I was asked to participate on a book tour by I’m a Reader, Not a Writer and was happy to join in.  The book Open Adoption, Open Heart: An Adoptive Father’s Inspiring Journey by Russell Elkins is a quick read that I think would behoove all perspective adoptive families who are thinking of going through a domestic infant adoption.

While my experience with adoption has been with International Adoption, a good friend of mine is a birth mother in an open adoption and I have learned so much through her on this topic.  Several parts of this book were very positive, to name a few:

What an open adoption looks like was nicely portrayed. It is an ever changing relationship that can be tricky at times, but beneficial for all parties involved, especially the child.  Elkins  pointed out that the agreement of an open adoption is not a legal one and that the adoptive parents may make changes as they wish.  This is something I find particularly unethical and hope will change in the future.

His honest emotions of worrying the potential birth mom would change her mind or would want more communication than they wanted may rub some people the wrong way but  I respected how he shared his real emotions though, not just the ones that others would approve of.  His story telling allowed you to be apart of the journey and show the changes in his thoughts and fears.

The terminology was positive and modern.  Birth family, birth mother, birth father was all used and explained with respect.  I appreciated that they didn’t treat the potential birth mother as a baby factory as unfortunately some do.

How he and his wife shared their story with their friends, family and church was interesting to read.   It always amazes me what people feel they can say to one another with subjects of infertility and adoption.

A couple of things I felt negative towards deals with how this couple dealt with the birth father.  They encouraged the  birth mom to contact him and let him know of her plans, but I couldn’t help but think that there would be a legal route to go about contacting him so they could learn his side of the story.  It seemed they just relied on one side of the story and we all know that every story has two sides.   Moving the potential birth mother out of state to their state to circumvent the birth father’s rights is just plain wrong. She had family and a home where she was at.  While they all got to know each-other better living together, I cannot help but think that a fifteen year old girl in a strange place with no loved ones close by was a bit intimidated.    Most teenager girls I know don’t even want to complain to a waitress that her food is cold, let alone tell a couple who is supporting her that she has changed her mind or is having second thoughts.  The situation could have easily been interpreted as coercive, even with the best of people.  I felt for his mother, learning that she was a grandma with a grandchild out there  somewhere that she couldn’t see.  I hope that as time passes there will be more communication between the families so the child will know his birth father and family a bit more.

As I mentioned above I think that Open Adoption, Open Heart is a good book for potential adoptive parents to read.  I encourage those at the beginning of the adoption process to think out some of the hard scenarios that may come up, to recognize that an open adoption is no co-parenting.  Having more loving people in a child’s life  may seem complicated at times, but will be worth it for everyone’s sake in time.

Check out what others have to say about Open Adoption, Open Heart on the blog tour at I’m a Reader, Not a Writer. There is also a $25 gift card up for grabs for this book tour!

This book and review also gives me book number five towards my goal of six adoption books this year for the Adoption Reading Challenge 2012. Three fiction and three non-fiction!  Yeah me.

 

 

( I was given a free E-book copy of the book above from I’m a Reading, Not A Writer  in exchange for my honest review. No other compensation was given.)

 

Parenthood is my show.  I DVR it and watch it during the day, sometimes a week late, but I still watch it and savor it.  Not every story line is my favorite. The infant adoption one drove me batty and then this new story of Julia adopting an older child made me groan out loud. How are Hollywood writers going to portray this I thought.

The answer is:  Not bad.  I find it annoying that the 9 year old who suddenly appears has no family members to even speak of.  What is the back ground story? His mom is in jail, where is dad?  Does he have siblings?

A couple of weeks ago I was so pleased when Julia spent the entire work day in her car, just so Victor’s first day of school would go well.  It was an out-of-the-box parenting technique that many experts would frown upon. We live in a society of pushing our kids to be “independent” and older adopted kids need us to be attached, even in the most inconvenient of times.

This week Julia really messed up at work.  She had a melt-down in the kitchen making breakfast.  I can so relate. I wanted to jump up and down and say “See, it’s not just me who goes a bit loopy!”  While Julia’s job was high-powered and mine was not so much, I still quit my on-call job to focus on the kids’ needs.   My anxiety was running high for a couple of years and I feel I am just now making my way back to a healthy balance.

So bravo Parenthood.  You may not have shown all the nitty-gritty that can happen with older child adoption, but you are showing a side of it that many don’t know of. Now please give us a back story that doesn’t vilify Victor’s first family, maybe even a visit with his mom?

And Julia, formally my least favorite character of the show, it will get better. You will find a job in time and be able to get your profession goals on track again.  Right now, just love him. Love yourself.  Just get through.  It will be a roller-coaster.

 

 

Bad Pic, I know!

My mom and I took the kids to see the new Disney movie:  The Odd Life of Timothy Green last week.   By kids I mean my four girls and my brother’s three kids.  We were quite the crew ranging from 6 to 14 years old. It is so fun to go out with all of them now that they are potty trained and can sit through the whole movie.  I love my babies, but there are wonderful advantages to having older kids!

Since the previews have been running on this movie, the kids have been wanting to watch it and  I was excited to see it as well.  It did not disappoint. I laughed and cried and the kids laughed and really enjoyed it. They didn’t quite get me crying at the beginning of it and tolerated me crying at the end.

A brief premise without giving anything away:  A couple Jim and Cindy Green (Jennifer Garner and Joel Edgerton ) are told by their infertility physician that they have done everything they could have, but will not be able to have a child.  The couple are heartbroken and express their grief in a unique and beautiful little ceremony. A child comes to them magically and they experience the amazing thing that is parenthood.  The background story of a small town that makes pencils nicely frames this family film.

I was touched that the pain of infertility was given such an honest portrayal.  While I’ve never suffered from it, I still feel so tender towards though who struggle with infertility. Timothy literally shows up as a miracle and they claim their parenthood status as we all do: with happiness, cluelessness and love.

The adoption theme in the film was awesome. It was understated really, with little mention of actual adoption. The sister in the movie voiced the typical negative comments that come with adoption, especially older child adoption, with comments like “You never know what you are getting.” ” I thought you were going to have your own?”.  Her character was effective in teaching people how hurtful comments like these are.

The new parent mistakes and conversations were so endearing and sent me back to the early days of parenthood.  The second-guessing, the overly concerned packing of the backpack is really comical.

I would be doing a disservice to adoptive parents if I didn’t point out that the movie didn’t show the struggles of parenting an older child who through adoption (or through gardening as this movie has it!). There are unique struggles. While I would love for older child adoption to become more prevalent, I do want prospective adoptive parents to be fully aware of reality.

I highly recommend this movie to families and kids 7 and up. I say 7 because Elle enjoyed it, I don’t think nephew, age 6, was totally following it though.  It could possible confuse younger kids who are in the adoption world at how Timothy comes to be and the end of the story, so it may be prudent for parents to watch first if you fall in this category (adoptees, siblings of adoptees).

If I had a star system I would say 5 out of 5 stars for sure with The Odd Life of Timothy Green!

 

 

 

 

(Disclaimer:  I was not asked to review this movie, just really liked it and found it applicable to my life. Minus leaves of course. I cannot grow a weed!)

 

Love My Girls

Tonight was orientation for Mita and open house for Meg. They will both be in middle school with Meg being the big 7th grader and Mita the newbie 6th grader.  I got a sitter for the other two as Hubby was working late and I couldn’t make those two sit through what  I had to sit through was required of parents.

After the initial panic of trying to figure out how to open up lockers (right, left, right not right-right-right) we went to meet the teachers. I had met most of them when Meg went through, but wanted to do the same with Mita.  The place was crowded and Mita really didn’t want go from class to class to class. She was fine with meeting them on the first day next Tuesday.

I told her I really wanted to meet them all so they would put the two of us together.  She looked at me funny. I then told her, you know just in case one of them want to know if we are trying for a boy (see post from earlier this week).  She actually smiled and shook her head, which for those of you with pre-teens know it is hard to get a glance let alone a smile out of them.  I think my  point got across that I wanted our mis-matchness to be known from the get go.

As they get older they have more teachers and  I have less time to get to know them and participate in the classroom.  I used to write letters at the beginning of the year to the teachers to introduce them a little bit better to my kids. I will do this with Enu and Elle, but it is not very practical with the older girls.

It’s hard letting the reigns loosen. It’s fun to watch them grow and try new things, it’s amazing getting to know them as them as individuals. I want to make things easier on them, so I go to meet the teacher nights.  I hold back all I want to tell them, I try to be chill.

That’s me. Chillaxed and all…

 

We all say dumb things sometimes, me especially.  I am pretty forgiving and have a good sense of humor so don’t worry about offending me for the most part.  Yesterday, however, the Avon lady at the fair said something so stupid that the kids insisted  I blog about it.  So, here it goes.

(Walking up to the Avon booth to look at the chapsticks with all four girls.)

Avon Lady:  Wow, you have your hands full!

Me: Everyday

Avon Lady: Are you a daycare?

Me: No, they are all mine. (Really there are only four, and they were behaving so it’s not like we were a walking tornado of twenty kids in matching shirts.)

Avon Lady:  Are you trying for a boy?

Me:  No, we are done.

Walking away as fast as possible I ask the girls if we should try for a brother….they all started laughing and saying things like ” I can’t believe she said that.” “Blog about this mom” and then Enu of course ” I want a baby brother!”.

I was happy that no one was overly sensitive or mad, it just rolled off them and was a funny family moment. When I told Hubbylater, he told me I should have told her we were trying for a tan kid but kept getting black or white.

When telling people I have four girls I often hear the “trying for a boy” thing, but only when they cannot see the girls.   I also hear the daycare thing, especially if there are cousins or friends  with us making us a bigger group.  I have never heard the two at the same time though when the kids are present and visible.

I just have to laugh.

Meg printed off her blog and made a pillow and a bag from old T shirts. Three blue ribbons!

Enu made a bag from a T shirt and made a poster about making Puppy Chow (Chex mix) snacks for the animal shelter. She also made a pillow. Three blue ribbons.

Elle made a bag and a pillow for two blue ribbons!

 

 

We were so excited to watch Gabby Douglas win the gold the other night for the gymnastics all-around.  In fact the younger girls are watching it right now, as I had to send them to bed.

As I watched it I wondered a few things.  Is Gabby’s hair permanently straightened or does she iron it straight.  I also wondered if she would be the first African-American to win the all-around gold.   The commentators didn’t mention the fact that she was black.  It didn’t bother me, it was actually refreshing that race wasn’t the topic of discussion, the sport was. Of course while watching I spent more time amazing and wowed by her skill and talent.  She flies effortlessly.  She is a super star.

Hitting the blogosphere early this morning (I actually have nowhere to go today!) the world is full of congrats for Gabby as it should be.  A NPR blog caught my eye.  Apparently there is an uproar in some of the black community that her hair isn’t as it should be.  I think her hair looked great for an athlete who has to have it out-of-the-way.  I would love it if she unleashed it and showed some beautiful curls after the olympics is over so my girls can see how awesome curls are.  If she doesn’t, however, I will not think less of her.  Reading the comments to said article some people were incredulous that people where talking hair. I wasn’t surprised. Hair is always discussed in the black community.  Of course I am not really apart of that community, I’m more on the fringe trying to make it easier on Mita and Enu to be apart of that community while being raised in a primarily white family in a primarily white community.

There was also a few comments on the fact that race wasn’t being mentioned at all. Some were mad about it and some were happy.  Others were wondering about what the big deal is.  Here is the thing. When you are apart of a minority community, there is not only pride (just like in majority communities) there is as need to really represent, to make an impact to show how awesome your community is.  This is not a bad thing, it just is.  Personally I was happy that every other word wasn’t about Gabby being black, but I did make sure my kids knew of her achievement for the black community. It is important for all of our kids to know when history is being made. It is inspiring. It is history.

All of that to say, we are so pleased for Gabby Douglas and her family. She is talented. She is strong. She is beautiful and full of life with a smile that rocks the world.  Whatever her hair style, whatever her race she is champion!

 

Pictures of Hollis Woods is a Newberry Honor Book written by Patricia Reilly Giff.  I found out about this book when Mita brought it to me to see how many stamps she would get for reading it.  Remember I do summer stamps for the kids to earn media time and gift cards to keep them off the TV and to encourage some mind movements!  She had gotten it at school. I hade no idea what it was about and asked her. She said it was good. That was about all the description I got from her, but taking her 12-year-old moodiness in stride I was just happy I didn’t get an eye roll!

So I read it. It only took an afternoon, but the book made an impact on me, like books about foster kids often do.  A quick summary:  Hollis Woods was abandoned an hour old in NYC and lived her life from foster home to foster home. She often ran away, she felt worthless, but her saving grace was her talent for art. 

Seeing inside the mind of a child who has suffered from not having a family is tough.  This may be a fictional story, but it could very well be a real one thousands of times over.  Children without someone to love them often feel like they are nothing but trouble in the world. My heart breaks.

When we decided to adopt, I first called our local children’s services. I received bad information, and I have sometimes wondered if I had pushed harder or asked on another day how might our adoption journey would have been.  Of course the past is the past and I’m in love with my family so it really doesn’t matter. Though I really want people to have good information when seeking adoption.  Working through the foster system isn’t easy, but people do it. Kids do find homes, parents do find children.

A bit of a spoiler here in that Hollis does find a home.  She learns that families are not perfect, so she doesn’t have to be perfect either.  A sweet message.

I recommend this book for fourth grade and up.  My goal is to ask Mita a bit more about the book.  I’m not even sure if she sees a correlation between her and Hollis as they do have different stories.   I do hope she gets the overriding message that the love of a family is deserved by everyone.

 

What a big ship you have!

Years ago …decades really, my brother and I lived on a small island. It was surrounded by sharks and was a very dangerous place to live. We were very brave though and survived.   Once I got older I would race cheetahs and beat them to my front door, but only barely.  I remember feeling the  heart palpitations as I ran.

The island was our sectional couch of course and the cheetahs were in my head, but they were so very real. Just like Laura Ingalls joining me for walks while I explained what cars and airplanes were to her or the submarines that we sunk in the cow troughs in the fields.  Very real at the time.

When was the last time I pretended with such intensity that my heart raced? I cannot remember and that makes me sad.  While I still get into great books and my imagination can run wild, it doesn’t have that same intensity of pretending as a child.

I adore watching my kids play make-believe and pretend.  While the fuddy-duddy in me hates the mess that making a huge, room sized tent out of sheets and blankets can be, I love watching them build it, and then play for hours.

Elle and one of my nephews are the best at pretending together. They are so much a like that their thoughts flow very naturally. They hike, swim, make guns and forts. They have code names like Sharks Blood and are government spies.  They are seven.  How long will it last?

Meg still has some pretending in her, especially when playing with the little ones. She is almost thirteen and I know her and a friend play Harry Potter still at times.  Those days are numbered though. I feel it in my bones.

Mita and Enu have a hard time pretending.  I have noticed that children from developing countries are not encouraged to pretend.  Everything is very black and white. Instead of writing prompts to encourage a young author, they are assigned already written pieces to be copied by hand.  There are no blocks and building toys for the most part.  The building of a big tower and watching it crash down did not happen for them, so cause and effect wasn’t learned at an early age either.

I understand all of this, but I do yearn that they do get some more play in before the adult world creeps in on them.  They have blossomed a lot.  When they first got home they wouldn’t color unless they had someone tell them what colors to use or they saw an example. They would then try so hard to duplicate the example perfectly and end up getting mad and throwing it away. Free drawing was out of the question back then for sure.  I try to stimulate stories like “What would it be like if Bella (our dog) rode the school bus today?” or other activities like making up songs to stimulate some imagination.  They say that our brains are hardwired in the first three years of life and then have a pruning and re-wiring around 10-12.  I hope some of the re-wiring includes imagination and pretend play with my two girls who missed out the first time around.

I think I’ll ask my mom to tell me about some pretend games I used to play with my brother. I ‘m sure I’ve forgotten some of them and it would be fun to reminisce.   Like the time I pushed him to the sharks…a timeless memory that he needs to be reminded of!

 

 

I don’t ever try to pretend I am Mita and Enu’s only mother.  I know that they had a beautiful, young mom for six and three years before me. One who looked like them. One who watched them smile for the first time, walk across the room for the first time and held them to her breast to feed as babies.  If I get to angry with life or the trauma that their situation has caused I try to remember that their mom would give anything to be mad at them right now. She got to see the first few years and I get to watch them grow up. I’ve never been jealous of her, though I wish I could give the girls the simple answers they may want someday, like first words, funny baby moments and the like.

Today I missed their mom.  She should have been sitting in the stands watching Mita sing solo at the 5th grade talent show.    This is a silly notion, because if her mom were here, I would not be in the picture.  They would be in a complete other country doing traditional Ethiopian school stuff.  But the notion was in my head. 

She sang the  song My Mother Does  sung by Loren Alaina  (American Idol fame last year).  The teacher announced that the song was dedicated to her mom for her unconditional love. Tear jerker to say the least. She sang strong and sweet and there were many tears in the audience, including my own. 

I know that song was dedicated to another mom. We share the privilege of raising an amazing child.  I don’t pretend that Mita loves me like she loved her Ethiopian mom. When she is mad and tells me I’m not her real mom, I simply tell her that I know, but I’m here and I ‘m your mom too.

After the show I gave Mita a big hug and she hugged me back (that doesn’t always happen) I whispered that her mom would have been so proud just so she knows that I know the song wasn’t about me.  It may not have been about me at all, but it does make me feel good to know that maybe, just a little bit of her heart  knows how much I love her and she has some of her love for me as well.

Adoption is not simple. It’s not all joy and it’s not all tears.  While the kind words afterwards given to me about the song and dedication were nice to hear, I wanted to say it was for her other mom too.  Of course I didn’t because the concept is too huge to say in a simple response.  I am saying it now though.

Thank you Asnaka for bringing this child into the world and for teaching her to smile, to walk, to talk and to sing.  Thank you for nursing her and loving her in your own special way. I wish you could have been here today, and maybe you were.  I’ve never really believed in the “watching from Heaven” thing, but it is a nice way to think about meaningful moments.

Here are the lyrics to the song she sang:

“Like My Mother Does”

[Verse 1]
People always say
I have a laugh
Like my mother does
Guess that makes sense
She taught me how to smile
When things get rough I’ve got her spirit
She’s always got my back
When I look at her
I think, I want to be just like that[Chorus]
When I love I give it all I’ve got
Like my mother does
When I’m scared, I bow my head and pray
Like my mother doesWhen I feel weak and unpretty
I know I’m beautiful and strong
Because I see myself like my mother does[Verse 2]
I never met a stranger
I can talk to anyone
Like my mother does
I let my temper fly
And she can walk away
When she’s had enoughShe sees everybody
For who they really are
I’m so thankful for her guidance
She helped me get this far

[Chorus]
When I love I give it all I’ve got
Like my mother does
When I’m scared, I bow my head and pray
Like my mother does

When I feel weak and unpretty
I know I’m beautiful and strong
Because
I see myself like my mother does

[Bridge]
She’s a rock
She is grace
She’s an angel
She’s my heart and soul
She does it all

[Chorus]
When I love I give it all I’ve got
Like my mother does
When I’m scared, I bow my head and pray
Like my mother does

When I’m weak and unpretty
I know I’m beautiful and strong
Because
I see myself like my mother does
Like my mother does

I hear people saying
I’m starting to look like my mother does

 

 

I won’t get into specifics or mention which girl told me this but I heard music to my ears this morning.  This morning before Hubby and I leave for vacation.  Vacation without the kids.

While cuddling in my chair (with my laptop, the dog and a kid), the kid whispers, “Please come back from vacation because I need you.  Promise me you’ll stay away from sharks.”

I need you too baby.  I don’t plan on getting up close and personal with any sharks either.

 

Enu came home yesterday all excited about the time line project assigned to her class. She has to have at least 3 pictures and 5 events on her timeline including birth and present day.

I honestly don’t remember Mita doing this assignment last year, but I do remember Meg doing it. This makes me wonder if it was assigned to Mita and she didn’t make a big deal about it or if she kept the assignment on the down-low because it was a big deal to her.  Hmm. I must go through the projects I kept from last year and see if I can find it.

Back to yesterday.  I told Enu that I would have to get on the computer and order prints as we are a digital family and I rarely have extra prints hanging around.  We discussed what pictures she wanted and what her events on the time line were going to be:

1- Birth in Ethiopia – She wanted a baby picture of her and her dad that we have.

2- Mom dying when she was 3.

So when she mentioned this I gently said,”Honey, if you put this down people are going to ask you about it.”  She shrugged and said that it was fine.

3- Adoption and movie to the USA.

4- Disneyworld for the first time.

5- Being at 4th grader.

I am planning on supporting her wishes, but I am also going to have a back up picture in case she changes her mind at the last-minute. I will also let her teacher know what is coming so she isn’t put on the spot.

I applaud her for being truthful and authentic in her project. I admire her strength for acknowledging what she has done through. I am so worried that this may trigger something and she will have a bad experience at school.  I’m running this by Hubby to see what he thinks.

I think this will also be a lesson-learner for the other kids in the class.  Not everyone has an all-happy timeline to share, even 9 year olds.  That said I hate that my children seem to be the models for adoption and diversity at school as that is a lot of pressure on a kid.  If anyone out there has traveled this path I would love some advice!

 

The second book I choose to read for the 2012 Adoption Book Challenge is a fiction one titled,When the Black Girl Sings, written by Bil Wright, published in 2008 for young adults and picked as a Junior Library Guild Selection.

I hope that Mita and Meg will read this book as it speaks to their age and I think Mita can identify with the main character, Lahni.  Of course I can not push it on them to forcefully or it will come right back. The joys of having twelve year old girls!

A quick plot review:  Lahni is a tranracially adopted, only child who is fourteen years old. Her parents are white and she goes to an elite private school where she is the only student of color.  It seems her main goal in life is to not be noticed and she ends up being put in the spotlight without her asking to be.  Along the way she deals with divorcing parents, an older boy who is threatening, dealing with normal school issues and trying to find her voice.  She also developed some new relationships with adult African Americans and this makes a big impact on her.

As a mother to two trans-racially adopted children there were a few parts of the book that made me feel triumphant, as I am a much more open and affectionate mother than Lahni’s mom.  Here are a couple of lines where I felt this:

“Do you think I have a decent voice?”

“Of course I do. God knows where you get it from.  Certainly not your father or me.”

How could she be saying this. It is not as though she knows more than I do if my real mother or father were good singers.  But it was something my mom always did. Speak as though were were really one family, instead of me being apart of someone else’s.

The family dynamics demonstrated in the book showed that Lahni was very loved by her parents, but that they were distant enough to Lahni to sometimes think that they thought the adoption was a mistake.  While reading the book I would get irritated at some of the interactions of the family, but I do acknowledge  that her younger memories show a happier, close knit family. The strain of the divorce and Lahni becoming a teenager may be a couple of factors for the emptiness felt in this family. You can see both parents struggling and so can Lahni.

I have to wonder though, if the author is showing his experience or lack of experience with trans-racial adoption in this story, or if in fact this is just how he envisioned the story. I would love to talk to him and ask him.  I  hope that people don’t assume that trans-racial adoption, or any type adoption at all for that matter produces lack-luster affection in families or families who don’t address and celebrate their differences.

Any thoughts on this book if you have read it?  I really enjoyed it. I even sat in a Sears parking lot today reading it, because it was driving me nuts having it in my purse while I was running errands and I couldn’t finish it!  I love it when a book gets into me that way.

(Disclaimer:  I was not asked to read or review this book, I just wanted to for participation in the 2012 Adoption Reading Challenge hosted by Jenna.  Links are Amazon Affiliates.)

 

 

Today I spent a couple of hours at an amazing meeting with representatives from the three different side of the adoption triad:  Adoptive parents, Adoptees and Birth parents.  Actually the meeting was all women, so I can just say moms.

It was a wonderful way to spend two hours. Hearing stories from others, who may not have had the same experience as I do with adoption, but I still learn from them.  I have found that being good friends with a birth mom has made me a better adoptive parent, which in turn has made me a better person.

To be around others from different backgrounds, different opinions, different experiences is something I really enjoy. I love learning from people’s stories. It has made me a better friend, mother, daughter and wife, which in turn has made me a better person.

I see a theme here that I wish others would see. We don’t all have to agree on everything, we don’t all have to have the same background, we don’t all have to use the same language. But if we spend time together, learn from each-other and glean from our experiences as a whole, we will become better people.

What started as an adoption piece just turned into a political year post!

This was my five minutes of Sunday Stream of Consciousness.  No editing, no spell check, just raw writing. It is refreshing!

 Want to try it? Here are the rules…

  • Set a timer and write for 5 minutes.
  • Write an intro to the post if you want but don’t edit the post. No proofreading or spellchecking. This is writing in the raw.
  • Publish it somewhere. Anywhere. The back door to your blog if you want. But make it accessible.
  • Add the Stream of Consciousness Sunday badge to your post.
  • Link up your post.
  • Visit your fellow bloggers and show some love.
 

One of my goals in homeschooling Enu this past semester was to help her with her English. That may surprise some who have heard her speak, as she is very much fluent in her conversation and has no accent. When we first brought the girls home I read that it took 7 years for a child to become fluent in English. I scoffed at this (as I did many, many other things I read about!) and thought they were fluent after just two years. They needed no extra school help and understood everything.

Or did they?  I have slowing gleaned that while they seem conversationally fluent, if they don’t know something they fake it, or guess the meaning by the context of the conversation.  I have learned we need to work on vocabulary, tone, sarcasm and idioms.  They are still very literal in many ways.

Enu and I have worked a lot with word ladders.  This has improved her spelling and vocabulary and they are fun to do.  I found two other books that helped with her language skills:

In A Pickle And Other Funny Idioms by Marvin Terban

Ever wonder where the expression “To let the cat out of the bag” came from? This book will tell you along with other idioms like “He got up on the wrong side of the bed” or “Keep your shirt on.”  I learned some things reading this and I know Enu did as well.

How Much Can A Bare Bear Bear? by Brian P. Cleary is a book on homonyms and homophones.  “A bee can be.” ” A horse can get hoarse from talking of course.”  An easy read that shows kids how to learn our complicated English in a fun, silly way.

I would love for Mita to read these books as well, as I know she too struggles with some of these things as Enu does. Of course a fifth grader is not always open to such suggestions from mother ;)

I wanted to share these books to help out the fellow homeschooler and the parents of newly adopted older kids who are learning English. They are helpful and fun and free if you get them from the library as I did. I did get the word ladder of Amazon, but it was totally worth the few bucks it cost.

 

 

(Disclosure: I was not asked to review these materials, nor do I make money on the links.  I should do something about that shouldn’t I!)

 

After participating in last year’s Adoption Reading Challenge, I was delighted to know that Jenna is hosting one for 2012 as well! I knew immediately that my first adoption themed book would be No Biking in the House Without A Helmet by Melissa Fay Greene.  I have been wanting to read this book since I heard it came out, I just needed a kick in the pants to get started.

Before I start with my review I have to tell you that Melissa Fay Greene is a part of my adoption story.  It was her article in Good Housekeeping that I read sometime in 2004 (while pregnant with Elle) that I fell in love with Ethiopia and got my dormant adoption feelings going again.  It was also her book There Is No Me Without You that tugged at our hearts so dearly when we were doing the paper chase in 2006 and 2007.  It must be said that in tough times she has been blamed for this!  After reading her newest book, I know she doesn’t think ill of us for those blaming thoughts.   No Biking In The House provides some back story to my situation.  We used the same agency, so reading about Layla House and AAI, well it’s like reading a prequel.

Greene does a nice job in combining this biography of how her family of eleven came to be with anecdotes of daily life with her children.  As a fellow  mom who adopted after having biological kids and who twinned  two of her kids, I could really relate in some of her stories, thoughts and fears.

This book is a must read for large families and adoptive families and for families who dream of becoming large and adoptive. All mothers can relate to this story just with the hilarity that motherhood can be at times.  I loved reading how her bio kids and adoptive kids became closer, how she maintained her Ethiopian children’s heritage and languages and found the biological mother for her Bulgarian son.   She bulks against have a group home effect, and in that I can totally relate. There have been times that I feel I am the maid in a bed and breakfast.  Families have to work at being families sometimes, and that is okay. She gets International Adoption for what it is. Not a solution for poverty, but a way to build a family for parents who want to parent a child who has no family that can care for them.

The feelings that ran through me while reading No Biking In The House Without A Helmet, ranged from sadness, joy and knowing to jealously.  Yes, I said Jealously.  When reading about Helen’s disobedience over a can of Coke and how it led to an hour-long holding her violent little body I could wholeheartedly relate. I’ve been there, many, many times.  When she ended that story with “That was the only tantrum we ever had out of Helen.”  I was envious.  One time!  I’ve been spit on, bitten, kicked, pinched and hit so many times that we do not do the “holding therapy” anymore. They are just to big.  Her bout with post-adoption depression resonated in me as well.  It’s not all roses and rainbows, those first few months.

I am also acutely aware that we do not live in a diverse, metro area as she does in Atlanta.  She was able to hire an Ethiopian babysitter who spoke Amharic to her kids and could make Ethiopian food. Her town also offers many different schooling and recreation opportunities that my rural town doesn’t offer.  I wonder how my lack of access to these things have effected my girls and if that could have made the difference with some of our issues.

Melissa Fay Greene has written a thoughtful, funny and lovely book that speaks of the truths of adoption while not being to heavy of a read.  Go and read this book and laugh out-loud!

 

 

The Holidays are amazing wonderful and magical at times, and at other times they can be tragic and lonely.

I am blessed in that Christmas has always been  a special time, not one of loneliness or regret.  Of course, I have always been aware that the holidays can be hard for those who are grieving a loss of a loved one or for people who have no one to celebrate with. Being aware of and actually living through a holiday season grieving are acutely different.

While I cannot claim to know the loss that my Ethiopian girls have suffered, I  have lived with them for several holiday seasons now. We are about to celebrate our fourth Christmas as a family.  The first Christmas in 2008 wasn’t too rough as the girls as I kept a low profile Christmas and skipped a lot of the events that we normally do, although I did notice Mita was agitated at our Ethiopian Christmas celebration (January 7th or Epiphany) and even left our meal prematurely.

The past two Christmas seasons have seen an escalation in emotions, misbehaviors and outbursts.  Sadness that they will not be celebrating Christmas with their father is evident as they make Christmas cards for him and help make his annual photo book.

It doesn’t matter that in Ethiopia they may have received one outfit and some popcorn for Christmas, that Santa would skip over their house. It doesn’t matter that they wouldn’t have a tree with an iPod or American Girl doll underneath.  He is not with them and that is what matters.

Remember that no matter how wonderful your adoption has been, there is still a loss there that needs to be recognized.  December is a month for families and when your family has been fractured it cannot be ignored.

I encourage us all to remember those who have suffered a loss this year or in years passed.  Let us be gentle with them in our celebrations.

 

Enu and Hubby at a Father-Daughter Dance in 2009

We are a trans-racial adoptive family.  While I tend to forget this at times, Mita and Enu never have that luxury.  From the get go the girls have always said brown and peach so that is what we say.  One of the first days Enu rode home on the school  bus she asked me why a boy was calling her black when she wasn’t black she was brown.  I had to explain to her that the work black was used to describe people with all different shades of brown.  She was puzzled.

The other morning I heard this conversation from another room (remember I have librarian ears).

Elle:  Does white mean peach?

Mita:  Yes, like brown means black.

Elle:  Oh, so you used to be black and now you are brown?

Enu:  Elle, let’s just forget this conversation. (She doesn’t say this mean, she just doesn’t want to talk about it.)

So, Elle – who doesn’t remember life without her colorful family, is now realizing that we are seen as different and Mita and Enu – who cannot help put constantly be reminded that they are different.

And then there is my nephew.  Nine months younger than Elle, he was about two when we brought the girls home.  I guess no one ever talked to him about the adoption and so, much like Elle it has always been this way.  A few weeks ago his mom was reading him a story and Ethiopia was mentioned.

She said something like “Remember that is where Mita and Enu are from.”

Nephew: “No, they are from Uncle Hubby and Aunt Mandy.”

Mom: “Uncle Hubby and Aunt Mandy adopted them from Ethiopia.”

Nephew: “They are adopted?”

He then proceeds to inform others in our family that Mita and Enu are adopted.  Over Thanksgiving he lets Elle know that her sisters are adopted.  Elle of course knows this, but nephew is having a hard time getting it.

We are laughing, not at him but more at his refreshing point of view on life. He didn’t see the color differences.

I later told Mita and Enu this story. They had the sweetest smiles and laughter. Mita tells me, “I love that boy!”.  They were so pleased.

While I believe in celebrating diversity and cultures and not in being colorblind, I cannot help but dream that everyone would just see my Ethiopian girls as girls and not brown/black girls. Just as Meg and Elle are not seen as white/peach girls, just girls.

I wonder if I will be writing similar post decades from now about my grandchildren?

 

November is National Adoption Awareness Month.  The goal of this declaration is to encourage the adoption of children in the Foster care system.  Most of these children are older children. Though we did not adopt through the Foster system, we did adopt older children and I try to be very honest about the blessings and the struggles of having done so.  Adoption should not be looked upon as an easy thing nor as an impossible thing. There are hidden challenges and miraculous surprises with adoption as well as some stories that may never be told.

A few months after Mita and Enu came home I had Enu in the bath tub.  She loved the tub and water and took long baths at that time.  I pointed to a scar on her knee and asked her how she got it. She told me in very broken English that she had been running at our agency’s home in Ethiopia and fell on the pavement.  It seems like a simple explanation, but  it was the first time I had asked her something complex and she was able to answer so that I understood. I remember running out to Hubby and letting him know what had happened.  I was so happy to know yet another fact of her life before us.

She has two other scars.  I have asked her about them. She doesn’t know how she got them. One is a burn on her back.  I wonder when I help lotion her:  Did she walk backwards into a stove? Was she burnt by a stick?  Was it on accident or was she hurt on purpose? How did she feel when it happened? Was she scared and lonely or did she have open arms to run into?  I will most likely never know unless she remembers and lets me know someday.

Her other scar is on her neck. It brings more questions as the location is odd and to be honest a bit scary.

If you are considering bringing an older child into your family, please realize that you may never know every story.  Some unknowns may haunt you, and they will haunt the traumatized child, but it is not a reason not to adopt. Just be aware.

 

April 16th, 2008  Hubby and I were in a cab driving through the streets of Addis Ababa, Ethiopia. Our guest house was far from our agencies home and I was a bit car sick.  Stop and go is the normal for driving in developing nations. A lot of horns blowing, strange and wonderful smells in the air. I kept wanting to speak in Spanish as all my senses thought I was in Peru again.

I had put on a long skirt that day with a shirt with 3/4 length sleeves. The outfit was well-thought out as it is considered rude to expose your knees and your elbows in Ethiopia. Kids can get away with short sleeve shirts, but not women.  I didn’t want to shock my new kids with bad manners.

My new kids. It was finally time to meet Mita and Enu. Two years into the adoption process, three months from first seeing their photos and it was all coming down to right now. I was worried they would cry and beg not to be taken. I was worried they might be mean and aggressive in their fear.

We pull into the alley with our agency’s sign “AAI” hanging in front of large metal doors and I felt a wave of anxiety. The guard lets us through and we do into the office. The compound is what I expected, lots of dirt and metal familiar to us with our experiences in Peru. What was different was that this time we would be taking two of the child as our own, not just playing with them or helping them. They were to be ours.

The Canadian director took us to Mita and Enu’s class. She stepped inside for a moment. I was waiting for the music to start playing, this is the dramatic part right? No music. To little girls step out.  Smaller than I had imagined. They smiled bashfully and gave us a hug, immediately calling us mom and dad. I was pleased of course, but know that they were taught to do this. They had no idea that mom and dad were Enat and Abba.  So trusting, yet really they had no choice but to come with us.

Their grimy hands in mine, they took me to see their bunk.  One little bed without a pillow in a room with at least eight other bunks.  One small cubby held all of their belongings.  Enu looks at me with pride when she shows me her family photo album.  I cried behind my sunglasses.  Pictures. My heart broke and sang at the same time. More than I had asked for. I had prayed for one picture of their mom. I got so much more.

Hubby worked on paper work while we hung out in the office.  I couldn’t talk with them, nor could they will be. We all seemed content, just a bit awkward maybe.  Mita and Enu were not the names they went by, they were more family nic names and we weren’t the family that used them. My mind shifted to change the names I had dreamt about, talked about and written for several months.  Already a change in expectations and we were thirty minutes into our new lives.  That set the pace for the next few years.

I don’t look back on that day with music. I remember new love and timidness.   The adoption was over.  The rest of our lives were beginning.

 

The first picture I ever saw of my girls.

A recent post on BlogHer inspired me to write about meeting my daughters for the first time.

I remember Meg being put in my arms shortly after giving birth to her. I said “I know you now. I know you now.”  I was in awe that I was finally seeing my daughter face to face after carrying her for those many months.  I didn’t even know if she was a boy or a girl, I just knew I loved her and that she would be perfect and that I would be the perfect mom.  I had such high expectations for us. Well, after twelve years neither of us have proved to be perfect, but I really know her now. Every freckle, every scar, every pre-teen look she gives me. I know who she is.

It was pretty much the same when Elle was born. Though I knew she was a girl and I knew neither of us would be perfect. I felt enormous love and thanksgiving when she was born.  I was an experienced parent who knew that it would go fast and that we would make it through just fine.  My expectations weren’t as high, I just wanted to enjoy her.

I first saw Mita and Enu’s pictures in January 2008. I was so overjoyed to have a referral. I was so happy to see their faces.  I was so ready to put the love I already felt to two little faces. I got to read school reports and health reports. I had put personalities to them just by their pictures. I bought them clothes and dreamed about meeting them.

Then we were there.  The director took us to their classroom and brought them out to us. They were so small, so scared but happy.  I now know they were happy because they had been told this was a happy thing. They really didn’t have a clue what was going on, the concept was just to big.  Mita has told me when they were introduced to us as mom and dad she thought they had painted her Ethiopian dad peach!

The hugged us, held my hand, showed us the bunk they shared and their personal belongings.  Enu handed me something that I will be forever grateful for. She handed me family pictures.  Baby pictures, pictures of them growing up with their mom, dad and grandparents.  This album has allowed me to talk about what they looked like as a baby, it has let them see how loved they were by their parents. It is a true miracle that many international adoptees don’t have.

So there I was hugging two little girls who were strangers to me, but not.  I felt relief, happiness and a bit of now what? They knew very little English, I knew even less Amharic and yet we were a family. They looked at me, I looked at them. We were in a bit of limbo at that time I now realize.

One of the things that sticks out in my mind most is that Mita was sucking on the seatbelt buckle in the taxi. I was so grossed out, but didn’t want one of my first actions to be a correction. So I let her suck it (not wear it mind you!).  I would have never let Meg or Elle have done that, but I knew them. I still didn’t know Mita.  This is not a bad thing to admit.  Adoption is different from giving birth, adopting older kids is way different from giving birth.  They had an entire six and eight years of life that I didn’t experience with them.

Much like the birth of Meg, I had a lot of expectations for Mita and Enu, but I had learned that expectations can change and that can be a good thing. Much like with the birth of Elle I was ready to live in the moment.

What is different is that I don’t know where every scar has come from. I don’t know when their first steps were taken or when they started getting teeth.  I have no idea what the birth stats are or even the correct date of birth.  This things don’t really sadden me as an adoptive mom as I know that their Ethiopian mom and dad got to see these moments and from the pictures, I know they enjoyed these moments. What does make me sad is that if the girls decide to have kids of their own, we won’t be able to compare when things happened.

After three and a half years, I can say that I know my girls. I just don’t know everything.  I never will.

These last seven hundred words cannot give you a great picture of what happened during that day visually, but it does show what was going through my mind.  As this is NoPloPoMo and I am to stretch my writing, I am going to attempt to write this post again, but make it more about the actual meeting. We will see how that goes!

 

 

 

 

Yesterday on our weekly trip to the library I found a fun new book that I thought Elle and I would enjoy.  It turns out that Enu is in love with it and *bonus* it is a great bonding tool.  The book is called You Read to Me, I’ll Read to You: Very short stories to read together by Mary Ann Hoberman and illistrated by Michael Emberly.

Elle is an emergent reader, reading on her own a bit, but still needing help.  Reading with her can be fun or can be tedious depending on her level of stubborness at the time!  What is so great about this book is that we are reading short lines together, which keeps her (and me) from getting bored.  There are mostly rhymes which is great for new readers and writers and the book gets silly which means fun!  Fun while reading is so important when they are young. We can’t make it a chore.

As I mentioned in a previous post, one of the reasons for homeschooling Enu was to give her some one on one time that she missed when she was little.  This book offers a fun and easy way to spend that precious time with her. She missed the fairy tales and rhyming books. She missed the silly reading stories.  She adores this book. We have reserved the other titles in the series:  Very Short Fairy Tales and Very Short Mother Goose Tales and I am hoping to get them in time for vacation.

I get happy when I find something with multi-uses and this book fits the bill. I encourage all parents of emergent readers or parents of older-adopted children to check this book out at your library and give it a try.

Have you read this book with your kids? Is reading time bonding time for you all as well?

 

(Disclosure: I recieved no compenstation for reviewing this book, nor was I asked to review it. I borrowed my copy from the library. Amazon links are not affiliate links and I will not get any money from them.)

 

 

Art Credit

 

I wish it would stay as simple as push me mom!

As I mentioned a few weeks ago, I am trying to blog a bit more about raising my girls into the teen years.  One theme that continues to bubbling in the house is age.  The kids think that once they reach a certain age they will get certain privileges or if a sister got to do something when she was 10 then I will get to do the same thing at age 10.

I have a feeling that this is a common theme for most of us and in the average family setting an age to date, drive, go on a work trip with daddy  may work. For our family it does not.  Parenting four very different girls, two with a traumatized past, throw in a flux of birth order and twinning and whammo: I cannot do the normal.  It doesn’t matter if Meg got to golf when she was 8 and Enu had to wait until 9.  Turning 16 does not mean you will get your license.  Show me you are responsible and then we will talk.

So what are our buzz words?  Maturity and Responsibility.   You may also hear some Follow-through or accountability come out of our mouths. So how are we measuring maturity?  Behavior towards adults, ability to follow through a chore or assignment, completing commitments and a show of sound judgement.  Kids if you are reading let me explain sound judgement.  If you break a dish and leave the glass without telling me about it, you are not showing sound judgement. Sound judgement means you do not run away from something, but face it head on and know when to call an adult.  It’s okay not to know everything. Asking for help shows us you are learning to be responsible, not asking for help when you need it is a sign that you have some issues still.

Rolling your eyes, talking back, mumbling meanness under your breath does not bode well for getting more privileges in this house.

One of my biggest pet peeves is blaming others and not taking responsibility for ones-self.  I sometimes feel I am to hard on the girls. Then I go out into the world and realize that I wish others were as hard as I was.  There is nothing worse than having a problem, reporting that problem and having the clerk/manager/owner do nothing but blame someone else.

This way of parenting brings out a  lot of  “That is not fair!” statements.  It is tricky and heartbreaking to say no sometimes, but parenting isn’t easy and sometimes you have to say no, you are not ready for this yet.  Will I have to tell that to a 16 year old wanting her license? I hope not, but I will if I have to.  Will my child have a cell phone just because everyone else in her class got one in the fifth grade? Not if she cannot control her impulses and doesn’t demonstrate good phone manners, not to mention that our girls have no need for a cell phone at this time.

Show me. Prove to me you can handle it and I will gladly give you what you want.   I don’t want to hold you back, I want to make sure you can fly baby girls! Fly and be ready to do the amazing things you are going to do for the world.

Do you have age milestones in your family? How does this work for you.  What are your buzz words for teaching your kids to become responsible adults?  Do you think my having older adopted kids mixed with some home-grown ones complicates things or is this universally difficult?!

 

As mentioned in a previous post, I am homeschooling Enu this semester.  There are many reasons for this decision but the main reason is to spend more one on one time with her.  It is challenging to spend enough one on one time with your children, and the more children you have the more challenging it is. Enu did not have a lot of nurturing time when she was a toddler/preschooler, she missed out on the afternoons with mom just hanging out.

So at age nine, she is now having her one on one time. Yesterday we went to COSI to explore the hands on science world. She played with lazors, pulled herself up with a pulley and learned about the moon and sun.  Looking around I saw moms with toddlers, doing just as we were doing.

I hate the phrase “It isn’t fair”.  Life isn’t fair.  God didn’t promise us an easy or cushy life. But when it comes to my girls sometimes I do say it to God.  This isn’t fair for my girls. Why God why?  I know he understands my impertinence.

It is not fair that Enu missed out on her toddler experiences.  So I am trying to give them to her now. Please don’t think I am saintly for doing this, it is extremely difficult at times to parent a nine-year old as one would a toddler.  I fail often at being patient. I yell too much.  I am her parent though and parents give their kids what they need even if it is not easy.

If I have any advice to other parents it is do not hesitate to give you child the environment they need.  Even if it seems backward, even if it is not the situation you pictured when you thought of parenting. Who cares what everyone else says or suggests. Do what you need to do to make life work. I have learned this the hard way as I have been the one bulking at it for a long time.

Enough of the heavy.  Here are some pics from our day.

 

 

 

 

 

 

School is starting.  There are a lot of posts, articles and back to school advice flying around the blogosphere right now.  I wrote a little snippet myself the other day on not being ready for school just yet.

Then open house for Mita was last Monday.  Fifth grade.  Same school, same principle, same PE teacher, same art teacher…different classroom teachers.  Three different classroom teachers.  Three different teachers to say “Hi, I’m Mita’s mom.”  Then the double take.  Oh. I forgot. We don’t match.

I forget.  Mita and Enu can never forget for they are on the other end. They are the ones who stick out in every room they walk into.  I did that to them. I knowingly brought them home into a 99.99% white community.  I thought love would conquer all, that we would travel for diversity, move eventually to a more diverse community.  We could do all of those things and love like no other, but we will never match and they will always get the double take.

How do they handle it?  Like kids do.  A smirk to me or a covert rolling of the eyes, sometimes a glare (to me, not the teacher).  We talk about it.  They shrug it off, I know it still bothers them.

The double take is a reflex, it will always happen.  If you find yourself doing the double take with a multi-racial family, it’s okay. Just don’t stare and ask if they have any real children!  Please and thank  you!

 

 

I recently participated in an online breastfeeding conference. It is a  great way to get my educational hours  I need for nursing and Lactation without having to travel.  One of the things I really like about it is that while I am learning about breastfeeding, I am also learning about other health dynamics, techniques and concepts that challenge me to think in different ways.

It may sound surprising, but my work as a Lactation Consultant has helped me become a better adoptive parent. I have learned more about attachment and bonding through breastfeeding my own kids and helping other parents than I have from adoption books or seminars.  Breastfeeding brings out the basic needs that humans desire: Connection (love, commitment, relationship) and nurturing (food, shelter, protection).  The adoption triad (birth parents, child, adoptive parents) revolve around these needs as well.

At my conference this year, I listened to a lecture entitled Grief and the Lactating Mother. I admit that this was one of the last sessions I listened to as I knew the content would be heavy.  It was of course, but it was so poignant and so deep and she touched on so many aspects of grief that I realized I wasn’t listening as a lactation consultant anymore. I was listening as a mom of traumatized kids.

Two things stood out to me:

1) Grief doesn’t end or come to a resolution.  We have to stop going through the Kubler-Ross five steps of grieving as a checklist and more as a guide. There is Denial, Anger, Bargaining, Depression and Acceptance but they may present at different times, go in a different order or you may skip one.  For example you may reach the acceptance stage of your grief and a new experience or trigger will send you back to Anger or Denial.

2) We (as LCs or as adoptive parents) cannot make the grief better or make it go away.  We have to acknowledge it and validate the person grieving, and let them grieve as they  need to.

Both of those stopped me in my tracks.  I cannot stand the thought that Mita and Enu will never heal from their trauma. I want it to get better.  Of course, we go through counseling and work on coping techniques and I talk the therapeutic talk but deep down, I still want to fix it  and I cannot.

The thought of every birthday, graduation, wedding, a child’s birth, etc will possibly bring a wave of fresh grief to them is very difficult me me to accept.  I see the progress they are making though and  I have hope that while the grief will always be there, they will be able to handle it and that it will change to a dull ache and not searing pain.

Heavy subject matter for the first week of summer, I know, but there are so many people grieving right now that I know I just thought I would share the rumbling thoughts in my head.

Clip Art Credit

 

The end of the school year always brings a wave of colorful artwork, exciting essays and lots and lots of amazing things that I cannot bear to throw away. I used to keep all the special things, now I take pictures or scan what I like best and keep very little.  Storing things for four kids really puts a dent in our basement storage!  Last year I had a free photo book offer and made a fun book of the kids artwork from the school year. Each girl was given about 5 pages to show off their works.  I remember thinking that I was going to do this again, only make one book for each girl.

Now that this school year has come to an end I have been thinking about sitting down again and starting to work on the books. Then it just hit me today when I was doing the dishes.  I don’t want to separate their work.  I don’t want them to leave my home after college with boxes filled with only their projects and pictures. I want them to remember their sister’s pieces to. To be able to track how Elle went from drawing squiggly lines to recognizable pictures.  We are a family and always will be a family, even when they have lives of their own. Seperate but together.

I can picture Meg showing her possible future children artwork from 2011 and everyone oooing and aweing at Aunt Mita’s Kente cloth pattern or Aunt Enu’s self portrait.  They may live far apart or close together but either way the next generation will have one more tie to the girls Hubby and I are raising today.

Maybe I am more sensitive to this because we are a family who has been through the trials and blessings of older child adoption, who has concentrated on attachment and building bonds.  I cannot help but think our society is so individualized in so many ways that we are leaving the importance of family behind.  When disaster strikes, illness  or death comes round, a financial crisis hits; we all go back to family.

My hope and prayer is that my girls are the best of friends when they are old and gray and I am gone.  Do I think family albums are the only factor that will determine this outcome? No, but it sure cannot hurt.

 

Author Jennifer Grant contacted me via Twitter and asked if I would read her new book Love You More: The Divine Surprise of Adopting My Daughter. It is set to be released August 9th of this year.  I was so excited to get a sneak peak of a new book written by an another adoptive parent.

I cannot tell you how many times while reading this book I said to myself Yes! My  thoughts exactly! When talking about adoption so many resources discuss it either as a child saving event or a sugar coated spiritual journey. I either get nauseous or mad.  Grant is real in her writing and feelings, yet authentically spiritual as well.  Her and her husband felt God’s calling to adopt but as a way to build a family, not save a child.

She recognizes that the reasons countries are open to  International Adoption are political and practical, yet not a solution for the overwhelming problem of parent-less children.  Her writing shows respect to the birth families and the birth countries.  Love that!

Love You More is also a candid look into motherhood with funny stories of mommy failures (store bought cookies for the school functions, the horror!) and loving stories.

The most important point in the book for me is the reminder that the adoption process/wait/coming home is just the beginning much like the fact that a wedding is just the beginning of a marriage.

A great read for waiting adoptive families.  It is an easy read that is a nice break from the heavy reading that we tend to do when in the adoption process.  Book mark this to read come August!

 

My four girls.  Meg, Mita, Enu and Elle. Sometimes they are four peas in a pod. Sometimes. Other times, I’ll be blunt here, most times they are a circus act.  Hubby and I often say to ourselves, “They are so easy when there are only three of them.  What is it when you add a fourth?”  The funny thing is that it doesn’t matter who you take out of the equation, who has the play date away from home or is at a Girl Scout event.  No matter what three girls are home, they get along better than when they are all four together.  This has been a question we continue to ponder as we raise the girls.

Well, low and behold I have found a resource that assures us that we are not in fact crazy.  There is scientific evidence that raising four girls is the hardest family combination. The Telegraph just published the following article:  Want to be happy? Have two daughters.  Here is a quote  from the article that describes what I have lived:

“It also emerged two girls rarely annoy their parents, make limited noise, often confide in their parents and are unlikely to wind each other up or ignore each other By contrast, doubling the number of daughters is likely to lead to a whole world of pain, the report found.”

While the words World of  Pain may seem harsh the the average reader, I can say that I have felt world of pain before. You see, I had that so-called perfect combination. Hubby and I had two daughters.  Five years a part.  I had it easy I must tell you. Meg was the text book oldest child. Over-achiever, helpful, fearless and compassionate. When Elle came along, Meg was about to enter Kindergarten. I had Meg to myself for five years and then Elle and I had our one on one life when Meg was at school.  I am a big proponent for spacing your children for this reason alone.  I had great one on one time with both girls. Meg was independent while I was busy doing the baby thing with Elle.  Two girls were cake to me. I was able to work two days a week, provide insurance for the family and take care of my home.

Something was up in my heart though. I wanted more kids. I wanted to do the adoption that I had been dreaming about for decades. I wanted to open our home up and parent a parent-less child.  I had assumed that Hubby would want a boy to round out our family. He insisted that girl would be a better fit as we already had two and that our house was small. They could share a room if needed and we would save money on hand-me-downs and toys.  We had it all worked out, Hubby and I!

The how we ended up deciding on growing our family from two girls to four is a long 500 word post in itself for another day. The reality is that now we have four girls. Ages 11 1/2, 11, almost 9 and 6.  Using the word drama doesn’t even begin to describe their interactions. Everything is an issue. EVERYTHING.  This is something that most people do not understand. To have four girls is to become an expert on childhood politics.  I could run for Senator with the skills of negotiations and peacemaking I have learned in the last three years.

A crisis can emerge from a simple hair band.  A misplaced earring can throw my family into a day of hell. I. Am. Not.Joking.

I have taken a list from the above mention article and have made my own comments to it.

1.Fight and argue all the time (Yes and yes. It doesn’t matter over what, they just have to be mad about something.)

2.Difficult to reason with (Reason? What is that. You can not reason with emotionally charged sisters.  Then add the PMS! Reason….)

3.Ignore and dislike each other ( It is amazing how they can hate each other one minute and be best friends the next.)

4.Bedtime routine is a nightmare (We stagger bedtimes and this has helped TREMENDOUSLY.)

5.Create a lot of noise around the house  (If my house is quiet the girls are not here.)

6.Rarely confide in you (Yes with two of them, the other two still let me in on stuff. I think.)

7.Hard to deal with when ill (If I get ill they actually act okay for me. If they are ill, we actually get more one-on-one time. God has blessed us in that they have not all been sick at the same time. He knows I couldn’t handle it!)

8.Takes ages getting ready for school (This is getting more evident as they turn into tweens. The straight-iron is on full force in the AM.)

9.Had to buy a bigger house and car (Yes and yes.)

10.Hard to cope with on a daily basis (I have gone mad. Literally. I am a low-key person the daily drama has done more harm to my person than anything else in my life. I stopped working two years ago because of the daily life grind.)

As an adoptive family, I have often blamed our problems on adoption issues. We adopted older children and messed up the birth order for three of the four girls.  After reading this article I now think that maybe our struggles would have happened anyway, just in having four girls. This is something interesting to think about, and maybe I can let go of some of the mama guilt I’ve felt. There is comfort in knowing that this truly can be a tough situation and not just me lacking.

Would I do it again if I had read this article? Yes. I would have laughed haughtily  at this article if I had read it three years ago. I would have rolled my eyes and made a comment about how people need to get a life and do real research.

I love my girls with a fierce mother-bear love that consumes me. I also roar like a bear more than I should. My stress level is all whacked out and I am not always the best parent in the world.  I am trying. On the really hard days I envision life fifteen years from now.  When the girls are out of college, starting lives and families.  We are all laughing about the crazy times growing up. In this vision they are strong, they love each-other and they are friends.  I have to believe that.

There is nothing in this world better to hear than the sound of my four girls laughing together. It happens, not often, but it happens and for that reason alone I would do it all over again.  They make me happy.

*Hey check out the post Jenna posted on Blogher about this article!

 

It may seem like I am on a roll in my adoption book challenge and I guess I am, if not by choice, by the fact the library  had the last two books in and sent to me at the same time! I hate waiting on books, so I wanted to read these while I had them.  I do have to say that back-to-back non-fiction adoption books can be a bit heavy and I have promised my self some time off the heavy reading for a while. I need some fluff – mind numbing fluff! 

The title of this book says so much, The Girls Who Went Away: The Hidden History of Women who Surrendered Children for Adoption in the Decades Before Roe v. Wade .  Written by Ann Fessler, and adoptee, this book’s heart-wrenching stories and startling facts make it a difficult book to read at times.  The book was published in 2006, so it is fairly recent and very much tells a story that one of your (or my) own family members could have lived through.

I have  listened to my mom talk of having to wear skirts to school because pants on girls where not allowed or how my mother-in-law was on a basketball team that organized themselves becauses schools didn’t have athletics for girls.  These stories make me shake my head. So much has changed in just a few decades it really is like two different worlds in many ways.

Fessler points out that it was the post WWII years of conformity that brought about this time of adoptoin coersion.  I don’t even know if coersion is the right word as deceit and unlawfulness was the normal to unwed mothers and there children were basically stolen from them. I’m sure that not all adoptions were this way, but after reading this book you cannot help but see the similarities of the stories.  So many girls were told that their baby was going to a new family of a “Doctor and stay at home mom” or were asked “Do you want your child to be called a bastard on the playground?”. As one birth-mother said in the book, it was as if they had a script on how to get a pregnant woman to give up her baby.

I am not surprised that the parents of the pregnant women were upset. I do find it reprehensible that so many went way passed upset and were just plain mean and cruel to their own daughters and grandchildren.  Socital pressure was that strong? Unbelievable.  This again reaffirms to me that there has never been a time of  “good old days” that people look fondly at.

Hearing these stories from birth mothers and adoptees reinforcess how imperative it is that there is more openness with adoption.  If not fully open adoptions, medical histories, photos, letters and for heaven sake OPEN RECORDS. 

 It is 2011 the age of  at our fingertips is mind whirling and yet there are people who have been told they have no right to find out who and where they came from. If more people would just stop and think about this issue, I dare to say that  records wouldn’t be closed anymore. It just makes sense.

While the numbers of “girls” who disappear for an unplanned pregnancy have diminished, there is still a lot of ethical problems with adoption.  You don’t have to look hard to find articles of pregancy distress centers working with adoption agencies or authority figures telling pregnant moms that their baby deserves better. As sick as it sounds adoption is big business and when there is big business there seems to be a flourish of ethical issues.

It is imperative that adoptions are ethical. I have heard so many comments of how adoption is to complicated, that adoptive parents have to wait to long, that if a child needs a home she should have it now and not have to wait for paperwork.  I have personally felt all of those things during my adoption process, but I can honestly say that knowing that my adoption was ethical is so comforting to me now.  If there had been any doubt in my mind that my girls’ family was coerced, paid, bribed or even worse my conscience would forever be marked.

If you know of a family member or friend who has had a “quiet” adoption in her past I encourage you to read this book, try and see the experience she is having and be a very good friend to her. This is also an informative book for all members of the adoption triad.

 

As most of us know February is Black History Month or African American History Month.  A month when schools, groups and communities are encouraged to celebrate and learn about the black Americans who have made an impact on our country.  As a mom of two Ethiopian girls in a non-diverse area, I see this month as an opportunity to  help to my kids’ classrooms become more colorful.

My great intentions have gone awry, or at least have are very late!  I thought about writing this post  at the first of February. We are now heading into March and I still haven’t written or done what I have planned.  

For a history on Black History Month check out Wikipedia.  Some feel there is no reason to have a Black History month, but I say that an opportunity to learn more about history and culture is always a good reason.  I will go out on a limb and say that most graduates have very little knowledge of Black American History other than slavery, Lincoln, Martin Luther King, Jr. and President Barack Obama.   Few may  realize that the men who developed the modern blood transfusion and gas masks were black inventors.  Black history contains more than the history of slavery, musicians and sports players.

I have in the past given African games like Mancala to the girls’ classes and books. This year with four in school I have just stuck to books.  Some books have history in them, some are about Africa  or people.  Others are simply children’s stories featuring brown characters.  Have you ever looked for a book or a greeting card with a black person on it?  It is not always easy to find and if you are not looking for it directly, chances are most of your child’s library has very few if any minorities in them.

The kids also made Kente cloth this month out of paper bags.  Meg and Mita are entering theirs in a contest.  They turned out really well and were a lot of fun. Check out Family Fun to see how to make your own. I used pictures of the patterns to make note-cards on Shutterfly. Very cute!

Classic Black 5×7 folded card
Send Shutterfly Valentine’s Day cards to those closest to you.
View the entire collection of cards.

This is just a few things I have done this month to re-inforce how wonderful a life full of diversity and color is!

© 2011 Four Against Two Suffusion theme by Sayontan Sinha