Holding Still

scooters and surfers

The chart has been working for Habtam, and vice-versa.  He told me today that he always wants to have a chart, because it helps his "brain work better."  I think one of the things that helps is seeing the smiles and sad faces and being able to remember why he earned them in the first place.  He's able to go back to earlier in the day and discuss his behavior and its repercussions (hurt feelings, hurt brother, wet mother, etc.).

That's not to say that it's been bump-less.  On the second day of the chart's reinstatement, H took the keys to the scooter out of the drawer, inserted them into the ignition, turned said ignition and began to beep the scooter's horn.  He was with my MIL who was innocently washing the dishes while Lire chatted with her.  She had told H she would finish up and then they would play, so he should play a while on his own while he waited.  Which, I guess he did, just with an inappropriate toy.  She and Lire heard the horn and thought he was just beeping it -- thing is, one cannot beep the horn without the key inserted and turned.  Al was just returning from an errand when he came upon this unfortunate turn of events. Al sent H to me in the main house for a "big time-out."  

That was not his best day.  He misses the routine of school, and hadn't had his regular homeopathic remedy in about a month because of his gum and tooth issues.  We had had to interrupt that remedy for one particular to gum swelling (arnica).  Finally, on Thursday he had his remedy, and we can see his brain slow down, his impulses interrupted by second thoughts, and a more peaceful H.  Hold breath.

The first day of camp is tomorrow, which will be great for him.  I'm nervous about it, since I haven't worked in a "classroom" setting in a while.  Though this is camp, so it won't be traditional or as structured.  Still, I'll have 19-20 tiny charges and counselors to whom to delegate.  I can't believe I still get nervous about new jobs.  You'd think I'd get used to it, being such a job-hopper.

In other, sadder news, the 20-something son of an old friend of Al's family committed suicide this week.  It has blown the community's heart apart, I can tell you.  This morning we went to the beach with the boys to beat the humidity.  Arriving alongside us were cars, jeeps and trucks filled with surfers.  The young man was an avid surfer, so we watched as they held a memorial service for him on the beach.  Other friends and his parents and siblings were there, maybe a hundred people.

It was incredibly moving to watch as the young men and a few young women took their boards out into the ocean together -- I'm not sure how many, maybe 30 or so.  They carried a beautiful arrangement of flowers and local fauna with them and tossed them out into the waves once they were far out.  His parents watched and hugged one another tightly.  Al and I tried to keep our tears from the boys, who were happily digging holes by the waterside.  At the end, t hey all surfed in, one or two at a time.  It was one of the most beautiful memorial services I've witnessed.  

Alex and Lire will be going to the service at the local church tomorrow while H and I do camp.  Sorry to leave you with something so sad.  But it was a wonderful ritual for the parents.  I could see how grateful they were to see so many people who had cared for their boy.   

To lighten things, I'll leave you with a photo of Chauncey sitting at my work table.  This window has the best bird/squirrel watching, apparently.  

bottoms up

Sorry for the butt shot.  It's not the most flattering photo of my bottom half, but we were having a good time -- yoga bringing the family together.  Note Chauncey upon my work table.  He's looking for squirrels, his arch-enemies.

I had my first three days of summer camp orientation this week.  On Monday we start for real.  Today the campers and their parents were able to come for an open house to meet all the counselors and see our amazing digs (it would make you cry, it's so lovely).  That means that Habtam came with Dad and Lire to meet his counselors, see his room, check out the grounds and see SO MANY KIDS!  I could tell he was in heaven.  He really likes to be amongst a bunch of kids.  Lire, too, but especially H.  It's a very free and easy place with the ability to run around and not get lost or hurt easily, so it was nice for me to see him racing about, happy with the world.  

I met most of my 19 charges and their parents.  Only one chilly, limp-wristed handshake was had (hey, turn off the ac, biatch!).  Luckily most of the parents were sensible, kind people.  The counselors working under me are absolutely terrific.  I lucked out.  Since I'm new, I think the director purposely gave me experienced counselors, some of whom are former campers themselves.  The staff is much more diverse than the clientele, which I was expecting.  This school (it's an alternative/hippy/liberal private school during the rest of the year) makes a point of recruiting staff from all walks of life.  There are three head counselors who are African, another African-American, two of Asian descent, a number of people who are Hispanic, and then all of us Caucs.  The clientele are mostly wealthy Manhattan kids whose parents or grandparents summer out here.  The campers are not as diverse as anyone around here would like, but the staff is, and for that I am grateful. 

I was telling H that three of the counselors were from Africa, like he was.  He appeared interested, but didn't say anything.  We have been talking about Ethiopia again lately, usually combined with questions about family relationships.  The other day I was on the phone chatting with my mom.  I hung up after saying "bye Mom!"  Habtam asked me why I called Nana "Mom."  He's asked this before, so I repeated that she was my mother.  

H:  Why is she your mother?

me:  (deep breath) well, Nana carried me in her uterus until I was born, and then she took care of me until I was a grown-up.  Do you remember who carried you in her uterus?

H:  You?

me:  Nooo...

H:  (His name for their first mom)

me:  Right.  So she was your mother, and she took care of you as long as she was able.  And now I am taking care of you, right?

H:  Right. (begins to jump on his bed)

me:  So I'm your mother, too.

Lire:  You my mommy, too!

H:  Will I go back there visit?

me:  Yes, when you get older, we'd like to take you and Lire to Ethiopia again.  Would you like that?

H:  (Jumps on bed, no answer)

Lire:  Yes, I go Ethiopia!  (also jumping on bed)

The jumping got out of hand, as usual, with all of us jumping on Lire's bed and holding hands.  I had to jump ship to keep H and L from dragging me into their too-physical-for-me game of banging bodies against the wall.

And that's how a lot of stuff gets discussed around here.  Catch as catch can,  with a side of physical comedy and/or violence.

 

hello darkness my old friend...

Lack of school is proving to be difficult for a certain someone in our household.  Actually for both boys, just one's behavior is easier to manage than the other.

Being a preschool veteran, I played around with behavior charts a couple of months after the boys arrived home with us.  It worked really well helping them to learn our routines:  waking up, having breakfast, clearing our plates, playing and cleaning up, brushing teeth, getting ready for bed, etc.  They liked the charts a lot, and when they were able, began to talk about it and helped us make the smiley/sad faces on it.  Once things started going smoother, routine-wise, I focused on different behaviors (Lire not waking Habtamu up at 5 am, Habtam using gentle hands).

Anyway.  The chart, which is a large dry-erase board, had been disbanded and used as a fun drawing surface for the guys.  No longer.  Unfortunately, we've had to reinstate a chart for Habtam.  Oddly enough, he seemed relieved by the whole thing.  He is someone who requires structure, likes concrete and consistent rules (though he bucks against them like a goat), and is visual.  I think the very visualness of the chart, with the ability to concretely see his behavior throughout the day, helps him consider his choices.  Maybe I'm giving the chart too much credit, but he responds to it. 

The day is divided into three sections --- morning, afternoon and evening.  Each section has three time periods within, and we check back with one another throughout the day to see how he's been doing.  We use simple sad and happy faces to illustrate it, and at the end of the day, if he's got enough smiles, he gets a sticker.  If there are enough stickers at the end of the week, we'll talk about a privilege, a toy returned, etc.  Are you tired reading about it?  I'm tired just thinking about it.

The difference this year to last is that H and his Dad and I can talk about his behavior, his choices, and his feelings SO much better.  Of course, it also means that H can tell me and Lire how much he hates us, that Lire is stupid, and he never wants to talk to us again!  More sophisticated expressions of anger.  Sigh.

I'm not sure if Lire is responding to H's renewed misbehavior or the loss of the school structure, but he is regressing a bit.  It takes the form of him making baby cooing sounds, attempting to suck on our fingers, and needing to be held more.  Fortunately, he bounces back quickly, and if we allow him to act out being a baby, he reverts back to his old self within minutes.

Very much looking forward to camp starting next week for H, that's all I can say.  I'm going to be working half-days at the same camp, but with the 3 year olds, so H will have his own space, his own experiences and I'll just happen to be nearby.

wish us luck!

 

more books

Here are some more books we like, and own.  All were gifts from my good friend, M, except Trouble, which I bought used on Amazon.  They are regular, repeated reading for the boys.  I highly recommend them to anyone, not just for kids of African descent.  They are really fun stories with captivating illustrations.  

Catch That Goat! by Polly Alakija:  The boys really like this one.  It's a counting book hidden inside a short tale of a mischievous goat who makes off with various items from a Nigerian market.  Ayoka is the little girl who is supposed to be goat-sitting for her mother, but spends all of her time asking her neighbors at the market if they've seen her goat.  The boys love counting the items left from the goat's looting and looking for traces of the goat -- kicking hooves, e.g.  A very comical book.

Mama Panya's Pancakes by Mary Chamberlin:  Definitely a fave at our house.  We have yet to make the pancakes in the recipe in the back, but we will.  This story follows Adika and his mom as they go to market to spend the few coins they have for ingredients for pancakes.  Mom worries because Adika invites so many friends to join them for supper -- will there be enough?  However, Adika's instincts prove correct when each guest brings something along to contribute to the feast and there is "a little bit, and a little bit more."  

The boys LOVE this one.  It takes place in Kenya, and at the end there is an illustration of a village and the elements within (trees, houses, animals, etc.).  Like most kids, they are fascinated with sharing (though they don't like to do it much!), and I'm sure the familiarity of the imagery (the houses look a lot like the house the boys grew up in, and of course, the characters are African) makes it a regular bedtime staple.  I really like the illustrations and the way the language flows in a sing-song way.  A pleasure to read aloud.

Running the Road to ABC by Denize Lauture  This one is a little old for our guys yet -- I think they'll get it more in a year or so.  However, they LOVE the illustrations and the story of the boys and girls running to school in the early morning hours, shoeless.  Habtam remembers that the kids in his village walked a long way to school.  He was too young to go himself, but he remembers that it was a special thing, and takes school very seriously.  This boy misses school, big time.  

The story takes place in Haiti, and the illustrations and poetic style follow the kids as they begin from their village homes, run through town, and finally arrive at school to learn another letter, another word, on the road to abc.

Trouble by Jane Kurtz:  this one takes place in Eritrea, a neighbor to Ethiopia.  It's a circular tale of a boy named Tekleh who always seems to find trouble.  We follow him throughout a day as he shepherds his goats (almost as mischievous as he is), meeting people, gaining and losing possessions, eating and sharing, and finally coming home to his family, who think he's just been out grazing the goats.  Silly parents!

Once again, I think the illustrations hit home with our guys, especially Habtamu, who remembers more of his life pre-the US.  This is the only book I've read by Jane Kurtz, but she has written quite a few that take place in Ethiopia and Eritrea, having lived there as a child with her family.

Have fun reading!

books for the boys

Thanks all of you for wanting to appease the Peevish Postmaster!  And thanks for your concern about Habtam, too!  If you want to include his name on the envelope, feel free.  Also, I thought he might begin his own correspondence course with his IRL friends, most of whom will be going to a different kindergarten next year.  It will be a way for him to practice his writing (which he loves to do), and to keep in touch.

I'm putting together a sort of haphazard list of children's books that we have liked that feature children who happen to have brown skin, like our guys, and that don't necessarily have a message.  Just books about everyday stuff.  We get most of our books at the library, so that's where I'm beginning.  It will not be exhaustive, for sure, but it's something I think about a lot.  If you have any additions, please share!

Three that we've read recently are:

The Paperboy by Dav Pilkey

Fireflies for Nathan by Shulamith Levey Oppenheim, pics by John Ward

A Tiger Called Thomas by Charlotte Zolotow, pics by Diana Bluthenthal 

The boys were quite taken with The Paperboy.  The paintings are evocative, as is the job of the paperboy! Our guys were fascinated that a child could get up before everyone else, ride his bike with no one but his dog, AND toss newspapers at houses.  I'm not sure how many paper boys or girls there are anymore, but we've got two willing volunteers at our house!

I didn't read Fireflies to the boys, I think Al did, so I'll have to ask him how they liked it.  They liked A Tiger Called Thomas enough to take it from the library twice.  Lire has a tiger costume, so he relates to that, and H often feels shy about talking to people, so he relates to that piece of it.  It's also just a coincidence that all of the stories feature boys.  I make a point of getting books about girls, too.  They really like Fancy Nancy, speaking of girls!  They like her fancy words and crazy outfits.

We also have a nice selection of "everyday" books taking place in Africa and Haiti that I will share some time in the future.  They are repetitive favorites around here.  

too hot to post, peevish postmaster, etc.

I have been away a bit.  Sorry, Paige!  I guess I gave myself an extended birthday blog break.  That and the extraordinarily HOT weather here in the NE.  I had to change my shirt three times on Tuesday with sponge baths in between so I wouldn't STINK UP THE ENTIRE HOUSE.  And shame my small sons when I picked them up from school.  

They sweetly tell me that I do not smell badly.  I wonder how long that will last?

I actually did try to post, post-birthday, but the post disappeared into the ether forever and ever.  What have we been up to?  Mini root canals for Habtam (poor, poor boy), swimming in our lovely neighbor's pool, beach visits, playing with our cousins, fighting with our cousins, making up with our cousins.  Tumultuous cousin relationships:  "Cousins no play me.  Cousins not nice.  Can I go cousins' house?"

I finally finished this quilt.   I'm very pleased with it, except for the stains caused by the humidity last summer (yes, it's been that long) from the red linen which came from an old blouse of mine.  Alex says "wabi sabi," and I say, "yeah, yeah."  

We've spent some lovely late afternoons looking at the early moon and wondering aloud why we can see it so early:

Lire:  Mommy, I see moon!  Why I see moon?

Me:  Mmmm, I'm not sure.  Why do you think?

(Somehow, God and Mother Nature get into the conversation...)

Lire:  I know!  Bob put moon up in sky, wires underground, Nature plug in wires -- we see moon in sky!

Me:  Bob put the moon in the sky?

Lire:  Yes, Bob.  And Nature plug in wires.

In the beginning, there was... Bob.

If you haven't already figured it out, Lire is Hi-Lire-ous.  Lately I've been mentally calling him "The Peevish Postmaster."  I had to stop bringing him along with me to the post office to get our mail because he would refuse to leave if he didn't get any himself.  Which he rarely does.  Junk mail sufficed for a while, but he figured that out pretty quick.  He gets very irritated when he doesn't get mail.  Today Habtam got a birthday invite in his mailbox at school.  Lire watched as H excitedly opened it and I read it aloud.  As we walked up to the real post office Lire wondered aloud if HE would get a birthday invitation in our PO Box.  It was heartbreaking, since I could guess the ending to this hopeful story.  I tried to prepare him for the inevitable disappointment, "You might not get any mail today Lire.  Remember, usually it's bills for Mommy and Daddy..."

The box was opened.  One bill, one circular, a bit of junk.  No. Letter. For. Lire.  Or as he would say, "No mail me."

Tears.  Disappointed, devastated, derailed dreams.  

At least he left the post office.  He cried to the car.  I told him we would write some letters to various friends and family members so he might get a reply.  Inconsolable.

Except for the chickens.  Phew!  Our neighbor's chickens and resulting eggs are a sure fire way to cheer up the Peevish Postmaster.  Still.  If any of you out there would like to write a letter to the Peevish Postmaster, leave a comment and I'll send you our info.  It would make his life close to complete.

And now for some visual cuteness for your viewing pleasure.

PS.  Had some troubles with uploading the photos, so sorry for the sloppiness.  The Peevish Postmaster is at the top of the post, his Swimmy brother is below and the quilt came up twice.  Don't know why.  Too tired to fix.

so glad 40 is done, looking forward to 41!

They say it's my birthday, and they would be right!  

Half-way through, if I'm lucky.  The hat I'm wearing is a Lire original.  He created it for a spring play at school.  Nana wore it for her bird-day, and now I am the lucky lady!  Daddy comes next in September.  It used to be more vibrant, but the sun has since faded it's un-colorfast colors.  The full-length view is the "ballerina dress" Lire insisted I wear to go with the birthday hat.  I tried to change my stinky t-shirt to something more birthday-worthy, but Lire would have none of it.  "Mommy, you pretty, you so cute, no change shirt!"  I don't think it's totally visible, but it's entitled "Sparky's Towing:  Fast, Fair and Friendly," and features a happy tow truck driver towing a hapless-looking clip-art man in a car with cartoon stars around his head.  It's a favorite around here.

We made Lady Fingers a la M@rtha Stew@rt, whipped cream and a delicioso fruit mix to go on top.  So yummy, though not candle-friendly, much to Lire's chagrin.  He may become the first Ethiopian-American male Martha.  You heard it here, first.

Gifts:  Lovely paintings from the boys, including a decorative "envelope" from Habtam, yoga classes from Al, and maybe a new camera from Nana and Poppie.  Very nice.  I think the nicest part was listening to the boys sing their own version of "Happy Birthday" as Alex whipped the cream and I took the lady fingers out of the oven.  They were as happy that it was my birthday as they would have been for their own.  I am a lucky, lucky lady for sure.