Signs of Spring

Mikaela is feeling better and we went out in our yard looking for signs of Spring. They were everywhere! Some sneaking out of remaining patches of snow.







Building Spring fairy houses


For Nigel, it is all new and exciting. This is his first chance to explore outside.

He loves the taste of Spring!

A Thousand Dollars a Day

Spending virtual money for prosperity. For more info on this see the first A Thousand Dollars a Day blog post.

Friday, Saturday, Sunday, Monday

A party for all the people that helped us make our adoption possible. Let's celebrate!

$640.00 airline tickets for Kris and Bill
$300 Temenos day rental
$100 travel gas for Colleen
$2550 catering for 85 people
$410 party favors

Kris and Bill for making it possible
Barb for everything. And everything and more. Mikaela is looking forward to another Vacation Barb week when we return to Ethiopia.
Elizabeth for all her help. Without your Sunday visits I would need a dribble cup. You have done so much for us.
Nigel has a place to play thanks to Lisa D and Megan B. They also created a safe haven for Mikaela on the third floor away from her drooling, crying brother. This was no easy feat! My third floor was scarey!! How did you manage to be so brave? Megan came over to help me pack up the donations a few days before we left. She was patient with me when I stood in the middle of the room and just stared because I couldn't think of what to do next. Why was she cleaning out my refrigerator? Because she invited friends over who arrived with food to freeze and helped me celebrate. Megan, thank you also for romping with Wanda while we were gone and for fixing my high chair. Thanks for the baby gifts and frozen food and friendship Lisa D, Lisa C, Kelly, Megan and Colleen.
Lisa C for the hat and for giving me the great baby clothes from her boys. What would I do without the little leather shoes that he wears every day? The head yurt you knitted Nigel is awesome. He looks so cute in it. And his jumpy swing- he loves it and I love it because it means I can get five minutes in the bathroom without him trying to eat the cat litter.
Thanks for the great food deliveries: Marie (Goodwin), Marie (Gabelburger), Amy, Lydia, Stacey, Lisa H., Nikki G., Debi R., Kristen, Andrea, and Paige
Thanks Bonnie for arranging the food chain.
Colleen, thanks for being there when I needed you and thanks for the baby clothes.
Michele, thanks for the clothes for Nigel to grow into.

Be Careful What You Ask For

A blur of sick days, one blending into the next.
In one of my last posts I said I wish someone would take away all my needs so I could parent more effectively. My sweet girl is sick, sick, sick, scary sick, can’t keep anything down fever sick…and I got what I wanted but this wasn’t what I meant. My needs have all disappeared except for the need to see her get better. At first we thought she had the flu. She has never been sick for more than 24 hours before. Michael has Nigel and I spent the day snuggled down with Mikaela and lightly rubbing her forehead. For me this is the ultimate in health care. I fault my mother for many things but what she got right was how she cared for us when we were sick. There was something about seeing us down and hurting that softened her heart. I can remember the feel of her cool hand rubbing my forehead and saying, I would take this sickness away if I could. Flat, warm coke with a bendy straw, cinnamon toast cut into triangles and ice chips chopped in great grandma’s yellow aluminum ice grinder. These were the cure-alls of my youth. I rub Mikaela’s forehead. She can’t keep water down so the other remedies are useless.

Sunday
She is on day 7 of being sick. Truly, this is ‘normal’ flu period, it just feels like she has been sick for weeks.
In the morning I take Nigel to Temenos where my friend Elizabeth planned a baby blessing for Nigel. Mikaela was supposed to present him, but they were stuck with just me. It was very sweet. I am always touched with the questions children have about adoption. They are so curious and so honest. Nigel was the model baby for the event. When I arrived he stared at everyone with his big eyes and clutched on to me from the safety of the sling. During the children’s talk he showed them all his tricks- he smiled, stood up on his own, waved and managed to grab a tambourine from under the alter and start banging on it. After that he fell asleep and looked adorable during the rest of the service. Elizabeth’s talk was about personal trajectories and involved the reading of many of my favorite poets. Thank you Elizabeth for giving me a break from the infirmary and reminding me of how much I love poetry.
Back at home things were escalating. Mikaela still could not keep anything down.

Hours pass and I watch her sleep. She is so hot and dry to the touch. Everything stops. I have nothing to do except for Mikaela. Nothing else matters. I don’t want to be sick, she moans. Mikaela, instead of saying what you don’t want, try saying what you do want. Try I want to feel good. She pulls the covers over her head. Later I hear her whisper, I want to feel better. My sister calls and is increasingly nervous about Mikaela and keeps talking about the big snowstorm that is coming, how we will not be able to go to the hospital in the storm. She is encouraging me to take her to the ER right now. I frantically call friends for advice, for homeopathic remedies for something to make this turn around. I try several remedies. I spoon feed her raw honey in water. It comes right back up. I rub her belly. My pink hand on her yellow belly. I cover us both with the comforter and watch her sleep. Please get better. My mind won’t shut off. I haven’t seen my father in a week. I get a call each morning from his private duty nurse telling me how his night was. It is not enough, but there is not enough of me to go around. I have spent almost no time with Nigel. He has gotten only Daddy time, which is probably okay and needed also. My house is in whatever state it is in, extreme disarray, and I don’t care. A young person at OC has died ‘suddenly and accidentally'. I can only think of the precarious balance of life. I rub Mikaela’s forehead and cannot even imagine losing her. The world feels like a dangerous and ominous place. suddenly and accidentally. Tragedy is lurking in every corner and I feel scared and can’t sleep. suddenly and accidentally. I check on everyone. Michael is asleep, Nigel is snoring, Mikaela is hot but sleeping. I let Wanda out and stare at the snow falling. suddenly and accidentally.
In our little world it is just the two of us. Warm bodies meeting. I try to send Mikaela healing love and her little body works to beat this.

Monday
She is worse and weaker. We head to the ER. The snow is not so bad, just enough to make the whole experience feel so surreal. Mikaela begs not to go, cries and falls asleep in the car. I carry her into the ER and Mikaela has Nigel in the Ergo and goes to fill out the paperwork. I am overwhelmed with feeling responsible. As though she can sense this she says, It’s my fault I am sick. I tell her no, no way, this is not your fault. She won’t explain her thinking. Several hours later after IV fluids, she is a new girl. She is hungry for the first time in a week and has half a soft pretzel that my sister brings her. Before we leave she asks if she can walk in circles.

Tuesday
She is back to not eating anything because her tummy hurts. Thankfully she is drinking and keeping it down.
When is my Pony Package EVER going to get here? Mikaela laments at seeing an empty mailbox again. Anyone who knows Mikaela knows she is crazy for horses. Her generous Aunt Kris gave her a monthly subscription for a Pony Package that sends chapter books, horse kitsch and posters. She loves it. Each time she gets it she curls up with the books and doesn’t resurface until they are finished.
It feels like I haven’t been able to gallop for years! she says.
I know baby, it is hard to be sick for so long. My daughter often spends half her day on all fours. Mom, I am a falabella with one white sock and a star on my forehead. Sometimes she is a different horse each hour. Nigel is often her little foal who is 'an hour or a minute old.'

Wednesday
The fever comes and goes. It is a slow recovery. I wish we had Heidi or Mary Poppins, Mikaela tells me. I want to watch something sweet. We settle for the first half of The Sound of Music.

Thursday
She is still sick but today ate breakfast for the first time. We are going uphill now, a little better each day. We are like bears hibernating away from the world. We nap together several times a day, Mikaela, Nigel and I curled up together. This afternoon I wake up to Mikaela gently rubbing her hand across my forehead. I am feeling better she tells me and smiles.

Friday
I hear Mikaela upstairs waking up with Michael and Nigel. She is WHINNYING!! The gallop can't be far away.

A Thousand Dollars a Day

Friday morning the Damn Husband came down the stairs and was shuffling through the drawers looking for scissors and glue. Are you making me a valentine, I joked. No, he answered I am making you a thousand dollars to spend. It is an Abraham thing, he explained. He had just listened to one of the Abraham CD’s about money. For days now (weeks, months, years..) Michael and I have been discussing money, our thoughts around it, our lack of it and ways we can change our thinking about it and our relationship with it that will hopefully ultimately affect the poverty cycle we find ourselves in. So, the universe gives us what we ask for- the Law of Attraction. So if we are constantly feeling we don’t have enough then that is what we are attracting. And that is definitely what we have been attracting. To turn this around we need to imagine ourselves from a different perspective. The Damn Husband gives me a Xeroxed copy of a thousand dollar bill he has carefully glued together. Spend it any way you like he tells me. So, I am imagining having money, spending money and creating a different reality about money. One that works for me. I am attracting more money into my life everyday. What fun. Here is how I spend my virtual thousand dollars every day.

Friday

$180.00 6 new black turtlenecks from LL Bean
$240.00 6 button down LL Bean shirts (2 white, one blue, one pink, one
striped)
$40.00 IKEA enameled cast iron pot with lid
$10.00 IKEA oiled cast iron frying pan\
$80.00 IKEA white wicker desk chair
$349.00 IKEA wooden wardrobe for the mudroom
$50.00 Takeout sushi deluxe
$50.00 Massage for Barb

Saturday

$900.00 Bosch Dishwasher (I am ready to break this cycle. I have never owned a dishwasher and frankly, it is time. I will soon have three kids. I am tired of fishing through cold dishwater to find a baby spoon because there are no more left in the drawer. I am tired of washing dishes by hand, or not washing dishes by hand and having them pile up in the sink. The Damn Husband does not do dishes. I can convince him of many household chores but not dishes.

$14.00 The Presence Process: A Healing Journey into Present Momement Awareness by Michael Brown recommended by Gina Marks
$86.00 Translation and sending a very special package to Ethiopia

Sunday, Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday

$2800.00 17 inch Mac Book Pro with eight hour battery
$1400.00 In Design Suite
$150.00 Office 2008
$200.00 Aperture 2
$200.00 Donation to Children Creating Bridges
$500.00 Donation to OC
$50.00 massage for Barb

When the Dark Side Rules

I should go climb into a hole and reread Dark Side of the Light Chasers. Tuesday I was Mommy Dearest. It all became a little too much: a sick father who is wasting away, a crazy mother who is torturing us all with her grief, a daughter who has the flu and cries whenever I leave her side and a new baby who still might not love me but freely covers me with bodily fluids of all kinds and can screech at decibels that can cause ear damage. Truly I had forgotten how moist and loud motherhood could be. Perhaps I have also forgotten how hard it can be, how lonely and how thankless at times. The Damn Husband called to tell me he was going to be late from work. Great, no problem, it can’t get worse.
“Are you having a bad day?” He asks with a lot of trepidation. He knew what was coming.

Can someone please remove all of my needs so I can parent more effectively? This will all go much better if you do. How about an instant dose of antidepressants that can turn me into Mary Sunshine for a few hours (or days) until I can find my footing again?

From Amazon.com Review of Dark Side of the Light Chasers:

‘We know the shadow by many names: alter ego, lower self, the dark twin, repressed self, id. Carl Jung once said that the shadow "is the person you would rather not be." But even if you choose to hide your dark side, it will still cast a shadow, according to author Debbie Ford. Rather than reject the seemingly undesirable parts of ourselves, Ford offers advice on how to confront our shadows. Only by owning every aspect of yourself can you achieve harmony and "let your own light shine," she explains. "The purpose of doing shadow work, is to become whole. To end our suffering. To stop hiding ourselves from ourselves. Once we do this we can stop hiding ourselves from the rest of the world."’


I am thinking about the woman who drowned her kids and understanding where her impulse came from.
“How could a mother EVER do that to a poor innocent child” my mother said when she heard the story. She shook her head and patted her chest, “Really, how …could… you… hurt…an innocent…child” said the woman who made welts so deep under my diaper that my older sister said it looked like I had 'OC' for Ocean City, (where we were living) tattooed on my behind. Hello, mom, what is that dark formation lurking behind you? Oh no, you don’t have a shadow. You just have a love for wooden spoon discipline on diaper-aged children.

I see the bad side of me that could so easily go south, but it hasn’t. We are a delicate balance of good and evil. Hello Dark Side, I know you are in there.

I am covered in snot and drool. Nigel screams and uses his hands and feet to push against me so I cannot hold him close. I close my eyes and think of giving him what he wants, of letting go of him- he falls out of my sight and I am free. For a second. Then I open my eyes. Then I softly sing in some obscure tune ‘no mommy won’t be crazy today’ and I place him gentle on the couch and find something to distract him. And it passes and we are all fine. Sometimes a version of this repeats twenty times a day sometimes not at all. I do the same with the damn husband (but I don’t sing him anything afterwards) A thousand times I have pictured smacking him over the head with my heaviest frying pan and watching him bounce around with stars circling him like in an old cartoon, boing boing boing boing boing. The feeling came on yesterday when I asked him to please order a new charger cord for my GPS THAT HE BROKE. The cord connector that joins it to the GPS is bent at a 45-degree angle and will no longer make a connection. He wouldn’t admit that he broke it (for the second time, he already ordered a new one once) and instead argued nonsensically that I broke it by hanging the GPS too high on the car windshield and it had nothing to do with the fact that he shoves it into a small compartment between the seats every time he parks the car because he is constantly paranoid that someone is going to break in and steal it. So, now a day later, I don’t think about the frying pan anymore but I haven’t forgotten that he refused to apologize for making the story up because he was at work and the other guys could hear him talking with me.
Me: You need to admit that this story is BS and you need to apologize.
Him: I will later. (in a casual voice)
ME: You don’t want the guys to hear, do you? Oh yeah, if they were listening I’m sure that story made lots of sense to them. Hanging a GPS cord straight down has often made it spontaneously bend upwards against gravity. I’m sure they've heard other similar stories.
Him: Okay, I will talk to you later.
I groan and push the end button on my cell as hard as I can wishing it made a load sound on the other end. I miss that loud emphatic sound of slamming down a land line phone. So much more satisfying.

I love the story Anne Lamont tells in her book Operating Instruction about not being able to stand her son’s screaming any longer. She thinks about putting him outside on the porch for the night. If he is still there in the morning she will consider it natural selection and bring him inside again. I love that she admits to thinking about this and I laugh because I know she did not do it.

It is when you deny your dark side that the trouble begins:
No, mom, I am not angry with you.
I love every moment of motherhood.
Oh no, I don’t mind, you take it.
I’m sorry I broke the GPS cord, sweetie. I don’t need another one. I’ll use map quest.
It was a big leap in my life when I finally got it about the Buddhist offerings each day to the hungry ghosts. They aren’t wandering around the world; they are inside of us. Here you go guys, a little morsel to keep you at bay, nice little ghosts, stay where you belong.

My mother, wayward priests, the woman who drowned her kids, did they go so far because they felt they were not suppose to have dark feelings and so they denied them? Like a balloon you try to push under the water so no one can see it, it is bound to explode out the moment you get distracted.

I once called a friend after she just had a baby. How is she doing I asked her husband when he answered the phone. Well he replied, she hasn’t held him by one foot and swung him in circles above her head, I think she is doing well. Fifteen years later this story still makes me laugh and the image can instantly change my mood when I become frustrated with my kids.


I don’t hit my children, drown them or swing them above my head. Thinking and doing still remain a world apart. I am doing my best to live my life, feel my feelings, sort out my past and change my current reality. I am imagining my world the way I want it to be and I am walking towards that goal one step at a time with an occasional few steps backwards.


Our answers are always around if we look for them and they come just in time. In an article by Tad Waddington in this month’s Spirituality and Health magazine I am reminded of the story about three bricklayers. The first one was trying to make a buck, the second was building a wall and the third was building a school that would educate children for generations
Same job different perspective. Where have I heard that before?

I am still covered in slime but today I am raising young minds that will change the world.

My Father

Everything good about me comes from my father. For more than an hour I have sat here and it is all I can say. I can’t bear to write details of his hospital stay, the falls that brought him there or the fact that I will be touring nursing homes in a few hours. Sometimes I feel that for my whole life I have loved him too much and I can’t imagine my life without him.
Two pictures of my father after a recent fall.


Always the comedian, he puts up his dukes.

So many Alzheimer victims become violent in the later stages of the disease. Not my pop. He literally doesn’t have it in him. He is truly the kindest person I have ever met. He has never been religious, although he pretended to be ‘for the children’ to please my mother. He told me once that he just lives by the Golden Rule and that is enough for him. And he does. And it is.
The last few days I spend all the time I can, first in the ER and then in his hospital room, juggling my two children in the small spaces and trying to be cheerful. Mikaela loves Popie and was determined to see him yesterday He always makes her laugh. She tries to kiss him goodbye and he looks in the opposite direction and waves. I kept trying to move his head in her direction and he kept saying, even when he was looking right at her, “where did she go?” This makes Mikaela laugh because she thinks he is playing with her. My father loves Nigel, he always calls her a girl, but what can you expect, he raised four girls! My dad tries to pat Nigel on the head, usually misses and pats the air and laughs and says “beep beep”. Nigel laughs and tried to pull off his glasses.
I want to grab hold of my father and say, please, please don’t leave me.

Catching Up

It feels impossible to catch up. I really have no time for a blog and it will only get worse. Temesgen has been home for 28 days. I am surprised it has been that long. Sometimes it just feels like one long day. Not a bad day, but a long one.

A quick review
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Unbelievable diarrhea diapers. The first two weeks home were all about poo: how to control it, survive it, contain it and test it. Every other day I drove to Phoenixville to drop off specimens at my doctor’s office. (I will spare you the trials of collecting it!) On the 20th I dropped off poo in Phoenixville and then headed to Bonnie’s house. Everything took twice as long in the snow. We made it to Bonnie’s house just in time for the inauguration. I was so glad to see it on a TV. I am so hopeful about Obama and what this will mean for my children.

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Wonderful friends delivered food every other day, all of it delicious. The best part was having visitors. I needed the reality check that life was continuing normally for others although time seemed to have stopped at my house. Some days I felt like calling friends and begging them to come over. Please don’t leave me alone with these kids!

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I still haven't had time to look at all the pictures I took in Ethiopia. I wish I could post pictures of the children- they are all so beautiful. It is illegal to post pictures of the children due to privacy issues. This makes sense AND I wish I could show them off.

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The first few days were the hardest. We were recovering from jet lag and not getting much sleep. What were we thinking? Temesgen and I were strangers trying to pretend to be family. We were getting to know each other, which happens at its own speed.

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Battle ground with the damn husband
Too many changes too fast. We are struggling to acclimate. Michael comes home from work and struggles with wanting to be on the third floor alone recording music or writing. As soon as the kids go to bed he heads upstairs until the wee hours in the morning and then drags himself out of bed late and dashes off to work. And I struggle with feeling isolated, lonely and inept. I try to explain to Temesegen that this wasn’t exactly what I had pictured. He screeches. He doesn’t love me, I am constantly stained and moist from drool, spit up or poo, my house is a mess and no matter how hard I try to keep everything together someone (or everyone) in this house is mad at me. Motherhood is very humbling.

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A divided heart between my two children, whose needs always seem to be polar opposites making me feel I have to choose between them. Temesgen needs to nap and Mikaela needs to go out on an adventure. Mikaela needs to play a game with me and Temesgen needs to chew up the game pieces. Mikaela wants snuggles and Temesgen is screaming. We nick named him Screech.

*
I take Temesgen to the CHOP adoption clinic. I was worried how they would partner with my holistic doctor to determine his care, but I am pleased with everything. They are wonderful. Temesgen passes with flying colors on all tests except one, which comes as a surprise: attachment. In their words, he shows no signs of attachment to me. I want to cry. I feel a bit betrayed. At home when I put him down, he cries and crawls towards me. Great I thought, he is attaching to me! But no. When the occupational therapist works with him she points out that he never checks back with me at all and when she puts him down he cries for her. He is very social due to great care at the orphanage but is not attached to me. Love me, damn it!

*
Thinking about Yaebsira and hoping she will be here soon. I scour the posted photos of the other adoptive families that have returned from traveling trying to discern how she is doing. Does she look happy? Does she know we are coming to pick her up as soon as we can.?

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Thinking about Yaebsira and scared to death that she will be here soon. Can we handle more change and upheaval? Can she?

*
I am back facilitating Photography at OC. It feels great to be back and it feels too soon. Temesgen is with me. He does great. He likes watching everything that is going on and is happy to be lugged around in my backpack. The first day back I only had a sling and my back was killing me by the end of the day. My in-laws bought me an Ergo which is wonderful.


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Falling in love with my little man more each day. Two teeth pop out of his bottom gum. He looks so cute when he smiles.

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Dreaming of running away from home, working at a gas station in some state out west where the attendant still pumps. I will wear one of those blue jumpsuits that zip up the front and I will have a big lazy dog that follows me around but doesn’t touch me. At the end of the day I return to my very small, self-cleaning cabin that is lined with bookshelves holding all the books I have wanted to read.

*
Two nights ago, lying in bed unable to sleep, I heard a voice whisper “Nigel”. We have been thinking about another name for Temesgen since we received his referral but nothing we thought of felt quite right. We decided to wait until he came home to see what name suited him. Over the past few weeks his African name became natural for us and we stopped focusing on a new name although so many people (especially everyone in my family!) has such a hard time with the pronunciation. Nigel is not a name we had ever discussed. I don’t remember ever hearing the name. I woke up Michael.
“Michael, Michael. Nigel. Do you know anyone named Nigel?“
He groaned and gurgled.
“Michael, I think we need to name him Nigel”
More groans and gurgled.
In the morning Michael remembered the song Making Plans For Nigel by the band XTC and played it for us. That day Mikaela told everyone she saw at OC that his new name was Nigel and Michael told everyone at work. (I told them: “My wife heard a voice in the middle of the night so his name is Nigel. That happens from time to time with her.”

*
Last night Michael went to Lydia’s and picked up her old changing table. NO more diaper changes squatting on the floor. I feel liberated!!!

* This morning Mikaela wakes up like every other morning and is a horse.
“I am chocolate colored horse with a white mark on my forehead shaped like a heart. I am a Welsh Pony named Star.”
She trots off.
Michael is doing the dishes (a miracle, I tell you) . Nigel is babbling next to him in the high chair and I am trying to finish up this post. In this moment I love everyone and think, yes, we are going to make it, all of us together.