Morning To Night: Transformation and Paradox

This morning was a typical morning for the Coranski family. I woke up first, had my 15 minutes of Mommy-time, fed the dogs, and proceeded to wake up the kids so they could get ready for summer camp. Both kids were already awake, lying in their beds, waiting for hugs and the official start of the day to be issued. Brent woke up as the kids were putting on clothes and figuring out who's room would house the lotion bottle for the daily lathering.

I headed off to the kitchen to scramble up up some fresh eggs and pack lunches. Daddy doled out big hugs and headed outside to feed and water the chickens before taking out the trash and rounding up the kids for some more big hugs and a tease or two before heading off to work. The kids proceeded to get ready; it was swim day at camp, so they rounded up goggles, towels swim suits and swim hats, before slathering sunscreen over their freshly applied lotion. Breakfast was eaten. The trash cans that Daddy put out were drug back in by Ashagre after he gleefully watched the garbage truck empty them. Hair was done. Teeth were brushed and everyone was buckled in the car. A quick swing by the coffee shop and then off to summer camp.

Camp counsellor as I am signing in the kids to camp, "Um, we played baseball yesterday, and, wow!"

Me: "Oh ya, they're really good. They've played for two years already."

Counsellor: "I mean Elsa stepped up to bat and no one had really be hitting and she slammed it. A beautiful line drive right past the pitcher. It was awesome. Her stance, everything."

Me: "Yeah, they love it. Ashagre joined a team only a month after moving to America. They just wrapped up their second season."

Counsellor: "No. She was amazing! Not even close to your typical beginning baseball player..."

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Tonight was a typical night here at the Coranski household. I got home from work and found Brent wrapping up dinner. The kids were playing independently; one kid was in the playroom with the marble maze and the other was in their room reading. They had gotten home from tennis lessons not too long ago. I joined Brent in the kitchen and started unloading and re-loading the dishwasher, and we began debriefing our days. Brent mentioned that their tennis coach had started to divide the kids up by skill a bit and that Ashagre and Elsa were, as usual, some of the top players. The coach mentioned that Ashagre showed a lot of promise.

The kid playing with the marbles, who prefers to greet me on their time rather than mine, heard my voice, ran in, gave me a huge hug and told me a bit about their day before sauntering back to the playroom. The other kid remained on their bed reading.  It turns out the kid in their room reading had a rough afternoon and was in their room for the rest of the night after a long afternoon of disrespectfulness. It all finally ended when they screamed at Daddy after a consequence was given (10 minutes sitting on their bed), screamed louder when a tougher consequence was given (20 minutes), hit the other kid when an even tougher consequence was given (on the bed until dinner time), and finally slapped Daddy in the face while he was driving and screamed in his ear (on the bed until bedtime). Brent was a bit frazzled, but not too worked up about it, and said kid had finally stopped screaming and slamming doors and was engaged with a large stack of books. Brent and I wrapped up dinner and the first round of dishes and hollered to the kids to wash their hands and join us for dinner.

Dinner was really pleasant. The picky kid chose to eat their curry stir fry (gasp! it was vegetarian! so many vegetables!) and not make any faces or complain. The other kid was disappointed because they didn't get any broccoli in their bowl, which we quickly remedied, much to their delight. Conversation flowed and meandered and ended up in Ethiopia.

"Daddy, why did you leave the first time [referring to the first time we met them during our court trip] and then come back [embassy trip to pick them up]? It was a long time."

"In Ethiopia House (generic reference to their orphanages in our house) we ate pasta. I can't remember what we ate for breakfast. Pasta for lunch."
"Didn't you eat bread?"
"Oh, yeah, bread for breakfast. I didn't like the food when I first came to Ethiopia House."

"In Ethiopia showers were COLD. There was no lotion. We wear our clothes for bedtime. No p-jamas."

"In Ethiopia the adults would leave at night and it was scary. Monsters."

"Not at my Ethiopia House; at my house there were adults at night, but they left and came back and talked a lot while we were supposed to sleep. I didn't like to sleep there."

"In Ethiopia big girls picked me up by my hands and feet and carried me to the square and made me get in. I said no ten times. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. Then I said no three more times. No. No. No. I said No thirteen times but they wouldn't listen."

"In Ethiopia big kids not nice. They pushed me, but I told someone and they had to go play somewhere else."

"What did you eat before you lived at Ethiopia House?"
"Nothing. I ate nothing. There was no food."

"In Ethiopia on weekend they wouldn't let you pick me up. I sad and angry and mad and frustrated and sad and angry. They not nice."

"What did I say when we come to America? I talked gibberish"
"No, you spoke Amharic, and you always said mindenow (what? what is it?)"

"What did I say?"
"You liked to say yinne (mine)."

Giggles.

Later on that night after dinner wrapped up and the kid that was required to cooperatively headed back for more bed-sitting and reading, the other kid and I, at their request, watched some videos from our first few days together in Ethiopia. I think even they couldn't believe the transformation. As I watched, for the first time, I realized how many developmental stages my kids have passed through in just a little over a year.  In all seriousness, the kids were operating at toddler level at best developmentally when we met them. No wonder it was a rough year. Even as new parents we've realized that some of our kids' worst behavior surfaces right before another huge developmental leap. They've literally leapt from age three or four (two?) to age six or seven in one year. That's a lot of rough patches before the sweetness of the new growth on the other side of a new milestone is actualized.

As our days grow smoother and the kids' gifts begin to shine brighter and brighter it's easy to forget where we were and where they came from just over a year ago.  For the most part, I'm happy to forget, as I don't want it to be the only story that defines them. But then there's days like today where it's important to remember because they remember and because it colors our days - making the dark moments a bit darker and the bright moments oh so much brighter.

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Brent and I wind down the day in typical Coranski fashion - talking about the kids as they settle into slumber in their respective beds. Thinking back to those first few days together, we both ponder in utter disbelief how far the kids, our family, has come in such a short period of time.  How little we knew each other; how much better we know each other now and we'll know each other as time marches on. We relish in just how good everything is right now. We bask in the excitement for the year to come and the goodness it will surely bring.

The transformation, contrast and paradox of this whole experience. It leaves me typing and typing, but unable to put it into words.

Maybe a photographic contrast will solidify my point instead.

Cheers to change and cheers to the past because without it, we wouldn't be where we are right now. Cheers to paradox because without it, the present wouldn't taste quite as sweet.