Holding Still

sigh

I had a slight drop in mood just now.  A tiny disappointment that made me realize how hard I'm finding the wait to travel to meet the boys.  One of the parents who traveled recently to Ethiopia to pick up her daughter very generously carried a care package for them.  She was able to give it to the nannies, but the boys were not there.  Her daughter is an infant and is housed in another building, so she wasn't able to get back to see them during her stay. 

So no pictures or small anecdote.  I know, as soon as we get there and meet them, all of these anxieties and desires will melt away.  Most likely to be replaced by new ones!  But I still feel a wee bit sad. 

Good news of the day:  Our tenants are moving out of the house Saturday, so we can start moving in next week!  It will be more space for us and the boys and Chauncey and all of our stuff.  As soon as I know they are gone I will begin taping out our new bedroom to repaint it in a color called "zenful."  No, I did not choose it for its name!  I really like the color!  Maybe I'll show you when I get it done.  I finished one of the boy's bird blankets, to begin another this weekend, too.  They are easy, just the binding is time-consuming.  I'll post pics of that, too.

Another parent who is picking up her daughter next week will be taking photos for us.  Her daugher is 5, so she will be in the same area as our guys.  More opportunity to take a picture.  I hope!

paul klee rocks!

And BREATHE!

I just wrote a bunch of neurotic musings. I got it out of my system, so I'm not going to post them. It's not that interesting, anyway. Onto the result of detoxifying by writing a psycho draft and saving it for another day...

Grateful bits: I can breathe through my nose! I can lay down when I sleep for the first time in years! I can smell more than I cannot! Yoga is much easier now that I can breathe, as is any exercise, including the intimate sort!

I am very much looking forward to going to Ethiopia. We're still waiting on our travel notification. We're still hoping for late April. I find myself thinking about the boys a great deal, which probably comes as no surprise to anyone. I stare at their pictures a lot (again, I'm sure you're not bowled over by this info), and wonder what they are like. "Who are you?" I remember American Family asking that as she looked at the referral photo of her new daughter. "What are you doing?" Right now I imagine they are close to waking up for the day. They'll have breakfast, wash up... play? I hope they're feeling comfortable enough to be playing with the other children.

When I have these thoughts, I slow down. My breathing gets slower, and my mind stops reconnoitering. Like many Americans who live a life of privilege, I am a selfish thinker. I think about ME, and how everything that is going on affects ME. Part of my work is to deflect this "small self" and let the other, broader-minded self take over and think about everybody and everything else. When I think about the boys, it happens automatically. Parenthood, as I am learning, (without even being a parent yet, mind you!), makes you think of someone other than yourself. Most of the time. This is a positive development for me right now. I've been using the images of their faces as a focus during my meditation, with some good results.

In a sort of related way, I had dinner with a friend and former boss of mine in NYC last weekend. I'll call her Ms. Tapdance (Yes, she taps, too!). She is a preschool teacher, one of the most wonderful teachers you will find. She was talking about how her job got easier as she got older and progressed in her career. She prepared less, especially with art materials, doing a lot less pre-cutting of shapes, for example. "It takes time and thought away from the individual children. Not only that, but it places my own expectation upon the kids about what the art project should look like. So I just lay out the paper, paints, glue, etc. and let them go to it."

That's my favorite way to prep for a preschool art class, too. It's not always easy to get the support you need in a school to do this -- parents and admin. often want a project that looks good at the end. There is a place for that, too. But I know what Ms. Tapdance is saying. When you allow the kids to just do what they will with the materials, with no expectations, you can attend to what is important, truly see the kids for who they are, rather than coming to conclusions about them and their behaviors. Most importantly, you can create an environment where they feel safe to be themselves, and can be the best selves they can. There are usually a lot fewer melt-downs in Ms. Tapdance's classes as a result.

I told her that this was the most valuable thing I had learned from her and kept. I'm hoping to transfer this to the raising of our sons. I imagine it will harder when it's my own kids, and not my students. Lots of opportunity for practice and growth!

I will leave you with an image from one of my faves, Paul Klee. His childlike images have brought me a lot of joy over the years.

Paul Klee
Red Bridge
Haven't found date or owner yet, sorry.

wonderful playdough recipe

2 cups flour
3/4 cup salt (I like to use Kosher salt)
2 tbsps cream of tartar
1 Tbsp vegetable oil
2 cups water
Food coloring (optional)

Mix all ingredients. Put on medium heat, stirring constantly. Mixture will achieve the consistency of super-wet mashed potatoes. Keep stirring until dough comes away from the sides of the pot as you stir. It will start to grow a "skin," which lets you know it's almost done.

I take it off the heat as it gets less moist. I don't stop stirring, because it can burn easily, especially on an electric burner, where it's more difficult to adjust the heat.

Remove from pot and place on wax paper, wooden board, whatever you like. Allow to cool a minute or two, until you are able to handle it comfortably. You may need to add a couple fingerfuls of flour to the dough if it is too wet to handle. Knead the dough into a lovely, elastic, play-doughy goodness. I allow it to cool even more before I place it in an airtight container or ziplock bag.

It lasts for a while, though I'm not sure exactly how long, because I always give it away. One mom told me she kept it in the fridge for 3 months. I'm not sure if that would dry it out, so experiment. It can get moldy after a few weeks unrefrigerated -- I've had that happen.

It's definitely moister than store-bought play-dough, and it stretches into super long "snakes." It's also a fun project to do with pre-schoolers. I don't let such small kids use the stove top, but they can mix the ingredients with you ahead, you can stir, and they can help knead the dough once it's safely cool.

Another fun thing to do is to wait to add the food coloring until you knead the dough. The colors swirl and blend in fun ways, and kids dig it.

I have another recipe which uses alum -- it's a pickling preservative. I've lost it, but will look for it.

Go make some play-dough!

haiku (breath, breathing)

The theme this week is breath or breathing. More haiku along these lines can be found here.

My take on it was to recount the drama of my getting our visas from the Ethiopian Consulate in NYC earlier this week. I was feeling pretty pathetic that day, a victim of the whims of New York, pms, grisly cold weather and inborn wimpiness.

Elevator doors
open into quiet. Breathe.
Consulate comforts.

Slow post office line.
Excruciatinly slow.
I think I may cry.

New line, longer wait.
What the hell is wrong with me?
Changing lines backfires.

Back to consulate.
At a remove from chaos,
her gaze helps me breathe.

Hunger and sadness
are wearing me down to tears.
I don't expect this.

Glorious bus seat
cocoons me into relief.
My breath slows, I sleep.

pictures

in order of appearance: Picasso "peace" quilt ("pace" and "fred" are italian and swedish for "peace," I'm going to embroider more words for peace along the border, corny as it may be); some quilt squares for one kids' quilt (the pale yellow squares will have simple shapes/images embroidered in them); funky bird fabric with yellow/star border. I love that "fred" is swedish for "peace." Also, sorry for the dark pictures. I'll do better next time.

craft...

I've been away for a while. Again. I remember that when I was addictively reading adoption blogs in the past, sometimes people would get their referrals and would disappear for a while. Now I understand why. There is a lot of stuff flying around the air here -- Inside our heads and between us -- and it's hard to write about, and also, I'm not really sure if it's necessary or would make interesting reading.

I'll let some of that stuff percoloate for a while, and I'll plow on with a few other things.

First, let me apologize for not having pictures of my ongoing sewing projects. Because, believe it or not, I've been sewing a lot, and I'm pretty happy with what I've got so far. Though not one project is close to being finished yet. Gulp. First there is the Picasso quilt. The top is almost done. I've got some embroidering to do along the edges, and then I need to add another border or two.

Next are the small quilts for the boys. I like the colors I've chosen quite a bit. I'm still not sure how they'll fit together, but that generally comes after I play around with the squares.

Third are the twin size blankets I am making for their beds. I'm excited about those, because I just came up with the idea this weekend, while in NYC. I went in to get our visas to go to Ethiopia, which I'll get into later. However, one of my stops was Ur&an Outfitters, where I was looking for tapestries. Sometimes they have some nice prints that I use for pillows, quilts, what-have-you. This time nothing was right -- they were way too hip, not much fun. Too many faded olive greens, mustard yellows, hot pinks. Not that I have anything against any of those colors. Every color has a place, somewhere. Just not in the boys' room. They can be tragically hip later on in life. Plenty of time for that.

What I did find were curtain panels, retro-60-70's. Multi-colored birds in spindly cages. The colors border on the hip, but in a good way. The birds reminded me of the illustrations in a poetry book I loved as a kid. I picked up three of them, which I divided and then pieced together to make two blanket tops. Ultimately I will join them with two off-white fleece blankets. However, the fleece blankets are bigger than the curtains, so I needed to add a colorful border to the edges of the curtains so they will be the same size as the fleece. Is this making sense?

I will attach the curtains with added borders to the fleece blankets (back-to-back), add a binding of sorts, and I will have two soft and funky blankets. Or so I hope.

The sad ending to this story is that our camera batteries need to be recharged, so I couldn't load the pictures tonight. Sigh. I will upload them tomorrow, or the next day, so you can sort of see what I'm talking about.

Until then, get some sleep for me. And I will also leave you with a comment made by a male friend of mine some years back when I told him I had shopped at Ur&an Outfitters. "Aren't you getting a little old to be shopping there?"

internet magic

Today I discovered the meaning of our younger boy's name -- and through my search I discovered a great deal about the region the boys are from, and "met" a generous-spirited person. This is one of the ways in which the internet is wonderful.

I started by Googling "L" along with Ethiopia, Ethiopian names, etc. I found a person with that name, and when I got to the link, it was to a paper he had co-written with another person about damming in Ethiopia and the cost it had on the health of a certain population there. It was either through that, or another link, that I discovered not only was he involved in a grassroots relief program for the region that the boys are from, but he was from that region himself.

I took a chance and emailed him, wondering if a World Bank employee would have the time to read, never mind answer, an email from a complete stranger. I'm so glad I did! Never could I have found a more generous, sympathetic or kind person. He was very interested in our adoption, and also supportive. The region the boys are from is especially poor, facing catastrophic environmental degradation and all of its resultant problems.

Beckmann and I had not had much luck finding any information about the region of their birth, not to mention finding it distinctly on a map. We had general information about Ethiopia, gotten from books, websites, and other people's travelogues. But finding the website and corresponding with this gentleman brought the reality closer. When we actually go to Ethiopia, and hopefully, to the boys' birthplace, it will become more real. Never as real as it would have been to have lived there, but no longer a distant image.

I think sometimes, when we are caught up in becoming a family, we can unintentionally separate our children's birthplace from our children. I don't mean to speak for anyone but myself, btw. I knew intellectually that Ethiopia and our future children were intertwined, and that we would do our best to integrate our kids' culture and honor it in our own lives. But as I alluded to above, all of these things are concepts I have yet to fully experience and understand. My own understanding of Ethiopia has changed a great deal since we began the process of adopting. This new development -- finding someone intimately connected with their birthplace, someone who understands firsthand the situation there -- well, it's pretty intense.

Grown "L" nicely gave us his phone number, so if we need assistance translating for the boys, he says he would be happy to. There is also the potential for us to meet someday, given that Beckmann's dad lives in DC, and Grown L travels to NYC on occasion.

I'm thinking of asking him to phonetically give me some words in their native tongue to express basic concepts, actions and emotions. Beckmann and I were going to make some Amharic flashcards for ourselves, but maybe having some words in their more regional language could make communication just a tad better?

What does "L" mean? Joy and happiness. Grown L is sure that the brothers will bring us and our community much joy and happiness. They already have.

smiles

I am fortunate, because our family has been, and still is, supportive of our decision to adopt (except for my FIL, but that's not a surprise). However, talking to them lately has been a little challenging. We are not telling people our sons' history. It is their story to tell, we feel they should be able to process it themselves, talk about it with us and understand it as well as they can before anyone else knows about it. It isn't a secret, it's just that they have had so little control over what is happening in their lives, this is something we can protect for them, something they can decide how and when to talk about. Plus, it really isn't anyone else's business. People need to accept them as they are, without any preconceived notions. Beckmann and I had a disagreement about it early on -- he tells his mom EVERYTHING, and thought that she was an exception. Luckily, we worked it out, he understands where I'm coming from and that it is something I feel very strongly about. It turns out I was right, because the little that they do know has become fodder for speculation and accusations of the Ethiopian people of lying about the ages of the children, passing off a cousin as a brother, birthfamily trying to take the boys back, you name it. Just give us an interview on Dateline, and we'll be all set.

It is tiring. I'm wondering why they decided they need to bring up all of their fears and suspicions now, when we have made our decision. These are our children, we wouldn't have made any other decision but to add them to our family no matter what their birth history -- you can't pick and choose your children's history and situation, no more than you can choose your own. It is what it is, and you go on from there.

I suppose there is so much fear surrounding things now because it is finally real, and not a distant happening. I have to remember that they haven't been thinking about it as deeply as I have, and they are not privy to what is in my mind. I'm no expert, but I have been thinking, reading and talking about a lot of this for two years now. I need to send them some of my readings about birth family, so they won't fear the possibility of it, and for my MIL, some stuff about race. We have a good piece about white privilege our agency gave us that she would benefit from.

We knew all of this would come up, I think I'm surprised that it's from family, and not more random people.

As for news on the boys... The night we got our referral I sent out a general email to our agency's Yahoo group asking that if anyone were going to Ethiopia, could they get pics of our guys. A mom who was going to pick up her daughter emailed me from Ethiopia, and said she would -- and she did! I am amazed at her generosity. While she was immersed in meeting and picking up her daughter she had time to take photos for us. She sent two more pictures, and told me that the boys were shy (they had only been there a week, so this isn't surprising), were very close and spent most of their time together. She also said that the orphanage director told her that they held hands a lot. That last part made me cry. It brings home to me how glad I am that we decided to adopt siblings. I cannot tell you what a relief it is that they have one another right now, when things are so confusing.

Another nice thing is that Lire was smiling towards the end of this adoptive mom's time there in Addis. I can't wait until I can see the smiles, too.

not much to say...

Work has been kicking my butt of late. This is annoying, because I would much rather be spending my time quilting and nesting for the boys. But it is good because I can't drift into reveries and have hamster wheel thoughts as easily when I have to work hard. We are setting up for another student art show, this time to display the talents of the area's high school kids. It's really interesting to compare the younger kids' exhibit to the older kids' version -- the former is a brightly-colored, exuberant, over-the-top extravaganza of joyful art-making. The latter is more inward, more carefully considered, self-analytical, and simultaneously sentimental and cynical, depending on the student's work. Some of the work is pretty impressive, too.

No time to think about anything but not misspelling the students' names on the wall labels, or how to fit all of the art onto the wall without going all the way up to the ceiling.

As for the boys, last night Beckmann and I printed out doubles of some photographs of ourselves, our home, the beach, the dog etc. These were for their photo albums so they will see pictures of us before we go to pick them up. It was fun making them -- I stuck stickers onto the plain covers added their names, and labeled the pictures. I wanted to have labeled them in Amharic, too, but I wasn't successful finding someone to help me transcribe the words. The only people in the photos are me and Beckmann, so I think the nannies will be able to tell the boys who we are. I hope that they actually have the time to look at the books with the boys, I'm sure they are always busy clothing, feeding, bathing, etc. the kids.

Soon we will move to the bigger house on the property. Probably at the beginning of next month. I will miss our little studio here. It is cozy, and we really made it our own. I'm going to miss the electric honeydew walls and the pink couch. Believe me, it looks great! We'll have to make the new place our own. I already have ideas for making a slipcover for a chair, some pillows, and of course, the boys' room. I am planning their quilts as I type. The Picasso quilt is coming along, believe it or not -- It has slowed, as you can imagine, but I'm still working on it in fits and starts. Photos will come soon.

I'm off to watch Idol!

a good day

Last week I brought a couple of boxes of wood pieces over to the after school program where I go once a week. I wasn't able to bring the book I posted about a few weeks ago, it was out of the library, so I brought some photographs of artworks by Betty Parsons. Late in her life she built small, wooden sculptures from driftwood and other wood bits she found at the beach by her home. She would paint them and give them lyrical names like "only the song remained," and "eyes of the sea." I think she also wrote poetry. Besides being an artist, she was also an important gallery owner and supporter of new artists, most notably abstract expressionists like Jackson Pollack. She also supported gay, lesbian and bisexual artists at a time when social oppression was the rule.

We looked at the pictures for a very short time (the kids have been in school ALL DAY and are through with paying attention to a talking adult), and then I gave them each a largish piece of wood for the base of the sculpture. They also received glue and had unlimited access to the boxes of randomly shaped wooden pieces.

It was an incredible success. They became absorbed very quickly (of course, after the obligatory "Do I have to do art today? I don't want to!), and created elaborate abstract and representational sculptures. I worked with three groups, and the last one, the 4 year old boys, especially got into it.

One of my favorite things in the world as a teacher is to watch kids work on a project intensely and independently. That is exactly what I got, and it was especially fun for me because it was the same day that Beckmann and I had gotten our referral pictures and learned more about the boys. I was feeling particularly surreal when I set off to work that afternoon, but had to get into the efficient art teacher mode asap, so I was feeling a bit jangly. The peaceful hum of kids happily working on an art project was just the thing to get me to reenter the real world. Also, the boys are all in pre-k together, and are all 4. We think that our older boy might be closer to 4 than 3, so I was particularly absorbed in watching them that day.

It was a good day. I'm looking forward to doing projects like that with our guys.

To end the project, I provided the kids with Sh@rpie markers with which to add detail to their creations. Some chose to keep the wood natural, but most were thrilled to use the markers, and added some great designs, words and images. And they all wrote their names on them. They LOVE writing their names. Especially the kids who have just learned how to do it.

Yep, a good day.

One Went Away, Betty Parsons, 1982.

I couldn't get the name of this piece, but I found it virginiamiller.com. It's a nice article, too.

PS I couldn't get any of my links to Betty Parsons or to my previous post to work, I apologize. I'll work on it. She's easy to Google.