Christmas '09

Christmas festivities are officially over as of 6pm last night. Five days of fun was had by one and all. Several hundred miles and a few car-naps later, here's a peak at a bit of the week:








Amidst three family gatherings over four days, we spent Christmas Day at home as a family of four. Instead of waking up to a tree full of gifts, the boys each opened a stocking that contained a pack of gum and a matchbox motorcycle--they were elated. Then they opened their only Christmas Day present--the game Let's Go Fishin'. Then we packed up their Plasma Cars and headed over (still in their jammies) to the tennis courts to ride around and soak up the sun before coming home to watch The Polar Express and make a birthday cake for the Birthday Boy. It was a peaceful, beautiful day.

Another week that was utterly exhausting, but worth every second. We celebrated with all our families and are so grateful to have everyone close.

These Jazz Men

I believe that children are born with melodies in their hearts. I cannot think of a child who does not passionately enjoy music. From the baby who wiggles in his mama's belly while she listens to Michael Jackson, to the cruiser's rhythmic booty shakes as she holds onto the couch. Music is in our bones.

I come from a long line of musicians. My maternal grandparents both loved playing--my grandfather the trumpet in a jazz band, and my grandmother the piano (and I think a bunch of other things that I'm sure my mom or one of my aunts will include in the comments section). Of my mom's four siblings, three of them play music for a living. My uncle is a professional pianist, my other uncle a choir director (and jingle producer), and my aunt is a music teacher and folk musician. My mom and my other aunt both play(ed) the french horn. My dad played the trumpet through college. My family is the kind that gathers around the piano at family gatherings to do a sing-along.

Then there's me. Hmmm. I think there must be sporadic "skip-a-generation" gene on the musical skills. I (reluctantly) played the piano in elementary school--hated practicing. Then I joined my mom in playing the french horn in middle school, but decided it was way to heavy to lug back and forth to school, and thought it was kind of a geek creator, so opted out in 8th grade. No regrets. I never saw myself as a professional musician.

Mark played the saxophone in high school. He informed me yesterday that he was actually really good, but opted out in college. His mom brought over his old saxophone tree ornament last weekend, and I mentioned to Ashen that his dad played that instrument and had one in the basement. That afternoon he begged Mark to go and bring it up. He did, and I can't believe the rush both my boys had while tooting the sax for the first time. Mark coached Ashen to "keep his lips tight" as he blew. Later, I happened upon the boys playing alone with the saxophone as Ashen said, "Keep your lips tight, Tor!" They've already chewed up the reed...ah well. Can't you just picture my two, as preschoolers, wailing on the sax?

Influenced

I'm not so sure I'm a fan of the latest installment of the Twelve Books of Christmas...

Harry Potter's Apprentice

Torin had a very unfortunate run-in with our slate fireplace hearth yesterday afternoon. One that brought a "wee-ooo" and then a trip to the hospital for "glue" (Did you know you can now say "you're going to need glue, rather than stitches). We're so grateful for firefighters, medical personnel and that the gash was not one inch lower. He's a trooper. The Dr. said that it's VERY RARE for a child his age to lie quietly while being worked on. He was so brave.

I was not home when the accident occurred (was out grocery shopping and rushed home), so Ashen was Mark's right-hand man and ran to get Torin's beloved blanket, and answered the door for the firemen. He spoke kind words to his brother and asked for this band-aid at the hospital and has been wearing it in solidarity ever since.


I'm so proud of my boys (and their Super-Dad who has grace under pressure).

Pregnant!?

Haha, no not me!!

*Someone* else in my house thinks he's pregnant ;)

Messy Mouth?

Whatcha talkin' bout?

Their Perspective

I was downloading photos this morning and came across a large group of photos from our resident in training, and I loved this photo of the tree. I don't recall looking at the tree from this angle ever...my memory from my 3-year-old days is pretty scarce. Wow, things sure look huge!!

Waiting

While still on the topic of Mama Papaya, I thought I'd share this beautiful piece she wrote about waiting for our children. As I read it again now, tears come. It is so true...if only we could give them one more day.

Our wait is beautiful.
We are waiting to say hello to our future.
We are waiting with hope.
Waiting with dreams of what will come and visions of family.

The families of our children are waiting to say goodbye.
Waiting to kiss their cheek for a final time.
To smell their sweet skin and whisper in their ears.
They are waiting for loss.
Loss that most of us will never have to bear.

And our children will wait too.
They will wait for all that is known to return to them and yet it never will.
They will wait to hear the whispers of those who love them again.
Whispers that will not come.

If children are not lingering in care.
If the agencies we use are acting with haste and due care, then we should be at peace.
A decision has not had to be made to say goodbye.
There will be one more day.
One more kiss. One more moment.

I wish I could go back in time and sit next to the important people in my daughters' lives and whisper in their ears.
Just one more day.
Give them one more day.
Take your time.
I will wait here as long as you ask me to.

May you find peace.

Twelve Books of Christmas

I have met some of the most thoughtful and intentional parents through the Ethiopian adoption community. One of my favorite blogs is Mama Papaya's. Don't get me started...the woman is Incredible. A few years ago she started the Twelve Books of Christmas. In lieu of traditional gifts for her daughters, they receive a book each day for the twelve days before Christmas, and a book (or two or three) are donated each day to Ethiopia Reads, a wonderful organization providing access to books to children across Ethiopia. Brilliant.

This year, we decided to jump on board the Twelve Books of Christmas. Without further ado, here are our twelve books:

Escape from Cribcatraz

Uh-oh...look what Mr. T figured out how to do this morning (before 6, I might add).

Dr. Ashen

I love the deep breaths on the part of the patient--such a nice Dr. too. ;-)

The Road Less Traveled

I haven't posted much about adoption of our daughter in the last nine and a half months we've been journeying to her. Oddly, 9.5 months is the same length of time it took our full journeys to Ashen and Torin, and yet we're still months (and months) from our Little Miss. Unlike the nine months of expectation with the boys, the last months have been fairly uneventful in the adoption process. We knew we had a very long wait--Children's Home Society and Family Services estimated 12-18 months to referral (when we're matched with her) and then another 3 months to travel. The wait is much longer for this adoption because CHSFS has grown tremendously in the last couple years, from about 150 families waiting when we adopted Ashen, to ~400 families today. This means that families wait longer to be matched with their child(ren). About a month ago, CHSFS formally announced that the wait for referral estimate was extending to 18-24 months, and that travel would likely be 6 months after that due to issues at the US Embassy, adding at least 9 months to our wait (with obviously no guarantee that the timeline might not be extended again). That puts us traveling to Ethiopia in late 2011. When I shared this new timeline with Mark, he said "Um, when does 2011 even start!?"...the year after next, my dear.

Though Mark and I have been generally satisfied with CHSFS, of course, like any agency there have been things that have bothered us or that we do not agree with. I'm not going to go into detail here, but it's safe to say that if we were starting the process all over again right now, we would not choose CHSFS.

So, we decided to take a step back and think about what we would do if we were starting our adoption right now. Though it would mean starting over in many regards, we were only a quarter of the way into our wait with CHSFS, so we felt like we had the flexibility to make a big decision like this. We considered several agencies for this adoption in January of this year. Out of 22 agencies operating in Ethiopia, there were three agencies on our short list that we considered to be top in terms of ethical adoption practices, humanitarian efforts, and level of child care in Ethiopia. We reconsidered the two we didn't choose and made many many phone calls, did more research, talked and prayed and finally decided to switch agencies to Holt International. It's amazing the peace I felt after we made the decision, where I had been feeling very anxious and unsettled.

Holt has been around since the 1950's, but has only been operating in Ethiopia since early 2008. Like CHSFS in the earlier days of their Ethiopia program, the wait at Holt is considerably shorter than what we were anticipating now at CHSFS. Shorter, as in a couple months (or less) to referral. Honestly, I had to do some major research to figure out why Holt's wait is so much shorter than CHSFS and came out realizing that Holt's program is just so much smaller (there are only 6-7 families on their waiting list right now...we're #7). Holt recently established a relationship with a second orphanage in the southern region of Ethiopia, and also began partnering with a new Care Center in Addis that allows them more capacity.

One thing I really like about Holt is their commitment to family preservation. Holt says that is their #1 goal, which may seem counter to adoption, but is in fact the essence of ethical adoption--since it should truly be the last resort for a child, but often is not. My heart aches when I think of children who are relinquished because their parent cannot afford the $5 needed monthly for medicine for their malaria (so that they can work and provide for their child), or because they need a $150 microloan to reestablish an ailing business (so they can provide for their child). Oh the injustice of a parent who longs to keep and cherish their child, but cannot due to poverty. This cuts to my core.

So, all this means that hopefully we will have good news of our Little Miss in the next couple months (did I just write "couple months!?").

Two roads diverged in a wood, and I--
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference

~Robert Frost, The Road Not Taken

I have to remember...

...moments like these.

This evening the boys got their favorite airplanes out of the sink where they had been playing with them this afternoon. They were a little bit wet, and Ashen's plane dripped ever so slightly on his arm. He launched into a full blown meltdown, (fake) crying about how his arm was wet and he needed a towel. It was dramatic. I wiped his arm off with a nearby towel, but I couldn't help but compete with his theatrics. His plane also dripped a tiny bit on my pant leg, so I started (fake) crying and whining about how I needed a towel and how I was so wet, etc. Torin was looking on this whole time (though I wasn't paying any attention to him). Ashen and I started giggling, while he realized how silly the whole situation was. Soon he jumped up and ran out of the room and I soon heard a shrill scream. Looking up I saw Torin in the doorway, holding a big towel (that Ashen was trying to pull out of his hands) running toward me. "Mama! Towel!" as he gently wiped the wet spots on my pants. Oh, cry me a river...that did me in. I don't think it gets any sweeter than that. Oh, a son who takes care of his mother is more than enough.

A Tree Embraced

A BIG tree again! After two years of baby-proof table trees, we decided the boys could handle a big tree. As soon as we brought the tree inside, in all it's green splendor, the boys were in awe. The idea of having a big tree inside is pretty wonderous, for our whole family. We're tree huggers around here. Mark strung up lights and then thought we'd put ornaments on after the boys were asleep.

I thought that having them participate would be fun, even though we have a lot of breakable ornaments. It was so fun to watch them discover ornaments and look for the perfect spot on the tree (for Torin, the act of actually getting an ornament on the tree was a feat).

I overheard Ashen talking to himself, "I'm going to put this waaaaaay up here where Torin can't reach it because it's veeeery breakable." He took all his "favorite balls" and put them in a cluster 2/3 the way up the tree for his enjoyment and their protection.

That night as I was tucking Ashen into bed, he peered out of his bed as I opened the door to leave and as he caught glimpse of the lighted tree said, "Mom, I love that Christmas tree." "Thanks, Ashen," I said. "Thank you, Mom!! It makes me so happy."



The next morning, the tree was greeted with a hug and a kiss from its biggest fan.

Torin's been spotted singing Happy Birthday to the tree several times.

I think these boys might be a bit sad when it's time to take it down.

Disappearing Santa

I guess you'll have to wait until next year for our 3rd installment of "Santa's cookies" video...with little "Miss Clause." (can't wait!) This little Santa wanted nothing to do with the get-up this year. Funny to compare last year to this. Sorry for the blur...it's indicative of the pace in which we move around here.