a lot that year. I developed a deeper love for this country and a deep respect for the people who dedicate their lives to protect it. The things that seemed like problems pre 9/11 no longer measured up in light of the tragedy that had happened to so many. I began to truly realize what a luck and love filled life I had and instead of whining about my small problems, I started to fix them. Six months later I had a new job, one that I loved. The next year I met the love of my life. The rest, as they say, is history.
On this tenth anniversary I am thinking of those who lost so much that day--those who lost their lives, their loved ones or their health. I am feeling grateful to all the brave men and women who have dedicated or lost their lives making sure our neighborhoods don't become war zones again. I spent today under a crystal-clear blue sky with my family, celebrating life and feeling luckier than ever.
I was planning to drop my laundry off at the dry cleaners that morning but I was running late and decided I didn't have the minutes to spare. Walking to the subway I passed throngs of small children on their way to school. Some of the littlest ones looked nervous, it being the beginning of a new school year. On my way down the stairs into the subway at World Trade Center I heard a loud crash and thought there must have been a car accident right outside the subway entrance, but I didn't have time to investigate and hurried on.
The subway platform was surprisingly empty and the train took an unusually long time to arrive. I thought nothing of it other than how the delay was making me even later. Finally a train arrived and I waited for the packed cars to unload. Men and women in suits hurried past me on their way to work. Just as the doors were closing a woman ran onto the train at the other end of the nearly empty car. She was visibly upset and I overheard her telling the other passengers something. I thought I heard her say "train crash" and I figured that must have been the reason for the delay.
When I got to midtown everything seemed normal. I went into the deli I frequented every morning and ordered my usual breakfast. I asked if anyone had heard anything about a train crash. No one had.
When I got to my desk the message light on my phone was blinking. I was surprised to hear that I had a few messages and then listened in bewilderment to the voices of friends asking if I was ok, had I made it to the office, call when I got the message. All the friends worked downtown. I quickly dialed a number and listened in shock as my friend described what was happening. The burning plane in the side of the North Tower. The sky filled with smoke and office papers. My mind filled with images of a small plane whose course had somehow gone woefully off track. I hung up and called my father to tell him I was safe just before the phones went down. When I got off the call the office was buzzing with the word terrorism.
I spent the rest of the morning with my coworkers, huddled around the one TV in the office, watching those unbelievable events unfold. That afternoon I grabbed my gym bag and a few things from my desk drawers, realizing that I probably would not be able to return home that night. I began walking downtown to stay with friends in the East Village and watched in horror as first one, then a few, then throngs of ash and dust covered people passed me on their way uptown. They all wore the same expression. It was a look I had never seen before and hope I never see again. That night I couldn't stop thinking about all the people I had passed on my walk to work that day. The people who got off the subway when I got on. The children on their way to school, a school that was engulfed in dust when the towers fell.
A week later I showed a piece of mail to prove my residence and was allowed to pass the barriers that separated ground zero from the rest of the world. This place was not recognizable as my neighborhood, it was a war zone. After some time I was escorted to my apartment by an armed soldier and given 15 minutes to pack a bag. I don't remember what I packed other than a sentimental old stuffed animal that became a source of embarrassment when my bag was dumped out moments later for a thorough search. It was another ten days before I was able to return home for good. 65% of the people who lived in my 40 floor building never did return. Some didn't make it out of those buildings. Others took themselves to a neighborhood where you didn't have to walk for blocks and blocks because cabs and subways didn't go there. Some took their children where the air was cleaner and you didn't have to pass security checkpoints with armed soldiers to get home. For reasons that I still cannot fully explain, I stayed. From my apartment windows I watched the fires burn for months. Military helicopters used the lawn in front of my building as a landing pad. Twenty four hours a day for eight months and nineteen days I listened to the unearthly sound of the cranes as they lifted debris onto barges beneath my window. I got to know my neighbors. People I passed on the sidewalk or shared an elevator with were no longer strangers to be ignored. It was a strange time.
I grew up a lot that year. I developed a deeper love for this country and a deep respect for the people who dedicate their lives to protect it. The things that seemed like problems pre 9/11 no longer measured up in light of the tragedy that had happened to so many. I began to truly realize what a luck and love filled life I had and instead of whining about my small problems, I started to fix them. Six months later I had a new job, one that I loved. The next year I met the love of my life. The rest, as they say, is history.
On this tenth anniversary I am thinking of those who lost so much that day--those who lost their lives, their loved ones or their health. I am feeling grateful to all the brave men and women who have dedicated or lost their lives making sure our neighborhoods don't become war zones again. I spent today under a crystal-clear blue sky with my family, celebrating life and feeling luckier than ever.
Friday, September 9, 2011
Looking Backward and Moving Forward
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| Mama! This may be my first ride in a NYC taxi, but I'VE GOT IT UNDER CONTROL! |
When we were waiting to bring our boys home we became friends with several families who had already adopted children. Many of those families told us "the first year is hard."
Now that we are into our second year as a family I can see the truth in that simple statement. We felt lucky with our transition in so many ways right from the beginning, and noted significant progress each month, but looking back I can say that our first year together really was hard. Behind closed doors Mark and I marvel at it and say, "Remember last year?!" The boys say it too. They say, "Remember when I was scared of (that person, that animal, that place) last year?!" Adopting older children is undoubtedly harder in some ways but it is also such an amazing gift. Their early memories are just one of those gifts.
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| The only thing that renders silence in this family is shiro and injera! |
One of the boys (that little cutie to the left) was so shy last year that he barely spoke until October. Now he rarely stops speaking! Tonight at dinner he told me a long, complex story about dinosaurs and pirates and what they did and where they went on their adventures. He was slow to trust us and his affections came from a different place last year. Now he is truly loving, outgoing but not falsely charming, and we have seen real steps toward his attachment being secure.
The other child was always on best behavior last year. He was sweet and loving and cooperative almost all of the time. This summer, once they started summer school, he tried on a number of not-so-perfect behaviors in imitation of a new classmate. When the reprimand came his eyes would turn down at the corners and he would say, "You don't love me???????" We reminded him again and again that we love him no matter what (but that we don't love that behavior!). With a lot of patience, reassurance and the resurrection of the "sticker chart" (Oh how I love you sticker chart! Your concrete boundaries and rewards work so well for my little ones!) the new testing behaviors seem to have faded away recently. More steps on the journey to secure attachment I hope...
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| How can you be afraid of a NYC taxi on the lap of a Dad like that? |
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| Taye, "Hiiiiiiiiiiiiii Mom and Daaaaaaad!!!!!!!" Dash, "Taye! Be cool, Brother!!!!!!" |
They do remember some things. One of the earliest pictures we have of the boys was taken the week they arrived at Gladney. It is a difficult picture to look at because they are so small and thin and sad--it doesn't even look like them until you look closely at their eyes. However difficult this picture is to look at, it is an important piece of their history and I do not hide it from them. The other day it was sitting on the shelf above their dresser, which I still put them on to lotion their hair and skin in the morning. One of the boys picked it up and started looking at it intently. I gave him a minute and then asked if he knew who those boys were.
"Yes. Dash and Taye."
"Do you remember where that was taken?"
"Yes, Effeopia."
"What else do you remember, Sweetie?"
"Dash and Taye needed a mommy...."
Gulp. I thought for certain Mark must have said that to them at some point but he says no and no one else has seen that picture other than the person who took it.
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| Dash, "I cannot believe I am standing in front of a T-Rex!" Mark, "Please take the picture. This kid is really heavy!" |
My smart, beautiful, sweet boys...your courage astounds me.
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| Dash, "This horse is ok but I reaaaaaly like these girls!" |
There is so much more I want to say about the last few months but in the interest of actually publishing this post I will refrain. I have started to write but failed to finish six posts over the last two months! There are the obvious reasons. Work has been extremely busy. I try to focus all my time outside of work on the boys and over the summer that time was spent outdoors at the pool, or the zoo, or gardening or some other activity that was unconducive to blogging.
There are also other reasons. Big things have been happening in the Horn of Africa with drought and famine. Big things have been happening in Ethiopia with families and children suffering, the future of adoptions uncertain and the closing of orphanages, including the one our boys were at (not Gladney, the government orphanage they spent a week at). There are big things happening within our own extended family not to mention what's happening in our country. It feels awkward posting happy-go-lucky updates on the adventures of Dash and Taye in light of these things and it makes me wish I was a better writer.
I have also spent some of my alone time--you know, the couple hours after the boys go to sleep when I should be at the gym--sitting on my neighbor's front stoop cherishing new friends. Yes, they are my neighbors and no, I did not really know them until recently. This probably sounds odd to some of you but as a childless, city dwelling, professional my social life always revolved around coworkers or going out to dinner with Mark or friends. I am so grateful to have this wonderful group of women (and men too, but it's the women who nourish me) steps from my front door.
And ok, here I go rambling and getting into other topics when I really just want to POST SOMETHING...
Is anyone even still reading?! LOL
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| Dinos Rule! |
Wednesday, June 29, 2011
Wordless Wednesday (Almost)
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| Terrified of the Pigs, Beardsley Zoo, June 2010 |
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| Facinated by the Pigs, Beardsley Zoo, June 2011 |
Thursday, June 23, 2011
Sunday, June 19, 2011
The Father of My Children
I met Mark nine years ago at a weekend getaway in VT. Very quickly it became apparent to all of us that he had a way with children. It was one of the many reasons I fell in love with him.
To my surprise, it took awhile for him to come around to the idea of becoming a father himself. Children continued to gravitate to him, and he to them, but in spite of what everyone else thought, he wasn't sure if he would be a good father. I thought it was a reflection of how seriously he took the responsiblity of fatherhood and hoped in time he would come around. He did agree to become a Doggy Daddy and proved himself to be a patient and nurturing father figure to our furry children.
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To my surprise, it took awhile for him to come around to the idea of becoming a father himself. Children continued to gravitate to him, and he to them, but in spite of what everyone else thought, he wasn't sure if he would be a good father. I thought it was a reflection of how seriously he took the responsiblity of fatherhood and hoped in time he would come around. He did agree to become a Doggy Daddy and proved himself to be a patient and nurturing father figure to our furry children.
Obviously, and thankfully, he finally did come around. He agreed to start our family almost three years ago to the day, and he officially became a father this time of year last year. As with all big things in life it feels like it was just yesterday and a hundred years ago all at the same time.
Over this past year, Mark has proven himself to be the father I knew he would be and more. It has not always been easy but sometimes he makes it look that way. When he puts our children to bed they fall asleep faster and sleep longer and sounder. He keeps them from harm in spite of their fearless and sometimes reckless natures. They share his love of spicy food and steak and already appreciate and imitate his terrific sense of humor. Most importantly, he makes them feel safe and loved.
Watching my husband grow and blossom in his role as a father has been a great joy for me. I have heard other people say this and it is true for me too--as my husband's love for our children has grown, so has my love for him. I am so proud of the man and father that he has become.
Over this past year, Mark has proven himself to be the father I knew he would be and more. It has not always been easy but sometimes he makes it look that way. When he puts our children to bed they fall asleep faster and sleep longer and sounder. He keeps them from harm in spite of their fearless and sometimes reckless natures. They share his love of spicy food and steak and already appreciate and imitate his terrific sense of humor. Most importantly, he makes them feel safe and loved.
Watching my husband grow and blossom in his role as a father has been a great joy for me. I have heard other people say this and it is true for me too--as my husband's love for our children has grown, so has my love for him. I am so proud of the man and father that he has become.
Happy Father's Day, Mark! As were your sons, you and your timing for fatherhood were worth waiting for. We love you and all that you do for us!
Wednesday, June 15, 2011
Tuesday, June 14, 2011
Pineapples, Mommy and T-Rex
We took the boys to their new pre-school for a couple hours today to meet their teachers and classmates and get a little used to the environment. They did so well!
When we got home I asked them what their favorite activity was.
Taye said, "The pineapple" referring to the tissue paper pineapple he made as an art project.
Dash said, "Mommy" then he thought for a minute and amended his statement. "Mommy and T-Rex."
They go without Mommy in two weeks. My heart is simultaneously rejoicing at the amazing progress our boys have made and a little sad to be moving onto this next stage of independence. Boy oh boy does it go by quickly, especially when your children join the family at 2 years and 10 months of age!
When we got home I asked them what their favorite activity was.
Taye said, "The pineapple" referring to the tissue paper pineapple he made as an art project.
Dash said, "Mommy" then he thought for a minute and amended his statement. "Mommy and T-Rex."
They go without Mommy in two weeks. My heart is simultaneously rejoicing at the amazing progress our boys have made and a little sad to be moving onto this next stage of independence. Boy oh boy does it go by quickly, especially when your children join the family at 2 years and 10 months of age!
Monday, May 23, 2011
One Year!
One year ago today I awoke in one of the most beautiful places on earth. The sun wasn't up but the birds were singing and the air was cool and moist on the shores of Lake Awassa. My stomach was in knots in anticipation of what awaited me on the other side of a six hour drive to Addis Ababa.
In Melissa Fay Greene's new book, No Biking In the House Without a Helmet, she writes:
"I was beside myself with excitement and a kind of stage fright. For the second time in my life I prepared to meet a child who was going to call me Mama. There can be no other demarcation of time, no other "life-cycle event" as significant a crossing-over as this one. Marriage is momentous, but in most of the modern world, brides and grooms stand at the alter beside their beloved. Childbirth is a major event, but it, like marraige, follows a deep prior connection. Now the elderly guard pulled open the gates and I prepared to meet a person who would join, and change, my life permanently."
I have never been as nervous as I was while we waited for those gates to open. I have never wanted so much for someone to like me, nor ever felt so certain that someone would not.
Then they arrived, wearing the cloths we had sent over months before and holding on to sticky sweet caraminas for dear life. When I show these pictures to the boys they ask, "What Mama say?"
They already know the answer but I tell them again how I leaned into the car, looked into their beautiful eyes for the first time and said, "Selam! Attafra. Ishi." (Hello! Don't be afraid. It's ok.)
"Then what Mama say?"
I tell them, "Lay-ah-zek?" (Can I hold you?) and describe how Dash examined my face intently, then lifted his little arms up to me. All four of their arms are in the air reaching for me before I finish retelling my story.
They were so uncertain and scared but so very, very brave.
How all this came to be, how perfectly these two children fit in this family, is a miracle to me. It has restored my faith in life, love and God to a level I haven't known since I was a child myself.
Happy Family Day, sweet boys! Thank you for changing my life for the better and making me the luckiest and happiest Mama on earth!
Friday, May 20, 2011
Processing
This time of year is now and forever full of powerful memories for our family.
I thought our one year anniversary (this coming Monday) would be all about joy and celebration. On the one hand we are celebrating and have so much to be joyful and grateful for, but in my heart I am also still processing so much, and in reality I am trying to help my children process the profoundness of their past.
For example:
A few days ago at breakfast I said, "One year ago today we were on a plane to Ethiopia to meet you guys!"
We looked at pictures and talked about our story as a family and their stories as individuals, which are neck and neck with "Curious George and the Dump Truck" for favorite stories of all time.
Taye told me that he was "a little scared" the day we met, and he wanted to know why Dash had a caramina (lollipop) in the picture but he did not have one (his caramina was hidden behind Mark's back).
Dash said he wasn't scared that day.
"I not scared, Mommy!"
But then he said, "Mommy, I no go Efeeopia. DashandTaye stay MommyDaddy. OK?"
I have written about this before. He has said this many times this year. All I can do is tell him again that our family is permanent and hope that some day he really believes it.
Yesterday at breakfast we talked about how the boys will start school soon. All year we have talked about school, teachers, what they will learn, the friends that they will make...we have made a big deal about it. Not too long ago, maybe two or three months back, Taye figured out that school meant being away from Mommy and Daddy and he decided that he did not want to go to school. We didn't think it was time yet either so we backed off. Now he feels differently and we had an excited conversation about the kids, the teacher, art projects, letters and numbers...then the conversation took a new direction.
Me: "So Mommy and Daddy will bring you to school and you will stay there without Mommy and Daddy like you did when you stayed with Honey and Doc (their grandparents), and then we will come get you and you will come home for lunch."
Taye: "Toys there?"
Me: "Yes, there will be toys there and other kids and a really nice teacher who will take care of you until Mommy and Daddy come get you."
Taye: "Like Efeeopia? Like Gladney?"
Mark and I tried not to look at each other. We were both thinking, "Holy Crap!"
Me: "Yes, it will be a little like when you lived in Ethiopia at the Gladney Care Center, except this time you will have breakfast with Mommy and Daddy, then go to school for just a little while, then come home for lunch, dinner and sleep with Mommy and Daddy. You'll make lots of friends there and it will be fun, but you will always come home to be with Mommy and Daddy."
Then...
Taye: "Like Halchitu?"
Halchitu is their birthmother.
Me: "Like Halchitu? What do you mean, Sweetie?"
Taye: "Like Halchitu goodbye?"
Last May we met and said goodbye to Halchitu. I don't know how concrete the boys' memories are of her prior to that day, but the memories of that day are sad, confusing and complicated for our children.
Me: "Well..." buying myself a little time while I choke down a bunch of emotions, "We will say goodbye but only for a little while. Remember when you stayed with Honey and Doc and Mommy and Daddy came back in a few hours? Well, it will be a lot like that. We will say goodbye after breakfast but we will come get you before lunch, so we won't be sad like when we had to say goodbye to Halchitu. Mommy and Daddy will always come get you. School is just something you will do for a little while during the day and then you'll come home."
Taye: "Yeah! DashTaye go school. Like Mommy go work. DashTaye go WORK!"
Dash stared down at his breakfast and offered not a word during this exchange, but was back in the game once the conversation returned to quoting movie lines from Cars and demanding more fruit for their oatmeal.
How can a person read about conversations like this for three years and then feel completely inadequate and unprepared when it finally happens at your own breakfast table?
I thought our one year anniversary (this coming Monday) would be all about joy and celebration. On the one hand we are celebrating and have so much to be joyful and grateful for, but in my heart I am also still processing so much, and in reality I am trying to help my children process the profoundness of their past.
For example:
A few days ago at breakfast I said, "One year ago today we were on a plane to Ethiopia to meet you guys!"
We looked at pictures and talked about our story as a family and their stories as individuals, which are neck and neck with "Curious George and the Dump Truck" for favorite stories of all time.
Taye told me that he was "a little scared" the day we met, and he wanted to know why Dash had a caramina (lollipop) in the picture but he did not have one (his caramina was hidden behind Mark's back).
Dash said he wasn't scared that day.
"I not scared, Mommy!"
But then he said, "Mommy, I no go Efeeopia. DashandTaye stay MommyDaddy. OK?"
I have written about this before. He has said this many times this year. All I can do is tell him again that our family is permanent and hope that some day he really believes it.
Yesterday at breakfast we talked about how the boys will start school soon. All year we have talked about school, teachers, what they will learn, the friends that they will make...we have made a big deal about it. Not too long ago, maybe two or three months back, Taye figured out that school meant being away from Mommy and Daddy and he decided that he did not want to go to school. We didn't think it was time yet either so we backed off. Now he feels differently and we had an excited conversation about the kids, the teacher, art projects, letters and numbers...then the conversation took a new direction.
Me: "So Mommy and Daddy will bring you to school and you will stay there without Mommy and Daddy like you did when you stayed with Honey and Doc (their grandparents), and then we will come get you and you will come home for lunch."
Taye: "Toys there?"
Me: "Yes, there will be toys there and other kids and a really nice teacher who will take care of you until Mommy and Daddy come get you."
Taye: "Like Efeeopia? Like Gladney?"
Mark and I tried not to look at each other. We were both thinking, "Holy Crap!"
Me: "Yes, it will be a little like when you lived in Ethiopia at the Gladney Care Center, except this time you will have breakfast with Mommy and Daddy, then go to school for just a little while, then come home for lunch, dinner and sleep with Mommy and Daddy. You'll make lots of friends there and it will be fun, but you will always come home to be with Mommy and Daddy."
Then...
Taye: "Like Halchitu?"
Halchitu is their birthmother.
Me: "Like Halchitu? What do you mean, Sweetie?"
Taye: "Like Halchitu goodbye?"
Last May we met and said goodbye to Halchitu. I don't know how concrete the boys' memories are of her prior to that day, but the memories of that day are sad, confusing and complicated for our children.
Me: "Well..." buying myself a little time while I choke down a bunch of emotions, "We will say goodbye but only for a little while. Remember when you stayed with Honey and Doc and Mommy and Daddy came back in a few hours? Well, it will be a lot like that. We will say goodbye after breakfast but we will come get you before lunch, so we won't be sad like when we had to say goodbye to Halchitu. Mommy and Daddy will always come get you. School is just something you will do for a little while during the day and then you'll come home."
Taye: "Yeah! DashTaye go school. Like Mommy go work. DashTaye go WORK!"
Dash stared down at his breakfast and offered not a word during this exchange, but was back in the game once the conversation returned to quoting movie lines from Cars and demanding more fruit for their oatmeal.
How can a person read about conversations like this for three years and then feel completely inadequate and unprepared when it finally happens at your own breakfast table?
Wednesday, May 11, 2011
Sunday, April 24, 2011
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