Lila Day!

My sweet L, this post is for you in honor of Lila Day. On this day (December 29th) in 2007 we met you for the very first time. You were almost exactly 8 months old and just barely 12 pounds. You were tiny and gorgeous and alert and happy and did I mention TINY?

This was the exact moment we met. You were the size of a large newborn but had the alert eyes of a much older baby. We could tell right away that you noticed EVERYTHING (this, by the way, has not changed). You smiled almost the whole time and were fascinated with my necklace & glasses. I just remember being so stunned that this tiny little gorgeous amazing baby was mine.

You, of course, became an instant Daddy's girl.

This was taken on New Year's Eve, 2007. You can see how adorably crazy your hair was - long on the very top and at the nape of your neck with almost no hair at all around the sides and back of your head. What was most impressive was when the nannies would gather that top part into a very very small cornrow. Those are some serious braiding skills right there.

We soon realized at least part of the reason why you were so very tiny: you spit up almost all that we attempted to put in you. I remember each and every time I gave you a bottle you would gobble up all 7oz and then throw it all back up soon after. I remember crying and being overwhelmed with the helplessness any mother feels when they cannot nourish their child.

Finally home in Chicago, you didn't waste any time catching up. When we first came home you were not even able to sit up on your own. Within 2 months you were sitting up and crawling, and you took your first steps just 2 days after your first birthday. Some pictures from the early days...

All dolled up to meet your Great Grandpa! Oh, and your Daddy picked out that outfit. So girly! This is so funny to me, knowing you now as the-girl-who-will-only-wear-Superman-shirts-and-jeans.

This has always been one of my most favorite photos of you. There was a stretch of time where you would make this face every time you saw a camera. This expression is 100% you.

We all learned that you may be small but your personality was (and still is) HUGE. There is a Shakespeare quote that has always reminded me of you: "Though she be but little, she is fierce."

You knew your ABC's at 18 months and by the age of 2 you knew the names of every dinosaur imaginable. I remember you stomping around the house singing, "T-Rex (ROAR)! I'm a Tyrannosaurus. I'm the biggest carnivore in the Cretaceous forest." I wonder how many little girls have a dinosaur-themed party for their 3rd birthday. You continually astonish people (and me) with your vocabulary. Right now you like to incorporate "ominous" as much as possible into everyday conversation.

Your current preschool teacher put it best: "L sure knows how to hang with the boys." You are a tomboy, through and through. I bought you this cheap Superman t-shirt last summer and it is pretty much all you will wear. That and a silk outfit from China. Our family certainly doesn't blend into the crowd, but you make sure that we are noticed (in the best possible sense). Today we went to Build-a-Bear and you requested an orange cat (named Max) and picked out a Spiderman outfit for him. I love that about you. You like what you like and are not the least bit interested in the princess stuff. You think superheros are COOL. You want to learn Kung Fu. You want to be a drummer in a rock band. You want to play for the Pittsburgh Steelers (sorry, Uncle John). You are stubborn and opinionated and very sure of yourself. Always. While that can make for some rather frustrating parenting, it is truly what I love most about you.

You jumping for joy on your first day of school. Also most likely the last time I ever got you into a dress.

Your very first race, the Flying Pig!

You love your brother. Sure, we have skirmishes here and there, but I often catch you giving E kisses and hugs while murmuring, "E, I love you so much."

My amazing girl. You are smart, beautiful, hilarious, and PRECOCIOUS. I love you more than I ever thought possible. I am positive that if any girl could hold their own with the Pittsburgh Steelers, it would be you. Happy Lila Day.

Rain, rain, GO AWAY

Seriously, it seems as though it has been raining every day since the beginning of time. Perhaps that is a wee bit on the dramatic side (who, me?), but sheesh. For those of you out there who have to care for curly heads, this is NOT ideal weather. Several weeks ago the news reported that we were well on track to have the wettest year in recorded history. No wonder I feel as though I've been in a perpetual rotten mood. I need me some sunshine! Thank goodness for non-stop Christmas music, holiday lights, and Christmas nougats...it's keeping the holiday glow going.

There is a reason I haven't been blogging so much lately: happily overwhelmed. Last year E was just shy of 18 months, and so while I'm sure he enjoyed the holidays, they had little meaning. Not so this year! I don't think he totally gets the Santa bit, but he loves the lights and we all say "hello, giant Santa" as we drive past this house that has a HUGE inflated Santa in their yard. Not to be critical, but what is it with gigantic, inflatable yard decor? I don't get it. Although, I do love our neighbors whose lawn sports a rather large inflatable Grinch riding on his sleigh complete with sack of presents and Max the dog. But both kiddos are soaking up all of the holiday cheer I can give them, usually leaving me fairly exhausted at the end of the day.

L is practically out of her mind excited. The Santa-threat is as useful as ever this year. She still firmly believes that we have the big guy on speed dial and when we threaten to call him yells, "Oh pleeeeeeeeaze don't call Santa, Mommy! He doesn't need to know what I did!" 

I'm feeling thankful, at the moment. I didn't do the 30 days bit last month, but here is a short list of what is making me thankful this holiday season:

1. A new recipe for peppermint meringues (thank you, Paige)

2. Having so much of my family close by. I love that they come over and there is no need to knock or ring the bell. They just come on in...that's how I like it.

3. Every day when L and I snuggle in bed for our rest time, she with the iPad and me with a book, she takes frequent breaks to lean over and shower me with kisses and "I love you's."

4. My little E still thinks I'm the bee's knees. Even though he is now over 30 pounds, I love that he still wants to be held much of the time. And my biceps look fabulous.

5. My new Miele vacuum cleaner. Lordy, it is wrong how much I love that thing.

6. The Tribe (no, not the baseball team). My refrigerator is covered with holiday cards with some of the most gorgeous children on the planet.

7. My babies. Even at the end of a very stressful day of errand running where E seemed to think it his duty to throw a tantrum in EVERY FREAKING STORE, I still thank my lucky stars every day (hour, minute, and second) for these two little people. They are sound asleep right now and I can't wait to wake up and make pancakes with them in the morning.

8. The Trans-Siberian Orchestra. No, I don't care for the music AT ALL. But my kids love it and every time it comes on the radio we have an instant dance party.

9. Brach's Christmas nougat. I have eaten waaaay too much this week.

10. Hubby, kids, and faithful pooch are upstairs snoozing away while I type and wait for my peppermint meringues to finish baking. I love this time to myself all the while  knowing that my family is tucked in bed happy, safe & sound.

Happy Holidays.

Ethiopia Part I

Unlike my two previous trips to Ethiopia, on this journey I had no expectations. No preconceived notions on how I would react, what would happen, or how I'd feel when I returned home. Mainly because this time I didn't have the convenience of baby-blinders. I couldn't bury my head in the demands and responsibilities of sudden parenthood. I could look around and finally get to know the country that gave me the two most precious gifts I will ever receive.

It may sound odd, but I was much more emotional on this trip. When things get heavy, I tend to clam up. No tears for this girl on her wedding day or even meeting L and E...who has time to cry when there is some overwhelming shit to do! But this time I sniffled with barely suppressed tears as we landed in Addis and especially during the drive to our guest house. It looked and smelled just as I'd remembered. It's still amazing to me that there is a place in Africa that is now familiar to me. Yet I felt this bizarre combination of familiarity coupled with seeing things for the first time. Without a baby to monopolize my attention, I could really see the traffic, the overwhelming amount of people (and children) everywhere, the goats in the road, the people sleeping on the sidewalks, the packs of dogs roaming about, and the streets FILLED with people sporting every different type of Ethiopian dress you can imagine: modern clothing, Orthodox Christian robes, and Muslim scarves.

On our first full day we drove south to Busa to see the water project to which EOR had contributed.

Everything impressed me. Community involvement was mandatory thus making this a highly sustainable project. A committee of community members was established not only to maintain the infrastructure (reservoirs and pipelines and such) but also to educate the surrounding communities on matters of hygiene, sanitation and the benefits of clean water.

 

This is the reservoir that has brought clean water to over 4,000 people, and is projected to reach over 9,000 by the project's end. Amazing.

Clean water. I will NEVER take it for granted again. Ever. Think of how having clean water to drink/bathe in/wash and cook with will make an impact on adorable girls like this one?

Below is the well the community was using before the reservoir and pipeline was built.

When we arrived at the reservoir I was overwhelmed to see the committee of community members there to greet us. These are the men and women that dug the ditches to put down the pipes, built the reservoir, and received the training that will keep the clean water flowing for years to come. They expressed their thanks to EOR for helping to fund the project but also were simply proud to show what they had done for their own community. There was a true sense of ownership and I thought again how wonderful it is to be a part of something that is more than just a band aid or handout...a program that will make lives better and continue to do so even after the project has officially ended.

My heart is happy knowing that this serious little guy will have clean water to drink because of the wonderful work of EOR and its donors. How wonderful also knowing that he can see how the men and women in his community did the work and made it happen.

One post, lots of thankful

Back from Ethiopia! The trip was everything I expected and so much more. "Life-changing" seems a tad cliche and inadequate, but it's all my jet-lagged brain can come up with at the moment. My first two trips to Ethiopia had such a specific purpose: to meet and take home a baby. I did see a lot of of the country  during those two visits, but I was so focused on being a mother to a tiny little stranger there was much I didn't see, didn't feel, didn't dwell on...too preoccupied was I with loving on my precious babies.

This trip gave me the opportunity to really get to know the country that gave me my children. Longer posts detailing the trip will come shortly, but today I wanted to write a post of thanks. I come away from this trip with an even keener awareness of all the blessings I have in my life and the fact that there are many who struggle for that which many of us easily take for granted. Here goes...

1. I am thankful for the health of my family.

2. I am thankful that if illness should occur, we have access to incredible health care and medicine.

3. I am thankful for clean water.

4. I am thankful for easy access to water. My children and I do not have to walk for miles at a time to fetch dirty water for drinking, cleaning, washing & bathing.

5. I am thankful to be able to clothe my children and wash their clothes in clean water.

6. I am thankful for the education I received and the education my children will be able to receive. And that we do not have to choose between eating and education.

7. I am thankful we are able to provide clean and healthy food  for our family.

8. I am thankful my children will never have to know true hunger or what it is like to have to sell your body or all of your possessions to avoid starvation.

9. I am thankful for our house with its clean water, indoor plumbing, kitchen full of food, closets full of clothes and car in the garage.

10. I am thankful for my time in Ethiopia, for seeing what I have seen and  knowing what I now know I am forever thankful and determined to give of my heart, time and resources to help the orphans, vulnerable children and families in Ethiopia.



Happy Thanksgiving!

Oh, and if you want more information on the work I did with Ethiopian Orphan Relief in Ethiopia and to donate or find ways you can help with specific partners and projects, go here and get inspired!

Back to Ethopia

I am off to work in Ethiopia with Ethiopian Orphan Relief in less than 48 hours! I am nervous, excited, scared, thrilled, and sad all at once. My daughter has been telling me many times a day how much she loves me and how very much she is going to miss me. My son, while not as verbal as his sister, shows me in other ways that this separation will be tough. So why am I going on this trip? Why leave my children for 10 days and create such an upheaval? Why take on the expense of this trip at a time when the finances always seem to be a bit tight? For as many times as I've been asked these questions by family and friends, I've asked myself many times over. Here is my response. I've thought quite a bit about this post and I'm afraid I'll have to apologize in advance: this will definitely not be my most eloquent or well-written post, but it will be 100% unedited and from the heart. This topic is simply too important to me to edit. So please bear with me...

I choose to go back to Ethiopia for my children. I am going to give back to the country that gave me my beautiful babies. I imagine a time years from now when my kids will ask me about Le Toukoul (the orphanage where we met) and all of the children that call it home. I want L and E to know that I have not forgotten all of the babies and toddlers and older kids that will remain. I want L and E to know that I gave as much of my time and resources as I could to make sure those children had food, clothes, shoes, books, toys, bathrooms and buildings where they could sleep, play and be educated.

My kids are now so thoroughly Americanized, it is easy to forget their tragic beginnings. It is convenient and safe to pretend that their lives began the day we took them away from Ethiopia and everything familiar. I refuse to do that. Some may argue that my kids are "better off" in our family. After all, we have a nice house, cars, pets, and  income to buy clothes and the latest silly toy. Here is my question: do any of those things negate the fact that my daughter and son had to experience horrific loss and trauma to be where they are today? And what about the birth families? Did they deserve the loss and heartbreak that directly lead to the formation of my family? Of course not. For that reason, I go back to Ethiopia. So that I may have the blessings of two amazing children, people in Ethiopia suffered. I am going to give back to the country that gave me so very much. I absolutely cannot imagine my life without my children, but I still grieve for the circumstances that led them to our family.

I've been to Ethiopia twice now and each time was overwhelmed by the pride Ethiopians have in their country and culture. Many of the employees at our local airport are Ethiopian and you should see their faces simply light up when my husband and I attempt a weak "ahmesugenalew." They love their country and are eager and thrilled to share it with us and our children. They appreciate the fact that we want our kids to know and be proud of where they were born. Bringing both of my kids home was bittersweet. The elation and happiness of new motherhood was always tempered with guilt and sadness at the fact that I was taking these children away from a country of people that loved them but had no choice but to let me take them away.

I love Ethiopia. Not only because it gave me the two greatest blessings of my life, but also because it is a place that has touched my heart and soul. I am forever changed after traveling there. I am going to Ethiopia because I am forever in debt to the country that allowed me the privilege to be L and E's mommy. I am going because  I love my children so much it practically breaks my heart. I am going because I love who they are and where they come from and for me, those two things could never be mutually exclusive.

Lost for words

I zipped over to my blog today to check on the blogs that I regularly follow and happened to catch a quick glance at the date of my last post. Lordy, it's been a while, hasn't it? I can't say that life has been particularly uneventful around here (staying home with two small children pretty much takes the word "uneventful" right out of your vocabulary), but there hasn't been a topic or event that has compelled me to share. I shamefully admit that laziness has something to do with it. Our laptop is definitely moving into "old timer" age and so loading and editing photos is most often a tedious and irritating chore. The free time I have before the kids awake and after they are asleep is precious to me, and I often find myself torn: do I blog? Watch Glee? Check out another episode of Mad Men on Netflix? Read? Clean the house? Catch up on email? Sadly, blogging rarely wins.

So, a brief update and a promise to finally download a bunch of pictures and post again soon. Meaning, less than 6 weeks from now.

I was thrilled and honored (and more than a little freaked out) to sing at my brother's wedding earlier this month. It wasn't new rep, but it was the first time I'd performed in almost 4 years. I still can't believe it's been that long. Wow. I gave a recital in Chicago just 3 weeks after coming home with Lila in February of '08. Since then I've done lots of singing, but a lot more "Wheels on the Bus" and much less Schoenberg & Strauss. I will admit that I do miss it. I miss those years at Eastman where I could spend my time basking in the absolute loveliness that is German Lieder. Years where all I did was study and make music, where I could meet with my accompanist multiple times a week to sing through rep that I chose and loved, where I could witness the insane talent of the students and faculty around me. I definitely did not find balance in music and motherhood. I lost the musician part of me while I tried to become the best mom to my kids. But I think the balance is coming, thanks mostly to some very good friends who dragged me back into teaching (and thus, singing) despite my fear that perhaps the phrase "if you don't use it, you lose it" might actually be true.

But back to the wedding. Although practicing was tricky (as my son screams as though he is being tortured with hot fire pokers), everything went pretty darn well. I'm certainly not in the kind of singing shape I once maintained, but at least I know my voice is still in there. AND I landed a wee singing gig from the whole blessed event! Christmas Eve service, here I come. I'll mainly be serving as soprano section leader for the choir, but I also get to perform "Rejoice Greatly," one of my most favorite things to sing (next to melodramatic German art song, that is). How I will manage to practice for this, I'm not entirely sure. I think it's funny that back in grad school, I was so darn picky about practicing. I would only do it in my teacher's studio (I hated the practice rooms...the sound was so shitty and generally made one oversing) and I generally preferred to practice around 10am if at all possible. Afternoons were OK and I avoided evenings all together (the voce was tired, you see). Today? I'd just like to get 15 seconds of singing done anytime, anywhere without a very cute little Ethiopian screaming his head off and hanging on my leg begging to be held. I'll take morning, afternoon, evening, practice room, bathroom, kitchen...you name it, I'll sing there if my son would just please. stop. screaming. Until that happens, I see a couple of stolen practice sessions at my brother's house with a pitch pipe.

L started another year of preschool with very little fanfare. That kind of stuff just doesn't freak her out. She is truly a social being, happiest when she can share her energy with as many as possible. The biggest change is that she is now in the morning session, which means I have had to get my sh*t together three mornings each week. Her hair already takes some thought and planning, but this takes it to a whole new level. The best part, though, is that I now have almost 3 hours alone with E. When L was in the afternoon session, E was napping pretty much the entire time, so this is really the first time that I've had the opportunity to spend some serious QT with the boy. I've loving it...I hope he is as well. 

Less than 3 weeks until the marathon and all is not well. On September 10th I finished my very first 20-mile run. It went well and I felt great during the run. After? Not so much. Silly IT band, get on board! After seeing a sports med doc and PT, I'm still a go for the race on October 16th. I am terrified but determined. I am going to trust in my doc and PT who both assure me that I've done my training and even though I've not run much at all in the past two weeks and won't be able to run much leading up to the race, the 12 weeks of training I did put in will matter. It's weird to say, but I kind of feel lost not being able to run. I am certainly not one of those people who run because they love to run. But doing this training made me feel so strong, accomplished, proud, athletic...words I had never before used to describe myself. I really hope that I can get past this injury and not only run the marathon, but keep running in general. Fingers crossed.

Update complete! Pictures coming. Promise.

Pictures that make me happy

My two superheros. They both wear these t-shirts pretty much all the time. I find myself doing laundry simply to keep these shirts in circulation. They are playing together more and more these days...when I catch them both giggling and squealing with laughter my heart simply swells to bursting.

I found the above shirt waaaaay on sale at Nordstrom. It suits my boy perfectly. The front has Sesame Street characters in superhero outfits and says, "Keeping the Street Safe." But the back of the shirt is what sold me...

A detatchable cape! What the what! We are ALL about capes in this house. Elijah squeals with pure joy whenever I pull this shirt out of the closet.

My boys.

Court!

This morning felt like Fall. The windows were open all night and I woke up to a slightly chilly house and the promise of my favorite season on the horizon. I am reminded of moments like the picture above...enjoying the pumpkin patch with my two-and-a-half baby girl.  

These pictures make me start my day with a big smile on my face and an acute awareness of how incredibly lucky I am.

Hovering around: a helicopter mom dilemma

Every once and a while one of the parenting magazines has an article on "the helicopter parent." Of course, what they really mean most of the time is the helicopter mommy. When I read those articles a part of me says, "well, I'm not like that, am I? No, I'm certainly not that bad." And then another wee voice in my head says, "Um, maybe I'm like that just a leetle bit?" I do my best, I really do. I work hard not to project all of my social insecurities (and there are many) onto my gregarious little L who is naturally outgoing and bold. So let me tell you why this morning was so damn hard for this recovered-helicopter-mommy:

This morning I had a serious mommy-fail. Some friends of mine and their tots meet at different playgrounds every Thursday morning. Today I went to the wrong one. Totally wrong and waaaaay to far away from the correct playground to make it there in time to get any playing done before the lunch/nap portion of our day. So, I decided that we'd just stay where we were and enjoy ourselves. Thankfully, this particular park has a small fenced-off area with toddler-sized equipment AND as we were getting ourselves settled two other moms both with kiddos ages 2 & 4 arrived. It seemed too good to be true: fenced in, age-appropriate playmates, shade, benches...I was in heaven. 

It started out well. The other two 4-year-olds were both boys, but L generally gets along better with boys anyway. They both commented on how cool her Superman shirt and cape were, she agreed that yes, they were indeed cool, and then they were off having a great time. E was relatively sedate, sucking down his diluted apple juice and enjoying the fact that I was actually letting him climb up the toddler slide (another mommy-fail, as he slipped and fell...my bad). Me? I sat there thinking how this hasn't turned out so badly after all! Sure, I really needed wanted to see my friends and their beautiful babies, but at least we were having a great morning enjoying the weather and getting some quality playground time. Then I heard it: "Naa naa naa naa naa, you're a rotten eeeegggg!" Sure, the content was relatively harmless, but I quickly realized it was 100% directed at my girl. Both of the older boys were running around a bewildered looking L, pointing at her and saying the above phrase in that annoying, sing-songy way that makes my hair curl and my fists clench. Poor L looked confused and on the verge of angry (she was starting to whip out some of her Kung Fu moves as if to block the hateful little song), so I called her over.

L: "Mommy, those boys are calling me names!"

Me: "I know sweetie, but doing Kung Fu is not how we deal with that. You need to tell those boys to please stop calling you a rotten egg. Tell them that it hurts your feelings and you'd like them to stop."

Good for me, right ('cause it's all about me, y'all)? I didn't intervene. I attempted to give L the tools to deal with this herself. And she did. She marched back into the fray and each time the boys circled and pointed she loudly declared, "Please stop calling me that! I don't like that!" What did the boys do? They added new lyrics: "Naa naa naa naa naa, you're a poopy on the potty."

What pissed me off the most? Both of the boys' mothers were SITTING RIGHT THERE, happily chatting away while their sons singled out and taunted my daughter. I may helicopter my own children from time to time, but it would take a lot for me to intervene with anyone else's child. But dammit was I close today. The thought of confrontation in any form gives me the dry heaves, but I was sitting there formulating what I was going to have to say to these to clueless women. I had a few options:

Option 1 (polite but firm): "Excuse me, but your son is calling my daughter names and it's really hurting her feelings. Could you please ask him to stop?"

Option 2: "Woman, quit texting on your freakin' phone and gabbing away with the woman next to you about how early your son started walking/talking/reading...and for the love of God PARENT YOUR BRATTY CHILD OR I WILL."

Luckily it didn't come to that. One of the women finally stopped talking long enough to realize that her son was calling my daughter a poopy on the potty (oh, and he was now joined by his younger 2-year-old brother, isn't that charming) and called him over. I sat there, thrumming with excitement, expecting a very stern reprimand. What did she say? In that oh-I'm-so-amused-by-your-antics voice she said, "Oh honey, are you being the playground bully?" WTF??!!

I know, I know,  we all have our own parenting styles. Call my old fashioned, but  in my humble opinion, name calling, pointing, and taunting are NOT EVER OK. Especially when all of it is being directed at one poor, singled-out child. The above mom of the name-calling ring-leader seemed to take the "oh, boys will be boys" sort of attitude. I'm sorry, just because he has a penis does not make name calling and taunting somehow ok and even slightly amusing. 

Has L ever been mean to another child? Sure. But I can assure you that if it was in my presence, L was pulled out of the situation, scolded, and then told to go back and apologize to whomever she had offended. 

In the end I didn't hover and L handled the whole situation very well. She simply chose not to play near them anymore and we left the playground not long after. She's been talking about the incident all morning and it's maddening to see how two little strangers have hurt my daughters feelings, leaving her so confused as to why they would be so mean. I have no profound response for L's questions and can only tell her over and over that sometimes kids can be mean, and the best thing we can do is first ask them to stop and if they refuse, don't play with them anymore.

As for the mommies of the playground taunters? I'm disappointed. I'm frustrated. I'm tired. I spend 24/7 dealing with my own children, I wish I could go to a playground or any other public play space and not have to deal with the aftermath of other parents phoning it in (literally...if I see another mom texting away while her child wreaks havoc I will LOSE IT) because they seem too busy or too distracted to discipline their child. Again, I know this is coming out very judge-y, but right now I'm angry. I can't tell you how many times I've had to play with someone else's 4-5 year-old child at the pool while their mother/father/grandparent lounges on a beach chair and reads. Honestly, it happens almost every time. Not even addressing the safety issues of letting a 5-year-old swim totally unsupervised, I certainly did not schlep my two kids, towels, snacks, toys...etc. to be your kid's babysitter/playmate at the pool.

After all of that venting, my dilemma is this: I can avoid helicoptering my own kids, but what to do when someone else's child is misbehaving? Not just misbehaving, but hurting your child (either physically or verbally) and the parent of said child isn't stepping up? Would you fly your helicopter into their airspace?

Hair Part II: Good Hair = Good Mommy?

I recently devoted an entire post to my daughter's hair. Even as I type that it seems mildly ridiculous. I mean, there are far more important parenting issues to be discussed, right? Well, maybe. I think I speak for many transracial adoptive mamas when I say that, to some degree, I measure my success as a mother of a brown curly girl by the current state (an length) of her hair. Before bringing L home I read a bit about the care of curly hair, checking out pictures, imagining the cute styles I would create. After L joined our family I realized I was way over my head. So, I followed blogs on haircare & styles, read articles, tried a million different products, and slowly started the hair styling ritual we have today. When her hair was shorter I learned how to do puffs, create ruler-straight parts, and attempt the occasional coil or twist style. Now that L is 4, I've advanced to cornrows, twists, braid and twist-outs, you name it, we've tried it. And products? I honestly don't even want to think about how much time and money I've spent on finding that perfect product (hint: it doesn't exist). When women of color compliment L's hair or even her hairstyle, I practically glow with pride, eager to run home and tell my husband of my recent hair triumph. When a woman at the grocery store started asking my what products I used, I pretty much skipped the entire way home. She, a woman of color, was asking little old moi for product advice!!

Throughout this hair journey, I've frequently questioned why I spend so much time not only doing, but thinking about doing L's hair (it's one of my favorite things to think about when I can't sleep).  When did I start believing that my success as a mother was somehow related to L's hair? Whenever I thought about writing a blog post about the social issues that surround the care of my daughter's hair, I felt completely overwhelmed. The topic is so tricky and potentially polarizing I hesitated every time I went to sit down and write. Okay, I chickened out. But no longer! I will dip my tippy toes into the fray. I will start out by saying that, as a white woman, I absolutely do not pretend to understand the relationship a woman of color has with her own hair. I am speaking, rather, to the judgement passed on mothers based on the condition/health/style (or lack thereof)/length of their daughters' hair.

What got me all fired up? I read this article by Allison Samuels for Newsweek. In the article, Samuels slams Angelina Jolie for allowing her daughter, Zahara, to walk around "sporting hair that is wild and unstyled, uncombed and dry. Basically: a 'hot mess.'" She goes on to add that "to many, she'll be just a little black girl - and a black girl with bad hair at that." I can't even begin to articulate how this article made me feel. Sure, Samuels may be directing her comments to the mother, there is no denying the fact that she wrote cruel things about A FREAKIN' 4-YEAR-OLD GIRLS HAIR. Unacceptable. There is simply no excuse. Samuels frequently uses the words "neat," "in place," and "nice" to describe the ideal, and words like "wild" and "unruly" to describe Zahara's hair. I very much resist the idea that L's hair when in its natural curly state (meaning, not manipulated in any way past some leave-in conditioner) is somehow wrong. That is the texture God gave her and it's beautiful. Is it wild? Sure, in the most wonderful sense of the word. And let me say one other thing: I often put much more time, effort and love into L's loose hair than when it's in cornrows. Daily conditioning, finger detangling, styling...etc. "Wild" loose hair does NOT mean hair that has been ignored or is somehow unkempt. At least not in my experience.

And what of the accusations leveled at Angelina Jolie? Is she to be labeled as a bad mother because her daughter's hair is found to be socially unacceptable? Samuels makes her opinion clear in this follow-up article along with the insinuation that Madonna is a better adoptive mother for making sure that "Mercy all the attention she needs from head to toe and inside and out" because Mercy's hair is most often in tidy cornrows. Clearly Samuels does not take into consideration that many Ethiopians have a hair texture that does not take to cornrows very well at all. The times that I do L's hair in cornrows are few simply because her curls do not hold the style for more than a few days.

Now, on one point I do agree with Samuels: all transracial adoptive parents need to put in the work to understand all aspects of their child's birth culture. That includes history, religion, and yes, grooming. Yet Samuels' idea of what constitutes "acceptable" hair just doesn't sit right with me. In this second article, she attempts to clarify that her definition of unacceptable hair was "uncombed, unconditioned, and unbrushed." Yet the language she used in both articles to describe both acceptable and unacceptable hair indicates (at least in my opinion) a major bias against curly hair in its natural state. My L loves to wear her hair (or as she likes to call it, her mane) big and free. There is nothing "neat" or "in place" about L's hair when we style it loose.

I want my daughter to LOVE her hair and all that it can be: big and curly, twisted, braided, in puffs and piggy tails, up or down, intricately styled or wash-and-go. I do take considerable time to make sure L's hair is healthy and well-maintained. I do frequently worry what African American women think of L's hair and I definitely bask in the glow of their praise when she is complimented by women of color. But I worry that I'm inadvertantly feeding into this bad hair/bad mommy syndrome. I like what Latoya Peterson wrote in this article: "We can help shap a world in which she [Zahara] doesn't feel pressured to relax her hair to conform, nor does she feel deficient if she decides to wear her hair the way the way it grows out of her head. We can shape a world where a decision to relax one's hair is inconsequential as a decision to dye or cut it." I really hope my L grows up in that world.

Cornrows, twist-outs, free hair, oh my!

I've been thinking on L's hair quite a bit lately. I mean, I already think on it a whole lot, but her gorgeous curls have been taking up slightly more valuable real estate in my brain as of late.

One, I am in a rut. Style-wise, that is. You would think that the most challenging times would be in the colder months: mixing it up for school, dealing with the dry and cold winter months...etc. I find summer to be much more of a challenge, especially as L grows into an ever-increasing ACTIVE child. She swims, she plays, she bikes, she pretends to be a Kung Fu master and all of these activities wreak havoc on her fragile curls. Cornrows? I did L's whole head in July and it was glorious:

Loved that I didn't have to "do" her hair every day. True, her 3c curls don't hold cornrows for terribly long, requiring me to re-braid a row or two every couple of days, but it still gave L (and yours truly) so much more freedom and flexibility. The big BUT in this is that it takes some patience and time to get her whole head braided. Between washing, detangling, stretching and braiding, I think it took me three days to complete her head. Add to that the fact that my once easy-going-and-easy-to-style toddler has turned into little miss contrary, and you can start to understand while I'm not gagging to do a whole head of cornrows. She'll sit for me, but it's not pretty. There is LOTS of whining, fidgeting, yelling, bribing (who, me?), bargaining, begging, pleading (seriously, I stoop pretty low sometimes) and the occasional crocodile tear involved in a major style session. I'm thinking of doing some Ghana threading this week. It doesn't look terribly hard (if you can do twists, you can do this) and appears to be a great protective style (no rubber bands required!). I found it on this amazing Youtube channel, Girls Love Your Curls. Box braids is another option, but one that has never really wow'd me in L's hair. Her curls are too fine to have an unbanded braid (meaning, no band at the base of the braid), and thus the idea of a protective style is kinda lost, as there are tons of tiny rubber bands in her hair. One of my favorite styles on L is a braid- or twist-out. I wash/condition/detangle one night, banding her hair with cloth bands to stretch the hair. The next night I do small flat twists all over her head and take out in the morning. The result: a head of shiny, soft, BIG, beautiful curls:

The only drawback of this style is that it not only takes some TLC to maintain those curls over the course of a couple of days, but one afternoon at the pool at you're back where you started: wet hair and no style.

The option I've chose for the past week as I slowly gather my courage make up my mind about her next style is a semi-free style that requires only a medium amount of maintenance (about 30-45 minutes each morning). I did 4 cornrows which serve to protect her hairline but also function as a headband of sorts. The rest of her head is completely au natural. By that I don't mean there is no product in there (let's not get crazy, people), but her curls are not manipulated in any way at all. Each morning I simply spray some water on the curls that were smooshed at night and over the course of the previous day (generally the back of her head is the worst...thanks, car seats), add some diluted conditioner (currently using Deva Curl's One Condition) and detangle with my fingers. Lately I've been finishing with Ouidad's Climate Control Heat & Humidity Gel. Lordy, I love this stuff (they have it at my local Sephora). Her hair is a tiny bit crunchy at first, but is soft and bouncy all day long, and her curls stay defined even in this ridiculous humidity we've had. The result is pretty awesome and very much matches L's personality. This is how her hair IS:

Um, don't mind the cherry juice. My girl LOVES cherries.

Sulking because I'm making her stand still.

I love this picture. She is sooooo annoyed with me at this point.

Again, the only problem is that this style is not pool-friendly (and we're set to hit the pool today, darnit).

So, we'll try the Ghana threading over the next couple of days and see how that goes. I love the idea of it, here's hoping the execution is as relatively straight-forward as it seems!

If anyone has thoughts on other protective styles, let me know! My goal is to find a style that will last perhaps a week and doesn't require lots of banding (I am trying to keep her hairline as stress-free as possible).

Happy Hair, everyone!

The Fourth in Pictures (and just a few words...)

We had a glorious Fourth of July weekend at Chez Mimi & Papa. Here are some of my favorite photos from the weekend:

Don't you love the Port-a-Pottys in the background. I do.

Such a serious (but handsome) face!

Water gun = happy boy.

Seersucker pants made by yours truly. He hated them, but I forced him to wear them for just one afternoon.

 

The three cousins

L learned how to throw a ball, thanks to Uncle Scott! I love that she's wearing my Dad's old mitt from when he was a kid. You can even see where my Grandma wrote his name.



Even more amazing, she learned to catch! For those who know me best, we all knew she wasn't going to learn that particular skill from me.



E spent the vast majority of the weekend in the hammock. Seriously, the boy luuurves to swing. Sadly, every time I tried to take a picture, he'd start whining for me to continue pushing.

Doesn't he look like he just heard a dirty joke? And yes, I will be modifying the pants pattern, as they are clearly not roomy enough for a full diaper.



L and worms.



D and worms.

 

Worms.

Beautiful girl. Those cornrows took a good while but boy were they worth it. They lasted at least two weeks and only required some minor touch-ups. Why mess with hair when there is fishing to be done!

D is the best cousin ever. L follows him around like a puppy dog and he is amazingly kind and patient with his little cousin.

My favorite of my Dad's t-shirts: "The trout, the whole trout, and nothing but the trout."

Thank you, Mimi & Papa, for a wonderful and unforgettable Fourth of July weekend!