This blog is no longer in use. Somehow the comments and links at the bottom became corrupted.
Please visit http://www.at-the-watershed-blog.blogspot.com/ to find my new location. Thanks!
12.18.2010
12.15.2010
Edited
Update from Friday night:
I've played with the blog. I couldn't get it back to normal. But I think everything is still all here - now at the bottom instead of on the left side. Comments should be back to normal. Please write and assure me that I haven't lost my blog community!
Wednesday night:
Ok, we've had a little drama at the watershed blog.
I've lost posts. Most people can't comment. I lost my left side of the screen, blogroll, links, etc. I say "I lost" but really BLOGGER dumped everything. I don't know why or how. And I can't fix it. So I will have to export to another url to save my sanity.
Until then please save up your comments. Because what is a blog without comments??!!!
I hope to have things up and running smoothly by Saturday.
~A
I've played with the blog. I couldn't get it back to normal. But I think everything is still all here - now at the bottom instead of on the left side. Comments should be back to normal. Please write and assure me that I haven't lost my blog community!
Wednesday night:
Ok, we've had a little drama at the watershed blog.
I've lost posts. Most people can't comment. I lost my left side of the screen, blogroll, links, etc. I say "I lost" but really BLOGGER dumped everything. I don't know why or how. And I can't fix it. So I will have to export to another url to save my sanity.
Until then please save up your comments. Because what is a blog without comments??!!!
I hope to have things up and running smoothly by Saturday.
~A
Well THIS day of this year came a little too fast...
Last year I had an adoption mental health breakdown. Tomorrow is my one year anniversary of that mental break. I wrote this post the day after: http://at-the-watershed.blogspot.com/2009/12/here-is-where-i-confess-lot-of-crappy.html
I keep looking at my birthday (coming up on Saturday) out of the corner of my mind's eye. Twisting and turning it but keeping it at a distance.
I'm so thankful for how quickly the year flew by. That seemingly endless time between my 33rd birthday and being matched with Ariam is a distant memory. The rest of the year from March 1 - current day flashed by.
I'm thankful the pain and longing is far behind me.
But not so thankful to be standing at the edge of my 34th birthday.
I don't have a lot of time to face it, consider it, and come up with something poetic. But I think there is value in considering where to go from here given the information I received last year. Without stopping and evaluating from time to time I can see how life might just take wings and fly by now that Ariam is home.
So. Last year I found out that J and I together are "infertile." Separately possibly not. But together definitively so. And I can't tell you how insulting and irritating I find it when I hear "oh but now that you've adopted you'll definitely get pregnant." Sure, that may happen to some people. But it is not as if there is a magic correspondance between the two.
If we want to get pregnant we have to pay for it. And it is easily as expensive as adopting another child.
I'm not sure what we are going to do. I don't feel any panic at all about it. (Thank God!)
But I do realize that time continues to tick by and that my next birthday will be here before I know it. I don't think we'd try any fertility treatments after I'm 35 or 36.
So what to do? How do you make these decisions? Have any of you tried IVF after adopting?
I can honestly say that I would happily complete our family with another adopted child. It isn't about the child I'm raising. I think for me it is about the experience of pregnancy. It is something I've always wanted. It is something a woman's body is made for. I feel...incomplete? Maybe I won't always feel that way, and I don't feel like I'd be incomplete never raising a bio child. But right now I still have daydreams about that moment of seeing a positive pregnancy test. Of cravings. Of the big annoucement. I have daydreams about holding a teeny tiny newborn.
Sigh. I am plain old too tired to think about this very much or very often. Which may mean I have my answer. Who in her right mind being as tired as I am would enter into invasive, time consuming, exhausting fertility treatment? For now the answer is obvious because we don't have the money. But I think it's something that needs to be settled and either attempted or grieved by this time next year.
The End. No tears. :)
No panic. :)
And now we return to our previously scheduled Christmas glee and yuletide cheer.
This Sunday WE light the Advent candle up front at church. I get a little giddy thinking about it.
~A
I keep looking at my birthday (coming up on Saturday) out of the corner of my mind's eye. Twisting and turning it but keeping it at a distance.
I'm so thankful for how quickly the year flew by. That seemingly endless time between my 33rd birthday and being matched with Ariam is a distant memory. The rest of the year from March 1 - current day flashed by.
I'm thankful the pain and longing is far behind me.
But not so thankful to be standing at the edge of my 34th birthday.
I don't have a lot of time to face it, consider it, and come up with something poetic. But I think there is value in considering where to go from here given the information I received last year. Without stopping and evaluating from time to time I can see how life might just take wings and fly by now that Ariam is home.
So. Last year I found out that J and I together are "infertile." Separately possibly not. But together definitively so. And I can't tell you how insulting and irritating I find it when I hear "oh but now that you've adopted you'll definitely get pregnant." Sure, that may happen to some people. But it is not as if there is a magic correspondance between the two.
If we want to get pregnant we have to pay for it. And it is easily as expensive as adopting another child.
I'm not sure what we are going to do. I don't feel any panic at all about it. (Thank God!)
But I do realize that time continues to tick by and that my next birthday will be here before I know it. I don't think we'd try any fertility treatments after I'm 35 or 36.
So what to do? How do you make these decisions? Have any of you tried IVF after adopting?
I can honestly say that I would happily complete our family with another adopted child. It isn't about the child I'm raising. I think for me it is about the experience of pregnancy. It is something I've always wanted. It is something a woman's body is made for. I feel...incomplete? Maybe I won't always feel that way, and I don't feel like I'd be incomplete never raising a bio child. But right now I still have daydreams about that moment of seeing a positive pregnancy test. Of cravings. Of the big annoucement. I have daydreams about holding a teeny tiny newborn.
Sigh. I am plain old too tired to think about this very much or very often. Which may mean I have my answer. Who in her right mind being as tired as I am would enter into invasive, time consuming, exhausting fertility treatment? For now the answer is obvious because we don't have the money. But I think it's something that needs to be settled and either attempted or grieved by this time next year.
The End. No tears. :)
No panic. :)
And now we return to our previously scheduled Christmas glee and yuletide cheer.
This Sunday WE light the Advent candle up front at church. I get a little giddy thinking about it.
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?
12.03.2010
Milo's Story: A Long Journey for a Little Dog
On February 19th, 2007 I arrived in Bang Niang. A small sandy beach town one hour north of Phuket.
I was excited and nervous and hot. Very very hot. Like 100+ degrees in the shade hot.
I stepped out of my little gold rental car in front of the office and received an overwhelming welcome! 40 pounds of black flying fur, wiggling, waggling, licking and dancing around in front of me. A dog! A shiny black dog with love in his heart.
We made friends instantly. He was a tsunami survivor who had adopted the office and the volunteers and employees it housed two years before I arrived.
I snuck him bites of cake and sausages. I made sure his water bowl was full.
I worried over him and reminded people to feed him.
On night 4 he followed me to a restaurant, across an extremely busy street (I looked away to avoid seeing him smooshed by a truck), and proceeded to charm scraps off of tourists.
MILO. Named by someone for his chocolatey resemblance to the instant Thai coffee drink.
When I left that July Milo was still shiny, happy, playful and if not owned individually, at least well cared for communally. I heard he was still rotating homes for the night depending on who was in town and who was on home leave or vacation.
A year and a half later I happened to see him in a photo on face.book. A thin and scrappy version of himself. It was suspicious to me but I chose to believe that the people he loved and trusted for a span of 4-5 years would continue to take care of him. It was beyond my imagination that when they all left for their various countries and closed the office doors, they would just leave Milo sitting alone outside.
I am embarrassed to say that another year passed. I saw another photo of Milo on facebook.
Now a shell of his former self. Eaten by mange, tail drooping, gray faced, homeless, ribs poking through dehydrated skin.
The details are massive. Saving Milo was a process that lasted from January - September 2010.
I put myself at odds with former officemates over this. But I simply don’t care. A dog is a pet. A dog is not a wild animal who can be cared for and made dependent and then left to his own devices on the street. A dog does not “like to roam” never knowing where his next meal might come from. Never experiencing a loving stroke from an owner. Slinking from shade tree to shade tree. Painfully pulling his wasted body to the scarce puddles on the side of the road.
I called Soi Dog Foundation last January and they picked Milo up outside his former "home." Long ago closed up and fenced off to house a daycare. The photo below breaks my heart. For almost five years this was a safe place for Milo. A covered porch to shelter him from rain or sun. A bowl of fresh water. A driveway of cars filled with friends to bring him food and affection.
Milo’s story is one that has a very painful middle but a happy ending. One story for all of the millions of heartbreaking dog stories in tourist destinations all over developing countries. Stray puppy is born because careless owners did not spay and neuter. Puppy’s mom is hit by car. Puppy finds high season long-term tourist to beg from and becomes accustomed to being “owned.” Tourist leaves eventually. Puppy/dog has no survival skills. Rainy season sets in. Dog becomes covered in mange. Dog either dies a slow painful death from skin disease and hunger or is hit by a car and left for dead in the road.
Milo somehow survived these cycles. Barely.
On top of the mange and dehydration, Milo was suffering from liver damage. (Caused by the questionable things he was eating to try and fill his belly.)
But....
Milo's story just came to a close!! His family found him!
Rob and Sandra were Milo’s first best friends. Tsunami volunteers who knew Milo for a full year before I ever even arrived in Bang Niang. They too had assumed that years later, when the office closed, someone would take him or arrange a home for him.
This fall Milo took a big journey. The biggest of his life. He moved to England to live with his family. To stroll the country lanes, chase balls on the beach, and monitor sheep.
It didn't take long for him to learn about the couch and adapt to a family life. The wonder of walking with your pack. The soothing peace of regular meals. He is finally what he was meant to be – a pet. Somebody’s beloved pet. A pet who is once again young and glossy and full of life. He KNOWS he is a pet and he waits diligently by his garden gate to watch whenever anyone goes out.
I played a part in this story. But so did others. First a wonderful Thai woman who cared for Milo for his first few years and then Soi Dog Foundation who looked beyond the fact that Milo was “just a dog” and cared enough to get involved. Finally Rob and Sandra who spent a lot of time and money to get Milo home.
You can adopt an animal to almost any country in the world. Bringing an animal home to the U.S. is the easiest scenario. Island nations like the UK are harder, but it can be done. Please don't travel to another country, earn the love and trust of an animal, only to leave him/her to a slow and painful death on the street.
If you are in Thailand and need help getting your pet home you can contact Soi Dog Foundation.
~A
For Rob and Sandra. Thank you. I wasn't sure I'd see a happy ending. Thank you for being wonderful human beings. Milo deserves you and you deserve him. You restored my faith.
I was excited and nervous and hot. Very very hot. Like 100+ degrees in the shade hot.
I stepped out of my little gold rental car in front of the office and received an overwhelming welcome! 40 pounds of black flying fur, wiggling, waggling, licking and dancing around in front of me. A dog! A shiny black dog with love in his heart.
2007
We made friends instantly. He was a tsunami survivor who had adopted the office and the volunteers and employees it housed two years before I arrived.
I snuck him bites of cake and sausages. I made sure his water bowl was full.
I worried over him and reminded people to feed him.
On night 4 he followed me to a restaurant, across an extremely busy street (I looked away to avoid seeing him smooshed by a truck), and proceeded to charm scraps off of tourists.
MILO. Named by someone for his chocolatey resemblance to the instant Thai coffee drink.
When I left that July Milo was still shiny, happy, playful and if not owned individually, at least well cared for communally. I heard he was still rotating homes for the night depending on who was in town and who was on home leave or vacation.
A year and a half later I happened to see him in a photo on face.book. A thin and scrappy version of himself. It was suspicious to me but I chose to believe that the people he loved and trusted for a span of 4-5 years would continue to take care of him. It was beyond my imagination that when they all left for their various countries and closed the office doors, they would just leave Milo sitting alone outside.
I am embarrassed to say that another year passed. I saw another photo of Milo on facebook.
Now a shell of his former self. Eaten by mange, tail drooping, gray faced, homeless, ribs poking through dehydrated skin.
The details are massive. Saving Milo was a process that lasted from January - September 2010.
I put myself at odds with former officemates over this. But I simply don’t care. A dog is a pet. A dog is not a wild animal who can be cared for and made dependent and then left to his own devices on the street. A dog does not “like to roam” never knowing where his next meal might come from. Never experiencing a loving stroke from an owner. Slinking from shade tree to shade tree. Painfully pulling his wasted body to the scarce puddles on the side of the road.
I called Soi Dog Foundation last January and they picked Milo up outside his former "home." Long ago closed up and fenced off to house a daycare. The photo below breaks my heart. For almost five years this was a safe place for Milo. A covered porch to shelter him from rain or sun. A bowl of fresh water. A driveway of cars filled with friends to bring him food and affection.
Milo’s story is one that has a very painful middle but a happy ending. One story for all of the millions of heartbreaking dog stories in tourist destinations all over developing countries. Stray puppy is born because careless owners did not spay and neuter. Puppy’s mom is hit by car. Puppy finds high season long-term tourist to beg from and becomes accustomed to being “owned.” Tourist leaves eventually. Puppy/dog has no survival skills. Rainy season sets in. Dog becomes covered in mange. Dog either dies a slow painful death from skin disease and hunger or is hit by a car and left for dead in the road.
Milo somehow survived these cycles. Barely.
On top of the mange and dehydration, Milo was suffering from liver damage. (Caused by the questionable things he was eating to try and fill his belly.)But....
Milo's story just came to a close!! His family found him!
Rob and Sandra were Milo’s first best friends. Tsunami volunteers who knew Milo for a full year before I ever even arrived in Bang Niang. They too had assumed that years later, when the office closed, someone would take him or arrange a home for him.
This fall Milo took a big journey. The biggest of his life. He moved to England to live with his family. To stroll the country lanes, chase balls on the beach, and monitor sheep.
It didn't take long for him to learn about the couch and adapt to a family life. The wonder of walking with your pack. The soothing peace of regular meals. He is finally what he was meant to be – a pet. Somebody’s beloved pet. A pet who is once again young and glossy and full of life. He KNOWS he is a pet and he waits diligently by his garden gate to watch whenever anyone goes out. I played a part in this story. But so did others. First a wonderful Thai woman who cared for Milo for his first few years and then Soi Dog Foundation who looked beyond the fact that Milo was “just a dog” and cared enough to get involved. Finally Rob and Sandra who spent a lot of time and money to get Milo home.
You can adopt an animal to almost any country in the world. Bringing an animal home to the U.S. is the easiest scenario. Island nations like the UK are harder, but it can be done. Please don't travel to another country, earn the love and trust of an animal, only to leave him/her to a slow and painful death on the street.
If you are in Thailand and need help getting your pet home you can contact Soi Dog Foundation.
~A
For Rob and Sandra. Thank you. I wasn't sure I'd see a happy ending. Thank you for being wonderful human beings. Milo deserves you and you deserve him. You restored my faith.
Real Life Seriously Impeding Blog Life
Dear House, Leaves, Groceries, Husband, Child, Career, Facebook, Friends, Dexter on Net.flix, Sleep, Dogs, Weather, and Holiday Cheer:
You are seriously getting in the way.
I mean, how am I supposed to blog when I have to pay attention to all of you all the freakin time?
If you really loved me you would let me lounge on my couch, under the good blanket (you know, the one fresh out of the warm dryer - that someone else washed and lovingly tucked over me), with a bag of gummy bears (Haribo please), Gilmore Girls lightly tuned in in the background, with a warm toasty fire roaring. Blogging of course.
How is it that you are keeping me so busy that holidays just fly by without even a single blog mention?
Don't you know that I have a load of photos to post?
A hair product (tangle teaser) to review?
A winter vacation to mull over?
Daycare updates to write?
Deep thoughts on national adoption month, race, and AIDS that must be shared?
Have you forgotten that Bridget is waiting for her "what not to do during the last days of your wait" post? It is written on the backs of business cards for goodness sake. I need those cards out of my wallet and off of my mind!
Don't you remember what bad shape I was in this time last year? That absolutely must be blogged about, sniffled over, held close, coddled and released before my 34th birthday and Christmas come swooping in together.
I'll have you know that my bloggy relationships are being strained. YES, strained.
Let me know when you come up with a solution.
Until then I am on strike.
You are seriously getting in the way.
I mean, how am I supposed to blog when I have to pay attention to all of you all the freakin time?
If you really loved me you would let me lounge on my couch, under the good blanket (you know, the one fresh out of the warm dryer - that someone else washed and lovingly tucked over me), with a bag of gummy bears (Haribo please), Gilmore Girls lightly tuned in in the background, with a warm toasty fire roaring. Blogging of course.
How is it that you are keeping me so busy that holidays just fly by without even a single blog mention?
Don't you know that I have a load of photos to post?
A hair product (tangle teaser) to review?
A winter vacation to mull over?
Daycare updates to write?
Deep thoughts on national adoption month, race, and AIDS that must be shared?
Have you forgotten that Bridget is waiting for her "what not to do during the last days of your wait" post? It is written on the backs of business cards for goodness sake. I need those cards out of my wallet and off of my mind!
Don't you remember what bad shape I was in this time last year? That absolutely must be blogged about, sniffled over, held close, coddled and released before my 34th birthday and Christmas come swooping in together.
I'll have you know that my bloggy relationships are being strained. YES, strained.
Let me know when you come up with a solution.
Until then I am on strike.
~A
11.24.2010
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
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
11.18.2010
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
~A
11.15.2010
A New Day
Today is Ariam's first day at the shiny bright dream daycare. The one with the Chinese lanterns.
I cannot say that I've been feeling completely settled about the decision to move her.
But this morning we arrived and they had a "Welcome Ariam" sign on the toddler room door. As we walked into the main reception area everyone came out to say hi and make a fuss. Ari was so very pleased with herself and her grand reception. She granted many smiles and kisses. When we went into the toddler room she noticed the play kitchen immediately, made a beeline to it, and was still there when I said goodbye half an hour later.
She's such a big girl these days. It's hard. I wish I could keep her little forever. And yet I love to see her growing into such a happy sparkling little toddler. (Lately Ariam has been saying "happy" or "happy baby" when she's in a good mood.) :)
The new daycare has an online video camera. I'm about to log on and see what she's up to before I get down to work.div>
~A
11.08.2010
Releasing the past: Washington DC - Part II
Moving forward requires that we loosen our hold on the past.
Two years ago when J lost his job we left behind our home, our friends, and our city.
Starting over but never really putting the past behind us.
In September we finally went back together.
We said goodbye to a house that is no longer our home on a street that is no longer our neighborhood.
We said goodbye to Congressional Cemetery - no longer our daily walk.
We said goodbye to the monuments that were our landmarks each time we flew home.
We ate with our old neighbors,
in a yard surrounded by a fence that J built one hot summer.
During dinner I looked up at our old back window bathed now in a baby's night light glow. The window that would have been our nursery.
And we walked our city of memories, reliving the night we rode our bikes to the Lincoln Memorial and sat on its ledge watching a lightning storm.
We reminisced about our 9th anniversary kayak trip on the Potomac.
We laughed at the spot we once witnessed a huge Segway tour tourist collision in front of the Whitehouse.
We strolled through the Renway to pay homage to Wendell Castle's Ghost Clock. The one that tricked me the first time I saw it.
We dunked Ariam's feet in the fountain in the park next to the Capitol where our dogs swam and where we hid Easter Eggs one fabulous Sunday.
We rode the carousel. The one I avoided looking at for many years.
There have been days of doubt. Days when I longed for the sanctuary of my bedroom there. Days when regret for things we had no power to change was so sharp I could almost taste it. Days of homesickness and sadness.
One week after we returned from DC we bought a home here. It is not as big. It is not in the heart of importance. It does not come with a DC price tag or hold a prestigious location.
But it is real. It is ours. It is the home we should have started with in the first place. We are working a bit backwards but it is moving us forward.
Two years ago when J lost his job we left behind our home, our friends, and our city.
Starting over but never really putting the past behind us.
In September we finally went back together.
We said goodbye to a house that is no longer our home on a street that is no longer our neighborhood.
We said goodbye to Congressional Cemetery - no longer our daily walk.
We said goodbye to the monuments that were our landmarks each time we flew home.
We ate with our old neighbors,
in a yard surrounded by a fence that J built one hot summer.
During dinner I looked up at our old back window bathed now in a baby's night light glow. The window that would have been our nursery.
And we walked our city of memories, reliving the night we rode our bikes to the Lincoln Memorial and sat on its ledge watching a lightning storm.
We reminisced about our 9th anniversary kayak trip on the Potomac.
We laughed at the spot we once witnessed a huge Segway tour tourist collision in front of the Whitehouse.
We strolled through the Renway to pay homage to Wendell Castle's Ghost Clock. The one that tricked me the first time I saw it.
We rolled our eyes over the traffic between Union Station and Dupont Circle on a Friday night.
We inhaled the familiar scent of the Metro and the watched the reflecting pool.
We inhaled the familiar scent of the Metro and the watched the reflecting pool.
We dunked Ariam's feet in the fountain in the park next to the Capitol where our dogs swam and where we hid Easter Eggs one fabulous Sunday.
We rode the carousel. The one I avoided looking at for many years.
There have been days of doubt. Days when I longed for the sanctuary of my bedroom there. Days when regret for things we had no power to change was so sharp I could almost taste it. Days of homesickness and sadness.
One week after we returned from DC we bought a home here. It is not as big. It is not in the heart of importance. It does not come with a DC price tag or hold a prestigious location.
But it is real. It is ours. It is the home we should have started with in the first place. We are working a bit backwards but it is moving us forward.
We are starting over.
It is still painful but every day less so.
Some days I am amazed at how quickly we expect an adopted child to loosen her hold on the past and move forward. I have measured her transition in days and weeks and months while giving myself years. Amazed at how I lost a home and still mope and whine about it while my child lost everything she was born with and somehow is this brilliant happy being. Learning a lot from my 16 month old.
It is still painful but every day less so.
Some days I am amazed at how quickly we expect an adopted child to loosen her hold on the past and move forward. I have measured her transition in days and weeks and months while giving myself years. Amazed at how I lost a home and still mope and whine about it while my child lost everything she was born with and somehow is this brilliant happy being. Learning a lot from my 16 month old.
~A
11.04.2010
The Controversial and the Mundane
I find it interesting how something as mundane as choosing a costume for your child's first Halloween can actually be controversial.
I've been following a blog. I'm choosing not to link to it here and actually it isn't under the list of blogs I follow which is a good thing because my purpose isn't to send you all flocking over to it.
I don't know the author of the blog but have enjoyed her sweet accounts of her newly adopted Ethiopian child who has been home just about a month.
Now normally I do not get wrapped up in blog or facebook controversy. I don't have much time or interest in writing detailed comments or stirring up arguments. And I rarely if ever feel offended by a mundane adoption blog.
But, well I'm not sure how to ease into this so I'll just say it.
The author/mother PUT HER SMALL ETHIOPIAN CHILD IN A MONKEY COSTUME FOR HALLOWEEN.
How do you feel about this?
Am I wrong in assuming that the vast vast majority of us know and understand that black (and I use that adjective broadly to describe both African Americans and people of color from and still living in the Caribbean and Africa) do not like to be described as monkeys, not even as a form of endearment?
I will admit that prior to becoming the mother of a black child many of the issues surrounding racial stereotyping were simply not part of my world. And I am sorry about that. Because I lived in Washington, DC and worked and socialized and went to school with a lot of black friends. Many of whom I probably offended in one way or another over time. I thought that it was ok in general to be ignorant as long as I wasn't being offensive ON PURPOSE.
Wrong. Dead wrong. Shamefully wrong. It is not ok to be ignorant. And it is doubly not ok to be ignorant when you are parenting a child of another race.
The blog author/mother was ignorant. And that happens. And I would give her a huge pass for not having done a bit more reading on race and identity and racism in the U.S. except for one fact. She was educated by a black commenter (and very sensitively and kindly I might add), re-educated by several more commenters who said they were close friends, and she still chose to post a final comment stating that she would consider the points of view shared but would not go as far as to stop calling the child a monkey or give away the child's monkey themed clothing received as presents. Because "clothes are expensive."
You know what else is expensive? Repairing damage.
It is emotionally expensive to repair the damage we do to the image of white parents parenting black children. It is emotionally expensive to explain to your adult black man of a son why childhood photos show that you dressed him like this despite being provided with the tools you needed to understand why it was not ok. Expensive folks. We are talking hard stuff here.
Because the argument that racism and stereotyping and slavery and racial divides and inequality are somehow in the past is not an argument that can hold up anywhere outside of white society. We are white. We are not.black. But our children are. And that is so very loaded and important and full of implications for how we choose to live our lives.
So I posted a comment. I gave her an out. I recommended she do some reading. I fully expected to see that she would come back a bit humbled, accept that she had made a mistake, and would be glad to have found out early in her parenting so that next year she can buy a giraffe costume.
It didn't turn out that way. And she obviously doesn't want more comments. So I am turning to my only other outlet - my own blog.
I just keep thinking this. What if a black parent were calling her white child "cracker" as a term of endearment? Because she enjoys eating crackers of course. What if she went on to dress said adopted white child as a big white Saltine for Halloween? Um. Wouldn't we all have a bit of a problem with this? Maybe not if it were a white mother and white child. But there is something about transracial adoption that changes things doesn't it? The historic power differential and racial tension between black and white in the United States. It may be old news to some but it is very real and still very close to the surface when we are talking about labels and words.
Hello people? Let's just accept that we don't know it all and humbly thank our readers when they point us on the right track. I think paying attention to black friends and commenters is especially important. Run a little litumus test. Before you dress your child of another race in a costume for Halloween just first consider what your best girlfriend of that same race might say.
Oh, what? You don't have a girlfriend of another race?
Maybe that is the problem.
And I don't say that to be snarky. I think a lot of us have a long way to go before we could consider ourselves beyond just "racially sensitive" (nice term for I know it's wrong to call a black person the n word but not much else) and get to "fully functioning white mother who knows exactly how to raise a black child so that he/she can function as a member of black society without confusion, shame, self-doubt or embarrassment."
Feel free to leave comments but if you say to me that "all that matters is what is on the inside. Or, as long as your intentions are good" you know I will laugh you right off my blog. My fifth grade teacher said it best when he told us "close is only good in horse shoes."
We have to get it right, not close, when it is our child at stake.
~A
I've been following a blog. I'm choosing not to link to it here and actually it isn't under the list of blogs I follow which is a good thing because my purpose isn't to send you all flocking over to it.
I don't know the author of the blog but have enjoyed her sweet accounts of her newly adopted Ethiopian child who has been home just about a month.
Now normally I do not get wrapped up in blog or facebook controversy. I don't have much time or interest in writing detailed comments or stirring up arguments. And I rarely if ever feel offended by a mundane adoption blog.
But, well I'm not sure how to ease into this so I'll just say it.
The author/mother PUT HER SMALL ETHIOPIAN CHILD IN A MONKEY COSTUME FOR HALLOWEEN.
How do you feel about this?
Am I wrong in assuming that the vast vast majority of us know and understand that black (and I use that adjective broadly to describe both African Americans and people of color from and still living in the Caribbean and Africa) do not like to be described as monkeys, not even as a form of endearment?
I will admit that prior to becoming the mother of a black child many of the issues surrounding racial stereotyping were simply not part of my world. And I am sorry about that. Because I lived in Washington, DC and worked and socialized and went to school with a lot of black friends. Many of whom I probably offended in one way or another over time. I thought that it was ok in general to be ignorant as long as I wasn't being offensive ON PURPOSE.
Wrong. Dead wrong. Shamefully wrong. It is not ok to be ignorant. And it is doubly not ok to be ignorant when you are parenting a child of another race.
The blog author/mother was ignorant. And that happens. And I would give her a huge pass for not having done a bit more reading on race and identity and racism in the U.S. except for one fact. She was educated by a black commenter (and very sensitively and kindly I might add), re-educated by several more commenters who said they were close friends, and she still chose to post a final comment stating that she would consider the points of view shared but would not go as far as to stop calling the child a monkey or give away the child's monkey themed clothing received as presents. Because "clothes are expensive."
You know what else is expensive? Repairing damage.
It is emotionally expensive to repair the damage we do to the image of white parents parenting black children. It is emotionally expensive to explain to your adult black man of a son why childhood photos show that you dressed him like this despite being provided with the tools you needed to understand why it was not ok. Expensive folks. We are talking hard stuff here.
Because the argument that racism and stereotyping and slavery and racial divides and inequality are somehow in the past is not an argument that can hold up anywhere outside of white society. We are white. We are not.black. But our children are. And that is so very loaded and important and full of implications for how we choose to live our lives.
So I posted a comment. I gave her an out. I recommended she do some reading. I fully expected to see that she would come back a bit humbled, accept that she had made a mistake, and would be glad to have found out early in her parenting so that next year she can buy a giraffe costume.
It didn't turn out that way. And she obviously doesn't want more comments. So I am turning to my only other outlet - my own blog.
I just keep thinking this. What if a black parent were calling her white child "cracker" as a term of endearment? Because she enjoys eating crackers of course. What if she went on to dress said adopted white child as a big white Saltine for Halloween? Um. Wouldn't we all have a bit of a problem with this? Maybe not if it were a white mother and white child. But there is something about transracial adoption that changes things doesn't it? The historic power differential and racial tension between black and white in the United States. It may be old news to some but it is very real and still very close to the surface when we are talking about labels and words.
Hello people? Let's just accept that we don't know it all and humbly thank our readers when they point us on the right track. I think paying attention to black friends and commenters is especially important. Run a little litumus test. Before you dress your child of another race in a costume for Halloween just first consider what your best girlfriend of that same race might say.
Oh, what? You don't have a girlfriend of another race?
Maybe that is the problem.
And I don't say that to be snarky. I think a lot of us have a long way to go before we could consider ourselves beyond just "racially sensitive" (nice term for I know it's wrong to call a black person the n word but not much else) and get to "fully functioning white mother who knows exactly how to raise a black child so that he/she can function as a member of black society without confusion, shame, self-doubt or embarrassment."
Feel free to leave comments but if you say to me that "all that matters is what is on the inside. Or, as long as your intentions are good" you know I will laugh you right off my blog. My fifth grade teacher said it best when he told us "close is only good in horse shoes."
We have to get it right, not close, when it is our child at stake.
~A
10.26.2010
Urgent Advice Needed
From those of you who read blogs during the workday! (Shame on you!)
On the mornings that Ariam attends daycare we have to drive right past the dream daycare on the way to her average daycare. Each day I attempt to avert my eyes but the pull of the Chinese lanterns hanging in the giant front windows of the toddler room force me to slow down and drool a bit.
This place is located in a perfect position for the winter sun which cascades down over the little outdoor playground and twinkles off the windows.
I see happy parents entering with clean shiny little ones and exiting with giant gourmet coffee cups from the coffee station next to the front door.
We slow, I drool, I sigh, and we drive 5 blocks further to the windowless brick church where I haul my little one in and leave her crying.
This morning returned to a message from the dream daycare. They have an opening two days/week and want to invite Ariam off of the waitlist!!!
I am not too proud to admit that I did call them (and possibly sent an email or two) begging them to let her in. I may have also played the adoption card a bit calling all other daycares in our neighborhood "tiny orphanages."
So they want her. And us. And this is huge because originally they told us the waitlist didn't have an opening until March.
But I need some advice.
Friday will mark two weeks at the average daycare. She's just started to settle in and sleep for two full hours there during naptime. She obviously likes Miss Maria. She definitely cries when I drop her off, but I sense that it doesn't last long. Yesterday when I picked her up she was walking in from the playground like a little duck in her row of 3 other classmates.
Is another change too much?
The new daycare costs more. Am I paying for fluff or is it worth the money to fulfill a good gut instinct?
I certainly don't think the average daycare is hurting her, but I would like to see how her day is going by checking the video camera online sometimes...
I feel like a bad mom these days. I'm hauling my kid around to have other people take care of her. I'm moving her whole little world over to a new house this weekend. When I do have her I'm packing and cleaning and not giving her enough attention. She's such a resilient little trooper full of kisses and goodwill. But how far can you push a toddler until you ruin her??
~A
On the mornings that Ariam attends daycare we have to drive right past the dream daycare on the way to her average daycare. Each day I attempt to avert my eyes but the pull of the Chinese lanterns hanging in the giant front windows of the toddler room force me to slow down and drool a bit.
This place is located in a perfect position for the winter sun which cascades down over the little outdoor playground and twinkles off the windows.
I see happy parents entering with clean shiny little ones and exiting with giant gourmet coffee cups from the coffee station next to the front door.
We slow, I drool, I sigh, and we drive 5 blocks further to the windowless brick church where I haul my little one in and leave her crying.
This morning returned to a message from the dream daycare. They have an opening two days/week and want to invite Ariam off of the waitlist!!!
I am not too proud to admit that I did call them (and possibly sent an email or two) begging them to let her in. I may have also played the adoption card a bit calling all other daycares in our neighborhood "tiny orphanages."
So they want her. And us. And this is huge because originally they told us the waitlist didn't have an opening until March.
But I need some advice.
Friday will mark two weeks at the average daycare. She's just started to settle in and sleep for two full hours there during naptime. She obviously likes Miss Maria. She definitely cries when I drop her off, but I sense that it doesn't last long. Yesterday when I picked her up she was walking in from the playground like a little duck in her row of 3 other classmates.
Is another change too much?
The new daycare costs more. Am I paying for fluff or is it worth the money to fulfill a good gut instinct?
I certainly don't think the average daycare is hurting her, but I would like to see how her day is going by checking the video camera online sometimes...
I feel like a bad mom these days. I'm hauling my kid around to have other people take care of her. I'm moving her whole little world over to a new house this weekend. When I do have her I'm packing and cleaning and not giving her enough attention. She's such a resilient little trooper full of kisses and goodwill. But how far can you push a toddler until you ruin her??
~A
10.24.2010
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
10.23.2010
Move over Carol's Daughter!
After my last hair post I spent some time on natural hair care websites and emailing with some girlfriends who know what they are doing with hair.
The conclusion I came to is that Carol's Daughter products are just too harsh on Ariam's hair. So we returned everything (except for our Mimosa Hair Honey) to S.ephora. They were incredible about taking it all back, no questions asked.
I found very positive Alaffia reviews on Happy Girl Hair and other blogs and bought it at my local organic grocery store. We are trying out a whole new hair routine and it is working wonders!
1. Wash with Alaffia shampoo and conditioner once/week
2. In mid-week we do a co-wash (that means we just wash and rinse with conditioner, no 'poo)
3. After a wash or co-wash I add Alaffia hair lotion and use it as a detangler, then I add a pea size amount of Mimosa Hair Honey and run it through her hair with my fingers (it defines the curls)
4. Daily I wet Ariam's hair with a spray bottle and add just a dime size of Alaffia hair lotion, rubbing it in all over her head and finger detangling and fluffing
5. Twice/week I put her in the highchair in front of Baby Einstein's sign language video, wet down the hair, part it into several parts pulled back with clips, rub a little mix of pure aloe vera and coconut or jojoba into her scalp, and put pure coconut oil in her hair (I do this the day of her hair wash to make sure her scalp doesn't get dry and also the day before her mid-week cowash.)
That's it!
Also I have mastered a good center part for double puffs, the single puff with a ribbon, and am now moving on to tiny puffs in the back of her hair.
Tonight Ariam and I attended our trans-racial adoption group dinner. The hostess brought in an African American hair stylist who specializes in children's natural hair. She gave us an individual consultation and proclaimed Ariam's hair "very healthy and soft!" She gave us a VERY wide tooth comb and told me to wet the hair daily and detangle when I add the hair lotion or leave-in. I had not been detangling well enough which is why the tiny knots were forming. But to be honest, as soon as we stopped using Carol's Daughter products and changed to Alaffia the knots disappeared anyway. I haven't had a knot or a breakage in two weeks.
We're feeling very confident now in our hair routine. There are still several products out there that I'd like to try including Darcy Botanicals Hair Jelly and Aubrey Organics conditioner. But the hair is looking much healthier and is starting to grow.
Thanks for all of your comments and emails!
~A
10.18.2010
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
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
10.16.2010
10.14.2010
Q: What is more emotionally draining than the adoption process?
A: The search for child care.
After the nanny debacle yesterday I had to have a very painful phone conversation with the other mother. (She's employed this nanny for a year to watch her sweetheart of a daughter.) I had to tell her about the lack of eye contact, the lack of touch, the disinterest in either child. I was shaking during the call and realized that if I were her hearing these things I'd be falling apart.
Today we visited four daycares with immediate openings.
(We visited 2 last week and 1 earlier this week. All three had waiting lists and we put ourselves on our favorite which was absolutely amazing and probably won't have an opening until spring.)
Two of the four today had really negative reviews online but had immediate openings. Of course.
I went into the daycare visits this afternoon with a huge lump in my throat. Fear. Anxiety. Sadness. Stress about the time away from work. Concern over the reviews.
Guilt.
I was tongue-tied and barely functional. We did a lot of standing around staring and looking like we were attending a funeral.
More draining than waiting for Ariam has been this realization that life cannot move forward unless we remove her from the house for 20 hours each week. How is it that after all that waiting and longing now we have to put her away from us and be apart? It breaks my heart. But it will break us, literally, if we don't do it...
Ok, the daycare visits.
Two of the four smelled bad. Like cafeteria food and old poop.
One had a room filled with little jail cribs, like an Eastern European orphanage.
None of the caregivers spoke much English. I am a huge fan of children learning Spanish at a very early age. But Ariam needs to hear and process English. She's just now beginning to babble and trying to say a few words. Not sure now is the time to introduce a (third!) language.
I felt like all of the children we saw were blank and bored and moving in slow motion.
At one of the daycares, within the 10 minutes we were there, Ariam got her finger stuck in a faulty toy and fell off of a broken scooter.
How can parents send their children to these places for 50 hours/week? How does this childcare thing WORK?!!! Please tell me if you have the answer. Because I can't do it. I can't leave her somewhere unsafe, icky smelling, dirty, with people who seem bored. And why do all of them serve disgusting things like pork meatloaf?? (No offense meat eaters but we really don't eat much meat.)
Oh my goodness. I can FEEL the panic rising. Never had a panic attack. Pretty sure the first one is going to be on Ariam's first day of daycare. Or it may be tonight while we discuss the options.
~A
After the nanny debacle yesterday I had to have a very painful phone conversation with the other mother. (She's employed this nanny for a year to watch her sweetheart of a daughter.) I had to tell her about the lack of eye contact, the lack of touch, the disinterest in either child. I was shaking during the call and realized that if I were her hearing these things I'd be falling apart.
Today we visited four daycares with immediate openings.
(We visited 2 last week and 1 earlier this week. All three had waiting lists and we put ourselves on our favorite which was absolutely amazing and probably won't have an opening until spring.)
Two of the four today had really negative reviews online but had immediate openings. Of course.
I went into the daycare visits this afternoon with a huge lump in my throat. Fear. Anxiety. Sadness. Stress about the time away from work. Concern over the reviews.
Guilt.
I was tongue-tied and barely functional. We did a lot of standing around staring and looking like we were attending a funeral.
More draining than waiting for Ariam has been this realization that life cannot move forward unless we remove her from the house for 20 hours each week. How is it that after all that waiting and longing now we have to put her away from us and be apart? It breaks my heart. But it will break us, literally, if we don't do it...
Ok, the daycare visits.
Two of the four smelled bad. Like cafeteria food and old poop.
One had a room filled with little jail cribs, like an Eastern European orphanage.
None of the caregivers spoke much English. I am a huge fan of children learning Spanish at a very early age. But Ariam needs to hear and process English. She's just now beginning to babble and trying to say a few words. Not sure now is the time to introduce a (third!) language.
I felt like all of the children we saw were blank and bored and moving in slow motion.
At one of the daycares, within the 10 minutes we were there, Ariam got her finger stuck in a faulty toy and fell off of a broken scooter.
How can parents send their children to these places for 50 hours/week? How does this childcare thing WORK?!!! Please tell me if you have the answer. Because I can't do it. I can't leave her somewhere unsafe, icky smelling, dirty, with people who seem bored. And why do all of them serve disgusting things like pork meatloaf?? (No offense meat eaters but we really don't eat much meat.)
Oh my goodness. I can FEEL the panic rising. Never had a panic attack. Pretty sure the first one is going to be on Ariam's first day of daycare. Or it may be tonight while we discuss the options.
~A
10.13.2010
When it rains it pours
So true.
We are having a very hard week.
First I got sick over the weekend. At first I thought it was allergies so I really didn't rest like I should have. Then by Sunday night I was feverish, coughing, sore throat miserable.
Second, J got a new job. Which should be a great thing since he hasn't been working much this summer. But to be honest I've gotten very used to having him at home. He's done at least half of Ariam's care and because of that I've been able to work in August and September.
Third, we are buying a house. We close on Monday. The paperwork, the inspection follow up, the money, the packing. It is just a giant overwhelming mess. We aren't moving in immediately after closing but I almost wish we were. Instead we are dragging it out to the end of the month so J can spend every evening working on the house - painting, fixing, etc. That means I will not have him during the day OR during the evenings.
Fourth, we thought we had a nanny-share lined up for Ariam. After a lot of consideration we decided not to hire an Ethiopan nanny for now (a. we have a small house and it's easier for me to concentrate if Ariam is out of the house and b. we were worried a bit about all that we'd have to work through to teach the nanny how we do things.) So we agreed to be the second family in a 2 family nanny share starting Monday. Today I went on a play date with the nanny and the other child and walked away without childcare.
1. The nanny didn't look Ariam in the eye or even touch her during the whole play date.
2. The nanny told me that the other child's favorite activity is "tv."
3. The nanny didn't speak enthusiastically to either child, engage them in any way, or help them play on any of the playground equipment.
4. When I asked the nanny how she planned to handle two active toddlers at the park alone she said "I don't know."
I walked away with a huge pit in my stomach. Had a small freak out at home. And ultimately called the other family and told them what happened and that we were backing out. Honestly? A nanny, no matter how she is with the kids, should be ON HER GAME in front of the parents. Isn't that rule #1??
HEAVY SIGH.
We are on a waiting list for the most lovely daycare near the house. It has Chinese lanterns, and fresh coffee, and singing time, and fish, and organic snacks and video cameras in every room so we can watch Ariam. But it is impossible to say when we'll get off the wait list.
We've toured and said no to three other daycares. Now, following Nannygate 2010, we are visiting two more daycares tomorrow. Both have openings but both have at least one negative review online.
At this point Ariam is going insane in our house filled with boxes. I am going crazy trying to get even the smallest things done for work and am driving my coworkers crazy by not being responsive enough. Jeremy starts his job on Monday and is way over his head in packing, filling holes in our rental walls (from pictures, not from punching). I am still feeling under the weather. And we aren't sure if we are definitely closing on Monday or not.
All in one week. It's a lot to get a handle on. We need a third person in this marriage. Like a sex-less sister wife or something.
~A
We are having a very hard week.
First I got sick over the weekend. At first I thought it was allergies so I really didn't rest like I should have. Then by Sunday night I was feverish, coughing, sore throat miserable.
Second, J got a new job. Which should be a great thing since he hasn't been working much this summer. But to be honest I've gotten very used to having him at home. He's done at least half of Ariam's care and because of that I've been able to work in August and September.
Third, we are buying a house. We close on Monday. The paperwork, the inspection follow up, the money, the packing. It is just a giant overwhelming mess. We aren't moving in immediately after closing but I almost wish we were. Instead we are dragging it out to the end of the month so J can spend every evening working on the house - painting, fixing, etc. That means I will not have him during the day OR during the evenings.
Fourth, we thought we had a nanny-share lined up for Ariam. After a lot of consideration we decided not to hire an Ethiopan nanny for now (a. we have a small house and it's easier for me to concentrate if Ariam is out of the house and b. we were worried a bit about all that we'd have to work through to teach the nanny how we do things.) So we agreed to be the second family in a 2 family nanny share starting Monday. Today I went on a play date with the nanny and the other child and walked away without childcare.
1. The nanny didn't look Ariam in the eye or even touch her during the whole play date.
2. The nanny told me that the other child's favorite activity is "tv."
3. The nanny didn't speak enthusiastically to either child, engage them in any way, or help them play on any of the playground equipment.
4. When I asked the nanny how she planned to handle two active toddlers at the park alone she said "I don't know."
I walked away with a huge pit in my stomach. Had a small freak out at home. And ultimately called the other family and told them what happened and that we were backing out. Honestly? A nanny, no matter how she is with the kids, should be ON HER GAME in front of the parents. Isn't that rule #1??
HEAVY SIGH.
We are on a waiting list for the most lovely daycare near the house. It has Chinese lanterns, and fresh coffee, and singing time, and fish, and organic snacks and video cameras in every room so we can watch Ariam. But it is impossible to say when we'll get off the wait list.
We've toured and said no to three other daycares. Now, following Nannygate 2010, we are visiting two more daycares tomorrow. Both have openings but both have at least one negative review online.
At this point Ariam is going insane in our house filled with boxes. I am going crazy trying to get even the smallest things done for work and am driving my coworkers crazy by not being responsive enough. Jeremy starts his job on Monday and is way over his head in packing, filling holes in our rental walls (from pictures, not from punching). I am still feeling under the weather. And we aren't sure if we are definitely closing on Monday or not.
All in one week. It's a lot to get a handle on. We need a third person in this marriage. Like a sex-less sister wife or something.
~A
10.10.2010
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
9.29.2010
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About Me
- Me. Us. She.
- J and I have been married for almost 15 years. We have shared many adventures and a lot of watershed moments. In 2009 I began blogging and in 2010 we adopted our daughter from Ethiopia. In March of 2012 we began the process to adopt a little boy from Haiti. This blog follows the many twists and turns on the road to our two children and beyond.