Holding Still

Mission Accompli!*

Mmmmm.... the dessert that bleeds chocolate is nestling happily in my stomach as I write! As you may have guessed from the title of this post, KM accomplished her duty of distracting the kids into forgetting that we were nowhere to be seen, and gained the trust of our very suspicious dog.

She came equipped with paper, stapler and hole puncher (she is a devious one!), and had the boys creating a paper garland with sights set on being "Daddy Big" (ultimate size). They were dressed in PJs, cozy on L's bed reading a bedtime story when we returned. KM plans on a return sooner rather than later, so they can get used to this "Baby Sister" idea.

We had a great time, a lovely meal, and besides celebrating our first meal out since the boys, celebrated my "Half-y Birthday," which is officially tomorrow. Half-way through forty, yikes!

*sticking our French food-loving tongues out at a certain someone

Operation Pierre's

Tonight marked the eve of the denouement of Operation Pierre's (OP). This operation entailed sporadic visits by one "Kathleen Monkey" (KM), in an attempt to prepare two sons of Ethiopian descent for a night out for their American parents. KM is an irresistable adult who will slide boys on their backs upon the floor, sing nonsense music and read in a hypnotic voice.

Tonight KM played, ate dinner with us and read the required 2 bedtime stories, carefully chosen for their brevity and sleep-inducing qualities.

So far, OP is going smoothly. The elder son, though expressing disappointment that tomorrow night Daddy and Mommy won't be around for dinner, seems excited at the prospect of having a "Baby Sister" (baby sitter to you and me). Younger son is non-committal with his approval, preferring instead to stare off into the distance and mutter, "Yiye yike Mommy ony." However, I caught said son lying in KM's arms as she serenaded him with a ukelele and a made-up song involving counting the legs of everyone in the house. He appeared smitten.

I will report back tomorrow evening or Saturday at the latest. Hopefully a complete dinner of fine French brasserie vittles will have been consumed, including the exquisite "chocolate opera," its deep, dark chocolate spewing forth from its flour-free insides. Mmmmm....

Wish us luck!

Happy Birthday Habtam!

I didn't realize I hadn't blogged in 11 days! Bad blogger, bad!

A bunch of stuff has happened since that day -- H. had his very first birthday party, both boys spent their first nights away from our home at their grandparents', and both had their very first American colds! Yay!

We traveled on a trio of ferry boats to get to my parents' place to spend Thanksgiving and celebrate H's b'day. The boys met my extended family on my dad's side (aunts, uncles and cousins) for the very first time, and it went as well as it possibly could have. My dad's family is SUPER laid-back. No one forced a hug or kiss, everyone let the guys be until they were ready to interact, no throwing them around and spinning them (what is it with people spinning boys around, anyway?) The boys had a great time, looked comfortable and interacted happily and appropriately with everyone, and didn't melt down. They even got to watch football for the first time on a giant television. We have a tv the size of a mid-'90's M@cintosh computer, so this was a Big Deal. They were transfixed. And surrounded by men, which they think is the bee's knees.

For some reason, I burst into tears upon seeing my aunt (the hostess) upon entering the house. I haven't seen any of these beloved relatives since we came back from Ethiopia. Spending the holiday with them, like I do each year, but this time with two kids -- well, it knocked me down, emotionally. Fortunately, the aunts all hugged me until I could stop and put a few words together.

Another wonderful thing was that the boys napped AND slept through the night at my parents' house. Miraculous you ask? Yes, I think so. H. told me it was "much easier to listen" at Nana and Poppie's than at home, because it was "more specialer." He really was a dream, as was his little bro. He had a wonderful birthday celebration with only the normal amount of ultra-activity for a little boy, and glowed with happiness all day long -- Lire was a bit miffed at not being able to share blowing out the candles, but hey, who wouldn't be? Funnily enough, Lire had asked Habtamu all the previous week if he could help blow out his "Happy Bird-day" candles. Every day. During every car ride. At every meal. Habtam finally took to saying, "Sssshhhh! Enough!" (it's what we say to the dog when he barks too much), or "Stop it! Lire too much asking!"

Everything was great until the final stretch to home in the car. With only a half hour to go, I became frustrated with H's kicking of my seat. Literally, I had kindly asked him to stop at least 20 times. I'm not exaggerating. When it became obvious that it was intentional, I took his birthday balloon hostage. I held up a pen and threatened to pop it unless he stopped kicking. Unfortunately, H's sense of humor isn't fully developed yet, and I hadn't realized how prized the balloon was. That was it. Every insult he could think of was thrown at me (including the ultimate put-down, "Daddy more careful-er driver (than) Mommy!").

I surrendered the blue balloon upon reaching home, thanking him for restraining himself from kicking my seat, and all was healed.

Until the next day. Can't remember what happened that time, but there was a blow-out. I guess he had held it in for all those days, he had to release a little tension.

Happy Birthday, Habtam! You and I have our moments like the one with the balloon, but ultimately, we have "too much fun!" You have grown SO MUCH in the past 7 months. You go to school and are learning to write your name, you discuss the sizes of engines amongst all of the cars we pass each day and how much gasoline they use (soon we'll be discussing the US's refusal to sign the Kyoto Treaty), and you amaze me all the time with your ingenuity and creativity. You are a kind and loving older brother. Lire wouldn't be who he is today without you, I am sure of that. We love you dearly, our Little Big Man, just don't grow up too quick!

A couple pics of junior artists at work:

skeleton family

May I introduce Daddy Skeleton, Mommy Skeleton, Habtamu Skeleton, Lire Skeleton, and of course, Chauncey Skeleton. Somebody was very influenced by October's theme at school... Or by Basquiat. Who would have killed to have drawn these heads!

trip notes

New mothers of any sort, run away if you can!

I was only gone for about 24 hours, but it was heavenly. Low-key and probably a tad dull for most people, but, oh, how happy I was!

And I missed the guys, too, for which I was relieved. I'm not a total monster, after all!

I got in around noon, and made my happy way to the Met. I saw the African Art Exhibit, which I was glad to have caught, and met my oldest friend and her man (just had a year anniversary, yay!). He had never been before, so we took him to see Egypt -- boys of all ages LOVE mummies and temples. That and armor. One of my museum co-workers from years ago in Baltimore suggested dressing a mummy up in armor and suspending it over the main drag in town to attract museum-goers. It would totally work.

He loved the mummies, and texted while walking through the American section. We got hungry and I ate mistakes #1 and 2 -- bad pizza and root beer. What was I thinking? I never eat either of those things at home -- pizza, yes. Bad pizza, no. But the bad pizza was so GOOD. And the root beer made me feel so nostalgic. Until I was on my way down to the beauty salon. I prayed that they wouldn't mind if I stayed in their bathroom a bit too long. The subway stopped inexplicably, as it will do in Manhattan, so I breathed carefully and evenly to keep my insides from taking over the subway in a terrorist gas attack.

I made it to the hair place, was able to smile and make pleasantries to my hairdresser, the receptionist and shampoo guy (none of whom I have seen in 2 years), used the bathroom in respectable time, changed into the luxurious rayon robe they gave me, and sighed in relief. They even gave me a cup of tea, which seemed to calm my internal northrax (anyone see 30-Rock last night?).

We had a great time, reminiscing and trading photos. Me of my boys, she of her new cat, Dick, and new A-frame in Mass. It was indulgent and comforting. I almost felt like I was being treated at a hospice, everyone was so nice. And I got a great cut. It's one of those cuts that's not too noticeable at first, but then you swing your hair around and notice that it always falls into place. And not the same place, either. Any place it lands, it looks good. It bounces and swings, like in the old Pert commercials. It also cost me much more than I expected. Gulp. No wonder they were so nice.

I later met my friend at a nearby corner and we went to that BIG healthfood store you all know about, where I stocked up on oregano oil and got a cup of jasmine tea. We went to a my favorite fabric place, and I got some fabric for the boys' Christmas stockings, which I'll post when I'm done with them. We applied the glitter today.

We looked at her photos from her trip safari-ing in Africa, and had dinner here. You should check it out if you like Indian food and are visiting the Upper West Side. What we like about it is that you don't have to make any decisions. They have one menu each day, that's it. You do have to work a little and choose between brown or basmati rice, and pick your beverage. That was a bit of a strain. But we managed all right. All perfectly balanced for every dosha, apparently. And it's yummy, too.

We chatted and I slept like a giant redwood, never mind a log, and awoke to be served scrambled eggs and english muffins with butter and jelly. Ahh... I left in the afternoon, had a seat to myself on the bus, and worked on a crossword from March. Happiness is...

The Daring Book for Girls

Being a bit immature, I got embarrassingly excited when I received my copy of The Daring Book for Girls. I can't even say "I would have been totally all over this book 20-some years ago," because I was totally all over this book, and I was born in the summer of love (smokescreen for my advanced age).

This book is a great reference for girls, from the glitter and turquoise-blue hardcover to the directions on levitating your friends, to the trivia snippet that Julia Childs was a SPY before she became a world-renown chef. I lent it to my 10 year-old niece, Katia, whose eyes lit up with supreme delight and gratefulness when I asked her to spend some time with it and give me her review. Later, as we flipped through the pages together, she said, "oh, yes, I read that... those songs were fun... I tried that... " and by the end, it turned out she had gone through it cover to cover. Her mom told me she had to pry it away from her to have a look at it herself.

The only criticisms she had were the table of contents, ("too difficult to find things"), some of the instructions ("a bit muddled") and some of the activities she tried didn't work. She attributed this to her being young and that she'd be better at them, "when I'm a bit older."

We both agreed it's a great reference with really fun ideas that can lead you to follow your interests with greater depth elsewhere -- reading palms, for example, something she and I agreed we both would like to know more about.

Neither of us could tie our hair up with a pencil, alas. Her hair was too long, mine too short. I got hers up with a chopstick, with a few alterations in the directions here and there. We had a lovely time together, and I think that it's a great, great book for forming and cementing female relationships, whether it be friend to friend, mother to daughter, or aunt to niece. Since I don't have any girls, I'm going to cover it with a plain paper cover and use it with my boys when they get older... Do you think they'll catch on?

* The Daring Book for Girls is written by Andrea J. Buchanan and Miriam Peskowitz

she's leaving home...

As Lire would say, "Mommy, FUN!"

Tomorrow I'm leaving home for the first time since April, when we went to Ethiopia. Wow. I am atwitter with anticipation. Is atwitter a word? I'm going to visit a great friend and her handsome, sexy-voiced boyfriend, see some art, and get a haircut. I'm not quite sure, but I don't think I've gotten my hair cut since... February? I remember that I had my nose surgery at the end of January, and my hair was longish, then there are pics we gave to the boys in Ethiopia, and my hair is quite short. It's been a while. I have extraordiarily slow-growing hair, so it's not as bad a rat's nest as it could be. But the fact that I've been wearing it under a hat or tied up with a scrunchie is message enough. Cut it off!

As for art, I'm going to go to my former employer and my symbolic "home" away from home, to see this. Ever since I read From the Mixed-up Files of Mrs. Basil E. Frankweiler in the 4th grade, it has been a place I yearned to live in. I went there with the flu that same year to see King Tut -- vomiting in Grand Central Station was not going to stand in my way. When I actually got to work there at the age of 32, well, it was a geek's dream come true. An art geek's dream come true.

My friend and I will hopefully enjoy tea somewhere, and I hope here, because they have scrumptious scones and real whipped cream. And then I'll visit my previous life's hairdresser, who will exclaim with dismay when she sees my hair, but hopefully with admiration when I show her pics of the boys. I will spend the night, and then return at some point on Sunday... I hope I remember to come back!

ciao!

6 months, part deux

This is also up at Open Adoption Support -- a good site to check out. Their theme of openness prompted me to touch on that aspect of our adoption.

Today marks the 6th month "anniversary" of our returning home from Ethiopia with our two sons. I haven't mentioned it to anyone, am not celebrating it, nor am I feeling overly sentimental about it. It's a prompt for thoughtfulness, and it reminded me of all of my initial hopes for openness.

Our adoption isn't open in the traditional, domestic adoption sense. We did meet our sons' family when we traveled to Ethiopia, so we "know" them as well as you can know anyone you've met once, who speak an entirely different language and live an entirely different life. One reason why we chose to adopt from Ethiopia was the potential for openness, which is unusual in international adoption. Our sons don't have to wonder who their family is. We have pictures, videos, and talk about them as often as we can. The potential for traveling there in the future and seeing them again is not only possible, but probable, depending upon how the boys feel about it.

However, nothing prepares you for meeting the family. It is so incredibly momentous and at the same time so surreal and ephemeral. We were sharing something intimate, the boys, yet we were so awkward and apart. We were linked by an interpreter and our searching eyes -- theirs to ours, ours to theirs.
I ask my older son, especially, since his memories are more sharp, about his family. "Do you miss them? Do you want to write them a letter?"

"No. No, wait."

After a particularly gruelling two days of screaming, defiance and throwing toys, I held him for over an hour. For the first time ever, he screamed out one of his family member's names. I listened again to make sure, and then I asked again, "Do you miss them?"

He became quiet and still, so I told him again the story we were told, and what we can guess -- how they missed him so very much, how much they loved him, how they were so sorry that he couldn't stay with them. I also told him, I think for the first time, that it was alright if he liked them better than he liked me. He always tells me that he likes my husband more than he likes me (which is tough to take, let me tell you!), but has never compared us to his first family. So I told him it was ok if he loved them more. He sniffled. His body relaxed. "All done," he told me, so we hugged a bit, and he left to find his daddy and his brother.

Later that evening, the two boys and I hung the photos of his family on the wall around the little Buddha altar I have in my workroom. They used to be dispersed around the house, some in albums to keep them private for the boys. They will be private here, and they can come and sit with them whenever they want. As I banged the nails into the wall, my older son shook my Magic 8 Ball and asked about the weather, "Rain tomorrow?" Then he asked if two of his older brothers were playing outside. "Unlikely," said the Magic 8 Ball. I told him that it was 2 o'clock in the morning in Ethiopia and that they were probably sleeping.

We're going to send a package of photos and a letter next week to his family. It will go through our agency, or a family who is traveling to Ethiopia. Then it will travel to the area where the boys used to live. A local social worker will bring it to their family. I wonder if and when they will get the photos. This is all they asked for when we asked if they had any questions for us -- "fotos." I remember how hard everyone there worked to bring us together in April, and I hope they will be as dogged in their efforts to keep us connected. I also remember that when I traveled to Ethiopia, I hand-delivered photos and a letter to the father of a little boy adopted two years ago. The seriousness with which my request was taken, and the speed with which it was executed -- "how about let's go right now?" -- still take my breath away.

On a practical note, we will be sponsoring two of the boys' brothers. We already sponsor a young girl in Ethiopia, so we know we will hear from them at least once or twice a year, through letters and photos.

I don't think this is enough, but it is where we're going to start.

6 months

Today being the 5th of the 6th month after bringing H and L home, marks our 1/2 year point with the guys. When Al and I were in the thick of it -- the screaming, the running away, the wonky sleeping -- I remember that people who had been through it told me to hold on, that in a few months things would improve. They also said that by 6 months, we'd begin feeling "normal."

I think that this was mostly an accurate assessment. Things have improved drastically, for sure. We still have some pretty intense moments with H., but they happen less frequently, and now he can communicate with us more effectively (and vice-versa), when he chooses to. I can drive them in the car without Al being there, Al is able to go to the city when needed, with only a few tremors here and there. The boys can spend a couple of hours without us with family members, and soon we'll try out a babysitter. H. is in school and is loving it, and L. is getting more and more independent, and loving that, too.

Al and I are "normalizing," I think. I'm finally able to concentrate on a book, or a project, and not feel like there is always unfinished business lurking somewhere. Al is getting work and painting done, though he still is having painter's block a bit.

My fuse is still way too short, but I'm working on lengthening it, and I still have infrequent anxiety attacks, but they're becoming more infrequent. Things are better, but different too, and we are always adjusting our parenting tactics. Specifically I'm trying not to get into bad habits with my reactions/responses to the boys' challenges to us, thus creating bad habits in them. Which means I'm trying hard not to react, but to breathe and wait before something comes out of my mouth.

These little men are helping us to grow, to look at ourselves as humans more carefully. They're making me think about what hurt is, and how we humans hurt one another way too easily. It's almost as if they are a time-travel ship, taking me back to my own 3 year old self with a force I never imagined. I actually found a photo of myself at around 3, and we three look at it and discuss that yes, I was a little girl once, and I wore small clothes and played like they do.

Lire just ran in from a walk with his bro and Dad and Chauncey -- "Mom, Mommy! Fun!" Five minutes later he ran in again and reported, "Mommy! Habtamu jintay* outside!"

Ahhh...

*jintay = peeing

Yiye's Happy Bird-day!

I don't think I've spent this much time looking out windows since, well, I don't know when. We had crazy weather today in the northeast. Winds buffeted us left and right, wisteria vines whipped the screens. I enjoy extreme weather like this, so I didn't mind it for myself, but the boys and the dog got a bit stir-crazy, I think.

Adding to the drama, we celebrated Lire's third birthday today! It was an arduous day for Habtam, unfortunately. From the moment L got to choose breakfast, to the blowing out of the candles, to the opening of the presents, he suffered a lot of frustration. Up until now the boys have received equally, and no amount of preparation or discussion seemed to prepare H for L's birthday. We kept it incredibly low-key, with only Al's three cousins joining us, no balloons, no decorations of any kind, and a tiny cake. We even ended up putting away the presents we got for L, and the one his grandparents got him, because the two L received from the cousins were too painful for H. The cousins even got H a gift, so he wouldn't feel left out, but it didn't do the trick. We're going to put the b'day presents away for Christmas, and have L open his grandparents' gift tomorrow morning.

The good news is that H was able to talk about why he was sad and why he decided it would be a good idea to throw weighty, jagged toys down the stairs. I'm not joking, as horridly as H behaved today, the fact that he could come to me for a hug, articulate what he was feeling, and get through the day without a real meltdown (ie., screaming for an hour, hours more of silent treatment), and in a relatively stable mood, well, I was grateful. It is very, very difficult for him to see anyone receive something when he doesn't, not to mention watching as people celebrated his brother, through singing and gifts. It was "too 'ard," as he would say.

But not to steal the show from L! Here is a message to my baby boy (I know, he's 3! But he likes to pretend that he's my baby):

My sweet, sweet boy, I am so glad I got to celebrate you and all that you are today. Not that we don't quietly celebrate you every day, because we do. Your love for life is infectious and inspiring, and I hope that you always find joy as easily as you do now. Yesterday we went to the dump, and you would have thought I had taken you to Disney World! Though I clearly remember my own excitement at my dad's and my weekly forays to the local dump, so I get it, I really do.

I thought a lot about your parents today, and we talked about them. About how your mother gave you wutit*, and how she carried you on her back. You love to talk about these things about your first mother, and I can tell you love her for taking care of you when you were a baby.

This morning you woke up and asked, "Yiye's Happy Bird-day?" Yes, it's your Happy Bird-day, and may you have many, many more to celebrate and enjoy. Thank you so very much for your generous heart and plentiful soonki**, and thank you for sharing your new toys with your brother. You are wise beyond your years, my little bodhisattva. We love you dearly.

*wutit = milk
**soonki = kisses