This blog was created to chronicle our journey towards parenthood through Ethiopian adoption. Now that our kids are home it serves as a space to explore and record life as a family of four. If you feel compelled, read along as we work to create the Perfect Space for our family.
"I wanna have friends that I can trust, that love me for the man I’ve become not the man I was. I wanna have friends that will let me be all alone when being alone is all that I need. I wanna fit in to the perfect space, feel natural and safe in a volatile place."
Today we had absolutely nothing on the agenda - a first in many weeks. Today was a day that our family could just be. Here's a little sneak peak of what that looks like.
Our family rhythm:
Early morning solo play for the kiddos while Daddy caught up on his sleep and Mommy got a little work done.
Amazing breakfast scramble thrown together with what's around by Daddy and, apparently, inspired by his days as a boy scout.
Ashagre and Daddy started working on some repairs to our rental in hopes
of getting our deposit back when we move out in a month or so.
Want to make Ashagre's day? Send him to fetch
the hammer out of the back of Daddy's truck.
Elsa spent a good hour in the bathtub teaching her Princess Tiana baby how to swim.
When she finally got out, she convinced me to style her hair. At her request, we went for parted flat twists in front and "big hair" in back. It was wonderful to have the time to say yes and style her hair without feeling like I had to fit in a styling session before the weekend was over.
Family Shrek watching while I worked on Elsa's hair.
My flat twists still can use some work, but she spent
the rest of the day looking in the mirror and putting
lip gloss on anyway.
Egg gathering by Ashagre.
Legos, lots of legos, and a little pretend injera-making with the toy dishes.
A two hour nap on the couch for Daddy.
A little blog reading for Mommy.
Dinner at a favorite cafe downtown.
A little bit of homework. Both kids are currently researching animals for their habitat projects. Elsa is researching the duck and the pond habitat and Ashagre is researching the blue whale and the ocean habitat.
More legos and more injera-making.
All tucked in, sound asleep in preparation for yet
another big day tomorrow.
Oh yeah, and some escrow paperwork for Mommy and Daddy.
In the words of our favorite Somali musician, today was a day we just got to take a minute and let it ride. We just got to take minute and let it breathe (thanks again, Mary Beth - once again, you nailed the soundtrack for our days). It felt pretty darn good.
I remember to turn down my music before I shut off my car so as not to blast out the kids at 7:45 tomorrow morning (despite the fact that they love it when we start our day off with some high volume tunes). Lately this song has required loud, repetitive play on the drive home from work (thank you for the intro Mary Beth!).
As I open my car door to the clear, crisp evening (as far as crisp evenings go in SoCal) I hear her shriek from inside the house. Moments later Elsa opens the door and runs out to grip my hips tightly in a hug while burying her face in my belly. Out rolls her standard greeting,"Mommy! Amelie was-the-Teacher-of-the-day (deliberately slowed down and enunciated to make sure she gets her prepositions in there - we've been working on this phrase since it's the first statement we hear each day when we see her after school). Do you work good?" She rushes to open the front door for me. As I step in around the dogs who rush out to get a quick smell of the world passing by our house Ashagre glances up momentarily from his legos to acknowledge my presence. He prefers to warm up to the idea that I'm home before seeking my attention.
Brent is at the stove busily wrapping up dinner - homemade lentil soup artfully concocted from last week's left overs with an entirely new flavor to nourish our bodies after a busy day. "It smells great in here. Is that curry?" We chat briefly about our days before Elsa's back again telling me about her day. I pick her up (such a rewarding activity when done spontaneously and not demanded, "Mommy pick-up-a me!" She suggests we snuggle with her blanket and read One Fish Two Fish Red Fish Blue Fish, and I agree. We're practicing for her Student Spotlight presentation in April; she can't stop talking about it. Elsa, Ashagre and I read together. Ashagre handles the sight words and the pages he's memorized, Elsa takes on everything else with my help on the longer words or the ones she just can't quite remember. "Let's say it ten times together. O-F spells of, O-F spells of..." I take a page or two when she starts getting tired (learning to read is exhausting work).
"Ok. Go wash your hands!" The kids scamper off as Brent pulls warm bread out of the oven and I start dishing up soup. Ashagre doesn't have much to say about his day, "Today, who the Leader is? It starts for a A." I correctly guess Amen, which doesn't impress him much. Elsa rambles on about her day, missing all of her prepositions. We ask her to slow down and add in a few more details so we can understand what she's trying to tell us. Ashagre quickly finishes his soup and asks for more bread while Brent gets back up to pull a special treat from the fridge - a carton of dark red organic strawberries. Ashagre is more than happy to stick around and help Brent and me finish the whole carton. Elsa adamantly responds with a No Thank You when offered. Cajoling her only makes her No Thank You more resolute.
We chat and tease each other while enjoying our meal. Finally, when the strawberries are all gone and we've had our fill of warm bread, Brent, Ashagre, and me get up from the table. Elsa, who spent most of her time talking about her day without using prepositions, remains at the table to finish her soup. She's determined to clean her bowl so she can have more bread. As Elsa finishes up Ashagre engages his dad in a tickling match. Loud shrieks intermixed with belly laughs permeate our tiny bungalow. When she's finished Elsa joins in, and soon enough the whole family is at it, including the dogs. Lola enthusiastically and sloppily licks the kids cheeks and chins when we thrust them in her face and Buster prances around barking in the excitement to keep the energy up.
Finally it's calm down time. The kids handle this once impossible transition with ease and grace. Shortly thereafter its p-jamas, medicine, brush your teeth, story time, hugs, kisses, high fives, and bed.
We are ok. We are a family. These relatively mundane yet deeply rich details are our fabric.
So what about We are not ok? What does that look like, you ask? What can be learned from those four words and the days, moments, life that they describe? Since writing this post, I've been thinking about this question quite a bit. The conclusion I've come to, while not fun to admit, is perfect material for a blog post - perfect, because its not about Them. It's about me, and my shit is ok to write about on this blog because its my story to tell.
So what's the difference? What does we are not ok look like in comparison to the scene detailed above? It looks like huge, wildly darting eyes, irregular, jerky movements, loud, repetitive, non-sensical vocalizations. It looks like kids doing exactly what you asked them not to do and had them repeat back to you two seconds before. It looks like them doing it again moments later after you sternly lecture them some more. It looks like animalistic noises and squirming bodies (avoid eye contact at all costs). It looks like rapid fire questions to which they already know the answers for hours on end. It looks like the complete inability to do something they normally handle with ease. It looks like extremely slow and drawn out half-efforts to complete simple tasks. It looks like pestering one another and treating each other with the same impatience and frustration they feel around them and inside themselves. Sometimes it looks much worse. It is intense. It doesn't go away. It follows you from room to room as you try to step away and take a deep breath and recenter yourself. It looks like things all kids do (please don't use that phrase with parents parenting attachment challenged kids - it cuts so much deeper than you intended). Yes, it looks like things all kids do, but it feels SO different, especially to the parents, who despite their sometimes maladaptive and exasperated approaches to deal with the situation, are acutely aware of and consumed by the depth of their kid's pain and fear. Yes, all kids do those things, but they don't do them from a place of fear, a lack of trust, a desperate need to control the situation at all times, and a suffocating layer of anxiety that kids with attachment challenges do.
In the warm and loving scene detailed at the beginning of this post (which is, by the way, an honest account of this evening) I forgot to mention a small, but important detail. The last sentence of the first paragraph or maybe the first sentence of the second paragraph should have read, I take a deep breath and remember where I am and what that means. I am home. You see, what I'm coming to learn about we are not ok and we are ok is that one of most defining factors is often me. My perspective, my approach, my ability to stay regulated and nurturing, my commitment to embodying the calm and balanced energy I want my kids to operate within.
Prior to bringing Elsa and Ashagre home, I had a vision in my head of the mother I would be. I would always do my best not to lose sight of where they had come from, I would always delight in their presence, I would not take their expressions of hurt or anger or fear personally, always seeing them for what they were, I would always remember that I am the adult and that they are just six and seven, I would ooze patience, understanding, and acceptance.
I thought I knew how hard it would be. I also thought I could handle it. I had NO idea how hard it could be, how personal it can sometimes feel, how good they can be at triggering my own shit. I had no idea I would find myself resorting to maladaptive coping mechanisms - threats (not empty ones, but the repetitive kind that build on each other necessitating more and bigger threats as your kids get more dysregulated and out of control), emotional distancing (a huge dysregulator for attachment challenged kiddos), the inability to admit its not about "winning" or "reinforcing ridiculous behavior" and instead backing down from a chosen, heavy-handed approach and giving in to what they really need - a calm, understanding and loving chance to try again with nothing hanging over their heads.
It seems I have this stubborn streak in my parenting style. Once I get headed down the path of needing to control I can't back down even when I can clearly articulate that it is exactly what the kids need. Even when I know it could make everything better almost instantaneously. We are not ok when we are trapped in this cycle. This pattern of parents trying to control out of control kids through traditional parenting approaches of threats and loss of consequences, even when one said kid, the most easily out of control one, clearly has not developed cause and effect thinking. We are not ok when I perpetuate it. We are not ok when I feel guilty for perpetuating it (because I know I am doing it) and choose to define myself as a shitty mom.
Seriously. Sometimes I think it really is that simple. The moment I can calm down, change my perspective, find my own balance, speak in a soft and loving voice, and let them know its ok to go on, to move beyond the last infraction and try again, everything is usually ok. A hug goes a long way. Admitting you were wrong in your approach and doing some repair work can set you straight for days. Sure, one kiddo might need fairly constant reminders to calm down, but that same kid is very able to calm themselves down by taking breaths with just a simple reminder to do it. Sometimes they even recognize it before we say something and initiate their own breath taking these days.
All of the suggestions in the attachment books work too. Loving and warm facial expressions. Gentle touch. Co-sleeping. Plenty of warning about what's coming next. Predictable routines and consistent boundaries. Naming feelings. Giving your kids a voice to name and explore their own feelings. Validating where they're coming from (even when it seems ridiculous). Playfulness and silliness. Games and activities generally reserved for younger kids. It all works; we've tried and regularly do almost all of it. But, at least in our house right now, the major difference between we are ok and we are not ok is my ability to control my own emotions and keep things calm and loving. Why, when it is that simple, is it so damn hard?
You did it. You made it through this entire rambling post! Here are some gratuitous cute photos as a reward.
Today the kids each got a package in the mail. The kids LOVE mail. They've been fixated on the mail since nearly day one of living in America. They were stoked before they even opened the yellow bubble-wrap envelopes, but when they opened them up and found MOOSIK inside they were beyond thrilled. When we put the CD in the computer and they heard some of their favorite musicians - Bob and Ziggy Marley, Jack Johnson, and, of course, Michael Franti (and some new soon to be favorites too) they couldn't help but dance.
Each kid received two custom-made mixed CDs and Mommy and Daddy also received two. The music, and the obvious love emanating from the carefully chosen tunes, came from our new-found friends over at Selam-Ubuntu, who are currently waiting for a referral for siblings from Ethiopia. Here's the explanation of their blog name:
Selam means hello in Amharic (the official language of Ethiopia). Ubuntu (uu-Boon-too) means something like I am because you are. Ubuntu has roots in traditional African philosophy.
We've actually never met MB and J over at Selam-Ubuntu; we connected through the Perfect Space and chatted over email. Yet, our shared experience and life philosophies make that connection, while still new, promising and meaningful. There's lots of good reasons why someone might choose not to blog about their adoption or their family, but the love filling our living room as our kids danced to the rhythm of their new CDs is a pretty darn good reason to keep it up. The human connection - isn't that what this is really all about anyway?
So thank you MB and J.May your home soon be filled with the laughter, energy, love (and chaos) that ours is these days. And thank you too to all the other people we have had the pleasure to connect with through this process. Please believe me when I say we feel the love. Ubuntu!
Love 'em, but not necessarily the process. Actually, there is only one part of the process I find challenging - very challenging. We are not allowed to wash Ashagre's hair for long stretches of time. After the locs were first installed we had to wait four weeks until we returned to the salon to have his hair washed. When it was finally washed, it had to be done twice since the water coming off his head had a brownish-tint the first time. This time around we are supposed to wait 6 weeks to wash his hair. Why no washing? Because right now, before the dreadlocks are fully locked up on themselves, washing his hair will return it to its normal coil pattern, erasing all the tiny little twists we are babying so they can eventually knot up on themselves to become bonafide dreadlocks.
Not washing a 6 year old boy's hair is really challenging proposition for a momma, even a momma that does not subscribe to the shower a day routine herself. Especially when said 6 year old boy lives on the beach (remember, don't get sand in your hair), lives in a climate where we'll still be swimming for a few more weeks (don't forget your swim hat), loves to jump on the trampoline that just happens to be positioned under the plum tree (hey bubbs come here, what have you got in your hair?), and, this is the best one, can't eat a single meal without touching his hair right at the point his hands are the goopiest. I've learned just not to think about it anymore because the locs are worth it - especially to him.
Ashagre has been asking for dreadlocks since he first came home. I'm not sure where he first saw them, but every time we saw a picture of a boy with locs he would point and excitedly ask, "Mommy mine hair? Dreadlocks?" We were specifically working to grow his hair out to the minimum three inch mark for the first six months he was home so we could have them put it. When it was finally long enough (actually longer), I drove him down to Rehab Salon in Hollywood to have them installed. Yes, I probably could have put them in myself, but I figured since they would be permanent (unless, of course, we cut his hair) I wanted them done right. I wanted them roughly equally sized and nicely distributed all over his head. I was more than happy with my decision.
The before photo. The last momma-created 'fro. I'm
going to miss combing out his hair, but relish in the
extra time we have on evenings and weekends.
All twisted up. Finishing his movie while his hair dries.
My heart melts.
The twists: day one. They'll get thicker as they loc up.
Besides a gorgeous head full of twists, the unexpected bonus we got at Rehab was a chance for my kids, for the first time in their lives since they moved to America, to be completely surrounded with people with all shades of beautiful brown skin just like their own all morning long. Each time we have spent a morning in Rehab I have been the only white person in the salon - the entire morning. The kids definitely notice, and they love being doted upon by all the other patrons in the salon. I love it too. Everyone is so warm and embraces our family completely during our mornings at the salon, and I love the fact that all three of us get a genuine taste of black culture in America. I guess I should have expected it, but I never really considered that a trip to the salon can be an affair occupying an entire morning. Like us, the other patrons of the salon are investing in styles that they hope will last a while and those styles take time to put in. People hang out. They talk politics. They go grab lunch in between a wash and a style. They gossip. They talk race. They catch up on their reading while sitting under the drier. They make a morning of it.
Ashagre gets compliments on his hair daily. He loves his locs because he no longer has to wait for mom or dad to massage hair lotion into his hair before he can bolt out the door to the next adventure. He also doesn't have to sit through hour+ comb out sessions with mommy (although I think he actually misses these a bit for the "TV" he got to watch).
The dreads are holding up really nicely. In between visits to Rehab I re-twist them from time to time, adding a bit of styling creme for hold and to freshen up the scent of his head. They definitely started looking pretty unkept a week or so prior to our most recent tightening, as the hair nearest his scalp really started to loosen, but I still think they're worth it. Once they are truly loced, we'll be able to wash them regularly. Care will be simple - a little coconut oil massaged into the scalp and re-tightening as needed.
So here's the basics in case you're considering locs:
When can I have them put in? The hair should be at least 3 inches long when pulled straight (longer is better). You'll lose at least 1/3 of that length when the hair is twisted up.
How do I find someone to install them? I googled dreadlocks Los Angeles. You can also try looking for a salon specializing in natural hair, twists, or maybe even braids.
How much does it cost? I have seen a range from $50-130. Unfortunately, Hollywood falls on the high end of this spectrum.
Are they permanent? Not at first, so you can always give the twists a try and see how you like it. If you decide you don't like them, just wash the hair and moisturize really good and it should return to its normal coil pattern.
How do people react to dreadlocks? We have had nothing but compliments. I do get nervous when we need to re-tighten them and he's looking pretty nappy, but people still seem to think he looks cute or at least don't say anything.
How do I care for them? Once they are installed, wash as needed (tea tree oil shampoo works really well) and add oil as needed to keep the hair and scalp moisturized. Coconut oil works well. They will need to be tightened up as the roots grow out. This can be done at a salon or you can learn to do it yourself. Many people do it themselves with a crochet hook-like tool. Check out You Tube for video tutorials. While they are still getting established, sleep in a sleep cap and make sure to wear a swim cap while swimming/showering.
Note that there are several different ways to install dreadlocks. Ashagre just has twists that were put into wet hair with lots of gel and dried. Sometimes wax is added and sometimes the hair is knotted or backcombed to get the dreads to begin forming. I think the best method is dependent upon the individual's hair type and the person installing them. Ashagre has quite densely coiled hair and the twisting method seems to be working really well. I like that no wax or damaging backcombing is being used.
So that's it - probably more than you ever wanted to know about our dreadlock experience. We'll keep you updated. For now, here's a pic of the little man after his first tightening on Saturday. It is hard to tell from these pictures, but he has probably added a 1/2 inch in length and his locs are already getting thicker.
Day 3 after the 1st retightening 4 weeks after installation.
I think the locs make him look quite a bit older.
On Friday night when my little family of four is dancing under the stars until we can dance no more to the sounds of Michael Franti, I just might have some big old tears rolling down my face.
If this song doesn't do it...
then this one probably will...
and if that one doesn't, then this one will for certain.
(sorry horrible video, but it had the best sound).
I have been listening to Michael Franti on and off since high school, but for some reason his message of hope really hit home when we began our journey to adopt Elsa and Ashagre. Without any thought to it, Franti became the soundtrack to my days as we filled out paperwork, waited, and waited some more. By November, when our court date was literally days away, just thinking of a lyric from a Franti song brought me to unstoppable messy tears. When we returned home from the court trip and began the wait again, this time with the smell of the olive oil in Ashagre's hair and the glow of Elsa's smile clouding my perception, another adoptive momma, who is even a bigger Franti fan than I am, shared this with me (be warned - you'll need a box of tissue). I had no idea that Michael Franti was adopted, but that night as I sat in our house alone (Brent was on a fishing trip) and messaged over FB with another momma longing for her boys over in Ethiopia, I knew, yet again, that Brent and I were moving in the right direction. That we had put our energy out there to the world and the world was sending us reaffirming energy back. That Elsa and Ashagre were our kids and that there was more love in the world than one could think possible so long as I just had a little faith and opened myself up to it.
So I'm calling it - Tears - BIG ones, especially when Elsa joins me in signing nearly every single lyric we hear (the girl loves her some Franti).
Since I figured out how to embed You Tube videos in the blog, here are a couple of songs from two Ethiopian-born singers with gorgeous voices: Gigi and Meklit Hadero. Get's me in the mood to hop on a plane...Enjoy!
Today driving to work I was listening to Michael Franti and Spearhead because I was in a GREAT mood (last day of work before our trip to Ethiopia) and Michael Franti's music generally matches a great mood well. However, about half way between Ventura and Oxnard I Got Love For You came on and I spontaneously started crying pretty uncontrollably - not sad cry, but an excited I can't wait any longer because I am too full of emotion kind of cry. I was listening and imagining finally meeting Ashegre and Elsa for the first time, and I guess it just overcame me.
So, in celebration of the last day of work before our trip, here's a nice mellow version of I Got Love For You, followed by the lyrics.
Another morning has come and the sun is high
But I know that today is the day that I might cry
Because I know you're going
And I know you're leaving
To somewhere you hope to find the peace of mind you're seeking
In the back of a greyhound bus, it'll take you far
In the back of a greyhound bus you can be who you are
And I say
La-la-la La-la-la La-la-la La-la-la La La
I got love for you
I got love for you
So I'll be waiting my dear u-huh
Waiting right here u-huh
Waiting my dear u-huh
Waiting right here u-huh
I remember the time back when we was home
In and out up and down in this life what a crazy road
It's been a long time that I shoulda said what I tell now
That I got faith in you
And I believe in you
In the dark of the night in the hotel when you're alone
In the middle of the city where nobody cares to know
On the top of the town in the glimmer of the shining lights
You just shine on now
You just shine on now
And I say
La-la-la La-la-la La-la-la La-la-la La La
I got love for you
I got love for you
So I'll be waiting my dear u-huh
Waiting right here u-huh
Waiting right here u-huh
And I've got love for you - love for you - love for you
And I know that you can't say for sure when you're coming home
But I got faith in you
And I believe in you
And I say
La-la-la La-la-la La-la-la La-la-la La La
I got love for you
I got love for you
Another evening's come and the moon is high
But I know that tonight is the night that I might cry
Because I know you're going
And I know you're leaving
To somewhere you hope to find the peace of mind you're seeking
In the back of a greyhound bus, it'll take you far
In the back of a greyhound bus you can be who you are
