What we'll be doing tomorrow, just on a smaller scale. On a hot Oregon day. Shoulder-shimmy, anyone? Maybe it's the late night, but this video just made me want to cry.
Saturday, September 10, 2011
Thursday, September 8, 2011
Break-in
Tomorrow is our daughter's first full day of school. We agonized over where to put her and the short story is that we pushed to get her out of our local school (one of the best in the city) into one that is more diverse. There was a lot of thought that went into this decision, many conversations with parents with families like ours, lots of reading and research, and when we finally decided, we felt relief.
Then we had to push to make it happen. The school we got her into had a waitlist of 21 kids just for kindergarten. While not the best in the city, it's still good enough that 21 families want their kids there. We found a sympathetic secretary who made a call. I wrote a letter and then hand-delivered it to the central office. Two days later, we got a letter saying she was in.
We gave that secretary today a thank-you note and gift certificate to our local coffee joint.
This morning was B's half-hour assessment with her new teacher. It went fine. She could do everything the teacher asked of her, including addition and subtraction. Afterward, I let the kids play for a pretty long while on the school playground. We walked to our car to leave with Beti running ahead on the sidewalk.
She stopped in her tracks and gasped, then yelled for me. Our girl has some drama queen tendencies, so I shrugged it off. Then I got closer and saw for myself: in the hour and a half we'd been in the school, our car had been broken into, the passenger side window completely smashed and our gps stolen. Glass was everywhere. I had no idea what to do.
I was at first worried about the glass. Then I was worried about our daughter being freaked out by this and maybe deciding she was better off in Addis. Turns out she quickly got over the shock of our car being "broken" and was really worried about the bag of lipgloss and nail polish she got for her birthday that she'd left in the car.
Of course, the irony hit me. We'd agonized over and then pushed to get her out of the "good" school (that is 99% white) and into the school in the "sketchy" neighborhood, only to have our car broken into on her first day at school. Had we made the wrong choice? Should we have stayed in the "safe" district where most of the kids show up on their first day wearing brand-new Hannah Anderson dresses instead of hand-me-down and yard-sale purchased clothes (like some families we know, cough, cough)?
The break-in experience certainly left a feeling of yuck about today, but you know, we're still excited about this school year. Her teacher told us there are four other kids of color in her class. For the city we're in, that's that bad. People want to be in this school. We are still committed. I've filled out the PTA membership form. We know that this break-in could have happened anywhere.
So tonight, her clothes are laid out ready to be put on in the morning (capris a hand-me-down from friends and the pink top bought by me and Goodwill over a year ago). Her hair is done, only needing to be retouched in the morning. Both kids are asleep, probably the earliest bedtime ever, and I've got this stuck in my head.
Good days ahead. No need to worry, my girl. I will always guard your lipgloss.
while you slumber
in case you ever wonder
if a summer breeze just brushed your cheek
know its me
Then we had to push to make it happen. The school we got her into had a waitlist of 21 kids just for kindergarten. While not the best in the city, it's still good enough that 21 families want their kids there. We found a sympathetic secretary who made a call. I wrote a letter and then hand-delivered it to the central office. Two days later, we got a letter saying she was in.
We gave that secretary today a thank-you note and gift certificate to our local coffee joint.
This morning was B's half-hour assessment with her new teacher. It went fine. She could do everything the teacher asked of her, including addition and subtraction. Afterward, I let the kids play for a pretty long while on the school playground. We walked to our car to leave with Beti running ahead on the sidewalk.
She stopped in her tracks and gasped, then yelled for me. Our girl has some drama queen tendencies, so I shrugged it off. Then I got closer and saw for myself: in the hour and a half we'd been in the school, our car had been broken into, the passenger side window completely smashed and our gps stolen. Glass was everywhere. I had no idea what to do.
I was at first worried about the glass. Then I was worried about our daughter being freaked out by this and maybe deciding she was better off in Addis. Turns out she quickly got over the shock of our car being "broken" and was really worried about the bag of lipgloss and nail polish she got for her birthday that she'd left in the car.
Of course, the irony hit me. We'd agonized over and then pushed to get her out of the "good" school (that is 99% white) and into the school in the "sketchy" neighborhood, only to have our car broken into on her first day at school. Had we made the wrong choice? Should we have stayed in the "safe" district where most of the kids show up on their first day wearing brand-new Hannah Anderson dresses instead of hand-me-down and yard-sale purchased clothes (like some families we know, cough, cough)?
The break-in experience certainly left a feeling of yuck about today, but you know, we're still excited about this school year. Her teacher told us there are four other kids of color in her class. For the city we're in, that's that bad. People want to be in this school. We are still committed. I've filled out the PTA membership form. We know that this break-in could have happened anywhere.
So tonight, her clothes are laid out ready to be put on in the morning (capris a hand-me-down from friends and the pink top bought by me and Goodwill over a year ago). Her hair is done, only needing to be retouched in the morning. Both kids are asleep, probably the earliest bedtime ever, and I've got this stuck in my head.
Good days ahead. No need to worry, my girl. I will always guard your lipgloss.
while you slumber
in case you ever wonder
if a summer breeze just brushed your cheek
know its me
Tuesday, September 6, 2011
Now We Are Six
Now we are six.
Our daughter is six years old.
She got a tiara from her grandmother, my mother. She wore it all day, with one short break because the combs were hurting her head.
Ballet flats until hopscotch.
The feather boa came on for the short walk from the front door to the car, then off since no one could see her inside the tinted windows.
She pouted because she couldn't sleep with her make-up bag of nail polish and flavored lip smackers, a gift from a sweet neighbor.
She jumps into rivers.
She teases and antagonizes her little brother.
She pushes the cart around the grocery store and asks nonstop for items but never complains much when she hears 'no'.
Sometimes she hears 'yes' if it is a pack of birthday balloons, balloons which she blew up and tied curly string on to give to friends at her party.
A friend watched her today for a couple of hours while we went to work. The last half hour, she was asking about us, when we were coming back, anxious. I was glad. Maybe she is now expecting us to always come for her.
For her birthday, she requested hotdogs and strawberries, so we had both, along with strawberry cupcakes. We played pandora's Michael Jackson station (her favorite artist) and got "Let's Get it On" and "Sexual Healing" during that hotdog dinner.
During her short party, towards the end, she came to me with outstretched arms, asking "up please." She clung to me. She wanted kisses. She didn't want down so I held her.
Then she played hopscotch with friends. It was her first time to play.
She jumped into it. With gusto. Shoes off but her tiara back on her head.
Our daughter is six years old.
She got a tiara from her grandmother, my mother. She wore it all day, with one short break because the combs were hurting her head.
Ballet flats until hopscotch.
The feather boa came on for the short walk from the front door to the car, then off since no one could see her inside the tinted windows.
She pouted because she couldn't sleep with her make-up bag of nail polish and flavored lip smackers, a gift from a sweet neighbor.
She jumps into rivers.
She teases and antagonizes her little brother.
She pushes the cart around the grocery store and asks nonstop for items but never complains much when she hears 'no'.
Sometimes she hears 'yes' if it is a pack of birthday balloons, balloons which she blew up and tied curly string on to give to friends at her party.
A friend watched her today for a couple of hours while we went to work. The last half hour, she was asking about us, when we were coming back, anxious. I was glad. Maybe she is now expecting us to always come for her.
For her birthday, she requested hotdogs and strawberries, so we had both, along with strawberry cupcakes. We played pandora's Michael Jackson station (her favorite artist) and got "Let's Get it On" and "Sexual Healing" during that hotdog dinner.
During her short party, towards the end, she came to me with outstretched arms, asking "up please." She clung to me. She wanted kisses. She didn't want down so I held her.
Then she played hopscotch with friends. It was her first time to play.
She jumped into it. With gusto. Shoes off but her tiara back on her head.
Friday, September 2, 2011
Swim
Our kids are both moving up to the next level of swim lessons.
(Ted cringes at his "blah-blah-blahing" in the background)
(Ted cringes at his "blah-blah-blahing" in the background)
Thursday, September 1, 2011
Unleashed
Being in the thick of things, I have little to say.
Life right now is a roller coaster. More accurately, our daughter is a roller coaster. This is to be expected, and we are, of course, letting her have her emotions. But it leaves me at the end of every day with few brainwaves for writing things down.
There is one incident I could try to recount, though I think I'd rather forget it. It involves a woman at a park who was letting her unleashed dog run in the kids' play area, though this is clearly against park rules. My daughter is terrified of dogs and won't play as long as this dog was running around.
After half an hour of my child clinging to me on my lap, I politely and apologetically asked the woman to keep her dog in the off-leash area of the park since my daughter was so afraid. I even let her know how nice I'm sure her dog is.
"Well, you know the best way to let your kid get over her fear is to let her be around nice dogs."
(Never mind that this woman is breaking the rules of the park by letting her dog run free. And don't you love unsolicited parenting advice from rule-breaking park goers?)
"Yes, I know this, and we plan on doing this but she is from Ethiopia where dogs are often used as guard dogs and not pets per se, so if you please wouldn't mind keeping your dog in the off-leash area..."
At this point, the woman got, shall we say, huffy. She told me that she was trying to watch her kid and her dog and couldn't really go to the dog-area without her kid.
"Oh, I know, that's hard. I totally understand, but see, my daughter can't play as long as your dog is running around. And honestly, you're breaking the rules of the park by letting your dog go free."
"See? You're not asking me, you've been telling me this whole time."
"My daughter has been here only three weeks. You could try to be a little understanding."
At this point I walked away, shaking in anger and sat down next to my friend who proceeded to take up the cause, raising her voice at the lady, telling her how she has a kid and a dog she takes to the park all the time and how she respects the rules of the park by tying her dog up in the kids' area.
It was nice to have my friend there to yell at the woman.
She kept her dog there unleashed for a few minutes ("out of spite" as my friend said) and then got lost. Sometimes, people act like jerks. That's about as deep as this post gets.
Serenity now.
Life right now is a roller coaster. More accurately, our daughter is a roller coaster. This is to be expected, and we are, of course, letting her have her emotions. But it leaves me at the end of every day with few brainwaves for writing things down.
There is one incident I could try to recount, though I think I'd rather forget it. It involves a woman at a park who was letting her unleashed dog run in the kids' play area, though this is clearly against park rules. My daughter is terrified of dogs and won't play as long as this dog was running around.
After half an hour of my child clinging to me on my lap, I politely and apologetically asked the woman to keep her dog in the off-leash area of the park since my daughter was so afraid. I even let her know how nice I'm sure her dog is.
"Well, you know the best way to let your kid get over her fear is to let her be around nice dogs."
(Never mind that this woman is breaking the rules of the park by letting her dog run free. And don't you love unsolicited parenting advice from rule-breaking park goers?)
"Yes, I know this, and we plan on doing this but she is from Ethiopia where dogs are often used as guard dogs and not pets per se, so if you please wouldn't mind keeping your dog in the off-leash area..."
At this point, the woman got, shall we say, huffy. She told me that she was trying to watch her kid and her dog and couldn't really go to the dog-area without her kid.
"Oh, I know, that's hard. I totally understand, but see, my daughter can't play as long as your dog is running around. And honestly, you're breaking the rules of the park by letting your dog go free."
"See? You're not asking me, you've been telling me this whole time."
"My daughter has been here only three weeks. You could try to be a little understanding."
At this point I walked away, shaking in anger and sat down next to my friend who proceeded to take up the cause, raising her voice at the lady, telling her how she has a kid and a dog she takes to the park all the time and how she respects the rules of the park by tying her dog up in the kids' area.
It was nice to have my friend there to yell at the woman.
She kept her dog there unleashed for a few minutes ("out of spite" as my friend said) and then got lost. Sometimes, people act like jerks. That's about as deep as this post gets.
Serenity now.
Wednesday, August 24, 2011
Stopping the Insanity
Tuesdays are one of my main work days, so with Ted being home with the kids, he decided to institute a 'no tolerance' policy to fighting, rudeness, snatching, tattling, pushing, yelling, trying to rip each others' head off when we're not looking.
He told me that by noon, our daughter had kissed our son twice. Without being asked.
There are some amazing books out there about parenting and sibling rivalry and adoption and attachment; we have read some and need to read more. In the meantime, I have asked people I know and respect who have also adopted older children (especially out of birth order) to give us some advice. Here are some of the things they said:
"For our kids, finding small ways that she could help him, helped their relationship. It's not the "right" thing according to some books, but it worked like magic. She got self esteem from helping, he attached to her b/c she helped to care take, etc. The nice part, now that they are attached to each other, is that I see him help her in ways that she needs. He's very protective of her ("Dentist, you be nice to my sister!") and helps her socially (introduces her to friends he makes at the park, etc.). So it's no longer one sided. At all."
Our daughter is a natural caregiver, so we hated seeing her reject Abe. The last couple of days, it's been great to see her be a true big sister to him.
"We would talk about our family values in small doses. Like, 'we're a family so that means we forgive each other'. Or 'In a family we spend time together and love each other'. I don't know if it really helped them but it helped me to keep my goals out in the open."
I loved this one. We have been doing this too. It's helpful to explain "In this family, we forgive each other," or "In our family, we don't grab things that aren't ours."
"We tried to get them laughing together. Photo booth was easy and fun for this. All of us trying to make the same facial expressions. This was good for them."
This one has been pretty easy since B is quick to laugh, especially at her brother when he is pouting or simply being dramatic. It didn't hit me until last night how truly funny his dramatic faces are. So she and I have been imitating him (fine line between this and mocking, so we're careful) when the eyes furrow and bottom lip comes out with anguished cries about his movie being over. We all stand in front of the mirror and take turns "being" A, and it's not long before even he is laughing.
"We gave them joint jobs like clearing the table together or painting a picture on the same canvas. This always started out as competition but over time I think it helped them to see they were a team."
Yes, we love this one too. Yesterday, I directed the kids as they cleaned the entire kitchen together. They wiped the table and counters, loaded the dishwasher, swept the floor, washed the pots. They seemed genuinely happy to be doing a job together. I was shocked. And happy.
Working puzzles together counts as a 'job' too.
"We started special date times with each of the kids."
We haven't made it to this one much but we hope to soon.
"I started keeping a gratitude journal. It was not fun to constantly be putting out fires. I was stressed and afraid that things would always be difficult. And, this is hard to put out there, but I began to worry that we'd make a terrible mistake. Its hard to be a loving, attentive momma with a mindset like that. The gratitude journal really helped me. I also made sure I had time for yoga a couple times a week. I also started drinking more wine. These things helped me keep a heart of love and parent from a point of strength and calm. I also did this little experiment where I would look at my life through my pictures at the end of the day. It does something good for your perspective. I prayed. I talked to people I could trust not to judge me but just to listen and offer empathy or advice."
Yes, wine. Thank you.
"And yes, Abe will be ok.
In fact, Abe will be BETTER.
Abe will be great, even because of this change, you just can't see it yet.
He was made for this too."
This one, of course, made me cry.
I don't want to make it sound like the sibling rivalry issues are over. They're not. The kids still fight and push and get annoyed with each other and snatch. The difference now is that we don't let anything slide anymore. When it happens, here is our basic 'method'.
All activity stops.
The kids come to us and stand still to listen.
We say simply whatever our 'value' is and how their behavior is not reflecting this.
They turn to face each other and apologize as needed.
Hugs required. Kisses optional.
I am so thankful for the wise people in our life. We couldn't do this without our "village." There is now some light at the end of this tunnel.
Just hanging out at the top of the slide. Sister. Brother.
He told me that by noon, our daughter had kissed our son twice. Without being asked.
There are some amazing books out there about parenting and sibling rivalry and adoption and attachment; we have read some and need to read more. In the meantime, I have asked people I know and respect who have also adopted older children (especially out of birth order) to give us some advice. Here are some of the things they said:
"For our kids, finding small ways that she could help him, helped their relationship. It's not the "right" thing according to some books, but it worked like magic. She got self esteem from helping, he attached to her b/c she helped to care take, etc. The nice part, now that they are attached to each other, is that I see him help her in ways that she needs. He's very protective of her ("Dentist, you be nice to my sister!") and helps her socially (introduces her to friends he makes at the park, etc.). So it's no longer one sided. At all."
Our daughter is a natural caregiver, so we hated seeing her reject Abe. The last couple of days, it's been great to see her be a true big sister to him.
"We would talk about our family values in small doses. Like, 'we're a family so that means we forgive each other'. Or 'In a family we spend time together and love each other'. I don't know if it really helped them but it helped me to keep my goals out in the open."
I loved this one. We have been doing this too. It's helpful to explain "In this family, we forgive each other," or "In our family, we don't grab things that aren't ours."
"We tried to get them laughing together. Photo booth was easy and fun for this. All of us trying to make the same facial expressions. This was good for them."
This one has been pretty easy since B is quick to laugh, especially at her brother when he is pouting or simply being dramatic. It didn't hit me until last night how truly funny his dramatic faces are. So she and I have been imitating him (fine line between this and mocking, so we're careful) when the eyes furrow and bottom lip comes out with anguished cries about his movie being over. We all stand in front of the mirror and take turns "being" A, and it's not long before even he is laughing.
"We gave them joint jobs like clearing the table together or painting a picture on the same canvas. This always started out as competition but over time I think it helped them to see they were a team."
Yes, we love this one too. Yesterday, I directed the kids as they cleaned the entire kitchen together. They wiped the table and counters, loaded the dishwasher, swept the floor, washed the pots. They seemed genuinely happy to be doing a job together. I was shocked. And happy.
Working puzzles together counts as a 'job' too.
"We started special date times with each of the kids."
We haven't made it to this one much but we hope to soon.
"I started keeping a gratitude journal. It was not fun to constantly be putting out fires. I was stressed and afraid that things would always be difficult. And, this is hard to put out there, but I began to worry that we'd make a terrible mistake. Its hard to be a loving, attentive momma with a mindset like that. The gratitude journal really helped me. I also made sure I had time for yoga a couple times a week. I also started drinking more wine. These things helped me keep a heart of love and parent from a point of strength and calm. I also did this little experiment where I would look at my life through my pictures at the end of the day. It does something good for your perspective. I prayed. I talked to people I could trust not to judge me but just to listen and offer empathy or advice."
Yes, wine. Thank you.
"And yes, Abe will be ok.
In fact, Abe will be BETTER.
Abe will be great, even because of this change, you just can't see it yet.
He was made for this too."
This one, of course, made me cry.
I don't want to make it sound like the sibling rivalry issues are over. They're not. The kids still fight and push and get annoyed with each other and snatch. The difference now is that we don't let anything slide anymore. When it happens, here is our basic 'method'.
All activity stops.
The kids come to us and stand still to listen.
We say simply whatever our 'value' is and how their behavior is not reflecting this.
They turn to face each other and apologize as needed.
Hugs required. Kisses optional.
I am so thankful for the wise people in our life. We couldn't do this without our "village." There is now some light at the end of this tunnel.
Just hanging out at the top of the slide. Sister. Brother.
Monday, August 22, 2011
Treacherous Waters
The lake we were swimming in has a roped off shallow area that was swarming with people because it was the warmest day of a very chilly summer. One of our kids has had some swim lessons and the other hasn't. We were watching them like hawks.
Ted had gone to sit down in the grass after I'd had my turn reading my book. It was now me and the kids. The scene was making me uncomfortable because of two factors: my kids don't like each other most of the time and the place was swarming with people. So it's not as if our kids were together playing much. They kept going in opposite directions, no matter how many times we tried to keep them together.
At one point, B yelled for me "Look, Mom!" so I turned her direction. I immediately turned back to check Abe. Watching our two kids in this shallow lake was like watching a tennis match. Back, forth, back, forth.
In the time it took me to turn my head back to where A was, he was gone. No sign of him. The first two seconds, I didn't freak. I just called him name. He didn't appear. I called louder.
Second three: my heart started racing, and I started counting how many seconds it had been. I am aware of that two-minute mark of a kid being under water. I started screaming. Louder. Louder. LOUDER. Everyone in a twenty-thirty foot radius of me got quiet.
Where is Abe?! TED?! Where is Abe?! WHERE IS ABE?!
These seconds, which Ted promised me were not longer than ten, were the worst seconds of my life as a mother. I saw the blank, dark area of water where my son had just been. Try it: count to ten. Imagine the terror of thinking your child is under water, stuck, unable to get to air.
In the midst of my yelling, Ted appeared at my side, Abe with him. Our son has simply decided that he was tired of being with me and his sister. He simply decided to go find his dad who was sitting on a crowded grassy hillside. He simply decided to do this without telling me, though he knows he is never to wander away from one of us. His simple decision plunged his mother into the depth of terror.
As all four of us walked to our spot on the hill, many mothers looked my direction, concerned and sympathetic looks on their faces. I sat down. The kids immediately started asking for drinks and snacks. I put my head in my hands and lost it. The tears came pouring out as I shook, my body releasing all that adrenaline. Of course, I wanted to shake and yell at our son.
Instead, I pulled him to me, squeezed the bejeezus out of him, locked eyes with him and told him how terrified I was when he left my side. I think he got the message not to do it again.
I don't know if his wandering away was connected at all to the tough adjustment period we're in. It could be. It might not be. I just don't know. I know it's a phase we'll get through. But right now? It's not easy. B told me tonight as she was helping me with the laundry that she loves me, she loves Daddy, but that she doesn't love Abe. He has told me that he's finished with her and doesn't want a sister anymore. The two of them constantly antagonize each other.
People tell us this is normal sibling stuff, but I know it's not. This is adoption stuff and language acquisition stuff and changing family dynamics stuff.
Eventually, we'll get through it. Sometimes our kids get to fighting so intensely that they start laughing. I don't know how it happens, but it does.
Tonight after swim lessons, the kids were playing at the park. As B was going down a slide, Abe yelled from the other side of the playground to a kid near the slide, "Hey! That girl is my big sister!"
This simple declarative statement by our son gave me some hope. We'll make it through.
Swim lessons.
Ted had gone to sit down in the grass after I'd had my turn reading my book. It was now me and the kids. The scene was making me uncomfortable because of two factors: my kids don't like each other most of the time and the place was swarming with people. So it's not as if our kids were together playing much. They kept going in opposite directions, no matter how many times we tried to keep them together.
At one point, B yelled for me "Look, Mom!" so I turned her direction. I immediately turned back to check Abe. Watching our two kids in this shallow lake was like watching a tennis match. Back, forth, back, forth.
In the time it took me to turn my head back to where A was, he was gone. No sign of him. The first two seconds, I didn't freak. I just called him name. He didn't appear. I called louder.
Second three: my heart started racing, and I started counting how many seconds it had been. I am aware of that two-minute mark of a kid being under water. I started screaming. Louder. Louder. LOUDER. Everyone in a twenty-thirty foot radius of me got quiet.
Where is Abe?! TED?! Where is Abe?! WHERE IS ABE?!
These seconds, which Ted promised me were not longer than ten, were the worst seconds of my life as a mother. I saw the blank, dark area of water where my son had just been. Try it: count to ten. Imagine the terror of thinking your child is under water, stuck, unable to get to air.
In the midst of my yelling, Ted appeared at my side, Abe with him. Our son has simply decided that he was tired of being with me and his sister. He simply decided to go find his dad who was sitting on a crowded grassy hillside. He simply decided to do this without telling me, though he knows he is never to wander away from one of us. His simple decision plunged his mother into the depth of terror.
As all four of us walked to our spot on the hill, many mothers looked my direction, concerned and sympathetic looks on their faces. I sat down. The kids immediately started asking for drinks and snacks. I put my head in my hands and lost it. The tears came pouring out as I shook, my body releasing all that adrenaline. Of course, I wanted to shake and yell at our son.
Instead, I pulled him to me, squeezed the bejeezus out of him, locked eyes with him and told him how terrified I was when he left my side. I think he got the message not to do it again.
I don't know if his wandering away was connected at all to the tough adjustment period we're in. It could be. It might not be. I just don't know. I know it's a phase we'll get through. But right now? It's not easy. B told me tonight as she was helping me with the laundry that she loves me, she loves Daddy, but that she doesn't love Abe. He has told me that he's finished with her and doesn't want a sister anymore. The two of them constantly antagonize each other.
People tell us this is normal sibling stuff, but I know it's not. This is adoption stuff and language acquisition stuff and changing family dynamics stuff.
Eventually, we'll get through it. Sometimes our kids get to fighting so intensely that they start laughing. I don't know how it happens, but it does.
Tonight after swim lessons, the kids were playing at the park. As B was going down a slide, Abe yelled from the other side of the playground to a kid near the slide, "Hey! That girl is my big sister!"
This simple declarative statement by our son gave me some hope. We'll make it through.
Swim lessons.
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