Holding Still

house musings/shallow post

I was wandering around our house just a second ago, and I realized that I didn't feel "at home." Before we lived here, we lived across the yard in a tiny house which was as close to perfect as you can get, given it was so small for the two of us and Chauncey.

This house is more normal-sized, as far as houses go, with 2 1/2 bedrooms, and a little annex from the olden days which has become multi-purpose, including being used as Al's painting studio. We only slept in this house about 2 nights before we flew to Ethiopia to meet Habtamu and Lire, which may be part of the reason why. Also, it's my MIL's house, so when it was renovated, many tastes had to be satisfied. That combined with the fact that we decided to use mostly the furniture from our NY apartment eviction and existing furniture (realizing that 2 children would DESTROY any new furnishings), you've got a hodge-podge of time periods, color schemes and tastes.

Getting back to my wanderings. As I wandered I tried to figure out how to make the house feel less like a rental. I've begun spending more time in the room set aside for me. Whenever I make a grateful list*, this room is towards the top of it. I've set up a little altar for Buddha, with a mini-vase with flowers and a candle. (I lit the candle the other day and I think I may be allergic to it, sigh. ) I installed a couple of shelves in the closet on which to put all of my sewing and collage work. We also purchased a filing cabinet to keep control of the piles of paper which seem to collect despite our best efforts. This room is starting to feel more like a haven than a cluttered room, so there is progress there. I just have to start sewing again...

The boys' room is cute, but they don't spend too much time in there, aside from sleeping. Most of the toys are upstairs, despite our efforts to promote playing in their room. They generally want to be near us, so bedroom time isn't something they opt for.

The upstairs, where the living/dining area and kitchen are, is the most habitated. We cook, eat, play and talk up here. It's fully lived in, and definitely isn't cold or uninviting. It just feels like someone else's house. Which it is, I guess. When the boys get older, and more trustworthy when it comes to not destroying furniture, we can individualize it a bit. I'm also thinking that we should change the artwork somewhat, but that will take much discussion. There are a lot of opinions in this house. Something I could do would be to make new slipcovers for the old vinyl cushions on the cool Swedish armchairs. They are wooden with small cushions, so it wouldn't be too difficult, I don't think.

So far any changes/improvements are all in my head. I may be the only person who feels this way, too. I'm more of a nester than Alex and I think the boys are making this place their own. They know this house as "home," one of their earliest English words.

Gotta get off the computer. Al's hard drive is busted, so he may need to hijack this one for his work. Wish us luck!

up-to-date

Habtamu has started soccer camp this week, and seems to be enjoying it. Although it's not always easy to tell, since he wears his poker face on the field. That guy would give Buster Keaton a run for his money.
The program is run by a group of British young people (listen to me, I sound so old!), who turn the skill-building into fun games. They have pretty thick accents, so I wonder how well H. is able to understand them. It seems that he watches what the other kids are doing, and eventually catches on and does the same. I asked him if it was difficult for him to understand, but he said no.

The first day Lire and I stayed within sight, but today we attempted to wander off to the playground to climb the jungle gym while he went to the "loo" with the group. I could still see him from where we were, but he couldn't easily see me. He played with the other kids for the first 5 minutes or so, then I could tell that he was looking for us. Lire and I scampered back to reassure him that we were still there. He wasn't upset, but he did say, "Mommy stay," pointing to the ground near his backpack. He told me that Lire and I could play again tomorrow while he was with his group, but only for "14 minutes." He has taken to wanting to set the time limits these days. For example, I will say "Lire, in 5 minutes you have to go sleepy (take a nap)." Habtamu will counter with "Mommy, 6 minutes." Ok, Habtamu, whatever you say...

Lire has begun to hit us and the dog of late, as well as to increase his grabbiness. We've had a behavior chart for two months or so which has helped them learn our routines, what is expected of them behavior-wise (cooperation, sharing, being safe, kindness), limits, etc. They got it down pretty well and I think H. figured out how to misbehave just enough to still earn his daily sticker. So I've changed it up a bit and am focussing on specific goals for each of them.

Lire's goals are: Gentle Hands and Feet; Sharing; Using words; Following directions. I decided to put them in positive terms rather than saying "No Hitting or Kicking! Give the jump rope to that little girl! Talk for the love of God! and For the third time, don't touch the grill!"

Habtamu shares two of the same goals -- using words and following directions -- but he has two more specific to him: Gentle Voice and Kind Words and Actions. Lately he has taken to screaming VERY LOUDLY and at an unnaturally high pitch for no apparent reason other than to drive me and Chauncey to jump in front of the SUVS barreling down our street. Also, as his language develops, he finds new ways to tease his brother to tears and again, make me want to jump in front of an SUV.

The chart has only been in use two days, so I'm not sure how it'll work. It usually takes a week for the Results Show when they figure out how their behavior has impacted their lives. They can earn a sticker a day, and if they get 5 out of 7, they earn a reward. So far the favorite rewards are tv time and a ride solo in the car with either Mommy or Daddy. Each has had a couple tough weeks with not enough stickers earned and have had to watch as his brother gets to jump in the car for an exciting jaunt to the grocery store and post office.

They love the post office. I have no idea why.

I'm still meditating, with varying degrees of success. I still have bouts of depression and anxiety, but less often and less crippling. Alex says he feels unable to have conversations with his peers as easily as he used to. I said, "it's only happening to you NOW? I've had that problem since May."

We've met families with kids our kids' ages, as well as some other blended families who we'll spend time with some time soon. Habtamu will go to Pre-K in September, and we are tentatively planning a trip to the city in October.

Onward and Upward!

I have some new photos, but I'm having trouble uploading today, so I'll save it for another post.

fall-ing

It's been cloudy and downright autumnal around here lately. This afternoon, finally, the sun has burned through and it's feeling more like August and less like October. I enjoyed the cooler weather the first day, the second day it was nostalgic, the third day was just too sad. I need a few more hot, beach-worthy days before autumn comes, that's all.

Al went into the city and all was well. No tears, lots of anticipation of picking up Daddy "on the choo-choo" (he arrived home via the train). The boys and I had a great time visiting the piglets and the new baby turkeys, buying new "chammas" (shoes), eating pizza and watching B@by Beethoven. Bedtime went smoothly, many kisses were had, and I had a full night's sleep, no Lire stepping on my head in the middle of the night.

We're doing well, with many lurches and bumps, of course. I sometimes still wonder if this is what it feels like to be someone's mother. Does that feeling slowly fade, or does it resurface over the years? Sometimes I am fully engaged and think, "Yes, this is it!" And then the next day, hour, or minute I'm wondering who these two little people are. At times I feel I know them well, other times they are strangers and I wonder what they're thinking, how often they think of Ethiopia. I often try to picture what they will be like as young adults. Their being Ethiopian, not speaking full English, is so much of who and where they are now, it's difficult to imagine anything different, though I know from speaking to other adoptive parents that this will not always be so.

I look forward to when we can have more in depth conversations. As much as I love hearing Lire repeat "Yiye come? Yiye star?" 36 times a minute, it can be maddening. At the same time, I know I will miss this time. We are so involved with one another right now, entwined in ways we won't always be. They depend on us A LOT -- to be consistent, supportive, loving and playful. As exhausting as this is, it's nice to be needed, and it won't always be so. The only consistent thing is change, which is exhilarating and frightening all at once.

You see, this autumn-like weather has gotten me all contemplative! I need some more 80+ degree days to bake my brain again!

love the sound of breaking glass

Becoming a parent has moved me to revisit my Buddhist leanings. There have been times when I've awoken with anxiety roiling my innards, when I've thought I couldn't take the relentless repetition of toddler/preschooler conversation and behaviors any longer, when I've felt so alone, even when I had not one minute to myself.

I realize that these feelings are par for the course for any new parent, never mind an adoptive parent of two high-spirited boys. Or maybe they're not and I'm a neurotic wreck. However I look at it, I'm still working on a way to get through my days feeling more steady, behaving more thoughtfully.

I've begun "sitting" again. Not just on the couch, staring out the window. Which I quite like to do. I'm talking about meditation. Finding 20 minutes to sit, uninterrupted, is quite a feat around here these days, but I'm mostly able to squeeze it in. The difficulty is in not allowing my thoughts to take over and lead me into the types of feelings I described above. Even when my meditation is a resounding mess -- dog comes in needing love, Dh falls asleep upstairs while the boys giggle uproariously at some mischief they're committing, or my bladder needs attention -- even then I find my mood more stable afterwards. I can step back a bit. I can quiet my inner voice and just watch the activities going on around me, rather than always needing to participate.

This last part is something I'm aiming towards doing more of. Holding back when my impulse is to jump in and "interfere." Letting some of the less perilous things happen, letting the boys and Alex work things out without me, letting Chauncey take care of himself when someone almost jumps on him. It's not easy for a perfectionist control-freak such as myself. A quality in me of which I wasn't so painfully aware before kids, but there it is!

It's much more relaxing, so I'm trying to cultivate it more, and meditation seems to be the best way thus far. Tonight I watched as Alex gave his tall, fragile glass to Habtamu in order for him to pour his drink from one cup to another. I almost said, "that's not a great idea. He'll spill it, or even worse, break it."

No, I left the room to finish cleaning up in the kitchen.

CRASH! And I had to chuckle. I was so glad I was nowhere near the event, and that I didn't feel the need to clean it up. Ahhhh.

Anti-racist parent meme

I've been tagged for my first meme by New Flower Blooms (check her out, she's great!). I'm a bit nervous, being a meme virgin and all. Here goes.

1. I am:

Irish-Italian with a splash of Dutch/French.

2. My kid(s) are:

Kembata (Ethiopia)

3. I first started thinking more about race, culture and identity when:

When I was around 4 or so, my aunt gave me a black baby doll. She worked in New Haven public schools and wanted to make sure my doll collection represented what I saw around me. I recognized that this doll was important, because of all of the attention the gift received.

In kindergarten I remember hearing kids calling kids who were Hispanic "Spic and Span," and asking my parents what it meant. They told me it wasn't nice, so when we heard it again, my sister and I would tell them not to say it anymore.

We later moved from the city to a predominantly white small town -- I continued life racially naive with a few blips and feelings of uneasiness in college during lectures on black southern lit -- a lot of students complained about "having to read this stuff." It was only when I moved to Baltimore and worked in the inner city as a teacher that race, culture and identity permanently moved into my consciousness.

Btw, I still have my doll, but unfortunately, my boys only wanted to throw her against the wall, so she is safely ensconced in my closet for now.

4. People think my name is:

Irish. Which it is. I'm actually more Italian, but nobody knows this unless they meet my mom.

5. The family tradition I most want to pass on is:

Overwhelming support of everyone's interests. Both sides of our families celebrate one another's different passions with lots of curiosity and participation.

6. The family tradition I least want to pass on is:

Second-guessing and regrets. I want the boys to be confident in their choices, and if they make mistakes, move on!

7. My child's first word in English was:

Habtamu: "Daddy" or "Mommy," I forget which came first -- simultaneous? Then "You're welcome."

Lire: "Up." That boy wanted to be picked up and NEVER put down.

8. My child's first non-English word was:

I don't know, since they spoke before I met them. However, "ishi -ca" (ok), "waha" (water) and "macchina" (car) were the words we heard the most when we first met H and L.

9. The non-English word/phrase most used in my home is:

Jintay (bathroom/pee-pee). "Mommy jintay? Ten minutes? Ka-ka? Big jintay?" All said from the other side of the bathroom door as they attempt to unlock it.

10. One thing I love about being a parent is:

Watching the boys learn something, and then seeing them build on the new knowledge. It's astounding, sometimes.

11. One thing I hate about being a parent is:

Losing my patience. Something of which I am too guilty. I must chill.

12. To me, being an anti-racist parent means:

Not letting myself forget that race DOES matter, no matter how many white people tell me that things have changed for the better. Needing to recognize racism and prejudice in myself. Reminding myself to be proactive in making diversity a part of our lives regularly, not just during February.

Now to see who has/hasn't been tagged, so I can pass this one on.

jinx, I owe you a beer

I definitely jinxed the sleep mojo! Things have settled, but we had a raucous couple of nights a few days ago, with Habtamu attempting to fly off his bed. The first night was an accident, the incident obviously happening as he slept. He was disoriented and fell right asleep when I comforted him. The second was an attempt (I'm only guessing here), to amuse his younger brother and to repeat the previous night's attention-grabbing. It happened 15 minutes post tuck-in, so they weren't asleep yet. Unfortunately, he hurt himself this time, landing on his knees. The screaming was reminiscent of our early days together. I had horrible visions of the tantrums returning, of the screaming never ending, which is what it feels like when one is in the middle of it. I have no idea what H. thought about the whole thing, since we weren't able to get any explanations from him that night or the next day, except he admitted that he "jumped." This was corroborated by Lire, who thought the whole thing was pretty exciting.

Today Alex had to leave for the city for the day, pretty short notice. I think the short notice helped, that and the fact that my MIL was here, so she could drop him at the bus stop while I took the guys to music class. H. did an AMAZING job of saying goodbye. He told Alex that he was sad, but he was able to give him soonki (kisses) and return to his alien housebuilding project. I immediately awarded him a sticker for being such a big boy (H. loves stickers, thankfully), which switched Lire into gear -- he let go of Alex's leg and said "Yiye ticker!" ("Lire sticker" for you "Lirese" novices out there).

We packed the day with music class, visiting our neighbor's piglets, lunch with grandma, rest/nap time, beach play, tv and dinner. TV is a rare treat for them, though picking out something they will watch all the way through is a challenge. Anything with a large amount of dialogue loses them, since they can't quite follow it. Baby @instein's generally work -- almost no talking, lots of images of children and puppets. I tried Fantasi@, but the only part they seemed interested in was the Sorcerer's @pprentice. "All done?" they suggested several times. So I switched to Blue's Clu@s ABC, which stuck. H. especially enjoyed it, as he adores the ABC song, is learning letters and their sounds, and is starting to write a few of them. This allowed me time to make dinner. Ahhh.

Bedtime tonight went well, despite last week's body-flinging fiasco, and despite Alex's absence. I actually removed H's boxspring and bed frame the other night, so he wouldn't hurt himself again. We promised him we would return it to its former splendor if he had a few nights of good "sleepys." This means that he stays in his bed and doesn't attempt to imitate the skateboarding boy he saw in a photograph the other day. "Boy flies?" he asked me. I tried to explain to him what the boy was doing. He answered with "Habtamu fly."

Gulp.

And he will, too. I will be one of those nail-biting mothers who shuts her eyes as her son completes 360 degree flips on the slopes or hang-glides off Machu Pichu.

Lire still wants to be "yiddle" though he's taken to showing new acquaintances his "muscles," and says he is a "bug mon!" (big man). He also keeps asking if we "Yike Yiye." I hope it's just him practicing his language skills and not massive insecurity. I do realize that they both are insecure about a lot of things, and understandably so. Thus we always answer him, always with "yes, I like Lire," or "I LOVE Lire," even when he is being especially pesty.

good books

For the last month or so, the boys have been into bedtime stories. This is a wonderful thing for all of us, because it allows us to shift to a lower gear before "sleepy," and finally we get to read all of the great books people have given us! Also, it makes going to the library an option and an adventure for H and L.

When they first arrived, they had little interest in being read to. We weren't too surprised, after all, they didn't understand what we were saying, and I think the illustrations may have confused them a bit. They responded better to books with photographs, or magazines. These images weren't abstract, and they could easily identify many of the objects and animals. We spent a lot of time reading M@artha Stew@rt Living and seed/flower catalogs.

Fortunately, they love books now, so we have a lot of fun before bedtime. Here are three that we found at the library that they especially responded to. They're all pretty different.

Please, Baby, Please! by Spike Lee and Tonya Lewis Lee.

Grumpy Bird by Jeremy Tankard

Little Monkey's One Safe Place by Richard Edwards

Remember She's Gotta Have It? With the "Please, baby, baby, Please!" refrain? Well this book's got it on every page, but it's directed at a particularly saucy toddler girl. Lire LOVES it, and can crack anyone up with his "Please baby, Please!" It's a great book for young children, especially toddlers and early preschoolers. Our guys love to see her doing all of the things they do every now and them (ahem), like kicking and screaming or not sharing. The illustrations are fun and detailed, and the heroine is an AA little girl.

Grumpy Bird was picked out for H in mind, who has his grumpy days every so often. Bird wakes up grumpy, too grumpy to fly, even. So he walks. All his animal friends want to know what he's doing, and he tells them, with increasing sarcasm and frustration. But they join him all the same, and when he realizes he's actually having FUN, well, he's not grumpy anymore.

The last one, Little Monkey, was in a bilingual (English/Spanish) format at our library. It's about a little monkey who becomes afraid during a storm, so he runs to his mother's arms. She reminds him that he's always got one safe place, but he doesn't know where that is... He searches in a few scary places, until, back in his mother's arms, he realizes that that was where the safe place was all along. We add "Mommy and Daddy's" arms, so Dad doesn't get left out. This story really resonated with Habtamu, who became especially affectionate towards us after reading it. I think it actually helped him open up more emotionally.

So that is my mini-book review. One funny book, a book about a grumpy mood, and a tear-jerker. I'll add more in a day or so, we've come upon some fun ones recently.

Don't want to jinx us, but sleep continues to go peacefully here. Ahhh...