Confession

My house is a total pit right now. Like, if you were to come over, I'd have to pretend like we're not home and cower downstairs until you gave up, got back in your car/van/svw/whatever, and went back home. I haven't had anyone over since R's birthday party in Nov, and there's a reason for that. The idea of having someone see what it looks like right now is humiliating. Like it's just so embarrassingly messy everywhere, and I don't know how to start or where to start. Ok, the where to start is in the kids' play area of our living room... but after that? Your guess is as good as mine.

I feel like we're totally drowning in stuff. I need to just get rid of so much of it, organize the rest, and keep it organized. This is my summer goal. How do you who work full time year round do it? I guess maybe you're better at keeping things organized than I am for one thing. Trust me, that's a very low bar.

Honestly, this isn't a new thing for me. As a child, my room was always a mess. As a college student, that didn't change, but one of my roommates was/still is a complete neat freak so it wasn't too out of control. After A and I got married, the apartment/house wasn't totally neat all the time (ok, it probably was messy), but it wasn't this bad. But then when R came home? Oh my gosh. And then E? Oh my gosh times 20. And it is not like A is helpful in keeping things clean/neat/organized. He's just as bad as I am, but he doesn't think he's responsible for anything except for his office. It's overwhelming, really.

I guess maybe the house is a metaphor for the rest of my life, as I feel like it's up in the air and disorganized, too. It's just so embarrassing. I don't want to be like this, but I honestly do not know how to change. If I get my house clean, it'll stay that way for a little while, and then, over and over again, it becomes cluttered and out of control once more.

So, maybe it's time to get off my stupid blog and start organizing something? Probably so. Ugh. Hate it!

Birthday

Today's mine. I've always liked having a June 12 birthday. I love June, and 12 seems like a comfortable number. So, in that regard, it is a good day.

I've had some trouble adjusting to the idea of creeping closer and closer to my mid 30s. My husband will be 35 his next birthday, and that shocked me when I realized it. My bff found a grey hair on her head this morning, and I feel like the bags and circles under my eyes are glaring at me, like my eyeliner got really smudged or something.

I feel like just very recently, the idea of "aging" has really started to creep up on me. It's weird to me to see pictures of myself from not that long ago and see how much older I look now. (Especially since the girls came home. Not their fault, just haven't taken care of myself like I used to.)

I have some other stuff going on, too, so I guess that's not helping. I thought the work stuff was going to get better-- and I think it will-- but I got my teaching assignment Friday, and it is less than favorable. I had my trust betrayed yesterday, and R is going through a phase in which she tantrums constantly... well I'm hoping it's a phase anyway.

So... happy birthday to me, I guess.

Another Year Over...

Wow, I cannot believe that tomorrow's the last school day with students and that Thursday is the workday... and then... then, I'll be finished!! I cannot wait to be finished with this school year!!!!

I'm so looking forward to spending the summer with my girls. I'm so looking forward to kissing this year goodbye and never looking back.

Bittersweet? Someone asked me today if it is bittersweet that I'm finishing my last few days in this job. Nope, just sweet! I still do not know what I'll be doing next school year, but I do know I'll have a job. Honestly, that's all that I care about right now. For a few weeks of the month of May, I was totally stressing myself out about what will happen next year. Now, I'm just sort of in my zen place about it. I'm not going to allow myself to stress.

Sure, I'd love to be able to move my stuff into the classroom I'll be in next year, but the principal doesn't know where I'll be placed yet (even though I was supposed to know on Friday...). So maybe that means I won't be in a classroom again. Or maybe it means, come August I'm going to have a lot of work today. Either way, it's fine.

On that note, the Merry Merry Month of May is over... Tomorrow's June 1st, and on Friday, life will be good again.

Just wondering

Do you have anyone you know whom you really like but are driven crazy by at the same time? At my job, there are 4 others people who currently have the same position that I do. We all work in different buildings in our district, so we get together weekly for meetings. One of the girls, she really sweet and nice, but she cuts me off all the time when I talk and disagrees with me allllll the time.

Like at our last meeting on Thursday, she disagreed with everything I said. Ok, maybe not everything but a lot of it. I'm probably oversensitive, but it drives me insane. I like the girl, but I get so tired of her talking over me, and when she does allow me to finish a thought, she immediately says the opposite of what I'm saying.

In fact, she had me in tears on Thursday. Maybe I'm making a bigger deal of this than it really is. The other girls always say, "oh, that's just her... she doesn't mean anything by it." Etc. It's just hurtful, and I've put up with it for 2 years now.

Now that my time in this position is winding down, maybe the point is moot now... But how to deal with her is still a mystery to me!

Melt my heart.

My favorite moment of the dance recital on Sunday?

After R danced, I rushed from the theater to the backstage area just as she and the other little girls in her class were just coming down the hall.

R looked down the hall, spotted me, yelled "there's my mom!!" and ran into my arms for a big hug with a huge smile on her beautiful face.

Oh, honey, my little dancing big girl baby, I love you so much.

Thank you for being you.

It was dance recital weekend...

... and here is my dance recital princess-baby!

Deep Thoughts... by R

Today at breakfast, R was in deep thought. A asked her what she was thinking about after a minute or two...

To which she replied: "Umm, rainbows."

I need moments like this to ground me, to remind me of how beautiful and precious my eldest daughter is. Yesterday was a rough day for us-- she was whiny and fussy and demanding... Ugh. She cried a bunch, and I yelled a bunch. Last night, as I laid in her bed with her at bedtime, we talked about how tomorrow would be another day, a better day, for Mommy and R.

Sweet girl, I thank god for you. For your beautiful spirit and soul. For the precious little girl you are and who you will grow up to be someday.

Some days I have to say, it's hard to be your mom. I imagine some days it's hard to be my daughter, too.

Some days, I forget about how my heart ached to hold you. I take you for granted.

Some days, I get so frustrated.

But, I always, always, always love you. We both need to remember that tomorrow is a new day on those hard ones.

Love isn't enough.

Do you ever have situations in which you're talking about something, and the other person just doesn't get it? I was talking with a few of my co-workers today about where they send or plan to send their children to school. I am planning to bring my kids to my district (at this point!) when the time comes. This may or may not change-- not really the point.

One of the people I was talking with attends my church and sends her kids to the school attached to it. I just mentioned something about how I'd intended to send my kids there but I had concerns about my girls' being the only black children in their grade or maybe even the school. I said that sometimes on Sundays, my girls are the only black people in the church. She said that she was sorry to hear that I didn't "feel welcome" because she'd gone to that church her whole life, etc.

I didn't mean that. Not at all. I wasn't saying that the people from the church were unwelcoming or not accepting of my kids. In fact, people always smile and are friendly to my girls. I didn't mean racism.

I meant... well, that I didn't want my kids to just stick out. I tried to explain that and she got more tense... I got more tense. I finally just said, "Well your kids aren't black." And then I tried to explain what it is like for transracially adopted kids. She wasn't getting it, and neither were the rest of the people in the group. One started talking about her twins and getting comments about them. Then they started talking about how younger kids don't notice differences, etc.

It wasn't helping.

Ugh. I don't know. I was having this conversation with people I like, trust, and admire. I didn't mean to make them feel awkward, so maybe I just shouldn't have brought it up. I was just trying to get her to see another point of view. Maybe more for me than for her. I would like just every once in a while for someone else to understand where I'm coming from with things like this.

I don't even really know what my point is here. I guess it is just hard to explain to people who have never had the same experiences I have had. I just wish things could be simple.

Like yesterday, my precious and darling R was planning on a piece of playground equipment during a birthday party for my BFF's youngest. The party was at a local park, and the kids were having a great time. R was climbing everywhere and running around. I was keeping close to her because she isn't particularly cautious on playground equipment.

I looked up. There, carved in the plastic of the playground equipment, was that word... you know what I mean. There was my beautiful daughter, who happens to be black, standing there smiling and having a great time playing, not a care in the world, with that freaking word glaring at me behind her right shoulder.

Right now, my girls of course are blind to the idea that people may not like them because of their skin color or where they came from. Right now, R can continue on in blissful ignorance of the meeting of the ugly, scrawled letters on a piece of playground equipment.

I dread the day when one of them comes home from somewhere crying because someone's said something hurtful or done something to them. It makes me sick. I'm powerless to stop it, and just the mere thought of it right now is making me feel nauseous.

My children are so loved. I wish that were enough to protect them from all the hate and stupidness that goes on in this world.

Closing Time

"Every new beginning comes from some other beginning's end."

And, oh, how I am ready for a new beginning and the close of this school year. This week, I feel like I am finally awakening from the funk I've been in this entire school year. It's testing week, and including my teacher work day, I have 19 days until summer.

I haven't written for a long time about my work situation. That is not because it got any better as the school year went on. more because I just didn't have anything else to say. And, really, it didn't seem like anyone wanted to hear about my misery any longer on here anyway.

I was/am miserable pretty much daily. And that clouds everything. That's probably also why I haven't written on my blog as regularly as I used to either. Who wants to share with the world when all you feel like doing is hiding?

I couldn't see it at the time, but the weight of this school year has been pressing down on my shoulders much more than I realized. Now that I can almost see the finish line, I'm feeling better-- didn't even realize I wasn't feeling well all along.

And you know what? My kids are happier, my husband is happier, and I am happier. The stress of all this was hurting us all. I feel like caring about my appearance again and just this week have lost some weight (I've gained it at an alarming rate since Dec., when things at work were the worst)-- because I have actually cared about it. I mean, don't get me wrong, I have a long ways to go before I could even get to where I was weight-wise before R came home, but this is the first time in a LONG time that I've even cared enough to do something about it.

When I applied for, interviewed for, and accepted this position almost 2 years ago, I never expected that I'd just be placed in one building this year. Frankly, had I known, I wouldn't have taken the job. I know that last year, it was better for us (my family) for me to be in a position that wasn't in the classroom. Being able to spend time nurturing my children-- especially E when she first came home-- without the burden and stress of worrying about my students, grading, lesson planning, etc-- was something we needed. (I had a really rough time returning to work after R came home.)

So, in that regard, I know taking this job was the right choice. Professionally, I've learned a lot, too, and I know that if I return to the classroom next year (that's still up in the air), I will be a better teacher because of this job. And if I'm not fated to return to the classroom, this job has given me an edge experience-wise that I never would have had otherwise.

All I know for certain is that Closing Time-- June 2-- cannot come soon enough!

Waiting List... Two Years Ago, That is!

Two years ago this evening, we received the phone call from our case manager that we were on the waiting list for a referral of an infant girl at #33. I remember thinking it was going to be an eternity until we got our referral, as 33 sounded like such a "big" number compared to where we started on the waiting list for R (at #4).

We'd waited "so long" to get on the list-- and then there we were. At the time, our agency was saying that the waiting time for a referral was 10-12 months for our parameters. One of my friends had a trip to Ethiopia scheduled for late Oct- early Nov 2009, and I just kept praying that we'd have our referral by then-- by some miracle. In the end, that miracle did happen, as we got our referral on Oct. 19, 2009.

Two years ago today, my E was a tiny 3 month old baby (oh my goodness, I'll bet she was cute-- 3 months old is the age R was when we brought her home!!). I wonder today was her day was like. While our day was one of celebration, was her family getting closer to the decision to relinquish her? I have other thoughts about this, too, but I don't feel comfortable sharing them because it involves specific questions I have about my daughter's story.

As I look back over the 2 years since our referral, I think about how my family has grown and changed. R-baby, 2 years ago today was not quite 18 months old. She was just barely talking, and now, as of a few weeks ago, she can write her name and NEVER stops talking!

Two years ago today, I was about to finish (although I didn't know it at the time) my last year teaching, as a new job came my way over the summer... On the other side of the coin, two years ago we were worried A was going to lose his job based on an (unfair) evaluation from his boss and an ultimatum.

Two years ago today, E was only a dream to us... Who she was to be was completely up to the imagination. And now, she's home. She's worked her way into the fabric of our family and is my adored, precious, darling daughter. And for that, I am so very thankful.

Umm, random

On Sunday, as I was driving home from my parents' house with the girls, I got a phone call on my cell. It wasn't a number I recognized, but I answered it anyway.

I said hello, and the man replied something about Craigslist. I couldn't understand what he was saying (and was confused), so I asked him to repeat himself. He said it again, and then I finally understood-- he was calling about "my" listing on Craigslist.

I said, "I'm sorry, you have the wrong number."

Random Guy: "Umm, I don't think I do!!!"

Me: "Yes, you do have the wrong number. I don't have anything listed on Craigslist!"

Random Guy then hangs up on me without another word.

I just found it bizarre that he'd try to argue with me about the whole thing. And this only crosses my mind because I just got another weird area code number call on my cell, this time the person asking for "Mark." My name does in fact start with M, but it isn't Mark!!

So I'm just hoping that whatever is listed on Craigslist with my cell number (or something close to it!) is sold/traded/whatever soon!

L.O.V.E.

I did a "Mommy and Me" photo shoot with my princesses on Saturday. This is just a preview; I haven't seen them all yet. I love my precious girls!

It's all in the timing

If you look to the right, you'll see the timeline for our second adoption. Two years ago today was an important day for us. It was the day that everything for our dossier and homestudy for our second adoption was officially, really and truly, complete. It meant... wait list soon.

The month of April 2009 was a really tough month for me on the adoption front. We kept getting delay after delay-- something wasn't right, a hassle here, a hassle there. All the while, I was ready. Ready. READY. READY!! to get on that wait list for our second daughter.

I remember my social worker sending me an email to tell me that those stupid child abuse checks weren't going to be done for weeks. Then, it took (seemingly) forever for those weeks to pass and for our homestudy to be completely ready. With our second adoption, we did a lot of the hurry up and wait that so many people talk about.

Being powerless to control my own fate and the fate of my family was... frustrating. Beyond frustrating. As anyone who knows me in "real life" can attest, I'm not a patient person by nature, and I like to be in control. Waiting for something to be completed, waiting for a homestudy to be written or reviewed, or waiting to get put on a waiting list, they were all very hard for me.

This is why adoption the second time around was both easier and more difficult at the same time. Easier because we knew where to go and what to do and how the process worked. More difficult because of those same reasons, and of course, I'd also assigned my own ideas about how, when, where things should take place.

Even though we're not in the process to adopt again (and won't be ready for a little while longer), I'm still on my agency's listserv. Recently, there's been some talk about the lack of referrals and how painful the waiting is. People are getting discouraged, and I don't blame them one iota. I know the feeling, oh, how I know the feeling.

(Of course I'd also argue that the waiting for a referral is nothing compared to the pain of the waiting after the referral. The time between seeing R's face for the first time and holding her in my arms were some of the darkest, most painful months of my life-- probably even worse than when my grandmother died, which was horrific for me. I thought my heart was going to break in half. I could hardly bear the pain of those months. I cried. A lot. I was probably pretty useless to my family, friends, and students during that time, too. I literally felt the pain in my chest being lifted from my body when I held her the first time. For that reason, the emotion I felt when I finally did hold her was relief. I was so relieved that it was actually really happening, that she was actually my child. Up until that point, I kept waiting for something to happen that would keep us from her. Anyway, I digress...)

Hindsight, as "they" say, is 20/20. Looking back, knowing E's journey (what little of it I've been able to piece together) to us, it make sense. I can't tell you specifically what she was doing on this day 2 years ago, but obviously she wasn't ready to come home yet. Looking back, I can see how all the painful pieces of our waiting fit together... If we'd been a week earlier or even a few days later, it wouldn't be our E who fell asleep in my arms last night or whose voice called to me from her bedroom this morning or whose lips I kissed as she left to go to my friend M's house for the day.

In my agency's welcome to the program packet, there's a letter from the case managers. I don't know if it still says this, but when we got it both times, it said something like "at the end of your adoption journey, you will be a parent, you will have a child," etc. So, even though the waiting and process are painful and can be heartbreaking, in the end, I'm a mom, times 2. It really and truly does happen.

It can be long. It can be hard. It can push you right to the edge and dangle you there... but in the end, you really and truly will bring your child home. What happens after that, well, that can be painful and difficult, too, but that's for another post.

Cuteness. Extreme Cuteness.

Ugh, so frustrated. I've been trying two nights in a row to upload some recent pictures and have not been able to do it. I promise that the pictures are indeed extreme cuteness.

You were celebrated. And loved.

My E at referral at age 8 months. (The youngest known picture of her.)

My E at her 2nd birthday in Feb. (Amazes me sometimes that these pictures are the same child.)

I'm in the process (along with some other ET adoptive moms) of planning this year's culture camp. We had a meeting on Sunday, and we had invited some of the ladies from a nearby Ethiopian church. Two of the ladies from the church are not in fact Ethiopian, but a mother and daughter who have spent a lot of time in Ethiopia (both speaking Amharic and might as well be Ethiopian with everything they know about the culture and how much of their lives they've given to Ethiopia, etc...)

Anyway, we started talking about Ethiopian traditions and culture and how much more of an emphasis there is on the cycle of life in Ethiopia. Like how when a child is born, he or she is celebrated by the whole community-- everyone congratulations the ENTIRE family, not just the new mom and dad. Why? Because the family has gained a child. If someone dies, there is now another person to take their place. Children are adored, celebrated. Family stays and helps the new parents (new mom, really) for a good month, and the new mom is pampered. People celebrate the child in a way that we don't necessarily do in the United States.

It made me think about my E's birth. (I know "a lot" about R's birth in comparison so I don't have to infer as much there.) Did her family celebrate? Did everyone stay and help her birthmom as she adjusted to a new baby? When E cried, was she doted on by family members? Were her needs met? Was she adored? Loved?

Likewise, when she was relinquished, was she mourned? Did her birthfamily wail and cry for her as if she had died? Could you hear the cries from a quarter mile away? Do they think of her? Cry for her still? Miss her still? (How could they not?)

I want my E to know that even though we don't know much about the first part of her life in Ethiopia with her birthfamily, she was loved. Her birth was celebrated. She was wanted and cherished and when she left, she was missed.

E, I promise someday I will have more answers for you... for me... for us both. And I want her birthfamily in Ethiopia to know that she is still celebrated, loved, and cherished.

Facebook

I think Facebook is so weird. I've been on it for a little over a year-- right after we brought E home, I joined mainly to stay in touch with members of our travel group. (And because my BFF wouldn't stop harassing me about it.)

However, now I'm "friends" on Facebook with people from high school, some co-workers, other adoptive parents, my friends, and family. I think the family "friends" are the weirdest for me. I was just looking at some pictures of my cousin B, who's about 7 years younger than me and whom I haven't seen in about 8 years (at least I THINK she came to my wedding...). B doesn't post much, but her younger sister, my cousin M, does. M's a college student, and, for the life of me, I have no real memories of her from childhood (or B and M's even younger brother, N, for that matter!). To be honest, I have no clue how I even became "friends" with them on Facebook to begin with.

I do remember B, though, as she was born before my grandma died. I think she was probably about 4 when that happened, so we would have spent time together for the first four years of her life. My brother J and I used to call her "B the Brat," umm, because she was... a brat... when she was really young. It's weird to see her now as an adult with a fiancé and a career and a life.

It's also weird to me that I have cousins I don't really know. I wish that my parents would have made it more of a priority for our family to, well, stay a family after my grandma died. I guess that happens, but I think it is sad that I'm "friends" with these strangers who are also my cousins.

I think in that aspect, it is nice that Facebook is around to keep us in touch in some way or another. Even if I don't really know my cousins anymore, I do enjoy reading their updates and keeping touch with them at least in some way.

Choices

So, my "little" brother (he's 6.5 years younger than I am) is house hunting. I'm happy for him, really I am. I found myself getting a little jealous today as he described the house he and his girlfriend (I call her the girls' future Aunt L) are planning to buy. It's in a nicer, more affluent suburb than the one we live in, and the house is a good $50,000 more than our house was when we bought it in 2004. It is 800 square feet larger than my home. He and his girlfriend have a huge amount to put down as a down payment. We had next to nothing to put down when we bought our home! As he described the house with excitement and a smile in his voice, I found myself getting more and more grumpy about the whole thing. I was unhappy about my little brother's good fortune. And thinking why in the heck A and I didn't pick professions that pay more?!? I often feel like we're just getting by and never have money to get ahead.

But then I thought about the amount of money we spent to bring our girls home. True, had we not adopted our 2 girls in less than 3 years, we would be a lot better off financially than we are now. But then we wouldn't have our girls... Obviously, there is no question which life I would chose if it were between being better off financially or having my daughters!

So, the jealousy in my heart about my brother is gone, and I just feel happy for him and proud that he's ready to take this next big step in his life-- becoming a home owner. I guess it is all about perspective.

New Look!

What do you think? I thought it was time to include my E in the header for one thing!! :) And I was ready for a change. I think it is pretty darn cute myself.

Precious

Is there anything more precious than a baby, a sweet, happy, good natured, joyful baby? I think not. This is how I would describe my sweet E.

Tonight, we took a walk (thank god spring is nearly here where we are-- it's been a loooonnnng winter), and E spotted the moon.

And jumped, arms outstretched, to reach it.

Yes, baby girl, jump for the moon. Someday, I think you just might reach it. And when you do, I suspect you will hug it and give it a big, full-lipped kiss.

There's been a lot of talk lately about Ethiopian adoption, as you all know. I've been thinking about our two adoptions and that some think it is wrong to adopt infants when there are waiting children.

In our case, we'd planned to adopt a waiting child our second time around. I could even picture what she'd look like. And then our agency said we couldn't adopt out of birth order. That meant-- if we were to pursue adoption using "our" agency-- that we'd have to adopt an infant as R was barely one (15 months, to be exact) when we started our second adoption.

We chose to stick with our agency and bring another baby girl home.

I don't know who's right and who's wrong in debate about infant vs. waiting child. Both routes have risks, pros, and cons. All I do know is that had adopted an older child... we wouldn't have E.

And then, where would I be? I'd be without MY girl.

My girl who jumps for moon and expects to catch it.

My girl who kisses me on both my cheeks, my lips, and my nose and gives the biggest hugs before going to bed each night.

My girl who loves to sing and dance.

My girl who brings such joy to our family.

My girl who loves passionately and deeply.

My girl who has already proven herself to be a loyal and loving friend.

My girl who is the perfect daughter for our family.

As she jumped for the moon tonight, I thanked God, a silent prayer, for being her momma. I can't imagine my life without her.

I love you, E-poodle.

Attachment

I recently stumbled across this blog as I was reading someone else's. She's asking for adoptive parents to be real about attachment. So here are my two cents about the topic:

With my R, A and I attached to her very quickly. I loved her right away and felt she was mine from the first time I saw her little face staring back at me in those referral pictures. And when we met, she attached to us, too. She wasn't sure about A for maybe a day, and then we really were that happy little adoption story. This being said, R went through a huge period of jealousy when E came home and felt very insecure for a good one to two months. Life was hard at that point for us all, for that reason and reasons I'll discuss below. With R, most of the time, things are simple. We love each other. We drive each other nuts, but she knows that I'm her momma and that she is loved and safe.

With my E, though, it was a different story. I didn't feel the instant connection and love when I gazed at her referral picture. I was expecting her to look completely different, to be a different child, I suppose, and although I felt strongly that she was the girl for our family, I didn't feel the instant and complete, head-over-heels love I did for R.

This carried into our first meeting, when E screamed her baby lungs out. I suspect that she was expecting a different momma! The pictures from our "gotcha" moment are, quite frankly, hard to look at. She's screaming and pulling away from me, and I look horrified, miserable, and pained. I was worried that A and I had made a huge mistake in adopting her when we were in Ethiopia and when we boarded the plane for home.

Indeed, for the first month or so, I felt like I was baby-sitting someone else's sick and sad child. It was hard for me to get to know her, to love her at first. Knowing her and loving her now, I imagine she must have been so scared at first. E is VERY smart, and I am sure she had some awareness that something was happening and that she was being uprooted yet again. (I often try to imagine her first days and weeks after being relinquished by her birth mother. All I see is sadness. Oh, how my poor precious child must have grieved the loss of her birth mother.)

So, it makes sense. In her world, mommas were people who abandoned you and left forever and broke your heart. I understand it now even more than I did then. Slowly though, over the days, weeks, and months home, my E started to become, well my E. She became healthier (she had giardia and some other issues when she came home) and gained weight. We stayed close to home and cocooned. She started to feel more like my child, and I suppose to her I started to feel more like her momma.

The journey of attachment is not easy. I feel that my girls are attached to us and us to them, now... But every once in a while, E will have a day in which she cries-- A LOT-- or weeks when R has sleep issues (the place where her attachment and grieving tend to manifest themselves), and we have to take a few steps back.

On those hard days and in those dark nights, I hold my girls. I pray for healing in their hearts and for the aching to go away. I don't think we'll ever reach our destination on the journey to complete attachment, and some days that scares me. But I also don't know anything different.

What are your thoughts, struggles, successes when it comes to attachment?