Holding Still

don't worry!

I think I'd better write an upbeat post and tout suite!  I most certainly have been in a contemplative mood of late.  The third anniversary of the boys coming into our family has recently passed, and then I read about the dissolved Russian adoption case and some people's reactions to it.  The whole thing was so very sad, and I found myself feeling sorry for everyone involved, imagining going through with such a thing, how confused the boy must have been, how dissociated the adults must have been.  

We are actually quite, quite good here, with the usual and more than occasional challenge popping up.  In the Franken-mom post I was primarily talking about our first year together, and we are miles from that now, in a lot of ways.  Some of the same bad habits (for all of us) still exist from that time, but awareness of them make them less harmful to our family unit.

Awareness is what I was discussing towards the end of that last post.  My own awareness of my reactions, my thought processes, and real awareness of the other members of the family has caused a shift to occur in me.  Part of that awareness has come naturally, and part of it has come through work I've done with meditation and study of Buddhism.  I am slogging through, for sure, but I'm happier for it.  Recognition of my perceived failings as a parent are something I need to look at, learn from, and then move on.  I'm trying not to beat myself up, but at the same time look at things as objectively as I can.  I tend to write when I'm most inward, and when I have time.  So please don't worry!  I haven't considered jumping into the ocean in at least 6 months!

Here are the photos I promised two posts ago.  Mercury is still retrograde, but hopefully they'll load up.

It feels good to write again!  I'll try and keep up.
Lire and wee Nolan's tootsies.

new sandals on a 70 degree morning.

I tried to upload more, but my computer has had enough.  It's complaining rather loudly, alas.

  

wandering pains and a VIP

I've had some weird ailments these past two weeks. That's not too unusual for me, since my auto-immune excitement years ago. My body likes to "go rogue." I am definitely getting more objective about it, though it's no less annoying. Last Monday I took a yoga class with a different teacher. It was tiring, a real workout, but I felt fine afterwards. I actually felt great as the day wore on. Then the next morning I awoke with a twinge in my right shoulder, which has happened before. It's a leftover from previously mentioned auto-immunity. It worsened as the day went by, and by evening, I was in intense pain if I tried to move my arm. Which I do quite a lot. So there was that. Resting and a yoga class with my regular teacher this Saturday have almost completely put that pain to rest. But pain must relocate and travel with an auto-immune disorder, so now my neck and ear are p-ing me off, and I'm losing my voice. That happened sometime between last night in bed and this morning when I awoke. I sound a little like Jessica Rabbit, except I produce more phlegm. Mmmmm, phlegm! Enough comedy jokes! Onto the boys! Habtamu is VIP this week in his class. Each child gets an opportunity to be VIP. The kids can bring in a favorite book, food, activity, music, etc. to share each day with their class. Their family members are also invited to visit and talk about the VIP. The first day he brought in an I SPY book. It's not his favorite (that would be the Bible. I'll do a separate post about that one!), but he rightly thought it would be a fun book to share. Today he brought in a loaf of Ethiopian honey dabo (bread) that he and Lire and I baked yesterday. It's from this wonderful cookbook, which I highly recommend, even if you have no ties to Africa. He also brought in Sorene, the Ethiopian children's folk CD we have. He didn't tell me whether or not they listened to it today, and I kept meaning to ask but then he lied to me about the gum he illicitly chewed before dinner, so I got distracted. Any-who, tomorrow I'm going to visit his class with his brother. We are going to do a craft project (his request), and look briefly at his lifebook again. We are going to focus on different houses -- those we saw in Ethiopia, the one we live in here, probably a few others from other areas of the world. Then we will make a simple origami house which the kids can later decorate with collage paper and colored pencils. It's a cute project, and the kids like to decorate it inside and out. Maia, as for the reception of his lifebook last week -- I have almost no info. His teacher was absent that day, and when asked about it, Habtamu replied, "I forget." Did anyone ask any questions? "I forget." Do you remember which pages you looked at? "uhm, no." We're not sure if it's a true loss of memory or a self-defense mechanism. He is definitely more self-conscious about being Ethiopian and adopted than he was last year, so we're watching as he feels his way around. I'm hoping to see how he feels about it tomorrow and even more hopefully that we'll talk about it. It was his idea to bring it, so we'll see. On Thursday he will take the day off to go to NYC with us, and then on Friday Dad will visit school and look at a book about NYC with the kids and talk about our trip. If my cold progresses unfavorably, I may stay home, as I tend to experience extreme illness unless I rest at the beginning of it.

And now for some eye candy from this past Sunday's flurry-licious frolics! Brothers and C3PO (that is a tongue-twister for Habtam, btw! -- he says "3CPO")

Go Habtam!

Today H's teacher called us.  She has called a couple times since the beginning of school to talk about his behavior.  Today was a bit different, however.  H had an AWESOME day!  Hurray!  When I told him that she had called and what she had said, he covered his mouth with his hand and his eyebrows shot right off his forehead.  To celebrate we had some hot carob cocoa.  Tomorrow is his day to share with his class.  Each student has two days this month to share something about themselves.  He decided to bring his Lifebook.  We went through it and he decided which pages to leave, and which to remove.  Tonight he learned what the word "personal" meant.  He removed the pages which included his family in Ethiopia.  When I mentioned that these were personal, he asked what that meant.  I tried to explain it in a way he could understand, mentioning that some things were hard to talk about, and that if people asked a lot of questions about them, it could make one feel uncomfortable or sad.  

I have a friend who adopted siblings right before we did.  She told me her older son talks a lot about his original family, how he misses people, etc.  I bring the boys' family up regularly, in fact Lire has been bringing them up lately.  H says he doesn't think about them, miss them or remember them.  How much of this is true, I'm not sure, but it reopens all those doubtful and confused feelings I have when thinking about the boys' lives before us.  

I'm curious to hear how it goes tomorrow.  I will call his teacher to prep her for it, or leave her a note explaining the Lifebook.  It is interesting looking at it over time with the boys, since they understand so much more these days.  

As for Julie's question about where the ones go if they're not allowed to be carried to the tens' place.  I'll let you know once I find out!  

frogs, pigs and homeopathy, oh my!

I've alluded in the past to homeopathy and alternative medicine here and there on my blog.  In my own health experience I've used allopathic (western meds) and the alternative paths.  But I do try to utilize the least invasive treatment first and then use stronger stuff when warranted.  My MIL is a homeopath, so I've learned a lot from her, and I've learned a lot from treating myself and all of the rare, strange and peculiar symptoms my illness caused me.  I don't know what I would do without it, and I feel lucky that I have an alternative to Ibuprofen, e.g., if I've got a headache, and that I knew to use arnica before and after my nasal surgery to help with swelling and bleeding.  I amazed the nurses at the hospital when the spurting fount of blood from my nose stopped immediately with my arnica.

I am NOT a homeopath, nor do I pretend to know very much at all, really.  But I have discovered a remedy that helps Habtam SO MUCH with his impulsivity, competitiveness, and anger.  When he was having so much trouble with his fillings falling out, infected gums, and pain, we had to suspend his behavioral remedy and use the arnica daily to help him deal and heal.  Between two fillings and two mini-root canals, it took almost 3 weeks before we could give him his regular remedy again.  And then he caught a summer cold, so we had to interrupt it AGAIN for about a week or so.  A tough month all around for the poor guy.  

So finally we have been able to give him his "happy medicine," as we call it, without interruption.  Ahhh....

I keep track of his behavior using a simple chart of happy and sad faces.  Today I looked at the last two weeks and saw how his behavior fluctuated according to when he had taken his remedy.  Pretty amazing.  Three tough days, no smiley faces.  Remedy given on third tough evening.  Five straight days of Happy faces.  A bad day, a good day, a bad day, remedy repeated.  Three straight days thus far of Happy faces.  It seems to last about five days, then starts to yo-yo, until we repeat the remedy.  I've noticed this for a long time, I just hadn't been charting it, so it's semi-Scientific.

Homeopathy is pretty complicated, and you do have to be interested in it to prescribe for oneself, but there are good homeopaths out there who can help you with the more complicated stuff.  My MIL actually didn't prescribe this remedy, I found it myself, while reading an issue of Homeopathy Today which specifically dealt with adoption and behavior.  It described a child who appeared to come to choices as if with an angel on one shoulder and a devil on the other, like in the cartoons.  His mom described that he invariably chose the inappropriate one.  This is what struck me in regards to H.  We could really see him grappling with the choices between behaviors.  He didn't seem to be able to make a good choice.  He would invariably bite off his nose to spite his face.

Well, I found the remedy and ordered it in various strengths.  It was great.  It was so easy.  And he appreciated it so much.  He started to ask for it, telling us that his brain "didn't work."  I don't know how long he'll need it, or if we'll have to change remedies some day when/if it stops working for him.  What I do know is that it doesn't have any side effects, it allows him to focus, to make better decisions, and to be a happier, gentler person.  I'm not saying it's a miracle and that there isn't any more weird or unwise behaviors.  Because there are!  But he seems to have more control, and that is what he needs.  

I just thought I'd post about the trends I've noticed with H's behavior.  And give a plug for homeopathy, of course.  The remedy he responds to is called anacardium.  It comes from a nut, I think.  No two people necessarily respond to the same remedy because there are so many aspects to choosing the right one.  So anacardium isn't necessarily the right remedy for every impulsive kid.  It's just what works for H right now.

Below are some artworks by our focused boys.  We spent about an hour drawing together.  The first is by Habtam and is of a frog catching a fly.  The second is by Lire.  It's of a mommy pig and a mommy bird feeding their piglets.  Yes.  The mommy bird is feeding piglets, too.  We know a farmer who lets us visit his sows and piglets, and the image has always thrilled little Lire.  He tried to say later that it was ME who was feeding the piglets.  He meant it as a compliment, believe me!  There is no higher calling to Lire than feeding a baby milk from one's breasts.  He is still personally affronted that boys can't do it.

   

 

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!

 

easy now

Birthday party and full cousin immersion went almost without a hitch!  No chocolate was had, and there was only one tantrum which dissipated quietly, although it did take a fairly long time.  It was mostly quiet crying/whining after a few "I don't care"s.  We had a lot going on socially this weekend, so it would have been abnormal not to have some sort of meltdown.

Phew!  We have come a long way!  

I have been going back in time a fair bit lately, as one is want to do upon a year's anniversary of adopting one's children.  Sometimes I can still taste the feelings of panic and exhaustion I awoke to every morning for far too many months (isn't this supposed to end sooner?  I'd ask every morning).  Other times I look at my teen-aged sons and wonder where the time has gone.  Really, H's feet are almost as big as mine.  He rolled his eyes at me the other day.  Lire sighs audibly.  

There are still moments of weirdness for me.  For example, tonight H. wanted to be tickled after he saw me playing a tickle game with L.  H. is still highly sensitive to touch, so I was leery -- generally his body becomes taut and his limbs will shoot out unpredictably, jabbing the unsuspecting parent in the nose or ear.  A shrill scream will follow, and somehow his mouth has ended up right where your jabbed ear happens to be.  

He did pretty good, all in all, but it still was pretty awkward for him.  I am aware that he watches me and Lire interact and notices that it is different from the way he and I do.  If I do something with one, I usually have to do it with the other.  Probably not unusual with siblings.  However, things flow more naturally between me and L.  This troubles me, but I'm aware of it, and I'm working on ways to make my and H's relationship easier.  I feel how uncomfortable H. feels in his body, with his words, and I want so badly for him to relax, take it easy.  Time and greater comfort with the language and ways of our crazy country will help, I know.  The more I relax helps, too, of course.  Still.  I wish I could magically make him feel at ease.

   

misty watercolor memories...

Al and I have been reminiscing about "the good old days," aka last year. Please note subtle sarcasm.

As we remember how hard it was in the beginning, how it got easier in some ways, but stayed very difficult in others, we can see how far we've all come. All of us. Physically, emotionally, psychologically. We are all doing better. I think I only started feeling normal-ish after 9 months, and can look at things more objectively after a full year. I've always been a late bloomer, and a bit slow.

Anyway, today H. had his first meltdown in a while. It's nothing compared to a year ago, but it made me and Alex all misty-eyed. I could kind of see it coming. H. has always had a difficult time with transitions, especially transitions from something really, really fun to anything else. The end of fun. All kids have difficulty saying goodbye at a party, going home, etc. H. has a doubly hard time, AND he doesn't seem to react to sweets, particularly chocolate well. I've been mapping his recent meltdowns, and they all come after a party with chocolate. He's been to parties without chocolate, and he does not have the same reaction. The same defiance, the same stubborn refusal to leave, even though every other kid has left, party is over, lights off, crickets chirping, you get the drift.

It was definitely a bit deja-vu, what with the dissociative, glassy stare, non-responding, and the screaming. The way it was different was that it lasted a much shorter time, we were able to talk about it afterwards, and he rebounded much more quickly. And we rebounded more quickly, too.

I don't ever forget that H. has difficulty with leave-takings -- but things had been improving steadily, so a tiny regression sort of took us by surprise. If little things can trigger emotions in me, imagine how saying goodbye to one's beloved cousins could trigger, even subconsciously, the biggest leave-taking of his life.
Some may think we read too much into it, but the patterns I've been tracking are pretty consistent.

I spent some time reminding H. that his family in Ethiopia know me and Daddy, and that they want us to take care of him. They want us to make sure he rests enough, that he eats well, and well, listens to us. That he has two families, and right now, we are the ones who make rules for him, and keep him safe and healthy. He looked quite interested at this, though lately he hasn't wanted to talk about them.

We'll see! He has another birthday party to attend this weekend, so I'll check back and let you know how we all fare. I may be over-protective, but I am very tempted to bring our own "cake" so I won't have to play Russian Roulette with the chocolate. I know, you all think I'm crazy, but I'm just trying to keep my mind open to any elements that can help our guy feel good.

Next post: I'll be wearing a mimiboo exclusive hat! Very stylish, very cute.

time was...

A year since the boys' arrival is soon approaching. We've come a long way in a lot of respects, and are still struggling in others. I've been reading a couple blogs in which the families have just recently returned, and it is bringing back LOTS of memories. Some great, some very painful.

H had another spitting/screaming episode the other day. He hadn't had one in a really long time. I feel responsible for it in some ways, I should have eased off of him. I was PMSy, and was triggered by his disrespect -- he resembles a teenager in a lot of ways. Anyway, he ended up spitting at Lire, so I carried him to his room so he could spit on his bed as I held him, and not at his brother or anywhere else in the house.

Sigh.

I held him while he screamed about how much he hated me, how he wanted to go to the store with Daddy, a few odd threats thrown in. I started to watch my breath go in and out, trying to become an observer as well as a participant to the situation. I realized I should have stayed downstairs and ignored a few of his earlier activities and words. None of this would have happened, and who cares if he trashed the piano?

I think my conscious breathing calmed him. He stopped fighting me and his shrill scream turned into a little boy's crying. I said a few things that validated how he might feel -- angry at me, afraid, not liking when people didn't like the things he did and being told to stop doing those things. He nodded at most of them, especially the last one. He said he didn't like it when people told him to stop or to change. I acknowledged that it is hard to hear people tell you that they don't like what you're doing. And I told him I didn't like it much, either, but sometimes it was to help us. I admitted that Daddy and I often told one another we didn't like what the other was doing or saying, and although it made us angry, we knew it was usually to help us make better decisions. He actually seemed quite interested in this.

Hugging ended our session, and he went outside and did yard work with Dad.

None of this really had to have happened, if I had just minded my business and let the kid be a kid. At the same time, I'm glad we ended up having the discussion we had at the end. I always feel spent and a bit of a failure after one of these blow-ups. However, I do feel I'm learning how to get through them better, H and L seem to be weathering their tantrums better and we're avoiding them more.

food and sex (gender, that is)

I know I have mentioned before about not being prepared despite preparing ourselves for our kids. I'm speaking specifically about "cultural differences" that are discussed in numerous books and by sw's regarding international adoption: "Your child(ren) will suddenly have to deal with brand new smells, sounds, faces, foods, homes, clothing, etc."

We prepared ourselves for rejection by the boys -- I know I would have rejected a "new mommy/daddy" if I were put in a similar situation. One thing I hadn't thought of was, well, sexism. I had met a few boys early in my teaching career who refused to play dress-up -- "that's for girls," or who claimed that boys were better than girls at various activities. But I wasn't prepared for some pretty unusual behaviors exhibited by our older son.

H would become noticeably displeased if I was served food first, or if I received what he perceived to be a larger portion than what he had. When we first met them in Ethiopia, one of the nannies told us that if H wasn't served first, he would leave the table and refuse to eat with the other children. Of course, with all of those kids, there was no way they could (or even wanted to!) indulge this desire. I filed this away with the other anecdotes they shared with us. How H held L's hand all the time when they first arrived, how he helped load all of the younger children into the vans for their numerous visits to court and doctors.

We are aware that the food issues the boys have had everything to do with their early malnourishment -- not knowing when they would eat again, or how much. We guessed (and spoke to other adoptive families) that when food was served at home, there was a hierarchy of who was served first and how much.

So we did serve H first when it was just us, in the beginning. We deviated now and then, either on purpose, to see how he would react, or unconsciously because, hey, we're human! Over time he seemed to feel more secure about being fed regularly and enough, and could wait while we served L first, or Daddy. And sometimes me. But that received scowls. When language came, we could explain that the person serving the food served him/herself last. He and L practiced serving us and themselves, and we took turns, making our gestures and words exaggerated -- "Thank you for the pasta, Mommy! Would you like some, too?"

However, language also brought expressions of discontent. When passing around the parmesan, if I received the bowl first, H might exclaim accusingly "Me no have cheese!" Taking turns was still tough when it came to food. We also realized that if I finished something -- for example, if I took the last meatball -- I would be roundly chided and given angry looks.

A lot of this also has to do with his resistance to me as a mother figure, of course. But his preference for all men, not just Alex, was obvious. We realized that women made him nervous -- he didn't seem to know how to act around them. He was brought up in a male-dominated environment, so that explains a bit. He continuously asked us for corroboration on his theories -- "Boys more smart girls? Boys more faster girls? Boys better cookers girls?"

Needless to say, my American feminist little self was pretty irritated after a while! Our responses that boys and girls were as smart as one another, that girls could be faster than boys, were met with a grimace and a frustrated grunt. Most of this, thank goodness, is dissipating. If H is tired, or especially hungry, it can rear it's head. About a week ago, when there was a bit of food left, Alex asked if I wanted to eat it the next day. It was a tiny portion, not enough for a meal. So I said, "sure, I'll finish it up tomorrow." H had already cleared his plate and was leaving the room. He looked at me. He looked at the food. He asked Al if he could eat it. Of course, we said yes. Would he have done this if Alex had expressed an interest in eating it? Probably not.

I'm not really sure where this post is going. I think I just wanted to put out there something which I didn't expect from a 4 year old. I had read about food issues, but never as it relates to who gets fed how much when, and why.

H is beginning to see that women play a big part in his life, and are in positions of authority over him. His teachers are all women, as are his grandmas. A few of the farmers we see working around us are women. They drive tractors. That blew his mind! Little by little, we're understanding one another.