Whistling tunes we're kissing baboons in the jungle

All you Peter Gabriel fans recognize that line.

So here we are in lovely Arba Minch, Ethiopia, enjoying an afternoon siesta in our bungalow. Emmy is on the front porch, humming softly to herself, and enjoying the bright Africa sunshine while Colleen lounges on the bed with the front door open so she can keep an eye on Emmy.

Emmy casually turns to look at her right, leaps to her feet, sprints into the bungalow, slams the door behind her, and braces the door.

Colleen, alarmed now, bolted from bed and asked Emmy what is wrong. Emmy responded, cool as a cucumber "Mommy, get a camera because nobody will believe me."

Colleen looked out the window to see an adult Baboon enjoying fresh flowers from the garden no more than 15 feet from where Emmy had been sitting.

We almost vomited with the thought of what a baboon could have done to little Emmy. We notified the park ranger who told us the reason the baboon did not bother Emmy is because she did not have any food with her. What a miracle, because the kid is always snacking on something.

Meds

Before we left for Ethiopia, Emmy had a lot of congestion and sinus issues. Colleen was using different OTC meds to clear her up before we had to fly.

One night Colleen had given Emmy the usual regimen and then remembered "Oh, yeah! I wanted to try this new one! I'll go get it."

While Colleen was downstairs, Emmy leaped into my arms in a full blown terror panic. "No Daddy. Don't let Mama touch me. I don't want her medicine. Don't let Mama touch me. Promise you won't"

The poor kid was sobbing and trembling. When I finally got her calm enough so she could speak coherently, I asked Emmy why she was so afraid.

"You know why, Daddy. This is just like they did to Micheal Jackson! Too many medicines!"

Death in the Family

We lost my Aunt Joy this week, the first death in the family since the kids arrived home. We had long emotional discussions about death, heaven, funerals, etc. The kids decided they could write notes (actually little books) to their parents in heaven and have Aunt Joy deliver the notes to their parents. The notes are adorable and heartbreaking. We want to keep them for the kids 'lifebooks', but we are afraid they will feel betrayed if they later learn we did not put the letters in Aunt Joy's coffin for delivery to heaven.

Here is Emmy's:

Dear Mom and Dad. I miss you. I was crying cause you died. I will miss you. I wish I could celebrate your birthday. I love you. I hope you like heaven (drawing of heaven). You will be in my heart always (drawing of heart). I have wonderful cousins and uncles and aunts that love me (drawing of peace). My favorite things is math (drawing of Emmy in school). Love Emmy and Emnet

Here is Marin's:
Dear Mom and Dad. I miss you and I love you. My favorite sports are soccer and basketball (drawing of two balls labelled soccer and basketball). My favorite food is injera and fruit (drawing of injera and fruit). My favorite subject is math and reading (drawing of two schoolbooks labelled math and reading). My favorite teacher was Mrs. Cohen (drawing of Marin and Mrs. Cohen). I have good parents in America. I have a good family in America and a new baby cousin (drawing of family). Here are my new parents and me and Emmy (photo of us pasted in). Love Marin and Meron

April Fools Day

So proud of Marin. She has been planning this elaborate trick for weeks and pulled it off like a champ today. About 4 weeks ago, while driving in the car............... Marin: Daddy, when is April Fools Day Me: About a month, why? Marin: I know what I want to do for a trick and I need you to help me, but you have to promise not tell anybody. Me: OK, what Marin: I want to break my leg. Just pretend, though. I need you to get me some crutches. So I make a few phone calls, find a leftover pair of kids crutches, and I dug up one of my leg immobilizers from when I used to be a jock. Voila. April Fools trick. So Marin hobbles into day care this morning (schools were closed for snow) and starts hamming it up. I knew she got the caretakers because they suddenly started arguing over who would get to stay inside with Marin while all the other kids went out to play in the snow. Marin looked at me in disbelief at how easy it was to trick people. She had a grin a mile wide. Finally, Marin holds the crutches up in the air and yells "April Fools!!!". Then one teacher said "No, it isn't. You have a temporary cast. You can't just go get one of those anywhere" She still believed!! Marin face expression was "Crap, now what do I do. This dumb teacher doesn't even believe that I tricked her."

Tooth Fairy

Emmy lost her first tooth. And she demanded compensation. This created a little rift in the children's bedrrom because, you might remember, Marin had written the tooth fairy a letter asking him (her, whatever) never to visit because Marin did not want strangers walking around her bed at night while she sleeps. Emmy solved that by assuring Marin the tooth fairy would enter and exit via the window on Emmy's side of the room. Problem solved. Next morning Emmy is describing the tooth fairy. The fairy is a her. And the tooth fairy is so small, only about the size of Emmy's thumb, that she could not lift the money out of her purse. So the fairy woke Emmy up and asked Emmy to help her. Then they shared a girl scout cookie together and exchanged email addresses. (toothfairy@yahoo.com if you're interested) Marin just sits there listening, nodding her head, and finally says "Emmy, I don't believe you. Because if you really helped the tooth fairy lift the money out of her purse you would have taken all the money, not just a quarter."

For Christ's Sake

Can I rant a little here?

I am not a religious person. I am spiritual in that I believe there is a greater purpose, there is karma, I embrace the core virtues of most faiths, I believe in justice and I try to live a righteous life. On the other hand, I am a sporadic church goer and I am dismissive of attack dogs who insist their religion is the only acceptable religion.

Because of all the questions and anxiety our children have around death, afterlife, and heaven, we recently started to re-establish a family church going habit. We picked a small UCC church in our hometown that has a good music program and some kids that our kids go to school with.

It's only been a few weeks, but so far so good. The people are nice, the church does interesting missions, and our kids are enjoying the Sunday School. I actually like the Sunday School lessons. For example, Marin's lesson last week was about Noah having to budget, count money, and make change when buying food for the animals on the ark. So it combines bible stories with practical skills. A nice balance that even an agnostic could appreciate.

Fast forward to this morning as we are driving to school.

Emmy: Me and Delana were talking about Sunday School.
Marin: When?
Emmy: Yesterday on the playground.
Marin: You can't do that Emmy. It's against the rules.
Emmy: No it's not.
Marin. Yes. My teacher said. No talking about Christians in school. It's against the law and you will get sent to the Principals office. Right Daddy?
Me: thinking (What the eff? Now what are these knuckleheads talking about?)
Marin: Daddy. Tell Emmy it's against the law. I know it is. All my teachers told me that. And Brady got a red card for talking about Christmas because maybe some kids don't have Christmas.

As if my kids don't have enough 'fitting in' issues to stress about, now they think it's against the law to talk about what they do on Sunday mornings and the can't talk about Christmas.

So it's OK for the Islamic women to wear their full headress at the airport, in the bank teller line, and other places where being incognito presents genuine safety risks - but kids are frightened to talk about Sunday School on the playground and the school goes to DEFCON 5 if someone mentions Christmas.

I have half a mind to phone this in to Rush and Beck.

opposite man

Santa brought the kids a Wii this year. After a couple of days of demonstrating my incompetence at modern electronics, I finally got the darn thing working. (bonus points - I did not have to buy a new TV for it. We used the TV my brother gave us for a wedding gift 20 years ago- YES!!)

Anyway, one of the first things you have to do is design your Avatar (I'm sure most of you already knew that). Marin designed a beautiful brown skinned avatar for herslef. Then Emmy designed a beautiful brown skinned avatar with big blue eye shadow and big red lips. It was hilarious. Then I designed my avatar to look like me. The kids said "No, make him taller.", then "No, make him skinnier." Finally, I was about to hit the save button, and both kids looked at me, drop dead serious, and said, at the same time "Daddy, aren't you going to make him brown skin like us?"

So here I am - opposite man. A short, fat, bald, white guy with a tall, thin, brown, hairy avatar.

Blue Christmas

Blue was my family's Christmas colour when I was young. Grandmother's tree was trimmed totally in blue lights. My grandparents' parlor in which we trimmed the tree and exchanged gifts had blue carpet and blue wall paper. Elvis' Blue Christmas was the family Christmas carol. Most of the gift wrap was blue. And on and on.

Fast forward to a few weeks ago we are at the florist choosing a wreath for my mothers' grave. (reminder that we had a stone carved for our childrens' birth parents and placed it next to my mothers' stone) We asked the kids if they wanted to choose the wreath because it was for their parents, too. Out of hundreds of wreaths, what do they choose? A beautiful wreath made of blue spruce, decorated with blue ornaments, and a large blue and silver bow. It made a lump in my throat.

Unfortunately, the wreath also set off a two week period of mourning, especially for Emmy. She cried herself to sleep every night and woke up crying each morning. She wanted to know why we had not taken her African parents to America so we could all live together (they are deceased). And why we did not pay for doctors to save her parents. And its' not fair that other kids get to see their Moms and Dads at Christmas by Emmy does not. Emmy asks the deepest most heart breaking questions about sickness, death, afterlife, heaven, and so on. It was a truly blue Christmas.

Conflicted

The kids are really self conscious lately about being brown. Marin always wears long warm ups (instead of gym shorts) to basketball and to indoor soccer. She says it is because she wants to cover her brown skin. I told her the kids can still see her face. Instead of helping her understand how irrational she was, it just bummed her out. Then I felt even worse.

Last night Emmy and I were snuggling before she went to bed. She pulled my head under the covers with her and whispered " I don't like my brown skin. When I go back to school I am going to cover my whole face with a white permanent marker. "

We are constantly telling our kids how beautiful their skin is (it really is), and how much we love it (we really do), and we kiss them all the time and we tell them white people spend all their money going to tanning booths so they can have beautiful brown skin. It isn't working. Suggestions welcomed.

Whooopieeee

I took the kids to one of those arcades that spits out tickets and then you use the tickets to claim a crummy prize. I know, total ripoff, but the kids had a ball. What do they choose for prizes? Whoopie cushions.

I gotta hand it to my kids. Instead of just farting and giggling like juveniles, my kids created little skits incorporating the whoopie cushions. For example

1. Excuse me. I'd like to speak to the members of the town council. You're all a bunch of ............................

2. Good afternoon. This is Barak Obama and I want to talk to you about ..........................

3. Good morning. This is Dr. Rhoads (school principal) and I want to tell you.......................... Wait, was that you Miss Maggie (school secretery)?

I had to pull the car off the road I was laughing so hysterically. My stomach was cramping and I was crying.

Google it

So here we are, watching the Christmas special "Santa Claus is Coming to Town" on TV. The kids are watching intently, trying to figure out exactly how all this happened. Finally Marin says "Daddy, Google where did Santa come from".

American History Museum

We all went to DC for Thanksgiving. Like any family with kids knows, you have to get a hotel with a pool in it. So there are the kids in the pool, making friends with another little girl about Marin's age. You just never know where these new friendships are going to go.

Marin: Where are you from?
Friend: Georgia. Where are you from?
Marin: Ethiopia.
Friend: What? Is that in Africa?
Marin: (encouraged) Yes!
Friend: Wow, you are so lucky you got out of there. If you lived there a few years ago you would have been a slave!
Marin: What?
Friend: You know, a slave. Where white people beat you and make you work and buy you and sell you and you can't go to school or have friends or anything
Friends Mom (as alarmed as I am and trying to recover) No sweetheart, that was a long time ago and it doesn't happen anymore. Your new friend has nothing to worry about.


We spend the next three days reassuring Marin that she will not become a slave.

This is my house??

Over the weekend Marin and I were enjoying a quiet breakfast. She had this peaceful, confortable, satisfied expression on her face. I asked her what she was thinking about.

Marin: I can't believe this is really my house.
Me: What do you mean?
Marin: I just can't believe it.
Me: I still don't know what you mean.
Marin: It is so different from my house in Ethiopia.
Me: Tell me about your house in Ethiopia
Marin: It was like a three little pigs house made from pieces of wood and grass and leaves
Me: What else do you remember?
Marin: It had a hole for a door. Not a door that you can close or lock. Just a hole in the wall that you can walk through. And it had windows. Not with glass or curtains, but a hole in the wall so the air and the light can come in.
Me: Do you remember anything else?
Marin: It was pretty tall inside. I could not reach the ceiling. Sometimes it was really quiet and peaceful. Other times it was really noisy, like when the chickens and the goats wanted to come inside.
Me: Do you remember anything else?
Marin: I remember the smell. Our house today always smells clean like the stuff under the sink. My other house smelled like outside. Mostly dusty and like grass, and sometimes like smoke if the Mamas were cooking.
Me: Do you miss your other house?
Marin: No. I like this house. But I hope I can see my other house again some day.

Amharican Chop Suey

OK, I invented this myself, so I'm pretty psyched about it.

In the grocery store I saw a box of german dumplings (spaetzel) and it had a photo of beef stroganoff on it. That was one of my Mom's best home made dishes when I was a kid and it brought back a flood of memories, so I bought the spaetzel.

I get home, and remember no one else in my family likes sour cream, or gravy, or mushrooms - three important ingredients in stroganoff. Now what? Ta da! Amharican Chop Suey!!

1. Boil the spaetzel per directions on the package until plump and tender. Then drain.
2. Add about 1 lb of cooked meat (ground beef, or ground turkey, or ground pork, or shaved steak (like in a cheesesteak sandwich)) I used shaved steak.
3. Add one or two cans of spicy tomatoes. I used Hunts chili ready tomatoes.
4. Add spices. I used a little cumin and a little berbere.
5. Toss ingredients until blended thoroughly.
6. Serve piping hot in a big deep pasta bowl.

For vegetarian use peas, green beans, carrots, eggplant, zucini, broccoli, cauliflower, cabbage, tofu, etc instead of meat.

DEEEEEEELISH!!!!

Tool time

Obviously, the kids are spending a lot of time with their handyman grandfather and homebuilder Uncle David. Yesterday the kids were in the yard pounding a couple of pieces of wood with a couple of different rocks.

Me: What are you doing?
Them: Building a strong fairy house.
Me: Strong?
Them: You know, so it won't blow down in the winter.
Marin to Emmy: Get me that special rock.
(Emmy hands Marin a rock)
Marin: No. That's a regular rock. I need a Phillips rock.

Cheater

I was away on business recently and called the kids around bedtime to say goodnight. Emmy was very curious about where I was and what I was doing.

Emmy: Where are you?

Me: In Chicago in my hotel

Emmy: No, exactly where are you? Are you in your bed?

Me: Yes

Emmy: Is you bed bigger than Mama's bed?

Me: Yes

Emmy: Who is with you?

Me: Karen.

Emmy: Do I know her?

Me: No

Emmy: She's with you in Chicago?

Me: Yes.

Emmy: In the same hotel?

Me: Yes

Emmy: (in a hushed secretive tone) Daddy. Does Mama know about this?

Me: Emmy. It's a business trip. Karen is about business.

Emmy: Oh. Goodness. I though you and Mama broked up and you forgot to tell Mama.

This is the job of a parent

We are spending this week with a family that recently adopted a wheelchair bound child. Great kid, great attitude, great family. The reason for my post is the way the Mom handles well intentioned people.

For example, I found myself wanting to help this kid at every turn. You know, wheel him around, lift him, get him water, whatever. His Mom was constantly reprimanding me (and others) to let him do it himself.

Finally, I gave her this exasperated look. Whereupon she oulled me aside and gave me 'the talk'.

"Listen, I know you mean well. But someday I won't be here to fend for him. My most important job is to prepare him for that day. That means teaching him how to do things for himself and then giving him the room to do it for himself so he can gain confidence and become a problem solver. I know it is hard to watch. I am always catching myself about to jump up and help him. But, trust me on this, every time you do something for him that he can do himself or should be able to do himself, then you are destroying his future. And I know you would not want to be complicit in destroying his future."

Wow. That is one smart parent. When you look at the thousands of spoiled brats walking around today, don't you wish they had a mother like this mother?

Fresh Air

Last weekend we had an awesome camping event in NH with about 15 other Eth families. Swimming, fishing, ball games, hay rides, carnival games, campfires, etc. It was a ball!

This campground is quite large and has a number of full season residents - seems like mostly retirees and empty nesters. They were very friendly - too friendly. Telling us how wonderful we are, how kind, generous, etc. I thought "That's weird, why would anyone say that to a perfect stranger?"

Then it occurred to me, these other campers think that our families are hosting"Fresh Air Kids" (see www.freshair.org) and we're so nice to take them out of the ghetto for a weekend in NH. I took this little theory back to a couple of other parents and they said I was crazy.

Sunday Morning. Lovely, sunny, mild breeze, I am walking on one of the campground roads and a couple of older women stop me to talk:

Them: We just think its' so wonderful what you all are doing.
Me: Thanks.
Them: How did you get involved in this?
Me: Well, we did some research online and met with some other families to ask them about it.
Them: That's all?
Me: Oh no, that was just the start. Then we had to do background checks, home inspections, a financial review, job verifications, references, all kinds of stuff.
Them: Wow, all that for just a few weeks?
Me: Huh?
Them: I mean, you only have these kids for a week or two, right?
Me: Why do you think that?
Them: Aren't you all the Fresh Air program or something similar?
Me: Oh, OK. No, all of these children are our children adopted from Ethiopia.
Them: Really? All those kids are adopted?
Me: Well, not the white ones. Those are birth children. But all the brown ones are adopted from Ethiopia - many of them from the same orphanage - which is why we arrange to have them see each other every now and then.

Race Relations

Nto sure what is going on with Marin, but she is peppering me with questions about Rosa Parks and Martin Luther King. Basically, what was going on with white skinned people to the extent that Rosa and Martin had to do what they did.

I explained it in the context of bullies. You know, the white skinned people used to bully the brown skinned people until the brown skinned people decided to not take it anymore and the brown skinned people got all the rules changed so no more bullies are allowed.

Marin understood that, then asked why the bullies still happen.

Me: It doesn't happen much anymore, Marin. The while skinned people and the brown skinned people get along now. Look at how many white skinned people love you and Emmy.
Marin: Only in my family.
Me: What are you talking about?
Marin: Not at school. It's not like that at school.
Me: What do you mean?
Marin: Well, on the last day of school, a lot of kids come up to me and said "I didn't like you at the beginning of school because you had brown skin and I thought it was gross, but I like you now."
Me: Seriously? Who said that?
Marin: Everybody except Molly and Vee.
Me: speechless

So here I am thinking everything was great at school. Marin loves school. She actually is bummed when she has school vacation. She seldom shows signs of being bullied. I am not sure what to do with this.

Mother Daughter Dance

Marin and Emmy were supposed to run in their first track meet last week. Just the relays, but I was really excited about watching them. Alas, my car battery dies and I cannot get there. Colleen volunteers to pick up the kids and take them to the meet.

I get a phone all. The kids will not get out of the car at the meet. They claim the crowd is too big, it is scaring them, they think its a bad idea. And they are inches away from a meltdown. I tell Colleen to abort and take the kids home. She does.

Later that evening, I take Marin to the high school for her field hockey clinic and the track meet is still going on. I suggest that Marin and I go watch for a little so she can see a real meet and not be so scared next time. She agrees.

So there we are, standing at the rail, right where the relay baton handoffs occur. I explain to Marin what is happening and she is nodding her head and smiling. She sees some of her friends run the relays and she cheers for them.

Me: So Marin, do you understand what is happening here?
Marin: Yes.
Me: It looks like fun doesn't it?
Marin: Yes
Me: You could do this
Marin: I know
Me: You could have won a ribbon on the relay team
Marin: I know
Me: So what went wrong? I thought we had you all ready to race today?
Marin (shaking head wearily) Daddy, you just don't understand. Sometimes Mama brings out the worst in me.