Moving On to the Next Great Thing

I have been having babies for a while, let's face it. I had a brief respite between marriages--Loli was four when Jaws was born. Jeff and I filled in that gap pretty thoroughly by bringing home two girls meant to be in our family that were born in another country when I couldn't have them myself. Yeah, some would object to my describing it that way, but that's how I feel things happened. Bella and MayMay are most certainly my daughters. The first time I saw their picture, I knew they were my daughters, and the sisters of the girls I had given birth to biologically.

Heavenly Father has a way of blessing you doubly when things have to come about through a veil of pain. These two girls ended up in my family where they belong, but along the way they collected another family who loves them dearly, and a rich, unique culture, which flavors and spices and blesses our family as well.

Since Jaws, though, I really haven't had a break. I've had a child under age two for the last solid eight years. And I haven't started realizing until recently, exactly how difficult it is to have children so young. They take all your attention. All of it. When they're infants, it's because you are holding and feeding them constantly. When they're a little older it's because you are making sure they don't die by rolling off stuff or falling down stairs or choking on things or drowning or being taken by people or gashing themselves with knives (several of my toddlers have had a fascination with knives.)

I'm realizing all this because we're sort of coming to the end of our planned family, Jeff and I. We talked, at the beginning, of having six children together. We're there. Another baby would make six for us since we married in 2005. (Nine total, of course.) And right now, I'm getting to that point of thinking of starting that process again--another kid. Possibly the last kid. Pending prayer and answers to prayer, of course.

In my religion, we believe that there are spirits up in heaven waiting for bodies. That to raise children right, with values, and love and covenants and saving ordinances inherent in our gospel, is the most important job we do. So for me, and others with my theology, the decision to *stop* having children is a very serious one. Perhaps stressful. Some are comfortable stopping when they feel their family is complete--they just feel good about it and don't question that. For others, it's an agonizing decision. And some feel that "stopping" isn't an option... they need to allow as many children to come as Heavenly Father will bring them.

Thus, Mormons and large families. (btw. I'm being honest and vulnerable here... no judgy comments about birth control or population control, please. I will delete them all!)

For me, the decision to be done has a bit more of an edge and urgency. My mother and i share a genetic condition that renders pregnancy dangerous. Because I knew about it before I started having children, I have been able to take preventative action and not suffer from the sorts of things my mother did having her children. But it is still dangerous. And the danger kind of multiplies with age. My mother had her last biological child at age 35, and nearly didn't make it. Her stake president, who was also her obstetrician, told her she needed to think seriously about permanent preventative action, because she needed to be around to raise her family.

I am grateful for my stake president.

I have had a strong feeling, from the time I was thinking of such things, that I also need to be done at thirty five. I turn thirty four this year. Do the math--one more kid. It works out nicely with the feelings Jeff and I have had on the issue.

But it makes my heart break a little, too. I was the two-year-old who would nurse her dolls, who though often about having babies, about motherhood. I couldn't wait to be a mom. And I have enjoyed my babies so much. If anyone is going to suffer from residual baby-hunger, it's me. I tell myself it won't be so long and I'll have grandbabies to enjoy, but it's not quite the same. It's not that symbiotic relationship--just a small, helpless, trusting creature and me. A piece of my heart, smiling whenever I smile at them, whose favorite thing in the world is to be close, to lie for long hours on my chest. Little hands. Little feet.

It came across to me really strongly this last week. I have been feeling, for a while, that I needed to put DavyJones on formula. And he has taken to it well, and it has made important things possible--I have needed some time in the temple, for instance. I have needed to spend a bit longer at my calling than an exclusively-nursing baby would allow.

And I needed to go to girl's camp this year.

It was a good experience, but my milk is now dry. My baby boy is no longer nursing. It breaks. My. Heart.

What if, I think to myself, this is the last baby boy. What if I never nurse another baby boy for the rest of my life. What if this precious experience is now over. There is something about my baby boys--they have the most "mushy" part of my heart, as I was explaining it to Loli the other day. (She responded with, Mom, I'd much rather have the strong part of your heart.) (Anyway.)

What if this is done.

Well, it will be done, soon. I'm into my "lasts," last time trying for a baby. And it will turn into, last time experiencing morning sickness. Last time getting that middle-trimester burst of energy, last time with a growing stomach, last time with those crazy, overwrought emotions that make me cry during cheesy commercials but have actually been welcome because often, I struggle to feel my real feelings. Last time waiting for labor, for a baby to be born. Last time holding a soft, damp, newly-born person close to me, seeing them look up into my face for the first time.

I plan on savoring it--all these "lasts." It's the only way I'll be able to move on; if I savor every single moment.

But there are also other sorts of thoughts I've been having. Like... Gee. It will be nice to be able to work outside for an hour and mow the lawn. It will be nice to go out and pick up the trash that blows across from the high school. To plan a garden, work on it every day, weed it, pay attention to it and have a chance at real vegetables. To take a bike ride when I need one... and to be able to bring all the kids with me. To be able to go on hiking trips and camping trips and to be able to take my kids swimming (projecting a few years into the future here) without having to keep an anxious, uninterrupted watch over at least two of them.

To be able to take time to have talks with my teenagers.

To not be so exhausted in the morning I can't function..... or at least, to be exhausted for different reasons. Staying up to talk with teenagers who come home, rather than being constantly interrupted to nurse.

Instead of being confined to the house with a baby who isn't going to be happy outside for long,to be able to go out and find Jeff, and whatever project he's working on, and work alongside him. And to have our children join us.

I'm leaving behind something very special... but moving on to something else Great, and equally special. This, I think, is the time we figure out who we are as a family. Develop our traditions, our way of relating to each other, the activities we enjoy doing together, getting big projects done together, being silly together... this is really, in a way, where some other things I have always looked forward to, begin.

Loli came into the Young Women's program this year. And as it always is with our family, once started, things happen fast... Bella next year. MayMay the next. Two years later, Jaws. We're moving on.

And it will be great.

Adoption and emotional integration.

So, I haven't done any adoption posts lately. Mostly that is because, as adjustment continues, the issues are less and less salient, and less noticeably adoption-related. Meaning, everything has filtered down and melded and become "the things my kids and my family work on together," and it is not often something we think about anymore, "this is because of the adoption. These are struggles related to that."

I have been thinking about adoption lately, however. Because of some things in my personal life, and also this clip posted recently on Facebook.



Helen Doss--the story she wrote of her family and their experiences. I read it over and over again as a child. My mother did, as well. I am certain it is a major influence in my decision to adopt--I grew up thinking of adoption as not only normal, but delightful and wonderful. Her family--all happy, so big and colorful and wonderful. I wanted that.

My mother did too. And now, however many years later, I have two Ethiopian daughters and two (soon to be three) Chinese sisters. I wonder how many families have come to be because of Helen Doss.

Adoption is hard. It's interesting, looking back on all the posts I have written over the last five years, remembering various stages, struggles, frustrations and heartaches.

First we went through teaching kids not to hurt each other, health concerns that were difficult and sometimes nasty (Lice, Ringworm, Giardia which I caught from MayMay while pregnant with Hazel, aftereffects of severe malnutrition and other things).

After that, though, it was all emotional. And I'd argue, much harder than the physical. Our adoption was wonderful--we didn't have any of the issues adoptive parents worry so much about, like sexual abuse or attachment disorders. And our girls are good, good girls.

But I am an introvert. New people are hard.

I love kids. A lot. Honestly. And I don't mind babysitting other peoples' kids. Before the adoption, however, watching others' kids was always a very stressful experience. It was painful. It's like, having someone in my house who wasn't my own kid, I was on eggshells all the time. I didn't feel like I could be me, have my time, do the things i'd normally do... I felt like I had to be a "perfect mom" or "perfect babysitter" for the sake of another person's child.

that's sort of how it felt for me for the first.... oh. Two years. Like I was babysitting. It was very stressful. The introvert in me shrunk away from interaction with these girls for quite a while. I forced myself to overcompensate... so they ended up getting even more attention than my biological kids for a while. In the effort to counter my own tendencies, I ended up becoming...

well. A better mom. More attentive. Paying more attention to detail. Not just falling into the ruts of my own past experiences, parenting and being parented. (Not saying I didn't have good parents, I did. I just am glad I have a fresh canvas to paint on, if that makes sense... I can make different kinds of mistakes and have different strengths, and not just feel compelled out of habit to do it a certain way.)

But let's just say. It has taken a really, really long time... that last stage of adjustment, so that everybody feels like they belong. So that I feel nothing but gladness that all my kids are around me and nobody's missing. So that I don't automatically react, emotionally, with more harshness when it's one of my adopted kids being unkind to one of my bio kids.

I think everybody is different. There are people who immediately mesh with new people...who can become best friends right away. There are also people who are natural adopters. You know them--the people who have a satellite of those who call them "mom" or "dad" because they fill that role for a lot of people. There's this lady who was on a billboard in Utah for several years--she fostered 112 children.

I'm not like that. I'm an introvert. My relationships form slowly, solidify slowly, and because of some of my experiences, trust and security is something that comes with agonizing slowness.

I think these last two years have been the final stage for me, for Jeff, emotionally. I was so glad when school got out this year. I feel so much peace when I'm in my living room, sitting on the couch, looking at all of my kids gathered around me. We are a family. Irrevocably. Emotionally, everybody is mine and I am theirs.

I think that, looking back on the process, I am very glad to Have MayMay and Bella in my life. I'm not sure, if I'd been able to look at it from the other side, knowing how hard it would be emotionally, that I would have been brave enough to go forward. Thinking about adopting again, my insides kinda twist up into knots.

But I am so glad I have Bella and MayMay. I am so grateful I have them. The thought of not having them is incomprehensible, and heartbreaking. I love all my children.

I know that adoption is never an issue you leave behind--for the rest of their lives, I will be talking my girls through the reality of their adoption. And reassuring them of my love for them.

And there will always be times I want to run away and go camping for a week. But that's just life, as a mother of lots of small children. It's not because of adoption.

Yesterday I went on a bike ride. Bella asked to come. I thought for a minute--my bike rides are solitary. My time. But I realized, suddenly.... I don't feel threatened at the idea of her coming. My time is her time, too, because she is mine. WE rode out to the canal and sat there for a while, completely silent, throwing stuff in and watching it float. And we rode silently back home. It was just the being together--us. And it was OK. Knowing myself, it amazes me that that was even possible.

Essentials for Ethiopian cooking (in America)

A friend of mine (and reader and commenter on this blog) suggested I write a post (to go along with my post about how to make Niter Kibbeh) about what you need to have on hand for Ethiopian cooking. I am also going to give a simple runthrough on how to make Doro Wat (a favorite dish of Ethiopians) and easy, americanized injera, and the more authentic, lengthy, but stil-not-hard version of injera as well.


So, what you should have lying around if you want to cook Ethiopian food:

1) red onions. Lots of them. Like, a dozen. I'm not kidding.
2) fresh ginger
3) fresh garlic
4) Berebere Spice. You can get this at an african market (if you have one locally) or you can buy it on EthiopianSpices.com for a very reasonable price.
5) Paprika. Large quantities, not those tiny spice jars. We buy bulk at Winco--it's just fine.
6) Garam Masala spice. OK, this is my shortcut. They *say* to use things like cinnamom, cardamom, tumreric etc but all those spices exist in Garam Masala and I've found if I use a corresponding amount of Garam Masala to cover the amounts of all these separate spices listed in many authentic recipes, it works pretty well.
7) ground Cardamom. In some recipes this is called by the ethiopian name "Korerima."
8) oil, or if you're really doing it right, Niter Kibbeh. Which you can easily make. It's not hard, it just takes time to melt on the stove.
9) if you can, you should have teff flour. If you want you can get the teff grain (find in any grocery store with the specialized flours) and use a coffee grinder or blender or flour mill to grind it to flour. But if you don't have teff flour, substitute buckwheat flour.



Doro Wat (chicken stew):

8 red onions, diced up tiny. I use a food processor.
1 cup Niter Kibbeh.

Simmer these together until the onions are nice and soft. Add:

1/2 cup berebere (you can vary the amount if you are serving people who aren't used to spicy foods. I'd start with maybe 1/4 cup or even 1/8 cup if you're really worried, and move up from there.)
1/4 cup paprika

Stir in & let these spices cook with the onions for a couple of minutes.

add: 2-3 cups water (so onions don't stick as they continue to cook down & soften)
a couple tablespoons of Garam Masala
a tablespoon of Cardamom

and 1 whole chicken (gutted and cleaned of course). I found that putting the whole chicken in the pot to simmer with the berebere-onion stew gives the dish a much rounder, better flavor. Having the marrow leach into the stew from the bones, etc.

Usually after letting it simmer for an hour or so i'll take the chicken out and divest the bones of meat, make sure it's torn into small, cooked chunks and put the meat back into the stew to cook until it's dinner time. I like to let this dish cook several hours. the longer, the better--the more the spices and onions and chicken and everything all seem to combine and be perfect.



Easy (quick) Injera:

3 cups self-rising flour (if you don't have it, you can make it with 3 cups flour, 1 Tb baking powder and 1/2 Tb salt.)
1 cup teff flour (or buckwheat flour, or whole wheat flour)
1 cup corn flour (I've used Masa flour, the stuff you make corn tortillas out of.)
1 2-liter bottle of Club soda.


mix dry ingredients together, then add a little bit of club soda until the flour mix turns into a paste. Then add more and more club soda carefully in icrements (so you don't get lumps) until you have batter the consistency of thin pancake batter.

Get a frying pan (any size) and pour a little bit of oil in the bottom. Take a cloth and wipe the oil all over so it's in a thin layer on the bottom of the pan. Pour 1/4-1/3 cup of the batter in the pan, pick the pan up and move it from side to side until the batter spreads out and is thin (maybe 1/8 inch on the bottom of the pan). Set the pan on the burner at medium heat and cook it for 1 minute, or until bubbles are showing in the middle. Then take a saucepan cover and put it over the dough circle, tightly so the injera can steam. Cook this for two more minutes.

You don't turn over injera, you just take it off the pan with 1 side cooked and 1 side steamed, and stack it on a plate, putting a cloth over the stack so that the injeras can steam further and grow soft and stretchy like we like them.


More Authentic Injera:

3/4 cup water, room temp. (70 degrees)
1/2 cup teff flour
A pinch active yeast (about 1/8 tsp)

Day 1: mix those in a glass jar. do not use metal implements to stir as it will kill the starter. cover it loosely (I usually just take a cloth, put it over the jar, then set a jar ring on top to keep it from falling off) and put it in a neglected corner of your kitchen.

Day 3: stir starter (with something not-metal) and add 1/3 cup teff flour and 1/2 cup water.

Day 5: repeat the above.

on day 5, you can use the starter, but you won't have any leftover for a continuous starter process; you'll use it up. If you want some leftover, continue and do the same thing on day 7.

on the day you use the starter, allow it to settle for at least 4 hours after stirring/feeding, before you use it to cook. Then the recipe goes:

2 cups teff starter
2 cups self-rising flour
room-temp water.


Stir these together, adding the water carefully so the dough doesn't form lumps, until it's about thin-pancake batter consistency. You need to let this sit for a further four hours at least before you cook it.

Follow the same instructions as above, in the easy recipe, to cook it.



And that, my friends, is how we make Ethiopian food. But don't forget hardboiled eggs. Lots and lots of hardboiled eggs to go with the Doro Wat & Injera make it an extra delicious experience.

AND. if you want to try some more recipes (Which I haven't done yet... too chicken or too busy or too something I guess) go here: ehtiopianspices.com .

That is also where I've found the best prices for Ethiopian spices. And that includes the African Markets I've been to, though if you live in a big, diverse city you might be able to find better deals than are available to me.

My Kids Are Awesome

When people compliment my kids, I always agree with them. "She's pretty amazing, isn't she," I'll say when someone tells me something great one of my kids has done. Or I'll just simply remark, "my kids are pretty awesome."

I think it takes people "aback" at times. Like... you just bragged about your kids.

Yes. Yes I did.

The thing is, I'm pretty tough on my kids, in the sense that I make them work hard, I work with each of them carefully on behavior stuff they are struggling with or need to change, and sometimes this is quite challenging. My kids are all highly intelligent (see, there's the brag again) and very strongwilled. And this can present lots of challenge. It is difficult to parent strongwilled children. But my thought is, strong willed people, who know right from wrong, who've learned compassion and the importance of obedience, who've developed good habits, can be the most amazing people. So I'm parenting the greatest set of kids. Nothing that turns out really great is usually easy. SO I'm optomistic.

And to the world around me, my message is always, "my children are awesome."

Because they are.

I have a few people I trust and talk to when I'm worried about how to handle something, or worry over a kid's tendency, or feel at a loss for parenting tools. Those are people who I know will understand--who've parented multiple kids of their own and know kids go through stuff and turn out wonderfully in the end, and who I know won't talk about my kids to others. Also Jeffrey and I often (of course) discuss the various challenges in our family and strategize about how to handle them in such a way that our kids feel loved but also understand how they need to act and what they need to change, at times.

But outside of that small clutch of people I trust, I don't say that kind of stuff. I don't talk about my kids' struggles. I figure, kids deserve privacy just as much as an adult does. Would I talk to the entire world about an adult friend's struggles, an adult that I happen to know inside and out because am around them enough to observe & know all their deepest darkest secrets, worries, bad habits? Would i just go spill about all that stuff to anyone who'll listen? No way in heck. Those things are my friend's things. I have no right to talk about them to anyone else. That's called gossip.

I don't "gossip" about my kids to anyone. They are my friends, and I care about them deeply and believe in their right to privacy about deep struggles and difficulties.

When I talk about my kids, my words are: My Kids Are Awesome. Because they are.
And it's not wrong for a parent to say wonderful things about their children. TO accept and agree with compliments. My kids aren't "mine." When I accept a compliment and agree with it, I'm not complimenting myself, I'm agreeing that somebody I love a lot is Awesome.

So, with that as background, I feel like I need to take some time, right now, to talk about why each one of my kids is Awesome. This is part of my job as their mother. They need to hear it from me directly sometimes, not just random people who see their awesomeness from afar. I want my kids to know that I--their mother who sees every tiny little thing, who makes them work hard and learn hard and who corrects them and knows all their difficulties and struggles--know that they are awesome, too.

This is Loli.

That picture is from the Les Miserables play my community put on this summer. As you can see, she played Cosette. Loli has a beautiful voice, and is intuitive about music. She learns it fast and easily. She also has a great memory--she memorized those lines almost the first time she heard them. The director of the play thought I must have been going over lines with her and making her practice... not so. Loli just loves to sing, and loved being in the play. She acted the part perfectly. She is very talented.

She is also very intelligent. She's good at school... she's a little bookworm... she enjoys being challenged. She asks probing questions about the universe. She writes brilliantly--some of her stuff reads better than essays I corrected as a TA in college. She also is a fun person to be around. She has good friends. She's funny. She raises an eyebrow at me when I'm joking... she can tell even when I'm not smiling. She is pretty confident about her opinions. She is obedient and trustworthy. She is, all in all, a pretty amazing kid.

This is Bella.

Obviously, Bella is beautiful. But there's more to it than that. She's graceful, and dignified, and hilarious. She makes her sisters and brothers laugh and brings the boisterous fun. When you first get to know her, she might seem very quiet and very careful and calm, but don't let her fool you. Bella is a hard worker. She is very motivated to achieve well. She does all her jobs well--meticulously, and in school, she went from being somewhat behind because English is not her first language, to being one of the more advanced students in a matter of months. She loves to read. She loves to write me sweet, honest notes and draw pictures. She is very compassionate and responsible with babies and small children. I know when I leave my babies with Bella, they are safe. She is also a good leader. She knows what needs to happen and doesn't rest until it does. She works diligently, practices diligently, and is a good and loyal friend and daughter. She asks all the questions that are hard to answer, and is patient when they can't be answered immediately. She always wants to do what's right.

This is MayMay.

As you can see, MayMay's entire face is taken up by her smile. She has an amazing smile. MayMay came to our family with a lot of challenges to overcome--physical and mental and emotional, because of what she'd gone through before. She has grown fast into a wonderful, smart, bright, energetic, strong, capable girl. I'm indescribably proud of her for what she did in school last year--went from a K+ reading level to just a little above a 2nd grade reading level. She continues to improve, because of hard, diligent work. MayMay is all heart. She loves everybody, even people who aren't nice all the time. She thinks about others feelings a lot. SHe gets sad when others are sad. She gets happy when others are happy. She is often a peacemaker and intercessor in our family; when a kid is sad, she's the one who's there first. If they might be getting in trouble, she rushes to explain for them. At school, she's the one who sits by the alone kid or talks to the sad kid and is brave enough to tell kids who aren't being nice that they aren't being nice, and she even lets not-nice kids have a chance at redemption, in the sense that she forgives and will be a friend and rejoice when someone has gotten better at being nice. Meaza has a lot of friends, but it's not for the surface reasons of designer clothes or cool hair (though her hair is very cool) or owning lots of stuff. She has friends because she is a great friend. The best you could ever ask for.

This is Roo. (formerly known on this blog as "Jaws.")

Roo is just pure sweetness. She's smart, and funny, and thinks about things a lot and comes to some great conclusions. She is the best hugger in the family. Her hugs are heartfelt and tender. Roo inherrited her dad's giant, compassionate heart and tendency to reach out to others in love, even when it's a risk. She is also very musical. She surprises people with her sweet, true voice. She is also very smart. She remembers stuff quickly and learns quickly. And she is patient with the learning process--she trusts that she'll be able to figure something out if she keeps trying. Roo is very imaginative. She makes up all kinds of complex games with layered themes, not shying away from the grittiness of life. Her younger siblings and her older sister MayMay love to play with her. Roo is easily cajoled out of sadness or upset-ness. All you have to do is smile at her, and she'll smile back. That is a talent I would love to have. She really loves people. When her friends are away, she misses them deeply and thinks about them a lot. Roo is very inclusive. She doesn't want to leave people out. She has an infectious smile and laugh, and she's just an adorable, sweet, smart person. I feel grateful to have her in my home.

This is Squirt.

Squirt is very smart. Scary smart. He's learning first grade math right now and he can read almost at a first grade level, and he's only five. And he'd be further along than that if I pushed him, but I want him to enjoy school and feel like it's a fun experience, and he does. He loves school. He'll ask to do sight words and math facts flashcards and to read from science books with me about things like reptiles and amphibians and dinosaurs. He asks a lot of questions. Questions that I often cannot answer in their complexity. We have discussions together and come to some possible conclusions instead in those circumstances. Squirt is a very energetic boy, but he has a big heart as well. He loves his little brother deeply. He enjoys his siblings a lot--especially the ones younger than him, and likes to laugh when they do cute things and tell me about them. Squirt is also a leader. His friends really enjoy playing with him. He brings the fun. Squirt loves his mom and dad and his sunday school teachers. He loves to dress up like his Dad for church. Last Sunday, when we came down from singing a number in the ward choir, Squirt crossed the room of his own accord to go sit next to his primary teacher and he beamed the whole time. He really loves his teachers. Squirt has a sense of humor--he laughs a lot at jokes and when he's being tickled. Squirt loves hugs. Sometimes he needs to cuddle for a while with his mom, who finds this incredibly sweet. Squirt loves tools, and mechanical things, and his favorite thing to do is be with his Dad, fixing or building something. Squirt has an amazing memory-- he retains information others miss, and remembers and makes connections that often surprise. Squirt will do amazing things as he grows and learns more.

This is Baby Rose.

Perhaps the most beautiful baby ever. Rose is sweet and funny and enthusiastic. She loves playing with her siblings. She also has a great imagination, sometimes with hilarious results. Rose loves hugs. She loves her older and younger siblings, who cherish her. She was the first baby born after the adoption so she is "all of ours" in a way that seemed to emotionally seal our family together after all the changes. Loli, Bella, MayMay, Roo, and Squirt all have a soft spot for her. Rose loves her friends. She'll reach over to hold someone's hand or hug them without a second thought. She's got a great smile. She's energetic and plays any game you want to play, and makes a really cute pirate. Roo is articulate and surprising, with some of the things she comes up with--a little three year old girl talking so articulately, like an adult. She sings beautifully--surprisingly strong, clear, and in tune for a three-year-old. And in a way, she is a little adult. She takes matters into her own hands. She is sure of herself and intelligent and expects people to take her seriously, and also love her. And if something doesn't make sense, she'll either call you on it (you're teasing me, that's not true) or ask questions until she understands. Which I think is a great thing. She looks after her baby brother with a level of care and attention that I love to see.

This is Chumba.

Chumba is impossible not to love. He's sweet, he talks all the time (though most of it is still hard to understand) with great emphasis and feeling. He loves to play with his siblings, and willingly joins in all the pretending, playacting, and other games. He needs "cuddle breaks" every once in a while-- he'll come sit on my lap or lay next to me on the bed and just be quiet, while I hug him. He loves to be cuddled by his siblings, too (except when he doesn't) and when anybody's hurt or upset, he'll go over to them, lean over them and stare at them with his large blue eyes and usually, plant a kiss somewhere. He's very intensely interested in everything. From the time he was born, he was reaching for stuff. Honestly, right out of the womb, laying on my chest, he was reaching out and trying to grab things--my hair, my face. He likes to take things apart and then try to put them back together, like his Dad. He loves to have books read to him, especially Ten Little Tadpoles and Olivia's Opposites, where he likes to open his mouth really wide on the page about "Open," and he likes to growl really loud on the page that says "loud," and has a lion growling. Sometimes you can just tell he's thinking very hard, figuring things out... he gets quiet, and intent, and moves two pieces of something together in different ways to try to figure out if they go together or not. He's a sweet baby. I'm a little sad that he won't be the baby of the family for much longer.

I guess while I'm at it, I should write a little bit about this guy:

Jeff is my best friend. At the time I met him, I was amazed that so much awesome could exist in one human being. He is compassionate, handsome, intelligent, artistic, open-minded, talented... holy cow, where did this guy come from? I have a very strong belief that the only reason he didn't marry until age 30 was because Heavenly Father was saving him for me, and I've wondered ever since what I did to deserve him. He plays Chopin and Debussy with so much feeling and artistry. Less, lately, because we're so busy... I miss it. He is a graceful, confident, dashing ballroom dancer. He is coordinated and capable and brilliant at figuring out how to fix things--we've never taken our (20-year-old) vehicles to the mechanic. He figures out what's wrong, goes to a junkyard for a part, and fixes it. And it's fixed. He can walk by things and sometimes they'll fix themselves. (I'm not kidding.) I know that if he's trying to figure out how to do something, particularly if it's something to make our family's life easier or better, he'll end up finding a solution that works well. And he'll continually try to refine solutions so they're easier and easier for me, (less competent at these things) to implement. He cares deeply about politics, about the gospel, and about family and relationships. He loves everyone, but makes friends carefully. I feel very privileged to be one of the handful of people he lets into the innermost places of his heart. He is passionate about certain topics, but not evangelical or pushy like some passionate people can be--he loves people into listening to him. And he is capable of compromise. He is a peacemaker, but he isn't threatened by resolving conflict. He's patient, and loving, and open, and if he's disturbed about something he goes quiet and contemplative, not angry or upset. He does almost everything he does for *me* and for our kids. He is a great husband and father, and it hasn't been an easy road, coming into a family with a kid already there, and blending a family once again through adoption. We've been through things that would test anyone's patience to the utmost, and he's come through each time, supporting me, supporting our kids. He cares for his Sisters and brothers. He's given blessings to them, and to me. What a great guy. No wonder my kids are awesome.


OK, I challenge you moms and dads, now. Tell me why all your kids are awesome.

Human Kindness, it's Overflowing.

I am so sorry. I feel like I've been writing a lot of depressing posts lately.

My heart is feeling a lot right now. I think it's hard to feel so much at once. Today I need to talk about something that won't be easy to read about. Some people would say it's silly or even self-indulgent to get caught up in stories of suffering. But sometimes they just find us. And my counter-thought has always been, yes, it's almost like asking for suffering, to grieve for people who I have no direct connection to. But how honest is it to pass over their stories, their lives and experiences? We grieve, reading of these things. How do you think the people going through it feel? How does a baby, who comes into this world from a warm, nurturing environment with fresh eyes and a heart open to love and soak up nurturing like a thirsty sponge, feel when his world provides pain, fear, and coldness.

Today I'm grieving for Kyle.

Kyle is a beautiful baby boy, born only a little while ago. He was brought to live in a baby home, sponsored by a nonprofit organization so that he could be cared for and nurtured until a family was found who wanted him. And a family did--they saw his picture and wanted him. They fell in love with him. He happened to have been born in Russia and they happened to be Americans, but they knew he was theirs and they wanted, badly, to bring him home and love him.

They waited as paperwork took time, as court procedures took time. They finally got to visit him. They took lots of pictures and held him. And then, because of some bad press focused on scarce-minority cases where American parents abused or abandoned their adopted children from Russia, Russia decided to ban any more adoptions to America. Including adoptions that were in process. Including baby Kyle.

He was taken from his baby home, where there was warmth and food and some nurturing attention, and put in a mental institution. Because he has Down's Syndrome, that's where he was put.

Here's a picture of Kyle that his parents took of him when they visited, and a photo they were sent at some point after he'd been in the institution for a while.

The caption is an angry one. IT adds to my sadness. But these parents, imagine how they feel. And imagine what Kyle felt when suddenly, he had nobody smiling at him anymore, nobody feeding him, nobody protecting him. He was starved, and beaten. And day before yesterday, he passed away.

He's in a better place now. But I look at the beauitful baby to the left and can't help but feel Heavenly Father wanted something different for him. The baby to the left reminds me of my own little baby boy. Those eyes, that expression, exactly. The baby to the right, I can't think of without feeling like my heart is bleeding into my chest.

And this song is how I feel sometimes, when I try to figure out, to comprehend, how people can do things like this, or even allow such things to happen.



Kyle's story catches at me and rips me apart because I see baby Chumba in his eyes. The way I saw Jaws and Loli in Bella's and MayMay's faces the first time I saw their pictures. But this happens to thousands of small babies and children everyday. And I think it's going to rain today.

Adoption Adjustment: Sometimes Success is All About Expectations.

I want you to imagine something for a minute.

Imagine that you live in a large building full of boys and girls, some older than you, some younger. There are a few adults around--nice adults, busy adults. You can only remember living here since you've been born, but you've been told all your life that if you're cute enough, if you're accomplished enough, if you are lucky, somebody might take you home and make you a part of a family.

Imagine being filmed dozens of times to be in videos that you know are going to people who might pick you.

Imagine watching people come and take home girls and boys. Imagine what you might think about, what you might do, what you might want or dream about. Remember you've always only lived in this place--lots of kids, a few nice adults. Hopefully enough to eat everyday. Perhaps school, if it is in a country that can support that.

Then one day you're told a family has "chosen" you, that they're completing paperwork, that in a year or so you get to go home with them. Imagine your thoughts, feelings. What would you feel? Be honest with yourself.

You get pictures from them, these strangers, and gifts. You prepare by learning some English. You might already know a little, depending on what sort of place you're in, but now you know how important it is. You realize (but still don't fully realize) that your language is going to change, that your life is going to change.

And then they come, and in a whirlwind of confusing events involving lots of driving and looking and courts and proving and paying and signing, you're trying to feel comfortable with these strangers. You're trying not to feel overwhelmed because this is what you wanted, right? You're one of the lucky ones.

And then imagine going to a new place where you can't understand anyone, where everything is so different, the rules are different, where people seem to be frustrated with you and even angry at times, even these strangers who you're starting to trust a little. You miss, badly, the comfort foods you're used to--flat sourdough bread with spicy stews, or spicy bean paste and meat-filled dumplings. You miss your friends. You feel confused enough to cry because of all the subtle differences--electrical outlets, cars, streets, books, movies, expectations. You feel confused enough to wonder what you've done... what they've done to you. Why are you the lucky one?


I'm writing this, and asking you to imagine, because I feel it is so important for people to understand how adoption really works. Adoption really is a miracle. It is. It is amazing. Having a loving family committed to you, to your welfare individually, committed to love and care for you, is what each person, each child should have. But I think sometimes adoptive parents don't think hard about what is going on in the heart of their child. They expect the kids to be so grateful, to cling to them, to never want to go back. And in some cases that does happen. But more often, I think, is the sort of reaction you'd expect from yourself; from anyone who is so severely uprooted, who is suddenly expected to change lives and change allegiances and languages and find new favorite foods and find new friends and even, to some degree, find new ways of thinking about the world.

My little girl MayMay kicked my shin all the way across the atlantic. And I wasn't surprised.

For several months after we brought them home, my two girls spoke about Ethiopia like it was some kind of fairy-tale place they had left, with sparkles and wonderful food and wonderful people they missed.

Different kids will have different challenges about adjusting depending on their age & experiences. Consider a toddler. My three-year old gets upset if I don't give her just the right stuffed animals and blanket for her bed at naptime. How hard is it for a three year old to adjust to new everything? I would expect some tantrumming, some behavioral problems, some deep, deep grieving.

What about a baby? My babies only want to be held by strangers for a few minutes at a time before they turn and reach for me. It takes several sessions of time with someone new for them to enjoy being talked to, held, cuddled by another person. Imagine a baby suddenly being placed in the arms of a stranger, and then walking everywhere for several days with them, spending nights in a hotel room, then flying for twelve hours or more, then being spoken to and loved on by people who sound different, look different, who this baby has never met in his or her life before.

What about a kid? My kids tend to enjoy new experiences, but they always are relieved to come back home. My 11 year old's favorite way to relax is to find her favorite book, lay on the couch and read and read and read after a long, stressful day. Imagine you've brought home an 11 year old. They come home from a long day of school, where they've been expected to learn everything in a new language and make friends with people who can't understand them. When they get home, are they going to want to spend a lot of time talking to you? They might like a hug, but they may more likely want some time to themselves, to make new comfort zones, to create new ways to be safe and diffuse from all the pressure they're experiencing.

I don't mean this post to seem in any way negative toward adoption. I am writing this because this morning I posted a video on Facebook of a boy who is about to age out of the adoption programs in China. It was a heartfelt, tear-jerking video. He so badly wants to be adopted.

I got to thinking about my friends who might consider adopting him, and I began to feel a little uneasy. Would they go into it thinking that this boy will be so grateful, won't struggle, won't sometimes be angry or confused or even say, at times, he wishes he hadn't been adopted? If my friends were to go into it with that expectation, the likelihood they'd be disappointed is pretty high.

Adoption is a miracle. Taking a child into your family who wasn't born to you biologically, particularly a child who has been alone, who has struggled, whose last hope you are, is a huge, huge blessing to them. And also to you. But what i hope my friends can realize is, it's a blessing that comes in stages. It is not easy. It takes work, and forgiveness, and understanding.

Like anything else in this world, adoption is a miracle that comes from sacrifice... sometimes extreme sacrifice. I have friends and family who have really struggled in their adoption adjustments. But ask any of them if they'd still have done it? Almost without exception the answer is yes.

Just writing my heart today, but comments, experiences, thoughts are welcome.

Our Controversial Decision... I'm Sticking To It.

Last night, I was at a youth activity for my church. I was talking to a friend who is homeschooled. She seemed a little aghast when I told her I'm putting my girls back in public school this year. I talked to her about why--that MayMay benefits from all the intervention, which I cannot give her if I'm teaching all of my children. That Bella also benefits, because there are control issues she struggles with. My teaching her at home was triggering and tapping into those. We basically spent each day dealing with a day-long tantrum over 3 math pages. She is so much more peaceful with the structure of school, and having teachers that are not me, who she is still struggling to work through trust/abandonment/acceptance issues with.

I went on to say that I'm keeping Loli in as well, because it wouldn't be fair to have her two sisters in and not her, and she'd be pretty jealous. My friend was incredulous. "She likes public school?" She said.

And I said, yes. She does.

The thing is, I did, too. I had struggles... mean girls in Jr. High, not-well-taught subjects, learning the pointless (I think... I know not everything thinks so) skill of ingest-and-regurgitate-sometimes-by-filling-in-bubbles-in-no.2-pencil. But there was something I really enjoyed espcially about starting a new year of school. There's something about going through things together with peers, about learning to respect and even love authority figures outside my home, of being parented and loved by lots of people. The school system we attend is unique in that at least half the teachers are in our stake, if not in our ward. I trust these teachers to love my kids. And they need (especially my adopted kids) to be loved by lots of people. They need to have connections with friends...and you can have those when you homeschool, but when you're in a sunday school class full of kids who all attend the same grade in school and you don't, there's going to be talk you aren't in on, plans you don't get wind of... friends you aren't quite as close to as your friends who go to school with them are.

My adopted girls, especially, need to feel like they're a part of things. My heart knows this instinctively.

Lately I've had a lot of heartache over the homeschool-vs-conventional school issue. I am very glad I homeschooled my girls entirely for 3 years. They needed that time with me. And now... they need some time without me.

I know some people (even dear friends) are going to disagree with me on this. I know I could, in posting this, get all kinds of comments about common core, about the evils of our educational system, about the liberalization of curriculum, about all kinds of stuff, some of which I agree with and some of which I have kept my mouth shut about for three years when it's been discussed among my homeschooling friends because I have never really agreed with it. The thing is, I homeschool my kids because I feel they need me. And because i feel like a child shouldn't be forced to sit for 8 hours in a desk when they can learn just as well in 2 or 3 hours, and then spend the rest of their day playing, as children should.

But I have realized, through many recent and salient experiences, that there are things that my kids also need to learn by going to school.

I think there are good and not so good things about both public and homeschool. And in the results I've seen (and I've seen a lot... skywalker's entire family was homeschooled until college, and I have a few different families who are friends who were homeschooled all the way through 12th grade, and I've been in multiple homeschooling groups and met many different families and have taught, in co-ops, lots and lots of different kids).... have shown me some interesting stuff. I feel like the challenges I'd deal with in public-schooling my children, the behaviors and problems that might develop, are not less worrisome than the ones that could develop and emerge if I homeschooled my children through the twelfth grade. They're different, but equally potentially difficult.

Public schooled kids, any homeschool mom would say, tend to be taught to learn and think in a certain, standardized way. They learn obedience, and routine, and convention and conformity.

Well, Homeschooled kids don't learn these things, but I have noticed that a lot of my friends and relatives also haven't learned some things that are important to me. I won't list them here, because I don't want to get too controversial or preachy.

What I have learned is that, while public school is by no means perfect, it is important to me for my kids to learn some of the skills that only a public school experience (I have come to realize, though some may argue) will teach.

And.... it is important, to me, for my kids to not be intimidated by the "system," to learn how to exist inside it, while still questioning it. I can provide the impetus for questioning, and Jeff will certainly provide a bunch of that, too. But what service am I doing my children, if they do not learn how to excel in a classroom before I send them off to college?

I know a lot of only-homeschooled kids. Watching them go on to college, I have seen a lot of them succeed amazingly. And others have struggled. I have decided that my opinions don't matter. What matters to me is what feels right to me, for my kids. My two adopted girls need to know how to do this school thing. MayMay in particular tends to perform very poorly in unfamiliar situations. If she never learns how to be a kid in the classroom, she's going to struggle when she gets to college.

Bella needs to understand that, while what she wants is important, she needs to respect those with authority over her. Having just a mom has not taught her that. Sometime during the first week of school last year, she began being mean and controlling and angry and slightly abusive to me while she was doing her math homework. I just looked at her and said, "Well, I'm not going to help you if you're not nice to me." She panicked. "But I'll get them all wrong," she wailed. "Maybe," I replied. "But if you want help, you need to be nice to me and to trust me. In the end, it's your responsibility to do your math. And how well you do is now between you and your teacher. It's up to you... I'd love to help you whenever you need it, but not if you're going to say mean things to me and act this way."

We never had a problem after that.

She needed to understand that.

Sending Loli off to sixth grade today was terrifying. But she'll do OK. She's a strong kid. She'll be a good friend, a good student, and a good daughter no matter which arena I put her into... and in giving her a chance right now to learn away from me, we've got an opportunity for her to learn about how to navigate the world away from me and Jeff and our direct influence, but with us still here all the time to support her. I think that is an important stage in parenting and growing that if we only homeschooled, we would not have.

My Husband and his siblings all found themselves pretty late in comparison to their peers and even extended family members. Jeff married me at 30. His sister married at 27. His brothers married at 26 (young for their family) and 32. I have always had a bit of a feeling that for them, college was high school. They grew up after they left home.

I want my kids to do some growing up while I can still help them do it.

And that, my friends. Is why.

The right way to fall apart

Primarily this has been a venting blog. When I started it in 2005, that's what I called it. I had in big, bold letters across: Warning. This is a venting blog. I took it down soon after when I realized that it was a pretty cheesy thing to put on a blog header and that all blogs (or at least, back then, when blogging first started, and they were all more like online journals instead of family scrapbooks or promotional fronts for business) were venting blogs.

I have avoided this blog for a while I think partly because now my family reads my stuff :) Nobody read this blog for a long time. Also, I'm a published author. How much of my personal life/feelings do I really want the world to pay attention to?

I've realized lately that I just need to keep being myself. If people find that odd or unprofessional, that's something I've decided not to worry about.

My challenges have been hard ones to get through. I went through a really terrible and frightening situation when I was a young adult, which left me a single parent, scrambling to manage being a full-time employee, full time parent, preparing frenetically and ambitiously for the future. I did not think very much at the time... I just did stuff. Hard stuff. And I was constantly on the edge. My head was so full of worries and impending problems I couldn't solve that I just had to pray a lot, not think... just do.

Then I met Jeff and we got married, and life seemed (and was, and is) miraculously wonderful. How strange and miraculous to have someone who really thought I was a good person. Who really loved me. Who supported me. Not something I've had a lot of in my life.

Together, Jeff and I weathered a lot of (now that I look back on them) very difficult challenges. We blended a family--twice. We went through getting him through school and underemployment, and unemployment. We went through a long, stressful, arduous process (both emotionally and financially) to bring two daughters home from Ethiopia. We went through Jeff having a difficult, not-very-rewarding-or-encouraging work situation.

And then we moved. Picked up roots and started over. Started a new job that was so much better but also very stressful because of more responsibility and visibility. We rented for several months while looking for a house--the first time we've done that. It's not as fun as you think it will be. We moved, and adjusted--it takes me about six months to not be horrified at any big change in my life--

and then life slowed down for us, finally. About a year ago we looked around, looked at each other and realized, "wow. Is this what it feels like to have a normal level of stress?"

And I promptly fell apart.

OK, I don't mean dysfunctional falling apart, like not being a good wife or mom or author or church member or whatever. BUt it's like Heavenly Father was keeping all these feelings and stress I've had sort of harboring somewhere in the deep freeze of my subconscious, and then He allowed everything to thaw.

My whole life, people have expected me to be strong, and capable, and independent. When I went through all the stuff with my previous marriage, my bishop was like "she's doing great." My parents were like "Sarah's so strong." My friends were like "Wow, your'e so awesome." But what was really going on was, Heavenly Father was helping me stay together by having me not deal with it all just yet.

How do you fall apart gracefully? How do you do it compassionately and charitably, so you don't hurt others around you with your emotional difficulty? How do you examine and challenge ugly, ugly feelings and worries and irrational thoughts and frightened, distorted realities while keeping the world safe for your children?

I have seen people fall apart in lots of ways. I worked at a residential treatment facility for two years. I've seen all sorts of destructive ways to fall apart.

But the thing is, those people get the attention they need when they collapse so spectacularly. It is a lot harder to just walk up to someone (say your bishop, or a therapist, or someone like that) and say, "hey. I'm really struggling. I need help," and have them believe you when you're saying it so rationally. And calmly.

How do you ask for help?

Lately, I have felt a bit of resentment toward those around me who are "falling apart" destructively but get so much attention for it. I want yell, "Hey, it's really, really hard for me, too! BUt i'm not doing these destructive things! Does that make me less worthy of nurturing, of being given slack, of the benefit of the doubt? Does it make me less likeable, that I'm trying to do it *right?*"

And then the other day, I was lying in bed with Jeff and we were watching Buffy or something else fun and I realized something. I looked up at our 10-foot ceiling, out our balcony window at our five acres of land, and I suddenly remembered how very, very, very blessed I've been.

Heavenly Father is aware of me. He is nurturing me. He has seen the difficulty Jeff & I have dealt with and he's lightened our load, given us miracles, given us everything we could possibly want. We have been blessed for falling apart, and putting ourselves back together, gracefully.

In the end, I really am very independent. I don't want people fawning all over me or discussing me in ward counsel or acting all solicitous and worried. What I want are a few good, supportive friends. People I can love who love me back, who understand, who can handle the good, bad & ugly and love me more for it. And who will give me a chance to do the same for them. And this last year, Heavenly Father has blessed me with this as well. Jeff has become one of those people. He was before, but not entirely, because I wasn't in that place yet. Now he is. And I've made some friends who are, actually, more family than friends. I find that blessing far more precious than any other I've been given.

I'm doing my best. It's really hard. I'm tempted to do so many stupid things. I don't have fifty people patting me on the back for it not doing them. But I have realized I only need a few, the ones who matter. And I have those. And people who might judge me or think I should be doing more or doing things better--in the end, Heavenly Father knows my heart and he's the one who matters.

But I still wonder lately--what's the right way to fall apart?

A question for you readers.

Hair and Skin Care for White People

These are some things about my own skin and hair, that I have learned from having two black daughters.

1)lotion every day. Especially in the winter, and especially face, knees and elbows. The lotion I use for my daughters is too heavy for my own skin, so find something lighter. But... every day!

2)Don't use soaps or detergents on the face. My favorite face cleanser: baking soda. I take a palmful of it, water it down a little and scrub my face with it, and haven't had any real breakouts, clogged pores, etc since I began using it regularly. Aaand my skin is not so ouchy and dry or irritated from soaps.

3)Don't use very much shampoo. And use it only on the scalp-areas. The hair doesn't need shampoo that much, it's the scalp that needs it and the oily parts of the hair next to the scalp.

4)Use the RIGHT conditioner for your hair. For me, this means I choose a different product for myself. If I used the same conditioner as my two adopted daughters, my hair would always look greasy. If you've got thin, straight hair like me, pick a very light, volumnizing conditioner. But... use a lot of it if you have long hair. Slather it on from where you'd gather it into a "ponytail" on the back of your hair all the way to the ends, and concentrate on the ends. Do not pick conditioner by scent!

5)Never brush your hair dry. Always brush it gently when it's wet and newly-conditioned, and start at the ends and go up. Very gently at the ends, trying not to snag or just rip through tangles.

6)If, for some reason, you have to brush your hair dry, always use a boar-bristle style brush.


I've never been able to grow my hair this long before. And My skin has never been this nice. Being forced into learning to care for someone with a completely different set of needs has helped me learn about myself. (and this applies to more than just skin and hair care!)

Truth about HIV

Again, my kids are not HIV +. But this adoption process has helped me learn how small an issue HIV can be, if it is treated correctly and if there is help. And there are, literally, millions of kids out there who do not have access to proper treatment. In fact, who are dying for no reason, because they don't have access to treatment, because people are afraid of the virus that they happen to carry in their system. This epidemic is a great example of an epidemic spread mostly because of ignorance, fear, lack of information.

I want to get this message out there! If you feel comfortable, please share where you can.

charity and christmas gifts

a list of a few possibilities:

Ugandan Jewelry

Malawi's Pizza (could get gift certificate)
Addis Ababa Fistula Clinic Shop
Give a Heifer
If You're a Coffee Drinker
Sponsor an Ethiopian schoolgirl
Purchase a book for Ethiopia Reads


These are my favorites, but for more ideas go here

Adoption and HIV +: it's not as big a deal as you think

This is an amazing blog about HIV and what it really means.

My kids do not happen to be HIV +. We've had them tested here in the US, and they were also screened in Ethiopia before they came home. SO we don't have to deal with HIV. But the more I learn about the need of HIV + orphans to be adopted, and the more I learn about how manageable/low risk a condition it really is when treated properly, the more I feel a need to share messages like these with friends and loved ones who might be considering adoption

Things We Say

MayMay: Mom, I don't want to finish my tater-tot--

NSG: You mean, Apricot?

MayMay: Yes, Apricot. Mom, I don't want to finish my apricot because I just brushed my teeth and I don't want to make them all Sugar-y.



Jaws: I want to play Princess Games! (pout, looks out from under eyebrows).

MayMay: Of COURSE, Rusie. We can.


Setting: Burlington coat factory. NSG is looking in the kids' aisle for white clothing for Squirt, which he will need on Saturday when the Nosurf Family gets sealed in the temple.

(A family walks by. The father is black, with neat, small dreadlocks pulled back in a ponytial. The mother looks like she might be latin. The baby is biracial, with hair like Bella's and MayMay's, and skin approximately the color of hot chocolate.)

Squirt: (Stands up in cart, waves wildly) Hello, little sister!!!

Dad of stranger family: (Big Grin, busts up)

NSG: (Loud Laughter almost akin to covenant breaking)

Nosurf Girls: (Lots of hysterical giggling)

The two families walk away, grinning to themselves.

Great Detangler.

So, I have been dreading the task of combing out and redoing a section of MayMay's yarn braids, as I promised myself I'd do this week. The problem with leaving them in too long is, they still look nice enough but they start to "lock" up--in other words, turn into little dreadlocks. Some parents do this on purpose and from all I've heard it's a very nice, low-maintenance and attractive hairstyle for kids if it's done right and maintained well. But I don't really feel locs are best for my girls at this point. Yarn braids have been good though, for MayMay.

Anyway, I read online about some good creme rinses and conditioners to be used as detanglers in this situation. And carted myself over to Sally's to go look at them. And was disappointed.

Petrolatum was the first, or if not, without fail the second or third, ingredient in all of them. The problem with petrolatum is it clogs the pores and also only coats the hair/skin instead of moisturizing. Coating can be good in some instances, like if your kid has an allergy to a certain food she eats and the skin absorbs it and tends to get eczema or some kind of outbreak after. This is why Eucerin works so well for Eczema... it has petrolatum and provides that barrier. But if my goal is detangling, I want the hair to be soaking IN all that stuff, getting soft and slippery, not gummy and waxy.

I decided to make my own comb-out.

Here's what I used.

In a spray bottle, Put:
1 cup coconut oil (at summertime room-temp it's liquid, but if it's cold you'll have to melt it on the stove.)
1 tablesoon pure vitamin E oil,
1 tablespoon of Herbal Essences Hydralicious reconditioning conditioner (any good combing conditioner would work... to make the hair slippery)
1 tsp honey
fill up the bottle to the top with water
shake it up before spraying.

It works soooo well. There were some nasty mats on the back of her head especially, but they combed right out after I sprayed this in and let it sit for a few seconds. She hardly cried, and this is a sign we're not tearing and ripping and damaging because let's just say MayMay is a crier :) We're working on it. I gave her a treat after today's hair session for "being good" (which means, don't cry at every single move I make, even if I"m not even touching your hair (chuckle) don't move your head, keep still and sit up straight). She did great, partly because of this comb out, I think.

Try it and tell me what you think.

Precious Pictures From Ethiopia

We got some Pictures from Ethiopia today. If anyone wants the reference for the investigator we used, you can ask in the comments section and leave an address where I can email it to you. He was wonderful... the pictures aren't the least of it. We also got videos that were very touching. My heart is whole now, full of my kids and the knowledge that It's Right, us adopting them. But also, the family they came from is full of good people, and the place they lived is beautiful. We also got a pic of the little sister they left behind.

Adoption and Issues with the kids

Recently a family that I know of, who brought home their little girl at the same time we brought ours home, has had to disrupt their adoption. Their little girl is six, like our two girls currently are (MayMay's birthday was last week, and Bella's will be at the end of july. They are about as close together in age as two siblings can be.)

It has been breaking my heart. It has been making me anxious, wondering why the heck we ended up with such whole, unhurt children? Am I blind? Am I not seeing things I should be worried about? It has really added some stress to the last two days for me. I'm in a state of mourning when I don't need to be.

I've been searching myself and wondering why I have such a hard time accepting good things that come to me. When I married Skywalker, I felt like it was too good to be true, that I ended up with such a handsome, intelligent, funny, alternative, kind, mild-tempered, distinguished, friendly, loving person. How could this be? Surely something more was in store for me... for instance, I was sure he was going to get washed away on our honeymoon. So I asked him not to go swimming at the (admittedly rather dangerous) beach we visited, but instead stay and wade with me and be safe. I used to worry every time he left the house that he wasn't coming home again. I used to worry I'd find out something that threw him in a whole new, less-perfect light.

It hasn't happened.

It never will.

And it doesn't do me or my husband or my kids any good to be worrying that I'm being naive simply because there's nothing wrong.

OK, I've been hurt. There is that.

This last couple of years have been so healing for me. I never doubt Skywalker anymore. I just revel in the fact that he is so awesome and he's my husband, and I do my best to live my life worthy of him. I try to think of what might make him happy and do those things because he is that way with me.

With these kids, I need to do the same thing. Revel in their amazingness. they have come through SO MUCH (and I mean, not just starvation and sickness, losing their family, but some abuse, too.) My kids open up to me sometimes about Ethiopia and I'm amazed that the beautiful, simple life they lead there, and also horrified at what they've had to deal with. And they're OK.

Having said that, I don't think it's fair to me and my worrying mind not to admit it hasn't been hard, and there haven't been issues. It's also not fair to prospective adoptive families not to let them know there may be hard times, but your kids can still be OK and your family can get through it. I want to make a list here of the things our family has overcome in this, for this purpose. Because I AM being overly rosy and naive and inducing other potential adoptive families to be that way, too, if I sugar coat our own experience.

What we have dealt with:

1) Rejection of Skywalker. This has been the most gut-wrenching part of the whole thing for me, but it's almost gone. I still see one of my little girls get frightened once in a while around him, but I realize now there are reasons for that and she loves him sooo much and those moments disturb her just as much as me, when she feels them.

2) Entitlement. Crying, anger, almost deep mourning every time I say no to something they want. I've had to be kind of iron-fisted about this (not literaly, I do not punch my kids, of course) and say, if you whine you get to spend time away from us. Whining is too hard for me to listen to. This is also gut-wrenching in a way, because they come from a situation of having had so little, and I can give them so much. But you can't say yes all the time, not if you want to raise children that are going to be happy, functional adults. And not entitled spoiled brats (which does happen... it's easy to do. I could so easily see myself doing this with my adopted kids especially, it would be so much easier.) For a window into some of the dangers of giving kids everything in an adoption situation, read the article at this link.

3) Clingyness and "fake" crying, manipulation with smiles and overly dramatic sadness. This is actually a sign of attachment disorder, the shallow interaction/attempt to manipulate, and it's not fun to be on the receiving end when you're the parent and you see enough to know it's fake. One of my kids in particular does this. It's a survival tactic they learned when they were in situations where their needs weren't provided for unless they got more attention than the kids around them. This has subsided quite a bit over the months, except when my little girl gets in a stressful situation. But I've learned, when the giggles and big smiles and wiggly flirtatious "peek-a-boo-with-strangers" starts happening, that what she needs, is for me to pull her onto my lap and give her a big hug, keeping her close to my body, then maybe turn her toward me and help her feel secure for a moment or two, then redirect her. Sometimes she'll cling to me for a little bit. Mostly she can handle things now with redirection. The tough thing about this challenge is it makes it hard to take the kid seriously, and to enjoy the moments when she truly is being cute, and not manipulative. It engenders feelings of resentment... makes me, at least, want to shove the kid out of my lap and tell them to go away. But you can't do that... that's not what they need. And eventually, things get better. I'm being very, very honest here. Please don't judge me--these are all feelings, not actions (most of the time, at least.)

4) Hoarding and intense jealousy over "stuff." One of my girls feels a need to collect boxes, bags, containers of all types, and gather "stuff" she likes and keep it there. Over christmas this changed to "giving presents." She'd gather her stuff and make neat little packages out of paper and ribbons or rubberbands or string, and hand it to you... you'd open them and out would come a shower of buttons, papers with little drawings, hole-punch confetti, used up stickers etc. This is something that I have just watched. It hasn't interfered, in our case, with anything or made life difficult... so I'm just letting my girl heal as fast as she feels able. The jealousy thing, I've had to just discourage the whining and taking. When we first came home, she'd snatch stuff that wasn't hers and hoard it... I gave her consequences for this and made sure she understood that I didn't mind that she wanted stuff, and that she kept it with her in containers, it just couldn't be other peoples' stuff. And when someone else got something she didn't get and she got mad, I'd remind her of a time she got something others didn't, and tell her that whining wasn't making me want to give her anything. Sounds harsh. I probably need to find a better technique, or maybe eventually even figure out a therapy situation for this, as this is the only thing that continues pretty strongly out of all the discouraging behaviors we've had to deal with. It has also gotten better, though.

5) Strangers. My girls have learned to talk to strangers, because they lived their life among strangers for several months. I don't think it's attachment-disorder level socializing, as they stay close to me and don't go snuggle on laps or anything. But I have had to teach them about strangers vs family. I still have a problem anytime a new person comes into our home, though. SOmething about them being here, in our home, makes my girls think they're just as safe as any family. ANd we need to work on that... but then my biological kids do this, too. Especially if it's a boy that my sister-in-law brings over... which is a tad worrysome.

6) When they first came over, the kids did act out in small acts of violence on the other kids when they were upset or threatened. I gave (admittedly severe) consequences for this from day one. I'd put them in the room for about 30 minutes. They'd tantrum and throw stuff around in the room. One kid wrecked a set of drawers. But I can handle broken drawers, they mean nothing in the eternal scheme of things. Pretty soon my kids could recite this mantra. "no hitting. no biting. no pinching. no pushing. no kicking. no screaming in anybody's ear." And the problem tapered off pretty quickly.


So... I want to say this: my kids are AMAZING adopted kids. They are so good, and our issues have been so minimal. These things are all things that normal kids would do if they went through what our kids have. And they have recovered so quickly it's amazing... at 9 months post, we feel like things work out really well, our family is a family, and my bio kids provide just as much parental angst as the adopted kids do. It has evened out. We're a functioning, working unit... that is the goal of adoption.

Don't expect that your experience will be to turn poor impoverished orphans into little angels. Have you ever met any kids that were little angels all the time?

Don't expect to bring home kids who are going to be soooooo grateful for you and what they have now that they won't act like kids who've been uprooted and destabalized.

Adoption is hard work, and there's no getting around it. If you plan to adopt, expect the hard work. Expect to be enraged at times, disturbed at times, in a state of intense mourning at times, expect to be dazzled at times, touched at times, so full of love you could almost burst at times. Expect to be overwhelmed but also overwhelmed with love.

Anyway, that's my mental spew... do with it what you can. :)

cookie ratings

So a friend of Skywalker's and mine brought by a HUGE bag of chocolate chip cookies last night. We ate several, distributed several to the kids, and now it's sitting on my fridge, and also occupying a corner of my mind.

This morning, I told all the kids they had to finish breakfast before they got their dresses on. Because breakfast was cold cereal, something we have very rarely and is considered a treat, the kids all seemed to have no problem. THey downed their cereal within five minutes. All except MayMay. She's a steady eater, probably my most prolific eater, but she attacks everything with the same measured consideration. She just likes food, ANY food, an feels no need to inhale treats when they're to be enjoyed.

Anyway, the kids all got up and raced up the stairs. MayMay stared after them, then looked at the half-empty bowl in front of her.

"Mom," she said, "I can't finish."

Right. Miss 3-full-bowls-of-oatmeal-every-morning.

"Finish, then you can go upstairs with your sisters and put your dress on."

MayMay looked at me consideringly, then her face crumpled. Whimper, whimper.

I go in my room and shut the door.

Whimper whimper.

I turn on a clip from my friends' blog, it's a funny song by Flight of the Conchords. I chuckle and do my best to keep my blood pressure from rising as I hear footsteps approach my door.

Whimper Whimper, face mooshed up against the slats of the door that seperates my bedroom from the living room. Whimpers getting louder, a little bit of banging on the door.

Me: "Go eat your cereal MayMay, and stop crying because that's a tantrum and tantrum girls go on the time-out bench."

MayMay: Growl-Wail, jumping up and down.

Me: OK! Well I guess you made your choice. (Come out of room. Heft 5-year-old over my shoulder. Chug up the stairs--yes, my duedate is in five days--and set her on the bench. Start to go down the stairs.)

MayMay: I don't WAAAAANT to SIDOWN!!

I look and she's standing next to the time-out bench.

Me: Whoops! Guess it's your room then. Bella, Loli, out... MayMay's going to spend her time out in there.

MayMay: NONONONONO!!! (Yelling, jumping, screaming.)

I put MayMay in the room and shut the door. The handle doesn't work from the inside so she can't get out until I let her out (which has been a very convenient development for me and discipline.) I go down the stairs to to the tune of soulfoul top-of-lungs-screaming. I walk into the kitchen and consider the brown paper bag on top of the fridge.

"I think that was a two-cookie tantrum," I say to myself.

Now that I've blogged about it, I think I might go let her out.

Their Story Unfolds--reflections and pictures

THEN



NOW






Do you notice a difference? For me it's harder to see, but everyone tells me how different they look. How MayMay looks "thinner." How Bella is gorgeous and growing.

They are getting so big so fast. I look at those pics of MayMay and I remember the girl who seemed to move and cling like a toddler, who had the squat body and big tummy but those huge, liquid eyes that you just couldn't get away from. Her legs have gotten long, so fast, and muscled. She almost looks like she could be the age she really is (almost six) now. I was looking at my kids the other day, all tangled in a pile playing some game, and was suddenly struck by how beautiful they all were... gorgeous arms and legs, gorgeous faces, healthy bodies. I'm so grateful and it's like watching flowers bloom, seeing these two race from pant-size to pant-size... Bella's pants that she came home in now belong to Jaws (we do have to cuff them a bit) and she can BARELY fit into size five talls now. She and Loli are now the same size... she has caught up with a vengeance. And her top teeth are growing in.

I get little bits, here and there, about my adopted kids and the life they had before they came to America. Usually it's completely random when they start talking about it (for real, not making up imaginary things about Ethiopia being full of unicorns and candy and sparkly bedspreads.)

Today I got a big chunk of past that I didn't have before. I cherish every piece I get, because it brings me more into the world they've lived in. They're my kids. But they're also kids who had a life I knew nothing about.

Today MayMay told me that a little girl at Toukoul taught her some orphanage behaviors that we're currently trying to eradicate (nothing too troubling... just some bad habits.) She told me about this girl and how she was "nice, but bad sometimes," and how she hit sometimes. We talked from there about how MayMay slept on the bottom bunk at Toukoul and Bella on the top.

One thing I kind of missed before... I thought that when we visited they must be washing the linens for the bunkbeds. And then I got a roll of film back that I developed... I sent a disposable camera to Ethiopia before we came to pick them up, and asked the nannies to take some pictures. THere were a couple of pics of the kids sleeping in the bunks, and no. They don't have sheets, pillows or blankets... they all sleep on the bare mattresses. When you think about it, that's not all that shocking; a mattress at all is a huge luxury, and the climate is pretty moderate. But... we just have such a different set of assumptions about what is tolerable, over here.

Then Bella got enthusiastic and told about how her grandma came once to visit the orphanage, and brought "that cute baby" with her. I asked further and found out we were talking about their younger sister, Konjit, who still lives with Grandma in Ethiopia. She talked about how when we came to get them, "I was playing and playing outside and the lady told me to come down and see you and you were there." MayMay told a story then about how Bella got out of bed at Toukoul once in the middle of the night and MayMay "looked and looked and couldn't find Bellarina and then saw her playing with that little car that doesn't go by itself."

Lol. That sure sounds like Bella... she's pretty dang independent. Somtimes it gets her in some trouble.



(one of Bella's silly faces... always gets Loli to bust a gasket)

My girls are so cute. By the way.

And that lead to a discussion about where they lived in Ethiopia before Toukoul (the orphanage.) Bella told me a cute story. She said her mama sent her to school, and she wore a backpack and walked, but MayMay didn't go. She said one time her mama said she coudln't go see her dad, who worked in a store, but she put on her backpack and went anyway. Her mama found her and said she couldn't have a treat from the store.

I don't know if Mama is Grandma (I'm thinking it is) and Dad is Grandpa... it's mixed up but any piece of information is golden for me.

And then we got out the Coffee table book that sits on our piano, of Ethiopia. We went through all the pages and commented. I asked if her house looked like this, or like this... they had cows like this or sheep like this, if they grew vegetables like this. Bella said their house was like this:





And that this looks like her church:



She told me that they went to church in a white dress with a white hat. That's traditional Ethiopian Orthodox religous clothing... the white dress and head covering. We were looking at some of the religious paintings in churches, and Bella said, "That's Mary," pointing at a depiction of Mary and Jesus in the Ethiopian style of paintings that hang in churches. And she told me that the word for Jesus in Ethiopia is "Eskabeer." (? anyone who is reading this post who knows about this should comment and give me more info, because this is so interesting to me.)



We're planning on getting someone to go out to where they're from, which is Bale Robe in Goba province. It's high in the mountains, colder than most other places in Ethiopia, and mostly a rural area with farmers. With a little bit from our tax return this year we're going to get someone to hopefully take some pictures and interview the grandma if she's still living. This is something that we'll have to do carefully because it's kind of discouraged, though they can't do much about it if you take care of these things after the adoption is finalized. We just can't have any contact with the family, is the thing... it's now against the law. We can't give any gifts of communicate with them directly because then people could be accused of child trafficking.

But as we were looking through this coffee table book, the girls kept asking if their grandma was in it, and I kept having to say no. So I think it's about the right time to try to get some pictures, if we can... that they can look at if they want to. And maybe I get some more wonderful glimpses as well, into my childrens' past.