Wednesday, December 31, 2008

Blessings

I feel a wonderful sense of calm this morning. I leave in two days and I am ready, not packed or finished my to-do lists, but ready regardless. This is the life I have chosen and here it comes full speed ahead and I am happily waiting to meet it. My son will soon be in my arms.
Yesterday my friends surprised me by coming over and throwing me a little going away party. So sweet and just what I needed. Thanks Megan, Lisa D, Lisa C., Kelly, and Colleen. It was wonderful to take a break and appreciate my friends and my blessings.

Saturday, December 27, 2008

Christmas memories

Opening stockings
I love stockings. My fondest Christmas memory involves waking up Christmas morning and finding my stocking at the foot of my bed. Michael and Mikaela with their stockings before they are fully awake.


Nothing beats that look of joy when she comes downstairs and sees that Santa has been here.


Mikaela relishing her new horse stable


Christmas morning with a good cup of coffee- a great combination! I am wearing my new polka dot sling from Santa.


I spent an hour looking for a poem that I wrote years ago about Christmas. I couldn’t find it. The poem was about an old cassette tape I had found recording Christmas morning when I was young. My sister’s voices were filled with teenager angst and sarcasm “oh great a flannel nightgown, like we get every year.” And my child voice was filled with giggles. “I got everything I’ve ever wanted”
Mikaela was at that age this Christmas when everything was exciting. “Santa knows just what I love” That wonderful feeling of magic, fulfilled by peppermints in the foot of her stocking and many dollar store gifts and thrift shop finds under the tree.The best gift was a horse stable. (Thanks Stacey! Christmas was saved!!) Do you remember that feeling of magic when everything felt perfect? I remember. I asked Santa for a red wagon and I got one!!! Wishes come true. Months ago Mikaela said maybe she would get her brother for Christmas. I remember shaking my head and telling her it wouldn’t happen that soon and now here we are leaving January 2nd to pick him up and bring him home.

Bonnie came over yesterday to bring me some supplies for my trip. For me this was such a gift, the supplies were great but the company was worth so much more! I felt so lucky to sit over tea and chat with someone who really knew what I was feeling days away from picking up my son and meeting my daughter- she is a well-seasoned adoptive parent. It feels like months since I have been able to speak with anyone about how I feel.
The Damn husband put a stop to this right after we received our travel date for Temesgen: “If you are going to be a freak for weeks you are going to make all of us insane.” I get that I was making him insane. He has his own worries and wants and needs that occupy his mind. What I wanted was to sit down and share with him all the things that I was thinking and feeling and get all the fear and worry and happiness out and hear about what he was thinking. He was exhausted just looking at me so it didn’t go any further. Last night Bonnie kept trying to leave and somehow we would fall back into conversation for another twenty minutes. I slept through the night last night for the first time in weeks. Thanks Bonnie. I realize I have been so lonely. Some friendships have shifted lately and I am left feeling responsible but not knowing what has caused the change. In this tumultrious time I feel disconnected and alone. Do I have the superpowers to mother three children successfully? Can I make the leap from the way I was raised to the way I want to raise my children? Where is my cape?

Friday, December 26, 2008

The Lodge

Winter Solstice at Ashland.




I tried to forget all the things I had to do and escaped with Mikaela for the weekend. I realized that this will be the last time Mikaela and I will spend time alone together before our family gets bigger and more complicated. I feel a great deal of sadness around this. I want to hold onto this time I have with her. She is excited to have a new brother and sister but I know she has no concept of how much her life will be changing. I’m sure there will be times when she begs me to send them back.

The damn husband was grumpy and bailed. When I first asked him about the trip weeks ago he said it sounded like fun but that was when it was far away. Up close he began making excuses. He wanted to have time to work on his music and said his skin was too dry- it was too cold- this is my thing not his- and then he starts his broken record of: you want me to be just like you and now I am going to pay for it if I’m not - they are your friends not mine- everyone will be eating rabbit food- now you will try to make me feel guilty for not going, blah, blah. I made the mistake of saying as we are heading out the door that I wish he were coming which started this particular rampage. It is always something I do that ‘makes him” flip. He makes leaving him easy by making me so angry that I leave with the fantasy that I am running away from home forever. Damn husband. I actually felt sorry for him when it turned out he had to stay home and work instead of playing music. So he had quality time with Wanda (the dog) and Mikaela and I were off for a weekend adventure.


We joined ten other families sleeping over also- it was a giant slumber Party! As soon as I saw the large room filled with bunk beds I was instantly thrown into thoughts about the orphanage in Ethiopia where the children sleep two to a bed in a room set up in a similar way. I spent the night listening to the sound of others sleeping and imagined how it is for my daughter, Yaebsera to sleep each night. I wonder who her bedmate is. I wonder about so many things about her…



Bird watching, great food, wonderful women knitting and chatting, music and stories by the fire, cutting snowflakes, dressing up in clothes and masks from the Lenape Indians. And just slowing down for a little while. I am so lucky to have such wonderful friends.




Everything seems so easy here. How can I make cooking feel like so much fun at home? That would be easy. Cook for this gang instead of my family that complains about everything I make!

Here is one prepared mama!! She's got her tools of the trade and she is camping in style!!!


Paul took us on a night hike and taught us about visual purple, the way our eyes adjust to seeing in the dark. It took about twenty minutes for our eyes to refocus completely so that we could see without any flashlights. When our eyes are without light our rods fill up with liquid and enable us to see in the dark. I’m sure the full moon helped but this was really amazing.

Mikaela: I’m like a cat and I can see in the dark.
Jonah: I can see better at night then I can during the day.
They look at each other as thought they have just met their soul mate. They hold hands and run in front of the group skipping easily on the path with their purple vision.

Thanks Megan for organizing this trip. The timing was perfect. Now I am off to pack for Ethiopia and prepare for the new life we have chosen.

Friday, December 19, 2008

God is everywhere, including my blog

Here I am, working away at my blog but not really telling anyone about it. I thought sooner or later someone might find it, but who knew it would be God? He is currently the only follower signed up to receive updates from my blog. (Shouldn’t I be the one, following God?) He never posts or comments but I know he is there. How like God to always leave me guessing as to whether or not I am in good graces. It is hard to tell if God is on my side or only watching me in a you-are-in-charge-of-your-own-destiny kind of way. Anyway, welcome God to my wandering blog.

This got me thinking what it would be like to be God. Would it be like creating a work of art and then sitting back, taking it all in, thinking about what you find works about the creation, and what you would do differently next time? Or would you constantly rework it, change little things, answer someone’s request, kick up a big storm? I don’t think I would be able to be as hands off as God the now seems to be about some things that happen here. When I make something (small things like potholders, not big things like galaxies) there is always things I wish I could change but often I worry that going in and trying to fix things will only make it worse. If I were playing God, I would start small. For starters, I would make chocolate the most nutritious food possible, one that we should eat several times a day to keep our bodies healthy. A little change that would truly make the world a better place to live. I think I could take a little lesson from my dad. When I was young, I would cringe when he would train our dog, but now I can see some advantages for this style in other situations. My father was old school when it came to dog training. When he was housebreaking our dog, Sam he would grab her by the scruff and drag her and push her nose into any mess that was found in the house and holler, Bad dog, No Sam. Then he would push her outside and leave her there for a while especially if she barked or whined. I think I would like to use that same technique with several people that have left big messes around our planet. I would start by grabbing George by the back of the neck: Bad George, No George and leave him in Iraq even if he whined.


My daughter playing with her wooden train set gave me another idea. I really appreciate that God lets us make our own decisions, but sometimes I think people need a little help in learning how to get along with others better. They need a little nudge to help them make the right decisions. Wouldn’t it be great to be able to police the world, just a little? For example, the guy driving right on someone’s tail (usually mine) or swerving in and out of traffic. I picture being able to reach down and pluck the car up with two fingers like my daughter does when a train section derails. I’d look at the culprit, shake my finger at him and put the car down in some inconvenient place to make sure he learned his lesson. Like on top of a building or up in a tree.


If God were in human form I think he/she is either a gay man or a woman but I lean towards a gay man because you’ve got to admit the overall design of the universe is pretty lavishly over the top. This planet is a beautiful work of art. If you doubt this, watch the BBC production Planet Earth.

Thursday, December 18, 2008



Dec. 13th 2008
He’s ours. Every finger every toe. We passed court on December 12th. In the adoption world that translates to my baby being legally mine. I know so little about him and he is my son. I’ve seen his smile, never heard his cry. When Mikaela was born and I finally came out of my drug-induced shock about having had a c-section, I gave her a full inspection. I took off her little clothes and examined every inch, turning her over and touching her smooth skin. Temesgen will be nine months old by the time I get to do this.

Mikaela had her first sleep over at Aunt Barbara’s in preparation for Michael and I traveling to Ethiopia. After a brief cry of wanting to go home, she snuggled in with Aunt Barb and went to sleep. It was after 11pm so she probably passed out from exhaustion. And of course, she was up early. After spending a week with Barb where she gets to watch TV, eat junk food and stay up late, she may never want to come home.



It is 5am and I am typing this curled up on the couch. I love the early morning hours when it is quiet and peaceful.

That last sentence is an extreme romancing of the truth. It is quiet with the exception of the noises the cats are making as they eat plastic and whine to be fed and the dog’s snarfing noise as she licks her butt in her crate. Oh, and there is the hacking emphazema cough of my neighbor as he lets his dogs out and the upstairs snores coming from the damn husband. Oh the lovely sounds of morning. And still I love the early morning hours. I am sitting in front of the Christmas tree that has a mass of ornaments piled on it, heavier on the bottom where Mikaela can reach. In 16 days I will hold my son for the first time. Will I ever have a quiet morning again? Sometimes I think I must be crazy for taking this on. I feel so ill prepared in so many ways. I had so much stuff when Mikaela was born. For Temesgen I have a wooden riding giraffe that I bought at a garage sale for fifty cents. (It has become one of Mikaela’s favorite pets.)


I also bought him a blue knit hat, three pairs of socks and mittens. I have tried to convince Michael that Temesgen can wear Mikaela’s hand me downs for the first few years and it won’t make a difference. He won’t care if he is a girly man in pink in the beginning. Michael of course, makes a horrified face as though this will instantly zap the poor boy’s manhood and scar him for life. Okay, so I won’t bring out the dresses but really the purple flower power playsuit could be just fine! He will look like a flower child of the sixties. If my family would have gone along with the gender neutral clothing I wanted for Mikaela when she was born instead of the girly cutie clothes they bought, this wouldn’t be a problem. I am sure he will like the red glitter high tops that were Mikaela’s favorites. What does a baby really need? He will sleep with us so we know we don’t need to go the crib route that we tried for Mikaela in the beginning- the most expensive toy box ever. So, he needs diapers, bottles and love. Am I forgetting anything else? Bottles. There is a terrifying thought. `I breastfed Mikaela far longer than I thought possible! I can’t imagine getting up in the middle of the night and mixing formula (yuk) instead of rolling over and lifting my shirt. Oh, that’s where the damn husband comes in!! He got off easy with Mikaela and never even woke up when she did. This time things will be different. “Wake up, Michael, stop snoring. Your son would like a bottle!”

Sunday, December 7, 2008

More favorite things

my sisters


Old Forge, New York




swings



flowers living large and wild




the dog park- where dogs run free and get to be dogs!


the way babies smell


pregnant bellies


my pentatonic alto wind chimes by Music of the Spheres. I have never heard chimes like these. The sound is incredible. I first heard them at the Old Forge Hardware store. I can lie in bed and hear the soft sweet sound they make when a wind runs through my backyard. Very relaxing.

Saturday, December 6, 2008

Playing God



My husband and I have spent over a year preparing to bring


two children from Ethiopia into our family. In September we received a referral for a baby boy named Temesgen Tesfaye. In our homestudy we were approved for two children under five. We assumed we would receive a toddler and an older child sibling set. Assumptions are trivial things in the world of international adoption. Here was a baby needing a home. We were a family thrilled to have a baby. We became adjusted to the fact that we would be bringing home our baby first and later receiving a referral for an older child. They were not going to be Mikaela’s biological siblings so we were not so concerned that they were not biological siblings either. We would be growing our family in stages, settling in with a new baby and later adding another child. And then things changed again and our second referral arrived before we have a travel date to pick up our first.
I was not expecting it so soon. The email came through from G: “Are you ready for your girl referral?” Just that. Nothing else. Michael was out running errands. I call her.
G. whispers when she speaks because her baby is down for a nap. She is shuffling papers. “I’m looking at three girls”, she says “and trying to decide which one to give you”.
The best one, I think but I don’t say anything. All I can think of is this person, possibly sitting drinking tea in her kitchen while her babe is sleeping, is about to make a decision that will affect the rest of my family’s life. She is playing God, creating families casually at home. She could be in her slippers. The arbitrariness of the whole thing is all I can think about.
“I think this one”, she says, “because her last name is your son's first name”. (In Ethiopia a child’s last name is the father’s first name) Yaebsera Temesgen becomes our daughter. So, a name in common equals a lifetime together. It is a sweet connection, but is it enough to determine a child's fate for the rest of her life? Then G is speaking so softly I can’t hear what she is saying. Even after I ask her to repeat things I can still hear only every other word. It feels so important that I hear exactly what she is saying. She is going to email me a picture. “I think this is her”, she says. I am lost, imagining looking at a photo that may or may not be my daughter. When her older daughter gets home, she tells me, she will send me Yaebsera's medical information. Her daughter is the only one who knows how to work the scanner. We hang up the phone.
I am caught in the enormity of what is transpiring. My family has increase in an instant once again. Ask me how many kids I have? A few months ago I would have said one, a six year old girl I got the old fashion way. (Getting pregnant and marrying the sperm owner after the fact: alias The Damn Husband) Then in September I would have said two when I became the mother of a seven-month-old baby boy. Now I will say three and not quite believe it myself. No one has asked me how many kids I have lately so I haven’t had the chance to try any of this out to know how it feels. I just say it to myself.
I have three kids. I have three kids on two continents.
Our first referral came through an email on our agency’s adoption yahoo group on September 18th. Our dossier had been in Ethiopia for three days: “Who is left, that has their dossier in Ethiopia, waiting for a baby boy over 6 months? G.”
I emailed her that we were open to a baby boy.
Her email response came shortly after:
“Well, then Temesgen could be yours!!!! I don't have a profile yet, maybe this week the families will bring it back. I will go through and find pics of him. He is cute and around 7 months old I would say. Healthy, I am assured. G."
If I hadn’t been on the computer that morning it would have been someone else that emailed back first and he might not have become my son. I picture a game show where the contestants who have the correct answer race to push the button down first and win. This is not the way I had anticipating international adoption protocol. Our agency is small. I think it lets its hair down a bit at times in a mom and pop kind of way but the arbitrariness is just as present in the big agencies also. They tend to polish it up more with formal manila envelops and introductory letters. We were with a bigger agency in the beginning with a very good reputation. The woman in charge of the program never remembered me when I called and I was a number. When my number came up I would get the next available child in my age range. I prefer the woman sitting in her kitchen who has met the children she is referring and has gotten to know me at least a little. International adoption is still about bringing a child you know nothing about into the middle of your life and holding the belief that this is what was meant to be.
And so I became a mother of two, a mother of a baby along with being the mother of a six year old.
And a few days ago I became a mother of three. I waited until Michael got home to check my email. Mikaela, Michael and I sat on the couch and I opened up G’s email with the picture of our daughter, Mikaela’s sister, Yaebsira Temesgen. I looked at her picture and was speechless. "She looks fun to play with", says Mikaela. She is beautiful and I am petrified. There she is this sad little person staring back at me. This little person with her own life and her own thoughts, her likes and her dislikes. And more than her share of hardships. Michael and I decided that we were up for the challenges of creating a transracial family. But here she was staring at me from a photo. She hadn’t signed up for this and neither for that fact had Mikaela. But this was going to be her life, our life together. Not her decision, but her life. Who was I to make these decisions? What if she doesn’t love me? And she won’t in the beginning, how could she? (This question with the pronouns reversed is unthinkable)
Later I was sitting in the kitchen trying to get my bearing and drinking a cup of coffee when I look up at the pictures of both of my Ethiopian children we have hung on the wall. They were staring at me. The look on their faces seemed to be saying,
no way is this fat white woman my mother.

They are the baby bird in the book, Are You My Mother? and I am the Snort that says, yes, yes, I am your mother.

Wednesday, December 3, 2008

The Wisdom of Fortune Cookies



Mine: You never hesitate to tackle the most difficult problems

Michael's: Avert misunderstanding by calm, poise and balance

Mikaela's: You will have good luck and overcome many hardships (the hardships are probably her parents...)

Tuesday, December 2, 2008

When Panic Rules

As humans we are genetically coded to resist change. Today I find myself true to my genes. The reality of the approaching changes in my life has begun to overwhelm me. This is not regret. I have called forth all of the changes and this is the life I am choosing. And, right now fear is my ruler. Today, I am admitting that I need to call in some reinforcements. Julie Andrews, where are you?

I simply remember my favorite things…

*chocolate
*art- making it, looking at it, living in it
*adoption
*cooking with friends
*the way babies smell

*spooning
*morning cuddles from Mikaela
*a really, really, good book,
*good friends who love you through all of your transformations and are always there for you no matter how crazy you are at the present moment. (Amanda, this is you)
*hammocks
*dollhouses and tiny furniture
*looking up at tall trees



*snow
*my silly dog (in snow)

*Open Connections
*homeschooling
*campfires and marshmallows

*fox trotting with my husband
*bubbles

*ice drops on delicate branches

*fall





*tea parties with friends

*the sound of the ocean during an early morning walk

*cappuccino
*tree houses
*poetry that as Emily would say, takes off the top of your head
*Sunday mornings with Elizabeth
*my dad
*Lucy the Elephant

*traveling anywhere, especially Nepal and Africa
*swimming with elephants
*carnivals

*hot baths
*walking in the woods

*long wild dreams especially if they involve flying or opening new doors you have never seen before
*Old Forge, NY
*the Sunday NY Times
*singing along with the music from the Big Chill when no one else is around
*laying on the couch listening to the Tindersticks
*when Amanda makes me music CDs
*capturing a perfect moment with my camera
*a clean house
*cookie dough
*handmade cards
*meditating
*my Tibetan crystal bowl
*loons

I do feel better. What a great reminder that my favorite things are either currently in my life or I have experienced them at one time. What a lucky life I am leading.

Monday, December 1, 2008

The meaning of Monday

Monday, the first of December. How did that come on so fast? I can’t help but think of my father when a Monday falls on the first of the month. Mondays were always reserved for new things, new starts, especially new diets. Having Monday fall on the first of the month just increased the power of hope. What I remember the best are the days leading up to such a momentous occasion, the best of my youth. They were the days where you get rid of all the food that you won’t be eating after Monday, when your new lifestyle starts. And of course, he was raised during the Depression so he never wasted anything. Getting rid of the food meant eating it all before Monday. It was hard work but we had to do it. We had to make a clear path for our new lifestyle. My father was always in a cycle of dieting to lose his belly. He was either preparing to diet, hungry from being on a diet or binging after giving up a diet. (If you fall off the diet bandwagon you can’t start a diet until the following Monday.) Now, my father has succeeded in losing his belly but his mind is too far gone for him to enjoy the fact. I was sick with the flu on Thanksgiving so we had a belated Thanksgiving at their house on Sunday which would have been the ultimate for my dad if he had realized the beauty of it. So Pop, I’m getting on the treadmill this morning for you!! Happy Monday.


My sweet Michael won big points by helping shave my dad’s scruffy beard.
























Dad: I don’t know why... all this...it was fine.
Mom: Bob, your mustache hairs were curling into your mouth. It must be like eating shredded wheat.
Dad: I like shredded wheat.
Mom to Michael: Thank you. Now you can see his lips. He has such nice lips.
Me: Hey Pop, maybe you are more kissable now. You should try it.
A big smile crosses his face and he starts to laugh.
Confused, he starts to kiss me. I spin him around to mom and manage to capture this picture.