So there we are, tucking the kids into bed, having our 'calming down' conversations to get the kids into the right frame of mind to go to sleep.
Marin: Daddy, what do you want from me?
Me: Marin, I want you to be nice and love me forever like I will love you forever.
Marin: Mama, what do you want from me?
Colleen: Marin, I want you to be nice and love me forever like I will love you forever.
Marin: Emmy, what do you want from me?
Emmy: I want you to be super mean to me and always push all of my buttons all the time.
Thursday, May 6, 2010
Monday, May 3, 2010
One Moon Ethiopia
Last weekend we attended and participated in an exhibit of artwork created by the children of adoptive parents from Ethiopia. About 15 families from southern ME and NH participated, and all the kids had a total blast.
On the ride home, it got me thinking.
What is it about these 15 families that motivates us to seek each other out, gravitate toward each other, and in some cases, cling to each other? The surface answer is we have a common bond, children from Ethiopia, and that is obviously a part of the answer because we probably would not even know each other if not for that.
But this phenomenon runs deeper. We seem to be building, or striving to build, something deeper and enduring. A permanent community of sorts. A legacy for our children so they will have roots after we are gone.
We sense, on some level, that our children do not, and perhaps will not, have the deepness of roots we thought they would have in America. That even in our biological families, there is transracial undercurrent that anyone other than the parent(s) cannot fully appreciate. But other adoptive parents do understand and can shed light on solutions. Our kids feel comfortable being with the other kids that have experienced substantially similar life trajectories. The kids are approaching an age now where they can compare notes and begin to explore unanswered questions for themselves. Having good relationships with their fellow Eth orphans helps get them through this.
I'll close with one cute example. This weekend we saw a little girl that shared a dorm room with our girls at the orphanage in Addis. They have had no contact at all in almost 3 years. They looked across the beach, recognized each other, ran to each other, gave each other a long embrace, and played together the entire day as though they had never been apart.
Only these kids know what they left behind. Only these kids know what it took to survive that. Luckily, the parents get it, and the parents know it is these kids that are the support network our kids are going to need feel connected, supported, and affirmed into adulthood.
On the ride home, it got me thinking.
What is it about these 15 families that motivates us to seek each other out, gravitate toward each other, and in some cases, cling to each other? The surface answer is we have a common bond, children from Ethiopia, and that is obviously a part of the answer because we probably would not even know each other if not for that.
But this phenomenon runs deeper. We seem to be building, or striving to build, something deeper and enduring. A permanent community of sorts. A legacy for our children so they will have roots after we are gone.
We sense, on some level, that our children do not, and perhaps will not, have the deepness of roots we thought they would have in America. That even in our biological families, there is transracial undercurrent that anyone other than the parent(s) cannot fully appreciate. But other adoptive parents do understand and can shed light on solutions. Our kids feel comfortable being with the other kids that have experienced substantially similar life trajectories. The kids are approaching an age now where they can compare notes and begin to explore unanswered questions for themselves. Having good relationships with their fellow Eth orphans helps get them through this.
I'll close with one cute example. This weekend we saw a little girl that shared a dorm room with our girls at the orphanage in Addis. They have had no contact at all in almost 3 years. They looked across the beach, recognized each other, ran to each other, gave each other a long embrace, and played together the entire day as though they had never been apart.
Only these kids know what they left behind. Only these kids know what it took to survive that. Luckily, the parents get it, and the parents know it is these kids that are the support network our kids are going to need feel connected, supported, and affirmed into adulthood.
Sunday, May 2, 2010
Showing early promise
Today was opening day of spring soccer.
Marin plays in the 2-3 grade bracket. Her team lost 3-1, but Marin had a decent game and scored her teams' only goal.
Emmy plays in the pre-K league. She probably should be in the first grade league. Today Emmy scored six goals in the first five minutes of the game. The opposing coach and I talked it over, decided the field sloped in a direction that favored Emmy's team (it really did - it's a crummy field), and switched goals so Emmy would have to score uphill. No problem. Three more goals in the next five minutes. I sent Emmy to the bench so other kids could touch the ball.
When Emmy returned to the game, we were leading something like 10-1. I told Emmy "No more goals for you, you wait for one of your team to get to the goal with you and pass it to her". Emmy responded with a cheerful "OK, Daddy."
Emmy takes the ball, zip zip zip, and is at the other goal waiting for someone on her team to catch up. She turned around and yelled "Hurry up and I'll shoot it to you and you can score a goal." And she did - about a dozen times. It was just ridiculous. Thankfully, all the parents knew I was doing everything I could to take the attention off Emmy, but it just wasn't working.
It is really exciting to watch her play.
Marin plays in the 2-3 grade bracket. Her team lost 3-1, but Marin had a decent game and scored her teams' only goal.
Emmy plays in the pre-K league. She probably should be in the first grade league. Today Emmy scored six goals in the first five minutes of the game. The opposing coach and I talked it over, decided the field sloped in a direction that favored Emmy's team (it really did - it's a crummy field), and switched goals so Emmy would have to score uphill. No problem. Three more goals in the next five minutes. I sent Emmy to the bench so other kids could touch the ball.
When Emmy returned to the game, we were leading something like 10-1. I told Emmy "No more goals for you, you wait for one of your team to get to the goal with you and pass it to her". Emmy responded with a cheerful "OK, Daddy."
Emmy takes the ball, zip zip zip, and is at the other goal waiting for someone on her team to catch up. She turned around and yelled "Hurry up and I'll shoot it to you and you can score a goal." And she did - about a dozen times. It was just ridiculous. Thankfully, all the parents knew I was doing everything I could to take the attention off Emmy, but it just wasn't working.
It is really exciting to watch her play.
Friday, April 23, 2010
Is that you, Uncle Jim??
So there we are, watching the Celts in the process of stealing game three in Miami. Every time Jeff Van Gundy says Glen 'big baby' Davis, the kids roll on the floor laughing and ask me "What's big baby's number again, Daddy?" Eleven. "Oh, yeah, a waaahhh and a waaaahh, big baby". Giggling their heads off.
Anyway, they cut to Rick Pitino (former Celtics coach) in the audience and they interview him for about 60 seconds. Suddenly, Emmy and Marin are motionless, silent, watching intently. Finally Emmy asks "Why is Uncle Jim not wearing his glasses?"
I'm thinking "What??!!??" Then I look at the TV again, and Pitino does look like Colleen's brother Jim, but with a few more wrinkles. Colleen starts cracking up. I can't wait to tell Jim about this.
Anyway, they cut to Rick Pitino (former Celtics coach) in the audience and they interview him for about 60 seconds. Suddenly, Emmy and Marin are motionless, silent, watching intently. Finally Emmy asks "Why is Uncle Jim not wearing his glasses?"
I'm thinking "What??!!??" Then I look at the TV again, and Pitino does look like Colleen's brother Jim, but with a few more wrinkles. Colleen starts cracking up. I can't wait to tell Jim about this.
Wednesday, April 21, 2010
What's the Frequency, Kenneth?
So here we are at a large family gathering, about 80 of us, for a special event. Some of us, including my Dad and I, arrived early to verify things were arranged as we had planned, check in with the caterer, etc.
My Aunt pulls my Dad and I aside and starts talking in a wierd blend of hesitant, apologetic, defensive tone. I can't imagine where this is going, and she eventually cuts to the chase.
Aunt: Well, my daughter has sort of become a foster mother to one of the boys who is friends with her son.
Us: Oh, wow, congratulations.
Aunt: Well, it's likely he will be joining us here today and I want to be sure its OK with you that we have one more guest.
Us: Of course.
Aunt: Well, he's a black kid.
Us: OK
Aunt: Really? You mean thats OK with you?
At this point, my Dad and I look at each other trying to read each others reaction and determine whether my Aunt is pulling our legs or not. Could she possibly be serious? Has she forgotten that my children and my Dad's grandchildren are African? Apparently, she did not make that connection. So, how to process this conversation?
On the one hand, I am thrilled that my Aunt does not even think of my children as black. That she is totally oblivious to my kids skin color is incredible, astounding, and exhilarating. My kids are totally and unconditionally accepted by the older generations in my family, and that is awesome.
On the other hand, there is still this latent attitude - I don't even know how to describe it - that the older generations have about blacks. It's really subtle. It is not evil; they wish no ill will to blacks. It's more like "I like blacks better when they keep their distance" and "I am concerned you will not accept me if I am associated with blacks." I think America needs to lose two more generations - say 40 more years - before these attitudes will be largely extinguished.
My Aunt pulls my Dad and I aside and starts talking in a wierd blend of hesitant, apologetic, defensive tone. I can't imagine where this is going, and she eventually cuts to the chase.
Aunt: Well, my daughter has sort of become a foster mother to one of the boys who is friends with her son.
Us: Oh, wow, congratulations.
Aunt: Well, it's likely he will be joining us here today and I want to be sure its OK with you that we have one more guest.
Us: Of course.
Aunt: Well, he's a black kid.
Us: OK
Aunt: Really? You mean thats OK with you?
At this point, my Dad and I look at each other trying to read each others reaction and determine whether my Aunt is pulling our legs or not. Could she possibly be serious? Has she forgotten that my children and my Dad's grandchildren are African? Apparently, she did not make that connection. So, how to process this conversation?
On the one hand, I am thrilled that my Aunt does not even think of my children as black. That she is totally oblivious to my kids skin color is incredible, astounding, and exhilarating. My kids are totally and unconditionally accepted by the older generations in my family, and that is awesome.
On the other hand, there is still this latent attitude - I don't even know how to describe it - that the older generations have about blacks. It's really subtle. It is not evil; they wish no ill will to blacks. It's more like "I like blacks better when they keep their distance" and "I am concerned you will not accept me if I am associated with blacks." I think America needs to lose two more generations - say 40 more years - before these attitudes will be largely extinguished.
Wednesday, April 7, 2010
Unbreakable
Emmy is a little more than 5 years old.
Yesterday, she went to the car to get her sunglasses, and accidentally slammed her fingers in the door of the car, tearing off a small piece of flesh. Correct me if I'm wrong, but wouldn't most kids age 5 stand there with their fingers stuck in the door and scream bloody murder?
Emmy reached over with her other hand, opened the car door, and removed her injured hand. Then she walked into the house, held up her bloody hand for us to see, and calmly asked for an icy bear (ice cube) and a bandaid. Only after we got her hand all cleaned and bandage did she go lie down with her doll and stuffed animal and begin to sob quietly.
Yesterday, she went to the car to get her sunglasses, and accidentally slammed her fingers in the door of the car, tearing off a small piece of flesh. Correct me if I'm wrong, but wouldn't most kids age 5 stand there with their fingers stuck in the door and scream bloody murder?
Emmy reached over with her other hand, opened the car door, and removed her injured hand. Then she walked into the house, held up her bloody hand for us to see, and calmly asked for an icy bear (ice cube) and a bandaid. Only after we got her hand all cleaned and bandage did she go lie down with her doll and stuffed animal and begin to sob quietly.
Monday, March 22, 2010
March Madness 2010
I am having a blast introducing the girls to March Madness. I showed them the brackets and asked them to pick a couple of teams to cheer for.
They picked Temple because they liked Hootie the Owl Mascot, so I taught them the Cherry and White fight song. And they picked Syracuse because we have been following the Orange all season and their favorite player is Scoop Jardine. Temple lost its first game, so I asked the girls to pick another team to cheer for. They liked the Xavier cheerleaders, and now they run around the house with their forearms crossed in the shape of an X chanting "Lets go X! Lets go X!"
They are so into the games - asking questions like what's his name?, what's his number?, is he a big man or a little man?, whose cheerleader is that?, which team are the most people cheering for?. Then they start mimicking the announcers - from downtown, in the paint, for the jam, tough D, and the foul, for three, travelling violation, airball - it is awesome. Who needs sons to enjoy march Madness? Last night, we were watching Purdue v. Texas A&M, and one team committed a horrific turnover so the coach called a time out. Emmy turns to face me, dead serious, and says "Coach wants to talk it over, right Dad?"
Now weneed them to grow to 6 feet so we can pursue that hoops scholarship!
They picked Temple because they liked Hootie the Owl Mascot, so I taught them the Cherry and White fight song. And they picked Syracuse because we have been following the Orange all season and their favorite player is Scoop Jardine. Temple lost its first game, so I asked the girls to pick another team to cheer for. They liked the Xavier cheerleaders, and now they run around the house with their forearms crossed in the shape of an X chanting "Lets go X! Lets go X!"
They are so into the games - asking questions like what's his name?, what's his number?, is he a big man or a little man?, whose cheerleader is that?, which team are the most people cheering for?. Then they start mimicking the announcers - from downtown, in the paint, for the jam, tough D, and the foul, for three, travelling violation, airball - it is awesome. Who needs sons to enjoy march Madness? Last night, we were watching Purdue v. Texas A&M, and one team committed a horrific turnover so the coach called a time out. Emmy turns to face me, dead serious, and says "Coach wants to talk it over, right Dad?"
Now weneed them to grow to 6 feet so we can pursue that hoops scholarship!
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