Complacency

Not too long ago (but long enough ago that I'm a wee bit ashamed this post was not written sooner) I attended a panel discussion on transracial adoption. Here is my big admission: I didn't want to go. I mean, I did, but it was a Saturday afternoon, the Buckeyes were playing in a really big game, kids were restless, hubs didn't want me to go either...etc. Thankfully the collective pull of my tribe forced me to change out of my stay-at-home-mom uniform, slap on some make-up, and head out the door to hear what two authors (themselves transracial adoptees) had to say.

I think a big part of my reluctance to attend was that I didn't want to hear that I wasn't doing enough as a transracial adoptive parent (and a part of me knew that's exactly what I would hear). L had been home for 3 years, B for 9 months and I was feeling happy and content with my kids and my mothering. I was right: a big part of the message I took home was that I was definitely not doing enough as a white parent to children of color. Yet I was also wrong: I expected to feel somehow shamed or scolded by the authors' message and I didn't AT ALL. Instead I left feeling inspired, motivated, and proud of the successes I have had in parenting my children of color.

Both Kevin Hoffman of Growing up In Black and White, and Rhonda Roorda of In Their Own Voices: Transracial Adoptees Tell Their Stories spoke candidly and with surprising humor of their experience as children of color in a white family. The good, the bad, the ugly, and the I-can't-believe-that-actually-happened moments. I haven't the time to write about specifics (alas, naptime is fleeting), but will just speak to the thoughts that ran through my head in the hours/days following the event.

I had become complacent. I had convinced myself that I was not only doing all the right things, but that there was little left to do. L's hair always looked great, we talk frequently of Ethiopia, she has lots of "brown" friends (L's word for people of color), and so forth. When did I become so focused on her hair? Not sure, but somewhere along the line it became the way I made myself feel like I was doing it "right." Sure I was white, but have you seen my daughter's hair??? What I realized is that while her hair may in fact help her to not stick out from other brown girls as a transracial adoptee, I had completely neglected to provide her with the tools to relate to other brown kids. What happens after the kids look each other oven and decide they all look the same. When the kids start talking about their family life and L can't relate. Doesn't understand because her family is white. 

What became crystal clear to me is that surrounding L and B with other transracially adopted kids (mainly Ethiopian) is great in the sense of them having their own special community where they have friends "just like them,"  but it is certainly not a substitution for finding friends (their age and mine) that can help them to navigate through life as an African American. I simply cannot provide that for them. In the same way I can never help my son understand what it is to be a man, I can never give my children anecdotal advice on what it is to grow up as a person of color. I can empathize, but I cannot relate.

It sucks to realize that, as a parent, you can't provide everything your child needs. I hate the fact that I have to go outside our family to parent my kids. But this isn't about me. I came away from that weekend determined to work harder. Reevaluate often the needs of my kids as they grow older. And to never become complacent.

Happy Birthday, Papa!

Because of course I didn't get my you-know-what together to get a card sent in a timely fashion, this will simply have to suffice:

After about the 10th take the lyrics really began to suffer, but the results got much cuter:

There ya have it. Happy Birthday, Papa! I hope L's singing will make up for the fact that I am completely inept at getting birthday cards out on time. We love you, can't wait to see you soon.

I'll close with one of my favorite pictures...



Discipline, rinse, repeat. repeat. repeat...

Many have heard me state that one of the things I most love about my little girl is her strong and infinitely energetic personality. Unlike her mommy, L seems to have been born with this deep and endless well of confidence. She is charismatic, loud, stubborn, extremely bright (frightengly so, sometimes), outspoken, opinionated...all of these things make up the girl that I adore.

While I still say these are the parts of her that I cherish, lately I've been saying it through gritted teeth and with a face reddened by frustration. I'm sure my parents will raise their hands in the air and shout with the happiness that comes only with true justice when I say DAMN! my girl is STUBBORN and I am at the end of my wits. That's a lie. My wits are long gone.  

Lately it seems that my days are filled with disciplining her in the following fashion:

"L, don't stand on the rails of the chair, sit in your chair properly."

No response from L.

"L (slightly louder), please do not stand on the chair that way, the rail is going to break."

Slight or no respose from L.

"L! Sit down!"

At this point, L may sit down temporarily, but often tries to worm her way out of obeying by talking and talking and talking about anything but what is currently transpiring. It's at this point where I usually lose it...

"L! SIT DOWN IN YOUR CHAIR RIGHT NOW OR BREAKFAST IS OVER! I'M SERIOUS, THAT FOOD WILL GO INTO THE GARBAGE!"

Yep, those capital letters mean that I'm full-on yelling. I really do hate yelling, but it seems to be the only thing that can break through the outright disobedience and general non-stop chatter that L employs to get what she wants.

I think what is the most frustrating thing is that almost nothing can happen (with regards to L) without some kind of challenge and/or debate. Getting dressed, eating, picking out a video, getting ready to go anywhere, all of these activities not only take twice as long as they should, but they become infinitely more stressful than they should because I'm constantly engaging in a massive battle of wills with a child who has a seemingly endless supply of energy and, let's say, chutzpah. She's no wallflower, my girl.

Thankfully, I am stubborn as well (who, me?), and so I am able to hold my own and make sure my little lady knows who is actually in charge here. But lordy is it freakin' exhausting. I honestly think I would faint with sheer surpise if I ever asked L to come over and get dressed and she just plain old DID. And stood still. And helped. And didn't wiggle around, grab at her animals, run away giggling half-naked to jump on the bed leaving me kneeling on the floor holding her underwear yelling at her and feeling like not only a total loser, but a complete failure as a parent.

For my part, I know that I need to perhaps choose my battles a bit more wisely. Or at least just be choosier. The more frustrated I become, the more I seem to want to punish myself by scolding L for every tiny little infraction. Each scolding is then met with more disobedience...things kinda snowball from there, you can imagine.

I don't want to take away any of her spirit. I want her to have her own opinions, make her own conclusions about her world, learn the natural consequences of her actions (within reason, of course), and become her very own person. But I also need to figure out how to disengage from this constant battle of wills. I need for her to realize that there are certain things it is simply not her place to challenge.

Ok, Mom & Dad, laugh it up. I know, I deserve it...

Baby Mine

I think it's because my little man has recently given up the bottle that I've become a wee bit sentimental as of late. L was so tiny and infant-like when we brought her home, I definitely had more time to enjoy her baby-ness. E's babyhood seems to have zoomed on by and I'm still struggling to call him what he is, a toddler.

So, to indulge my weepy sentimental state, here are the lyrics to one of my most favorite lullabys - the one I sang to E all the time when we first brought him home:

Baby mine, don't you cry.

Baby mine, dry your eyes.

Rest your head close to my heart,

never to part, baby of mine.

Little one, when you play,

pay no heed what they say.

Let your eyes sparkle and shine,

never a tear, baby of mine.

If they knew all about you,

they'd end up loving you, too.

All those same people who scold you,

what they'd give just for the right to hold you.

From your hair down to your toes,

you're not much, goodness knows.

But, you're so precious to me,

sweet as can be, baby of mine.



Six months home, Christmas, and other miscellany...

It's been so very long since I've posted, so much to talk about! But I must begin with our Christmas triumph. About two years ago, my darling girl lost this random plastic dinosaur she had named "Wheezie" (after the dragon on Dragon Tales). Seriously, this thing was lost a LONG time ago. Unfortunately, Lila has a freakishly good memory, and thus she has never given up hope that Wheezie might someday return. My memory not being so great, all I could remember was that my mom had gotten "Wheezie" at the local Walmart and I vaguely recalled that it had something to do with Dora. Thankfully, Wheezie came in a package with two other dinosaurs that hadn't been lost, so my most amazing and resourceful hubby was able to track it down using some serious internet cunning and the stamped product number on the other dinosaur's foot! To be honest, I pride myself in my researching capabilities, so I was a bit jealous that I was not the one to find the treasure online, but I digress...

Lila had no clue. Here is her reaction opening up her beloved "Wheezie"...

Every time I think of her reaction I giggle. It was priceless. Also one of those rare moments where you truly manage to get exactly what your kid wants for Christmas.

I will admit that a rather big event went rather unobserved in this house due to the overall holiday chaos. My little man celebrate 6 months home on December 14th. Most of the time I absolutely cannot believe it's only been a mere 6 months, he is so very much an integral part of this family: it simply wouldn't work without him.

At 16 months he is now walking and making quick progress on running (Lord help me). He is quick to laugh and quick to cry...full of emotion is my little guy. Not to be outdone by his very dramatic expressive big sister, Elijah can put on quite a production when he doesn't get his way. He says "Mama," "Dada," "Bubba" (the dog), and "Ball." He also postively lights up when you say the word "snack." I've actually witnessed him tremble with anticipation and excitement at mealtime, hence his Lila-given nickname, "Snacks." He still prefers to be held and cuddled most of the time, mainly by me (you should see my biceps). He is definitely a mama's boy, through and through, and I wouldn't have it any other way.

The way my kids play together frequently fills my heart to the bursting point. Sure, we have our fair share of sibling rivalry and drama, but on the whole I think it's pretty clear that my kids adore each other. Lila has taken to big sisterhood with a joy and energy only she could posses. The other day Elijah was heading for the stairs and I asked her to please hold him off so I could walk over and shut the gate. From the end of the hallway I watched my daughter FULL BODY TACKLE my son at the foot of the stairs. Such was her fear that Elijah might climb the stairs and get hurt. Quite the mother hen, she is. Now we just need to work on using a slightly gentler approach...

But the love is there. Behold...

Words cannot even begin to describe how thankful I am that he is my son. As I sit here typing my eyes fill thinking about how scary and chaotic the first few months of his life must have been. How strong he must be to have survived and grown to become the amazing toddler he is today. I think of a newborn baby boy left behind a bush in the cold Ethiopian night and I can barely stand it, my heart aches that I cannot take away that part of his story. I also think (with a gratitude I will never be able to fully express) of the nannies, nurses, and doctors at the orphanage who clearly doted on my little boy. One of the doctors had nicknamed him "September," because she thought he was just so sparkly and bright. I am beyond joyful that he came to be mine. I get to walk into his room each morning and see him smile and say "Mama," stretching his arms out to me. I have the privilege of being his mommy, and knowing there is a woman out there who made the impossibly difficult decision to let him go, I will never take my job as his mother for granted. 

I don't think I have any set New Year's Resolutions. Perhaps set aside a bit more time to sew? The hubby very much thinks I should open up my own Etsy shop, but I'm still skeptical that anyone would actually pay money for the things I make. I mean, Lila liked her Christmas dress and all, but would she buy it? Not so sure...

Reminder of what's important

It's definitely been a rough couple of weeks for our little family. The combination of incredibly bad timing and incredibly bad luck have combined to create the perfect storm of stress. The fact that this is happening during the holiday season seems to make it all the harder. No need for specifics, but I will say that it is taking LOADS of will to keep my holiday spirit in full force. Thankfully, I was blessed with copious amounts of stubbornness, and I absolutely refuse for this holiday to be anything but magical for my two little angels.

The thing about any kind of crisis, though, is that it provides one with an opportunity to focus on the good. Now, I come from a looooong line of pessimists, but even I have been focusing more and more on all of the blessings in my life. Instead of wallowing in all of the shitty things that have happened as of late, I choose to remind myself (daily, hourly, every damn second if I have to) of all the ways I am the luckiest gal in all the world. A short TOP FIVE (certainly not comprehensive) list:

1. The past few weeks my marriage has felt stronger than ever. I have the greatest husband on the planet...everything he does is for our family. He is my hero.

2. My kiddos. Not sure I can say more than that. They are, without a doubt, the single most wonderful thing that has ever happened to me. I love them more than I ever thought possible. They give me thousands of reasons thank my lucky stars every day.

3. I am blessed to be able to stay home with said kiddos. My days are filled with laughter, hugs, hilarious comments, songs..etc. Yesterday Lila played for several hours wearing nothing but a pair of binoculars around her neck. Classic.

4. My house/neighborhood. I love my house and I love where we live. Every time we hit the community center my kids are greeted by name by lots of the staff. It really is this amazing home-away-from-home where I can get an hour to myself and my kids can get showered with attention by the amazing people in the babysitting room. Win-win.

5. I have the best family. Ever. I've said it before and I'll say it again: I am SO THANKFUL we moved back home to be closer to family. Because of my amazing and tireless mom-in-law, I was recently able to go to a sewing class and keep an eye appointment...neither of these things would have been possible without her help. Last week when our car trouble began, my brother lent us the use of his car without blinking. Didn't give it one thought. I am surrounded by the best of the best and remind myself of that every day.

Writing this post reminds me that I am so blessed and lucky. No more wallowing for this girl.

Back in the Saddle Again

For over a month I've been walking past my dark and lonely sewing machine. I think the business of preparing for the holidays coupled with an unexpected lack of inspiration made for a sad little sewing hiatus. But no more! The temps today are supposed to start out in the 20's, so I knew I had to get crackin' on the satin-lined hat I'd always wanted to make for Lila. Not even naps ruin her curls more than a short bout in an unlined hat. Last winter I even had mini-debates in my head as to whether it was really cold enough to warrent a hat...perhaps Lila could just go without and thus save the hairstyle I spent hours creating??? I'm not proud of having had those thoughts, but there it is. I spent a significant amount of time on Lila's hair and it's soul-crushing to see all of my efforts thwarted by a tiny fleece hat.

My first attempt turned out lovely, but too small for my girl. Thankfully, Elijah volunteered to model for me! Isn't he such an agreeable boy?

Tear your eyes away from that gorgeous face to notice the lovely satin lining!

Of course, nobody deserves dino spikes more than my girl.

I did make another, larger version for Lila last night. I hope to get some pics after she wakes up this morning...stay tuned!

Thanksgiving was busy but family-filled, which is just how I like it. Auntie Steph & Uncle John braved the crappy weather to come and run the Flying Feather Four Miler with me on Thanksgiving morning. The most exciting part, though, was Lila running her very first race ever! I ran with her and coached her through her mid-race wall as she exclaimed, "Mommy, I'm exhausted!"

My cousin was in town meeting his new in-laws and we were thrilled that he, his wife and son were able to come over on the Wednesday before Thanksgiving. Lila followed the two older boys around all evening, thankfully not really understanding that they were desperately trying to avoid her. Nothing is less cool to a 6 and 8-year-old boy than a very excited 3-year-old girl.

Lila requested that I take a picture of her sad face. Awwwww.

Thankfully, she recovered quickly.

Elijah discovered the broom!

Lordy, that face! Those eyes! The drool! Yep, teething is still in full effect.

I was thankful for so much this Thanksgiving, it's hard to put it all into words. There was one moment where my house was completely filled with family, everyong was talking, laughing, eating, kids running around screaming and having fun...my heart was (and still is) full of happiness and gratitude.