Chance Encounters

All three of us spotted him the moment he slipped through the restaurant's back entrance. Fortunately, he made a detour to the bathroom prior to passing by our table, and the kids had a chance to get their excited observations out prior to him being in earshot (discreetness is a character trait my children may never have).

"That man! Did you see his dreadlocs Mommy? What he doing?"

"Two boys Mommy! Two. With dreadlocs!"

He emerged from the restroom at about the same time that our giant plate of vegetarian Ethiopian delicacies, side of doro wat, and mountain of injera appeared at our table and was able to pass with only momentary wide eyed stares from each of the kids due to the distraction only a coveted injera-filled lunch could bring. Our eyes caught each other's, smiled to match our faces and nodded a quick hello as he passed our table and disappeared into the adjacent market.

"Mommy his dreadlocs are just like mine! I want mine to be long like that someday."

Injera hypnosis overtook all three of us and we didn't notice as he approached our table again.

"Man, I can't help but ask. Do I know you from somewhere? You look so familiar."

The ice was broken (and for this I thank him).

"No, I doubt it. We live up north in Ventura. We only come here every few months. My son was admiring your locs. He wants his to grow long like yours someday."

"Oh yeah my little man? I've had these locs since I was a little boy in Jamaica. Littler than you even. You keep growing yours and I bet they'll be down to here (pointing toward the middle of his back) by next year. Come on boy, pass it on (holding out his fist for Ashagre to bump)."

Ashagre sat a little taller in his chair, his smiling eyes and beaming grin brightening our table in the darkness of the restaurant.

From there the conversation flowed for a good fifteen minutes or so. His name was Osai. He had never been to Ethiopia before, but was planning to go in November and stay through Christmas. He wanted to visit an Ethiopian Orthodox Church. Did we know that the first Orthodox Church in the western hemisphere was in Jamaica? He asked about the kids, patiently listening as they told him how old they were and where they were born. Neither kid felt inclined to resort to acts of shyness or socially awkward behavior and comfortably and politely carried on the conversation. When Elsa proudly exclaimed that she was born in Addis Abba, he immediately greeted her in Amharic. She was puzzled for a minute, but then finished my sentence, with a tint of sadness in her voice, as I explained that she had already forgotten her Amharic.

Finally, the conversation subsided and he headed back into the market as we continued our lunch. Passing through once more on his way out back to his car he stopped to say goodbye and give Ashagre a pat on the back. The other man, younger and with a more frenzied energy about him than Osai paused briefly to compliment Ashagre's locs.

Ashagre sat yet even taller, visibly more comfortable in his own skin. Proud. Validated.

*******************************

She showed up just as I had resigned myself to sitting quietly (slightly bored) as Brent napped on the bleachers and the kids splashed around in the pool at their regularly scheduled swim lessons. This week it was so much easier than last week. Last week I sat just behind her in the bleachers, for at least 30 minutes, trying to come up with a non-chalant way to break the ice until our kids finally got out of the pool and that look of absolute understanding melted her seemingly closed off demeanor as we both helped our brown-skinned kids get dried off and warmed up.

She sat down right next to me and struck up the conversation immediately.

"Don't you guys live up the street? I've seen you walking."

"Not any more. We moved. We bought a place over in Montalvo off Victoria."

"That little girl of yours. She's a fiery one. Just look in her eyes. Fiery."

The 30 remaining minutes flew by as we got to know one another. She grew up on the islands (Fiji) but had lived in Ventura for a long time. The boy with beautiful locs swimming with our kids was her grandson - eight years old and quite the little man.

As the conversation continued Elsa pulled herself up on the side of the pool, her eyes bright and comfortable curiosity written across her face. "Mom, who you talking to?"

********************************

They notice. Every. Single. Time. They need it. People, with beautiful brown skin just like theirs casually chatting with their mom at the side of the pool, complimenting them on their dreadlocs, actively making an effort to get to know them, to see them for all the beauty and promise they embody. For moments, they do not stand out as the only. They are validated.

And so I continue to reach out because what we're doing now is not enough. Even when it feels awkward or makes me uncomfortable. I remind myself it can't be as uncomfortable as moving from a country full of people just like you to a community where you are often the only.

I send emails to nice gentlemen met in the hallway of my office building. I make a conscious effort to visit the man at the bagel shop at least once a week and wrack my brain trying to come with a way to take our connection beyond my bagel order (and his adoration of my kids, which light up his sleepy face early in the morning and leave him asking where they're at when they're not with me). I visit the Starbucks that is on the way to nothing in hopes of chatting with the handsome young man with the big cubic zirconia earrings. I pass my phone number to the girl at the burrito shop with hair just like Elsa's and huge amounts of self-confidence to match. I hope daily that she will call me back like she promised.

I joke with my friends as I explain my efforts, "Hi! (said in my nerdiest nasal voice) I have black kids! Do you want to be my friend?" If only it were that easy...

Still it's not enough, and It's too important to mess up. So many studies have shown the importance of a strong sense of racial and cultural identity to a person's self-esteem. I have to work harder at it. I need more ideas.

(Nearly) Wordless Wednesday - L.A. & Little Ethiopia

They wanted to order enough to eat until their bellies were full and have
some left over for Daddy. Mission accomplished (and then some).

Enjoying injera-filled bellies and some Ethiopian
music videos.

Well I Woke Up This Morning...

...rainbow filled the sky. Yes, I woke up this morning, rainbow filled the sky. That was God telling me everything's gonna be alright (Jack Johnson and G. Love).

*************************************

I've got one post half-written and three or four more rattling around in my head right now. There is so much provoking stuff out on the interwebs these days; much of which feels as if it needs a post all to itself rather than just a comment left amongst a sea of other well written and equally challenging comments on someone else's blog.

If you feel so inclined (and aren't a writer/regular reader of any of these blogs) please hop on over and see what some of my friends have been talking about.

• If you prefer to think in black and white, avoid this post (and international adoption) over at Scooping it Up.

• If the idea of white privilege scares you or ruffles your feathers, please read this series of posts over at Zelalaland. Post 1. Post 2. Post 3.

The kids are finally engaged in some non-bickering play on the trampoline and Brent is in the shower washing a day or two's hard work away so I'm going to get typing. In the meantime, I leave you with this little snippet.

*************************************

We kept the kids up way too late last night. It was just one of those days, which have been happening less now that its summertime, when the day's happenings just don't wrap themselves up nicely at 8:00. As a result, one kid melted down pretty intensely until I offered up a coveted spot in our bed in exchange for the sobbing to stop. Said kid then proceeded to head butt and knee me in the back the rest of the night as they acted out their intensity in their sleep. When I woke up this morning, I knew to proceed with caution. We had set ourselves up for a classic pre-8 AM disaster.

As I walked to our bedroom to rouse the kid nestled in our bed the double rainbow above caught my eye. My fear of the impending morning disappated. Said kid was awake and I chose mysterious and fun as my theme for our first encounter of the morning. Grinning I gestured for them to follow me, saying nothing. A bit confused, but definitely curious, said kid hopped out of bed (crisis one averted) and trailed behind me to catch a glimpse of the magic unfolding off our back porch. Standing there we soaked up some of the moment's energy, me rubbing said kid's back while they got their groggies out. The second kid was summoned by the first, and we shared the magic some more. As the kids sat down for breakfast I put on the song below, announcing it was our song for the day. I turned it up so they couldn't hear each other's pestering and bickering.

At about that same time, Brent was rolling onto the freeway ready to start his morning commute. He turned Pandora on his phone and, out of the thousands of songs that could have, the same song kicked off his playlist.

Well I woke up this morning, rainbow filled the sky. Yes, I woke up this morning, rainbow filled the sky. That was God telling me everything's gonna be alright.


When I finally fell asleep last night it was out of frustration, a bit of desperation and a decent amount of worry. Thanks, universe, for reminding me where we stand right now.

Trigger

I pull into the parking lot and spot you immediately. You jump out from behind the corner of the small cinder-block building that serves as your summer camp's home base. You see me; you were waiting for me. A huge grin instantly lights up my face - you're the best thing I've seen all day since I dropped you off four hours ago. Your face fails to mimic mine. Your eyes dart away. You dash back around the corner of the building.

I get out of the car and strategize on my approach. I consider goofy - pointing and making silly faces, maybe swaying my hips in a goofy gait. Goofy's usually a safe bet, especially with you, my child that is quick to melt into smiles at the slightest bit of loving attention from his momma. But this time I know better. I approach slowly with my heart visible and raw for the offering. As I round the corner I find you there, just like I knew I would. Huddled against the wall, trying to posture like everything's ok but afraid to make eye contact. A couple of kids kick a ball at the wall next to you. I assume you may have been playing with them prior to my arrival. They eye me; they watch us. They know.

"Hey, buddy. How's your day going?"

You shrug your shoulders in a gesture I haven't seen for many, many months. The Ethiopian child's shoulder shrug, usually accompanied by an "imbe" (I don't want to), and I know this is serious. You turn your body even closer toward the wall acting as if you would insert yourself between the cinder blocks if you could. I crouch down close, making my voice as soft as possible.

"Hey buddy. What's wrong? Can you find your words and tell me? I can't help you if you can't tell me what's going on? I can tell you're upset. Come on, what is it?"

More shoulder shrugs and an even closer proximity to the cinder blocks.

"Hey buddy. What's going on? Can you use your words, please?"

Nothing.

"Is someone not being nice to you?"

Nothing.

"Are you worried because Mommy is here to get Elsa and you're afraid no one will come back for you?"

Trigger.

It comes instantaneously. There's no way you can stop it. First the streams of tears down your cheeks, and seconds later then the wails. Not your typical six year old wails. Wails from the dark place deep in your soul. Tongue sticking straight out, tears drenching your face mixing with the snot that has also started to flow, you wail. The boys kicking the ball elbow one another and stare. I try to lead you some place a little more private but you won't budge.

"Oh buddy. I can tell you are really scared. I know you don't believe me right now, but Daddy and I will always come for you. Do you remember when you were at Lego camp and Elsa had to go to camp Ventura all by herself? This is just like that. She's going to yoga camp and Daddy will pick you both up. Daddy will even pick you up first because yoga camp doesn't end until 4."

More wails. More reasoning, but reasoning doesn't work. You're not in the place where one's brain responds to reason. I get up to get you some tissue and you continue to wail until I get back. You let me wipe your nose but the tears keep flowing. I stand close, rubbing your back, murmuring reassuring words that you can't hear. A couple of counsellors stand nearby ready to help with the transition.

"Ok buddy. I've got to get Elsa to yoga camp. Can I give you a big hug first?"

You let me pick you up but you are dead weight. Your legs hang limply from your torso making your body hard to support just like they did when we first met, before I taught you how to be held. I wisper my sincere love for you into your ear.

"Daddy will be back to get you very soon."

A counsellor takes your hand and leads you away. I mention that you might just need a quiet place to get yourself together for a little bit. She suggests putting on a movie and you follow.

Elsa and I dive into the car. She has 15 minutes to eat lunch in the car before yoga camp starts. We discuss the healthiest, most sustaining choices in her lunch box and she gets busy. We drive away, but my heart stays behind at the corner of that cinder block wall with my little boy.

*******************************************

It's been a long time. A long time since your grief has been triggered. Many events or activities have come and went where I prepared myself for it, but you took them in stride, your new found confidence carrying you forward.

When I get home you run out to greet me. You grip me tight, give me a huge hug and plant a huge juicy kiss on my cheek. At night, before bed, we talk. You let me scoop your too big body up and cradle you like a baby in my lap. You're still scared. I try reassurance and reason again. I get nowhere. You're anxiety begins to build again; it's apparent as you start to turn your body from me to avoid eye contact.

"Hey. I have an idea. What if, when Daddy picks up Elsa for yoga camp tomorrow, he leaves you his house key?"

You take a minute to think about what I just said and turn back toward me, curious.

"Ashagre, Daddy and I will always come and get you. We will never leave you somewhere. I know that is very hard for you to believe. I know you remember being left once before. I know the last words you heard when you were left, I have no other choice, are burned in your cortex forever. I know even if I tell you over and over and over again that we will pick you up, that we will be there in the morning when you wake up, your heart is too hurt to internalize it. So how about this? How about Daddy leaves his house key with you when he picks up Elsa? He'll have to come back for you and the key so he can get into the house. He would come back for you anyway, but if you have the key you don't have to be nervous. How does that sound?"

Your eyes light up and your huge grin returns to your face. "Yes!"

When I tell Daddy the plan, he agrees, but also questions, "What message are we sending him? Are we telling him that a house key is worth picking up, even if he's not?"

Maybe, but we're not talking to his logical brain. The one that understands cause and effect. The one that makes comparisons and reasons. We're talking to the primal part of his brain. The one that operates in response to fear. The one that just needs to feel safe. That brain doesn't compare keys to kids. That brain just knows it can chill out so long as that house key is tucked safe in his pocket.

*********************************************

Today when I return from work you are back to your old self. You're glowing. You rattle on and on about all the fun games you played at camp. You made a new friend; the two of you swam together and are going to play together tomorrow too.

"I didn't loose the key Mommy! I was very careful with it!"

I know you were, little man, I know you were.

Let's Go Dodgers

Holding steady with the essence of summertime theme, we took the kids to their first professional baseball game last night. They had no idea what to expect. The sheer size of Dodger Stadium, literally, took their breath away. The rest of the night played out in proportions as epic as that first feeling of vertigo as we settled into our place in the stands overlooking the diamond below. Even the game itself was epic when the Dodgers, who had been up by one run or so most of the game, lost in the 9th inning as the Padres stole home - twice in a row.

Elsa loved cheering for the Dodgers. She quickly figured out all of the standard cheers and put her heart into it. She was deeply disappointed that they lost. Ashagre enjoyed watching the game; its amazing how much he has learned about the intricacies of baseball in little league and how easily he could follow what was going on.

Pre their first ever taste of cotton candy:

Post cotton candy:

No Summer is Complete Without a...

...week spent with Grandma and Grandpa!

From about age six on my brother and I always spent one to two weeks at our Grandma's house in northern California. It was a huge treat for us (two small town Idaho kiddos) to live it up in California with our Grandma, Aunts, and Uncle (I mean, they had a pool!). It was with them that I became a strong swimmer, learned how to wakeboard, tamed feral barn kittens, and woke up in the middle of the night while sleeping on my Uncle's pontoon boat to help him reel in and clean a catfish or two. Summer wasn't summer unless we spent at least a week at our Grandma's house.

Ashagre and Elsa probably aren't quite ready to be shipped off to Idaho (yep reverse direction of my childhood) for the summer, but they have been soaking up Grandma and Grandpa Corey's love, affection, and undivided attention this week. They've flown kites, went to the movies, went on a shopping spree, rode the train for the first time, and visited the Sea Center in addition to tons of time reading, "helping" Grandma with the dishes, playing at the park, and decorating our driveway with beautiful chalk art. I'm pretty certain when they think back to their childhoods as adults, summer weeks with Grandma and Grandpa will be an integral highlight of their memories.

More oysters!

You can't get fresh oysters in Idaho.

Ashagre's first oyster - a little nervous.

He loved them and ate many, many more that night.

Not to be outdone, Elsa decided she like them too
even if her face doesn't say so in this shot.

First train ride - a day trip to Santa Barbara. Compared
to the plane, Ashagre thought the train ride was second
class - no snacks, no in-train entertainment...

Elsa loved petting the horn shark.

Look What You've Become

Confident, relaxed, silly, strong, and joyful.

Strong, focused, vibrant, proud, and playful.

Determined, controlled, hilarious, and a little bit sassy.

The 4th

This year's 4th was perfect - how can it not be when you live in a beach town in southern California? As usual, the kids were up at 6:30. I got up and made banana pancakes - a family favorite - while Brent packed up the bus. We were ready to head to the beach around 10. We headed out - several hours before any of our friends - to stake out a spot and enjoy the "June Gloom"-ie day. Our little family of four had a great morning at the beach; the kids rolled around in the waves, played in the sand and worked on their gymnastics skills while Brent and I relaxed and enjoyed their antics.

By 2 our friends had rallied, and we cruised up from the beach to the adjacent park for some Jolly Oysters. Cold beer, fresh oysters, and a pack of kids running here and there - yep, pretty perfect. As the day wound down and the gloom rolled back in we packed up to reconvene at our friend's house for a barbecue, more free-roaming kids and a similarly energetic pack of dogs. The night was wrapped up with fireworks - moms chastising dads for setting a bad example as they threw firecrackers at each other's feet while the kids ran around in ecstasy with sparklers in hand. A 4th of July that put me squarely back to the 4th's of my childhood - just perfect.

COLD! But lovin' it.

Elsa tries an oyster.

Uh oh.

Oyster Face! (Needless to say she did NOT like it).

Arlo, on the other hand LOVED them.

Elsa's been begging for a baby sister. Fortunately,
Ollie's mom was willing to loan her out for the afternoon.