WW - Come Hither

PS. WHERE did the left side of my blog go?? And what happened to comments? Anyone have any ideas for fixing this?

6 Months

Thanksgiving as a holiday is drawing near, but thanksgiving as a way of life is 6 months old!

December 1st is the 6 month anniversary of the day we became a family.

We celebrated with a post-placement visit from our social worker yesterday. She asked me whether or not we still "check in" with each other on our little check list of attachment questions. You know what I mean, whether you ask them out loud or just internally, I think most adoptive parents run through the little list early on:

"Do I love her yet?"
"Do I think she loves me?"
"Would I give my life for her?"
"WHO is she?"
"Does it feel like she's been with us forever?"
"How would I feel if she suddenly were no longer here?"
"Do I long for how it used to be?"
"Will life ever feel normal again?"

Ok, is it just me?
Well, if it is, that's fine. I can be honest. These were the questions we asked ourselves and each other a lot in the first few weeks. It's an odd feeling when you get home (I think particularly if this is your first child) - to be floating on a cloud of thrill and relief, celebrating externally, dizzy with exhaustion and semi-paralyzed with doubt internally.

SIX MONTHS though. Things have changed. Things have stabilized. I can't remember the last time we asked any of the questions above. A new normal has solidified. A dorky, cheesy, straight from the sitcoms storyline. You know the one: new parents, drunk on love for their child, never go out on a date. When they finally get alone outside the house all they can do is talk about the baby. Her sparkly eyes! Her new way of turning her chin up and looking down on her subjects like a queen! Her newest word! How much she ate that night. Was it enough? Could she be hungry and need us to come home early? Was her forehead slightly warm? Should we be washing her hands more often? On and on and on. Until date is done and we rush back to stand over her crib and stroke her little sleeping face.

Yes, we can both remember the good old days (grocery shopping at midnight, sleeping in until 10am, staying out past 6:30pm, spontaneous date nights) but we'd never want to go back to being just two. What did we TALK about back then??!! ;)

I am so thankful for a holiday season filled with this little face. A face I can't fathom living without.

~A

HAPPY

Holidays are approaching.

I've been thinking a lot about last year. I wrote this post, so sure that we were almost at the finish line.

It seemed to kick off a very difficult 3.5 more months of waiting and began the season of angst and ugly crying instead of yuletide cheer.

I know it's a little morbid, but I like to go back and revisit those days in my memory.

Such a different place now.

Happy.
~A

How is daycare going?

It's too soon to tell.

I really appreciated everyone's thoughtful advice here on the blog. We could not hire a babysitter or nanny because we're in the middle of a move and don't have room at the house. And because I work from home I really need Ari OUT of the house a few days/week. She has a special trick of pounding on my office door if it is closed and I'm on a conference call while J watches her. This did not bode well for bringing in outside help.

I think an in-home daycare would have been a nice option but did not have the time to seek one out via churches, mom's groups, etc. When our nanny share fell through I really only had a week to make a decision.

We chose a daycare from the 6 options we toured with immediate openings, but we're still on the waitlist for our favorite that didn't have an opening.

The last 9 days have been a test run. J took Ariam on a Friday and spent 2 hours with her in the classroom. She did great and didn't mind when he stepped out for a few minutes to make a call.

Then she went for a half day last Monday and was SO excited to arrive, get settled in with the other 3 toddlers in her class, she barely even gave me the time of day for a kiss goodbye.

Because we closed on a house on Friday and are in the middle of a big move, she went to the daycare all day on Thursday and Friday. Possibly a bad move. We got a bit over eager. She is wonderful to be with. But impossible to drag along to meetings with realtors and lenders.

Both Thursday and Friday she was fairly excited to arrive. Not happy to say goodbye. (Tears.) And generally droopy by pick up time 8 hours later. I think an 8 hour day outside of the house is really hard on her. So I think this week we will cut back to three 6 hour days.

Daycare Pros:

- I have 3 days/week to work, uninterrupted

- Ratio is 1 teacher/4 toddlers

- Toddler room is filled with great toys that I know she loves (like a tunnel with balls and a little table with toddler sized chairs!) but doesn't have at home

- Cook will make substitutes just for Ariam on ham or beef menu days

- Drop off is flexible, she doesn't have to be checked in until 9:30am if we are running late and I can pick her up any time in the afternoon

- Round-trip with drive and drop off is 15 minutes

- Ms. Maria, the teacher, oozes love and kindness and patience and has 20 years experience

- Ariam very obviously loves Ms. Maria already

Daycare Cons:

- Ariam very obviously loves Ms. Maria already

- Ariam very obviously has a daycare cold and runny nose already

- A full day out of the house is A LOT of time away and is very tiring for a toddler

- Ms. Maria is almost fully spanish speaking which I have decided is not a problem at all for Ariam but is a little awkward for J when he does pick up and wants to know about her day

- The crying thing. I don't like handing her over crying and I don't like to see her crying at pick up. And I'm just not sure this can easily be solved because everyone tells me that kids sometimes cry during transitions. But I don't like it.

In other news, Ariam won her first Halloween costume contest. Of course. (With her looks and my competetive spirit I really didn't doubt it.)

My little owl kicked butt in the contest and waddled away with a T.arget gift card. :)

~A

Beauty for Ashes, Strength for Fear

She doesn't wave her fingers in front of her eyes anymore.

Sounds like such a small thing in the long list of changes: walking, laughing, using a fork, sign language, sharing instead of hitting, sleeping through the night, kissing...

But it is my favorite change.

Every nap and every night for many many weeks Ariam waved her hands over her face, wiggling her fingers and bringing them close and then far. Close and far. She looked at her hands instead of my eyes until sleep came. It twists my heart and makes me short of breath to imagine how, when and why she began doing this.

When babies don't have the loving touch of a parent to soothe them they find other things to help. Head rolling, self rocking, hand waving...

Tonight I was running through the list of "reasons why Ariam is ok and ready for daycare" when she reached up and set her palm on the bare skin of my neck. She loves close touch and those 30 minutes of rocking and snuggling before bed. Where there was once a protective shell all around her and fear in her heart, now nothing separates us. She sees me and I am enough for her. No hand and finger waving needed.

He gives us beauty for ashes
Strength for fear
Gladness for mourning
Peace for despair

(Ears pierced)

~A

See something different?

(Wearing shades helps her keep a low profile.)

~A

Washington DC - Part I

Six years ago, on a chilly fall evening in Washington DC, I entered my first graduate seminar.

And met this amazing woman who had just arrived in the U.S.

Was it really only 6 years ago? It feels like a lifetime...

She cried during her introduction. She made me cry. I knew we would be good friends.

Ana has been my role model for parenting. She celebrates her children every day. She teaches and loves and cheers them on. I can already see the strong and brave men they will be - because of her.

As Americans, we find that we have few friends we would be comfortable descending on for a full week - taking over their basement, demanding to be fed and wined, and letting loose our toddler throughout their beautiful home. It's a good thing we know some Colombians!! :)

Holding Hands (notice who is happy in this photo and who is skeptical...)

She must have known this was coming next! Pablo is our little latin lover.

It's so hard to say goodbye.

And just a gratuitously cute photo of Ari and her "purse."

~A

Wordless Wednesday Hair Puffs

Three Months Together

We thought that she was an introvert.

We thought she was quite serious.

We thought we knew what she liked and didn't like.

That was three months ago.

We were so wrong. We knew nothing about this amazing little person. She is so complex, so many layers of interesting personality to discover. She surprises us every day we are together.

We thought she was an introvert and very serious because it took so long for her to relax. I think she must have been protecting herself. We thought she was quite fussy and finicky because of her deep wailing inconsollable sobbing at night and her refusal to consider anything other than shiro or mac and cheese an edible.

Now I can't imagine going even a minute without her easy grin or her chortle that's turned belly laugh. She finds everything worth smiling about as long as she is with us. (Still not so sure about strangers or new places.) And she will eat absolutely anything as long as we taste test for poison first. ;)

I thought I knew her basic likes and dislikes after a few days together.

But now I know that she:

loves

onion and cheese enchiladas

drinking from a straw like a big girl

pretending to give herself a bath (more than taking a real one)

being talked to in a fake silly monster voice

almost falling but being caught at the last second

reading books - especially ones with baby faces or animals

knowing that her bottle is nearby if needed

rocking with her head on my shoulder and both arms up around my neck

her shoes!

One of Ariam's favorite new tricks is carrying my high heeled sandal strapped over her arm like a purse. She will do this for 10 or 20 minutes, juggling the sandal from arm to arm as she drinks, reads, or plays.

I did not know her. I did not know her at all three months ago.

So far she hates

being told not to hit the computer

being asked to sit in the bath instead of stand and play with the hot water knob

That's all I can think of.

She is easy. Deep, watchful, loving, confident, and so brave. She's my hero. And yes, there are rainbows and unicorns over here in our house. Promised to be real and I swear this is really the kind of infatuation we are feeling!

Sometimes when she makes noises at night (before we've gone to bed) we argue over who gets to go in and comfort her. Three months ago we argued bitterly over who "had" to go comfort her at night. We've come a long way baby.

~A

You Know You Wanted More

(She likes her books.)




(And her sleep.)

(But her greatest discovery is the power of walking!)

First, thanks for so many great comments on my "readers declare yourself" post a few days ago. I loved seeing who is here with me and for what reasons. Please post your comment there when you get a chance and make sure to enable your google profile or give me your email address/blog address so I can get to know you better!

Second, I feel really unsettled about my post from yesterday. Leaving it up for now to see what you think. But I feel so stupid about this. One of my very best friends is Indian. I wouldn't think twice about taking her son to the mall and would never notice anyone looking at us. So obviously this issue I have now is very internal and all about trans-racial parenting. Not trans-racial friendships, relationships or public outings. It's the parenting piece people! How to be a mindful white mother? Will get back to you if I figure anything out.

Finally, I have learned how to upload video from my F.lip and I plan to make a lot of use of this basic skill. You know you wanted more!

~A

White Mama

Does anyone else notice how uncomfortably close we get to other humans when shopping?

The mall. It really is equally appalling and appealing. In one building you can find so many strange and tempting things: the overpowering smell of cinna.bonn (yum) mingled with the watery eye, allergy inducing air fibers of new clothing, the soundtrack of tapping high heels and children screaming in the indoor play area topped off with a hint of musky cologne samples. Fake light, fake smells, fake food, fake playground. Real people.

Prior to adopting I never looked at my fellow shoppers. I am usually an in and out by myself, get it done, seek and destroy shopper. Once in awhile I am the shopper who brings a friend to try on expensive dresses neither of us can afford. Either way, no eye contact with fellow stranger shoppers and definitely no chit chat with salespeople.

Ariam and I have been alone to a mall twice together since arriving home. (This post really applies to being alone with her as adding another person changes the dynamic completely. The time I brought my friend Alima everyone thought we were a lesbian couple with a domestically adopted daughter.)

During both of our alone mall visits it's like I've had blinders removed and I can suddenly see race everywhere. (I know I know, a very WHITE thing to say.)

But seriously. Walking in the mall my internal monologue is something like this:

"African American man. Twelve o'clock. He sees her. Eyes widening slightly. He is wondering, he is wondering. Wonder if he is staring because she's so lovely? (glance at Ariam tells me that this is probably not quite the reason given her super grump expression, dried formula on her chin, and shoeless feet propped on the front rung of her stroller.) "

"Ethiopian! Ethiopian man four o'clock. Ethiopan man wearing traditional shirt! Oh! he sees her. He is looking. Should I smile? Should I nod? Should I stop? He's not smiling. Why not smiling?"

"AA woman next to us. Next to us looking at C.arol's Dau.ghters products. I am a good mama. I am paying a lot of money for good hair products (insert more self affirmation of my ability to mother an Ethiopian baby.) I smiled. Should I comment knowingly on one of the products? I did it! I did it! But no more. No more HAIR talk. That's not cool. No more hair talk Amanda. You are so WHITE."

Sitting at table eating frozen yogurt, feeding bites to Ariam who is a. grumpy because mommy is hauling her around the watery eye allergy inducing mall and b. wants yogurt shoveled into her mouth at a faster pace than I can manage: "Ethiopian man. Handsome Ethiopian man. Approaching. Approaching. With a friend. With a stroller. Here they come.Careful now - are they friend or foe? What do they think about adoption. Act pleasant! No, act confident! No, act humble!!! Aaaccckkk!"

I internally obsess over Ariam's dry legs. "Her legs are so dry. If I don't look, maybe nobody will look. Is that dry or is that something I can brush off?? Okay, guess it's dryness. But WHY? I swear I am using Shea butter. I will swear this on my life to any woman who asks me. Maybe I should duck into a store and sneak some lotion onto her. Wait. No shoes. She isn't wearing shoes. Why didn't I put her shoes on? She looks so pitiful with her barefeet and long toenails. OMG. What am I doing in this mall? We are not coming back until I have mastered the hair products, remembered to shoe my child, and fed her enough yogurt to keep her quiet."

And on it goes. I have lost myself. In a good way in general. But in a muddled way in large public group settings. I don't know who I am in the context of who I am with Ariam yet. I can't just "be myself." Where is myself? Myself is some other woman who left for Ethiopia childless. She's back there still. Gone for good thank God. But who is this new person in her place? This new me is still often amazed to be parenting miss wonderful. This new me doesn't always feel so deserving. This new me is so very very conscious of all of the ways I could stumble.

Other adoptive mothers are too quick to smile and greet and ask questions like we are all in some giant mommy club just because their 7 year old Chinese son and my 1 year old Ethiopian daughter are both adopted.

White mothers are quick to compliment. Everywhere we go it is "look at her eyes. no, her lips, no! her hair!" from white people. Never from a person of any other race. Why is that? It seems normal to NOT comment on someone's child. And yet the comments from white people are making the lack of comments from everyone else seem odd.

I wish mall aisles were wider so you didn't have to pass SO DARN CLOSE to people who like to look and comment. Or look and NOT COMMENT. I wish I didn't have to roller over everyone's toes in those teeny tiny aisles inside baby stores. I wish Ariam wouldn't frown and look so darn angry the whole time I am shopping with her like I've just kidnapped her.

Race is so hard. In the peace of our own home and neighborhood and circle of friends I am often blinded by Ari's beauty and light. I have become color blind (yes yes, not a good thing I know - but don't we all become blind to most things about our own children?) I just see her as Ariam whom I love. Nobody around us stares or acts strangely or asks intrusive questions.

But the mall reminds me of why it's dangerous to become too comfortable. Because real life awaits. Real people with real thoughts, perceptions, judgements, and stares await.

Dangerous to be too comfortable. Dangerous because as she gets older, if I can't be the person to talk race, identity, and ethnicity with her then who will? At some point she will select someone in her life who can do that for her. I want that someone to be me. A better me. A rational, calm, well rounded, able to educate not just through my words but through my actions, me.

It's a good thing she can't read my scattered mall thoughts.

I really put this race talk on the back burner in the whirlwind of travel and homecoming and getting settled. And then of course there was the blinding aspect of Her.

But she will grow older. And she will see what I see, maybe from a different point of view or maybe in a similar way, and for a little while she will look to me. I will just have that little while to prove to her that I can handle it. That I know how to navigate the mall that is life.

Scary stuff. I feel about 14 today.


We all know how 14 year olds act in the mall.


So I am going to need to seriously buck up and get it together on this topic of race.
Thoughts?
~A

(This is J's hand. I don't have man hands.)

PS. I simply don't know how to navigate. I am a white mother with a black baby. It has completely changed who I am. The mother part has changed my internal life and the white/black part changed my external life. Still reeling. In so so many good ways.

Dogs and Spiders

Ari's vocabulary is growing. She surprises us sometimes with the words (or word pieces) that pop out of her mouth. A few days ago a woman in the grocery store said "bye bye" to her and 15 seconds later Ariam leaned out of her stroller and whispered "bye bye." We were shocked.

After "Mama" and "Dada" (which she thinks are question and answer ie. "Mama?" is asked and Ari answers "DADA!" with a grin) came "Daw" for Dog and then, oddly "spy 'pida" for "spider."
I never thought my daughter's fourth word would be spider....

Disclaimers:

1. In the Dog video we were on our first hike. Ari was not drugged I swear! Just very very tired.

2. In the Spider video please disregard pajamas at 11am, linty hair, and juice being drunk while lying like a princess on the couch. Of course that isn't normally how we spend our days!!

~A

Sleep Update

I've been asked about how our sleep is going fairly often since I posted this.

The short answer is: much much better. Cry it out was not torturous and it did not last long at all. The key is putting her to bed before she's completely asleep so that when she wakes up she's not disoriented. Now she sleeps through the night every night.

But the long answer to the question of sleep is a convoluted explanation of how only after having Ari home with us did I really absorb all of the adoption literature I read last year.

I read it but it was in one eye and out the other, so to speak.

This is what I know now:

1. Babies are so smart about sleep. Sleep is not just sleep. It really isn't. Sleep can be bonding or sleep can be divisive. Sleep can be restful or it can be restless. Sleep isn't always sleep. It can be playing or it can be sobbing. Sleep has rythms and it has power. It is fascinating.

Take for instance right now. Right now as I type it is 10:43am on a Sunday morning and A has been talking in her crib for 43 minutes exactly. For the last 3 weeks A has slept, without fail, from 10:00am-11:10am. Usually it takes a rocking and a bottle lead in but it doesn't fail. However, every Sunday morning she skips this nap because we go to church at 10:15am. We made a plan to start rotating one person staying home for nap and one going to church so that she could stay on a 7 day/week schedule. This is day one of the new plan for Sunday mornings.

HOW DOES SHE KNOW that it's Sunday? Why is she wide awake? We didn't do anything differently this morning but her body just knows.

A baby's body is capable of absorbing knowledge. I had read this but had not processed it.

This leads me to thought #2.

2. A baby's body absorbs information that possibly their brain cannot yet handle or make sense of. I am realizing that sleeping time is a processing time.

A is approaching a major milestone. She is approaching the time when she will have been in our care as long as any previous caregiver's. And it shows in her sleep. She's started to cry out multiple times each night. She's become restless in her sleep. A few days ago I had to get up and give her a bottle and rock with her for the first time in 2 months. Call it intuition or call it being well read about adoption - I just know this is her body's way of working out the fear of another big change. It's like her body is on count down. I am anxious to see how she does after we pass the 12 week milestone.

Finally, a thought not related to the above 2.

3. The whole "sleep when your baby sleeps" is just the dumbest thing I've ever heard. Inevitably the second I fall asleep for a nap she wakes up. It's apparently a law of nature or something like that. And it is much much worse than just staying awake.


Overall I think we are really fortunate. This is J's thought on the subject from a conversation we had yesterday.

J: "Do you think we got really lucky with A or do you think we just don't know the difference between easy and hard since we have nothing to compare her to?"

My answer is that I really don't know. Obviously we DON'T have a baby or older child to compare her to. But in so many ways she just fits us. Or we fit her. Something is working out right here.

She looks to us. We are important to her. She trusts us. Whether it is a nighttime wake up or a new situation, we are her people.

And that is big. THAT makes us very very lucky.

~A

Puke, Parties, Presents, People

She is a morning person people. A MORNING. PERSON. Yeesh. Ick.

The cuteness in the am is almost overwhelming.

Ari and I recently spent some time in Texas with Aya and Papa. They are also morning people. The morning love fest was exhausting to watch. But at least one day I got to go back to bed and leave them to it!

These are some early am pre-breakfast photos at Aya's table. Does she smile for photos at a sensible time of day, like, oh say 2pm? Nope. 7am and earlier? Bedhead and all - absolutely!

A few weeks ago Ari and I said goodbye to daddy at the departure gate (he got permission to see us all the way to the gate) and walked down the ramp to board our flight to Austin.

Halfway down the ramp the little one threw up all over herself and her stroller. I didn't realize it at the time (I think that's a good thing actually) in my frantic juggling of wheely bag, diaper bag, stroller, baby and boarding pass. Have I always wanted to be that mom-jaunting off on a trip with her sweet baby? Yes. Was it idealic in reality. Hell no.

Once on the plane we found our seat and I discovered just how hard it is to hold a squiggly toddler while hefting a gigantic carry on into the overhead compartment.

I think I squeezed her too hard. I know I football carried her down the aisle of the plane so that probably didn't help.

WHY can't they make those plane aisles wider? There is no humanly possible way to pull a carry on AND carry a baby one one hip with a diaper bag on the other. We got stuck on every single seat we passed. "sorry, oh, excuse, me. oh. damn. Um. I mean sorry. ACK. (uncomfortable laugh) heh heh. HOW do people do this? It's harder than it looks. Heh heh. Sorry again. Ouch! Oopps so sorry!" UGH.

Now I have a vomit phobia. You all know that. Whether I know you in my work life, my personal life, my family life or my online life - you all know I am scared of vomit. I run from it. I am not the sympathetic friend you should count on to hold your hair back over a toilet. (gag.)

I even once ran from J on our anniversary when he got really sick in a park. RAN. As in I was halfway down the block shouting over my shoulder that I would go get the car and a barf bag and be back soon.

So. Vomit. Plane. Baby. Me. Alone. (insert sad mewing defeated sound.) The second we sat down in our seat she threw up again - all over the two of us and our seat. It was our first vomit experience together if you don't count our first night together when she threw up her meal into her bib pocket. (Very clean and easy.)

The flight attendants kept yelling at me to remove my tiny little bottle carrier from the overhead bin and put it under my seat because I wasn't allowed to put more than one carry on above. Honestly? The thing holds a bottle and her meds. It is tiny. I am covered in vomit. Baby is screaming. It was bad. I kept asking for something to clean up with and they brought me dry paper towels. How are scratchy dry paper towels going to help? They did a lovely job of dryly smearing everything around.

Worse was the 30 minute delay after everyone boarded. Which took place 30 minutes after regular bedtime. Which lead to Ari pinching the elderly woman's arm next to us. And pulling the hair of the woman in front of us. And screaming. A LOT.

It was so hot. It was the 8th circle of hell (if Addis immigration is the 7th.) We were practically sweat glued to each other.

It was really terrible. It deserved a blog post all its own. I will not forget that flight for a very long time. There was a moment when I thought "I can't do this. No. I really cannot. My feminine parts are soaking with vomit juices (she puked down her front onto my lap.) My baby stinks and has grown from a manageable 20 pounder to the size of a poopy diapered linebacker on my lap. The woman next to me actually has her FINGERS IN HER EARS. And I will be trapped on this plane until we all die."

An hour and a half later we landed.

On the flight home I told our seatmate before he even sat down that he did not want to sit next to us. I think Ari really kicked it home for him when she looked up, screamed in his face, pressed the cookie monst.er (haahhh haaahhh hahhh) laugh button on her toy and laughed maniacally while jumping up and down on his seat. (Our flight home was also a half hour past normal bedtime.) He found another seat.

Flight home with extra seat next to us was marginally better.

In between these flights from the depths of hell we had a wonderful time!

My mom's friends threw us a welcome home baby shower which we attended in full party dress.

Ariam received many toys, chewed on wrapping paper, hand fed me frosting, met Ellie T. and had zero meltdowns.

I've noticed that in party situations she doesn't smile much. She is very serious and hyper alert. I think this is a normal side effect of having lived with large groups in an institution. But I do really look forward to the day when she can laugh, smile and relax at a party.

Despite my concerns about leaving daddy behind, Ari did great at Aya and Papa's house. She loved the soft carpeted floor, watching the "DAW" out the window, sitting at the big people's table, receiving adoring visitors, and sleeping in my room at night in a pack and play. She even napped twice/day, slept through the nights, and handled the heat with grace. I was sort of blown away. She did ask for "dah dah" a few times but seemed happy enough with looking at our family pictures with him on the walls.

A highlight was Saledo Creek. We began with top on, bottoms off. Then went to full swimsuit mode!
We had a great visit. Loved the party, presents and people. (Could have done without the puke.) THANK YOU mom, dad, and friends!

~A

Ear Feeding

J: Feeding Ari in her kitchen highchair, "Babe...? I don't think we have a Mensa candidate here."

A: From living room, "Why is that?"

J: "She's feeding herself through the ear." (Truly - she was trying to stuff individual spiral noodles right into her ear canal while staring him down with a very focused expression.)

I don't know, I think that's pretty amazingly innovative if you ask me. Food tastes good going through the mouth, I'm sure she assumes that through the ear means twice as many yummy food delivery holes.

~A