To Eat or Not to Eat...

Okay, so overall things have gone well this past month. Rodas turned three (legally) and enjoyed a quiet family party. She loved getting presents and really loved her "chocolate princess" cake even though I have to say it was the absolute UGLIEST cake I have ever made. One whole side had crumbled down and my icing was too stiff. It did taste really good, but looked really bad. Luckily, she didn't have a good basis of comparison so she was happy! (0:

We enjoyed a nice Thanksgiving in Orem with my Mother-in-law's side of the family (full of many, many, many warm and welcoming family members) and the girls were a little overwhelmed at first, as anyone new usually is, but warmed up after dinner and were playing with all the big and little Steeles like pros. It was nice for them to put a face to those that we have included in our prayers. We also were able to, at the first of the month, don our snowsuits and tromp up the mountain to find our Christmas tree. Tsegereda/Rosalie LOVED the snow and it was wonderful to hear her giggles of joy as she threw snow on her brothers and slid down hills on her bottom. Rodas/Reyne napped in the car on the way up and, true to her nature, was extremely grumpy after waking up. I was hoping that the snow would cheer her up, but she became extremely upset at the inflexibility of her pretty purple snowsuit (think "A Christmas Story" where he describes his immobile, snowsuit-clad brother on the ground after the bully pushes him..."Randy lay there like a slug, it was his only defense.") and fought to take it all off--OUTSIDE in the falling snow! So, I put her back in the truck where she proceeded to cry and holler for 15 minutes. When the racket softened, I opened the door and, with the understanding that the jacket and pants stay on for her own good, she assented to coming out. She proceeded to play with sister and Noah in the snow and decided it might not be so bad. I am not so optimistic about the prospects for fun family snowshoe trips this winter, however.

The tree is now up, sparkling and beautiful--all 12 feet of it--and we decorated it as a family. The girls ask a lot about Santa and Tsegereda is incredulous at this jolly man who can do so much in one night. I am quite sure she is plotting to sneak a peek at him, so Santa better watch his step this year...

We also had the girls' first dance program. Rodas was a little scared and clung to me, but once on stage she had a ball and stole the show! Tsegereda did wonderful as well and wasn't nervous at all. Both girls enjoy dance, although Rodas gets nervous at being "left" at class and occasionally tries to get out of going. I think only time and consistency will prove to her that Mommy or Daddy will always be there to pick her up. I ALWAYS tell her that I will come back and that I'm not leaving her, she's going to her class to which I can't attend. Heaven forbid anything happens to delay our getting her someday...

I think one of the biggest issues I have struggled with this month is the continued resistance of Rodas to expand her diet. She has gained only six ounces since coming to America and that simply breaks my heart!!! She exists primarily on bread (at least it's whole wheat now) and eggs, with the occasional roasted chicken or hamburger (just bun and meat, nothing else), and carrot. She gets a small treat out of her treat bag (Halloween candy) if she eats well and eats a vegetable and fruit. She will eat one mini carrot, but refuses all fruit except occasionally a few raisins. She and Tse will tell me stories of the tomatoes, salad, meats and pastas that she ate in Ethiopia and it simply perplexes me. Her caregiver in Ethiopia, when asked to tell us something about Rodas (we hadn't met her yet), told us simply "she likes her food."

HA!

Anyways, it all just confirms to me that it is not a matter of taste but a matter of control and will power. The rule at our table used to be, you had to try what was being served before you could get something else. The "something else" was one option: cereal. Noah has always been a very picky eater as well, and when there were only two kids it wasn't that hard to give him a bowl of cereal (after he tried our meal) or even a sandwich so I was never that hard on the boy. When the girls came, I bent over backwards to get them to eat but that lasted a very short while. I hate to cook and seriously took issue with the demanding manners that the girls first came with, so I tried to toughen up the food rules. After continually having them wrinkle their noses and tell me they didn't like something, without even trying it--pushing it away and settling for just a slice of bread for dinner (I always tried to include one thing, bread, that I knew they'd eat)--I was at my wits end. Rodas even picked apart and only half-ate my Ethiopian dishes that Tse said were very good and just like in Ethiopia. I eventually pulled the bread, but then Rodas just went without eating anything, numerous times.

Breakfast was another fight--for the two boys it has never been tough--cereal, cereal or cereal. The girls don't do cereal (Cheerios was big for a short stint and now will not be touched) and love to short-order eggs with toast/bread on the side (nothing added to the eggs except salt and not too many chunks of white or you hear lots of complaining and "I don't like the white, Mom!"). My tradition has been to cook hot breakfast on the weekend and cereal for school days (it's faster) so cooking eggs, although truly not that difficult, still adds some more chaos to the normal morning rush.

Last week I'd finally had it. I was grumpy and tired of all the demanding and feeling like a short-order cook who only hears complaints about what's cooked and throwing half the food away, uneaten. Colt and I talked about it and he said, why give any option other than what's on the table? We didn't have that growing up. I didn't, but I honestly thought Colt did because he is, well, a picky eater. He doesn't ever complain about what I cook, but I know most of his "food rules" and have always tended to cook around his likes and dislikes. He proceeded to tell me he often went without food for dinner and it didn't hurt him. I'm a pretty tough Mommy, but there's just something in me that hates the idea of my babies going to bed hungry. Especially when I'm sure those babies have been seriously hungry--to the point of near malnourishment--before. Now, Tse tells me they always had plenty of food in Ethiopia, but when you look at their pictures from when they first came to the orphanage, Tse had sunken cheeks and was seriously gaunt and Rodas had huge eyes that just echoed with need. Tse's transformation while in the orphanage and even more since coming home has proven to me her prior lack of adequate nutrition.

The jury's still out on Rodas.

So, we're trying the new rule and it's actually working pretty well. Rodas is still often choosing to go without dinner, but this morning she tried french toast for the first time (she ate it with us in Et but would never try mine). Our nurse had told us to let hunger drive her, and I thought I was doing so...but I wasn't. I have talked with her about embracing the fact that she is now American and that that doesn't mean she must let go of her Ethiopian roots, but that she can embrace both (i.e., eating American doesn't mean she's betraying Ethiopia), but I'm not sure she understood. So, we'll see if the hard-line works. Keep your fingers crossed.

Seriously? They Just GIVE You Candy????

Okay, so I've been swamped and haven't had the time to get to the blog. This past month has seen two of my babies turn a year older (and one birthday party to plan and execute), one choose to become baptized into the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints (and one baptism luncheon to plan and execute), Halloween and all the craziness that that entails, two boys starting Karate and two girls starting dance classes, and one boy starting Boy Scouts. We also experienced the girls' first fishing trip on a boat, a day with the cows on the mountain, and a fleeting snowfall, which only got the girls even more excited for the day when it would actually stay on the ground!

They've been home nearly five months and I can't believe the growth in our whole family. Wyatt and Tsegereda joke and fight like true brother and sister. Overall they get along great and do so very well together. Tsegereda has become very grateful and often writes sweet notes of thanks and love, drawing wonderful pictures of the whole family (I dig my long, straight orange pig-tails that she always adorns me with). Rodas likes to mimic her big brother Noah, the brother that I have advised her NOT to follow, so now I have two children jumping on the couch and usually doing the opposite of what I have asked...the difference is that Noah usually just gets side-tracked on his journey to comply and he seems to want to do good but the little devil on his shoulder usually wins. Rodas simply delights in opposition! (0;

My sweet, little oppositional girl and myself have taken one big step forward this month, though. A few weeks ago, after my tolerance was reached with her constantly saying "no" to literally everything I said--even comments I made about myself (Me: "I'm hungry" Rodas: "NOOOOOO!"), I finally blew a gasket. She was throwing a fit over a piece of gum...I think it was that I wouldn't give it to her because it was just before nap...and I just lost it. I ranted about how we were all trying so hard and how it was frustrating constantly hearing "no" from her and having her fight everything I did. She had a little Princess parasol and I remember her popping it open and placing it between us, as if to make the words just bounce off the top of it so they wouldn't reach her ears (usually she just puts her hands over her ears when she doesn't want to hear what you have to say). I told her that I loved her but was tired of her spiteful behavior...then I walked away from her. As I walked into my bedroom, I reminded myself that I was doing the opposite of what I should be doing. I counted to ten then walked back out into the hall. She wasn't there, but I found her standing in her room, sad and mad. I took the parasol out of her hands and picked her up, hugging her fiercely. It was not what she expected. I told her that I loved her and that I was not going to leave her. We both cried, and while crying I noticed that I was rocking her and she wasn't stopping me.

Since then, she has let me sway to the "Momma beat" when holding her. She still is a stinker a lot (as am I), but I think we had a bit of a break-through and can hopefully keep building on that.

At the beginning of the month, we enjoyed Ethiopia Night in Salt Lake City, and the girls loved hearing and seeing some familiar sights and sounds. The boys had a ball and we finally got them all up dancing.

Halloween was a fun experience, with the girls disbelieving that there actually was a holiday that centered around people just giving you candy. Yeah right! They kept practicing saying "trick or treat" the weeks before so that they would get it just right! Of course they learned the "smell my feet" version as well (from Noah), but were quick to tell me they'd only say it at home because if they said it at a house then there'd be noooooo treat! (0: It was a soggy Halloween for us, but they all had fun and the girls now believe that America is the land of SUGAR!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Anyways, here are some more pictures from the past month:

The Little Blue Dress

I wrote a post over a month ago when I was having a rough patch with the little one...I never published it because I felt it was more pity-party than informative. I decided to expand now on part of what I wrote, partly to show some of the feelings that we often wrestle with and partly to show that we can step back and look at the bigger picture and try to be better.

First, here are a few paragraphs from the pity-party I had a while back:

Forgive me for a moment while I have a pity party. I'm simply including it in this forum because I don't think I'm alone in what I am feeling and I know there are potential adoptive parents (PAPs) out there that might want to have the heads-up.

There is a mourning that has come with our daughters. A mourning of sorts that I have felt but have not wanted to recognize. It does not have to do with wistfully dreaming of the days when I was only insane with two munchkins instead of four (although, sometimes, when I am buried in laundry it does pop into mind...). It is the fact that deep down, I have subconsciously expected a sort of gratefulness from the girls. We did not adopt the girls so that we could have two little idolizers running around saying "thank you" all the time, mind you. That's not what I'm saying...but after three years of heartache, pushing through mountains of paperwork, setting aside money, losing that money, borrowing more money, taking clothes and toys back to the store unloved, filling the closets multiple times and then constantly paying more and more for such things as medical tests the insurance won't cover (let's just say they're not cheap), adoption registration ($720), reports for the Ethiopian gov't ($350 each few months)...the list goes on. Anyways, it isn't about the money BUT it is a factor. Quite simply we have spent a lot of ourselves to find and bring these girls into our family. IT IS WORTH IT, EVERY PENNY! But, then along comes the experience with the little blue dress and these evil little resentments creep up. You squash it down, but you know it is still there...lurking.

I mourn for their validation of what we have gone through for them. I mourn for their gratefulness at bringing them this new life and opportunity. I mourn for their thankfulness.

It is selfish, it is petulant...but it is.

The children and I met with a social worker last Wednesday who has adopted 11 children and has 30 years experience working with adoptive families. She said something that rang very true to me and perhaps is why I am acknowledging this now. She said many adoptive parents need to realize that THEIR NEEDS OFTEN WILL NOT BE MET at first.

Their needs will not be met. They will not receive the grateful hugs and thankful behavior. In fact, they likely will receive the opposite. And that is normal.

We were talking about the difficulties experienced those first few weeks and months home, when the children seem to act so differently than expected. We aren't the only ones that have been surprised, and I truly believe we have gotten off easy in many aspects...but for the most part the adoptive Ethiopian children seem to have this strong sense of, well, entitlement...like they deserve all they have received and more. They deserve to be waited on, they should not be chastised in any way, their closets should be filled to the brim and they should have all that they desire. And yes, the streets should be paved in ice cream. If it isn't, they deserve to cry, kick, scream, hit, throw things around or act in any way they'd like.

I am not meaning to downplay the mourning and emotional upheaval that they are dealing with saying good-bye to all they know (and often loved ones as well), for that is deep and real and we all know that it is there. But there is also a lighter level that rests on top...and that is where this sense of entitlement seems to reside.

Rodas had a little blue dress. I picked it out for her before we brought them home and I LOVED that dress. It represented my hopes and wishes for a little girl. She also had a doll--a chocolate, pig-tailed, pink-pajama clad one--that I bought for both of them and sat on their bed awaiting their arrival. One day after church, Rodas was wearing the blue dress and in a tantrum over some idiotic thing (I believe it was having to use the toilet before naptime) began tearing at the appliqued flowers on the dress and saying "no like" to the dress. I asked her to stop hurting the dress and she looked me in the eye and pulled hard on it to rip the flowers off. I knew it was displaced anger, but felt it was a good time to teach her that that still doesn't make it okay. So, I removed the dress from her and told her that I was sorry she didn't like her dress, as I had painstakingly picked it out for her. I told her that it hurt me inside that she didn't treat it well. I told her that we would take it to a place where they would find a little girl who would love that pretty little blue dress. She cried, but refused to ask for it back.

The same thing happened with the doll. After continually throwing and mistreating the doll, I calmly told Rodas that if she did it again then we would have to find someone who would care for the doll the way it deserved. She, of course, rose to the challenge and the whole family drove to D.I. (like the Salvation Army) and Rodas had to hand over the little blue dress and the doll to the worker taking donations. I have to admit that her treatment of the items hurt me quite a bit emotionally. It wasn't the actual dress or doll, but instead what they represented...the years that our family has been turned upside down and inside out on this journey to adopt. I knew it was displaced anger and self-pity--just what my little toddler was doing to the little blue dress--but that didn't make it any less real.

Anyways, after she handed the dress and the doll to the man, Rodas turned and with a cry that came from deep within her, she buried her face in my legs. I picked her up and comforted her...and it was REAL. For the first time since coming home, I believe our little girl actually cried real tears from true sadness...and she let me comfort her. It was incredibly touching but so sad that it took more loss for her to come to it.

Since then she has not mentioned the dress nor the doll, but she has done a better job not displacing anger and treating her things better.

She still will not let me rock her, though.

Whenever I'm holding her and standing still, I automatically start to sway to the internal "Momma beat" that makes me move back and forth whenever a little one is in my arms. Every single time I start swaying, Rodas stops me. Immediately. Do you know how hard it is to NOT sway when holding a child? Not easy. Even more difficult is thinking about how sad of a life this child has had that she does not find comfort rocking in her mother's arms. Or perhaps it is that she knows she might find comfort there and is too scared of opening herself up to the hurt again to allow herself to feel it.

So when I read over my earlier post about the little blue dress, I felt ashamed. Not of the feelings, for despite their pettiness they are real. I am ashamed that I can write about the loss that my daughters have come from, but that I don't think I am doing enough to acknowledge it in my treatment of them. Not that they need handled with kid gloves, but that I need to dig deeper into my empathetic self and put my needs on the shelf and strive to crack open the shell around Miss Rodas and Tsegereda. They are not just an eight year old girl and a two to three year old toddler. They are hurt beyond reason. The pee on the floor and the de-flowered dresses...it's really just a little girl crying for a mother that she is not sure she can trust. We parents MUST step back from our own needs, just for a while, and figure out how to prove to our little ones that they can trust us.

And, by the way, I have begun to receive thankfulness from our oldest daughter. She now will often give me hugs and tell me thank you for dinner or for a new pair of pants. This is huge and I need to pay homage to the great strides she has made in doing so. Thank you, my girl!

Please Don't Pet My Daughter...

Okay, silly title...but it makes total sense to me (and I'm betting to a number of other adoptive parents as well).

This morning Rodas and I were picking out some peaches at the grocery store when a woman walks up to Rodas--without even glancing my way or saying anything--and starts combing her hands through Rodas' hair. She then grabs Rodas' chin and tries to get her to look at her. She's not really aggressive, but she's very direct and her manner was as though she was looking for something on Rodas (lice? Trying to see if Mom was taking care of her hair? I don't know...). I was very taken aback. Rodas was as well, as she immediately stiffened up and withdrew (as if to say, go ahead and touch me but I'm taking my soul out of it). She's done this before and I know she likes to be the one to initiate physical touch (as it should be) ESPECIALLY from strangers. I know I wouldn't enjoy some complete stranger walking up to me and running their hands through my hair and looking me over like a doll they might buy.

I firmly tried to give the woman the hint to remove her hands from my daughter by saying "Excuse me, my daughter's not used to complete strangers coming up and petting her." I said it with a smile to lighten it, but obviously it was too light because the woman tried to get Rodas to look at her once again then she just smiled at us and walked off!

I got down on Rodas' level and asked her if that had made her uncomfortable...she nodded. I told her that it made me uncomfortable as well. I explained that I was sure the woman did it because Rodas was so beautiful that she couldn't help herself. I said that she is so adorable sometimes people don't believe that she is a real girl and have to touch her to see if she is real.

I didn't know what else to say, except that I would not let anyone do that to her again. She nodded and said she wanted me to do that.

Driving home, I felt frustrated and mad at myself for letting it happen. I had known the likelihood of this happening as it is mentioned in transracial adoption books and other parents of transracial adoptees have mentioned it. For some reason, a white woman with a black child somehow invites the hands-on investigation like Rodas experienced today. Most of the time it is innocent and, as I described it to Rodas, I think that people just feel inexorably drawn to such cuteness. Maybe it happens to all cute little girls and boys--I do know it didn't happen to my adorable two sons when they were little. I do know that it often happens to both girl and boy transracial adoptees. Often it is just invasive or uber-personal questioning, but we seem to attract people that just want to "pet" our daughters!

Some parents use the opportunity to be a good "adoption representative" and try to educate and enlighten. This was what I prepared myself to do before the girls came home--being a white Mom to two gorgeous chocolate children is pretty much a blatant advertisement for transracial adoption. It invites comment and question and I want to respond with respect and openness. But this morning, and the other times that something similar has happened to the girls, it didn't feel like innocent questioning. No words happened, but I felt as though Rodas and I had been through the Inquisition. People never just walked up to Wyatt or Noah and pawed all over them.

I can't help questioning if people do this because it is obvious that I am not Rodas or Tsegereda's biological mother and thus, in their minds, I am not the "real" authority over them. With me being sidelined in their mind, the child is open to investigation, whether it is to make sure that she is being properly taken care of or simply because she is so cute. I'm not her REAL Mom, so go ahead, kiss her cheek, rub her arms, pet or pick through her hair, try to pick her up (all these actions have been done by complete strangers to one or both of my daughters at stores). Maybe it's similar to the draw people feel when they see a pregnant belly--some women cannot resist the temptation to touch another woman's soft roundness--as though the fact that the belly thrust out there is an entity separate from the rest of the woman's body and thus is "o.k" to touch even if they've never met the woman before. Perhaps my daughters' color separates them in some people's minds from a maternal association to me? I hate to generalize so...but even if that's not what they generally think it IS what it feels like.

So what do I wish I had said to that woman in the store today and others that have groped my daughters in the past?

I am their MOTHER. They are MY DAUGHTERS. Black, white, it makes no difference.
Please TAKE YOUR HANDS OFF THEM! I would love to talk with you or answer questions about adoption, or hear suggestions about hair care or tales about your children...but please, don't touch my children in such a personal way. It discounts me and it makes my children feel physically accosted. How would you like it if I did the same to you or your kids?????

School Daze

Okay, it came and went...with barely a ripple and nary a tear or tantrum! What came, you say??? THE FIRST TWO WEEKS OF SCHOOL!

I accompanied Wyatt and Rosalie (as she is known at school and in the community) to school on the first day, and though she put on a brave face, she did stop at the doorway to her Second Grade Classroom. Her eyes were big and her feet didn't want to move, but with a gentle pull and a wink from Mom, she followed Wyatt in. I stayed and helped in class the first two days, at her request, but was told that my supportive services were no longer needed by Wednesday ("Mommy, no come to school tomorrow"). The words were wonderful to hear. There is a great ESL Aide which comes in to help Rosalie and another young man in the mornings, and her teacher is simply WONDERFUL, so I know that my services truly are not needed. In the two weeks since she has attended school, there have been no withdrawals or shut-downs and she has been excited to go every day. I have been pleasantly surprised at just how well she is doing (although I am still expecting some shut-downs once the class moves to harder concepts and more reading--I still claim to be a realist not an "ol' sour puss" as my hubby and mother like to call me...but sour puss or not I LOVE being wrong in this case). She even has begun to raise her hand in class to ask or answer a question, and she nearly made me cry when she read two full sentences by herself during class reading time. She is not so excited to do more schoolwork when she gets home, but she enjoys working on reading.

The separation between the girls was not as traumatic as I thought it might be, and I credit that mostly to my wonderful Mother. She has come to help out for these two weeks and has simply been indispensable. She adores the girls and Rodas has her wrapped around her teeny pinky (and Nana admits it, too!). The first week of school, Noah was home with her as well and the two played wonderfully together--it was a good bonding time for the two of them. When Noah started school this week (which, by the way, I was only allowed to accompany Dad, who was the chosen one to take Noah to school...), Rodas had Nana's undivided attention and she reveled in it. I am so in trouble on Monday when Rodas expects the same devoted fan club and instead finds that she has to share Mom with the laundry, cleaning the house, and getting meals ready. But, for now, she barely notices when sister has left...and if she takes a peek at the picture of the two of them secreted away in her Tinkerbell backpack, it does not seem to cause sadness but instead just a reminder that she will be home soon.

I know Tsegereda misses Rodas, as one of the first things she did in class was draw a picture of her and Rodas, but she has made a few girl friends at school and I believe that has helped so much in her transition away from her sister.


I did receive a number of questions from the kids that know Wyatt and I about whether she is his sister and how can I be her Mom, so I did go in this week--with Wyatt and Rosalie's consent--to speak to the class about adoption, our family and Ethiopia. I read a great book about different families (Families are Different, by Todd Parr) and spoke about our adoption of the girls. I showed them a Tigrinya-English children's book and they were awed when they saw the Tigrinya alphabet. There were some wonderful questions, and I caught the kids when, at the end of the discussion, I asked "So, is Wyatt Rosalie's real brother?" The kids shook their heads "no." I expected this, but had hoped to hear some yes'. I nodded and said "Yes, he is. Sooo, am I Rosalie's real mother?" Once again, most shook their heads. I nodded and said "Yes, I am." I explained that even though I did not bring her or her sister into this world, I am the one that will kiss their hurts, I am the one that will sit with them all night when they are sick or scared, I am the one that will be sobbing at their wedding, I will be their Mom forever.

I think they understood it then.

Families are not forged out of blood, but out of love.

What's In A Name?

The kids and I drove to the courthouse yesterday to receive two pieces of paper that are some of the last pieces in the puzzle that is becoming the girls' new life: the signed adoption registration recording our adoption of them in Utah and legally changing their names. Without any given last names, the Ethiopian government gave them the names Tsigereda William Mortenson and Rodas William Mortenson on their new Ethiopian birth certificates and passports, following the Ethiopian tradition where children take the name of their father for their middle name. Their names now legally read Tsegereda Rosalie Mortenson and Rodas Reyne Mortenson.

Big deal to Mom and Dad; received a simple set of lifted eyebrows from the girls. (0:

Although she is known around the house as Tsegereda (we tried Rosalie, but she is, and probably always will be, our Tsegereda, so that's what comes out the most), SHE has chosen to be called Rosalie at school and in the community. The name Rosalie was chosen by her, from a list of five or so names that Colt and I gave her. We had picked out a different name for her initially, when we thought she would be closer to 6 or 7, but when she turned out to be 8...well, I suggested that she just might want a say in the matter. She chose another name first, because she knew Daddy liked it, then chose another name a few days later...the one that I knew she was partial to: Rosalie. Tsegereda means "rose" in Amharic and so I suppose Rosalie is a bridge between her Ethiopian roots and new American life.

Rodas is stuck with our choice of a name...Reine means "queen" in French and since we had nicknamed her Queen Ro from the first, it seemed appropriate. Noah actually suggested it first, as we were driving to WalMart one day and discussing names for the girls. He said, "Mom, what about Rain?" I thought of the French meaning and said I loved it...and we all voted later on it and it was unanimous. Noah is so proud of his contribution, and still thinks she's named after really neat weather. The name fits her well. Though we usually call her Rodas, she is often affectionately called "Reyne or Reynie" and she seems to love it. Whether referring to her royal attitude or stormy nature (maybe we can think of it as "blessings from above"?), it is our thumbprint on her life...our way of sharing in the creation of who she is and what she will be known as.

You never think about naming a child already out of diapers, and I would hazard that it is harder than naming a faceless baby that has yet to reveal his or her personality or whims. But in our case, I think and hope we chose right.

A name is so much more than what people call you...

A World of Many Firsts...

First of all, let me shout to the roof tops...

RODAS JUST COMPLETED THE REQUIRED 14 DAYS OF MEDICINE...AND WE'RE DONE!!!! No More GIARDIA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Yippee. Seriously. YIPPPPEEEEE! I am so tired of cleaning toilets and hands like a madwoman that I want to weep with relief. Most of all, I am so happy that my sweet and ornery little toddler doesn't have to live with her stomach hurting all the time because of a nasty bug she's probably lived all her life with in Ethiopia. In case you are wondering, we were able to find a compounding pharmacy to make a special liquid mix of her medicine (metronidazole) that was tolerable--especially when followed by a piece of bubble gum or M&M. Dad did the first dose while Mom hid in the next room (My little Reynie tends to like to do the opposite if she knows it's something Mom REALLY wants) and since then she has taken it three times per day for fourteen days. She's threatened to stop, but she really wants to go swimming and she knows she can't until "no more Giardia" so she persevered.

YES!

So, tomorrow we embark on another "First" for the girls: swimming at the big pool! This new adventure (I guess that's what you'd call me trying to keep from drowning two fearless girls pretending to be Ariel and a Noah, who seems to think that completing Level 1 swim class qualifies him to be a lifeguard!) got me thinking about all the other firsts they've had since coming home...and the many that still lie ahead of them! There are too many to name and it has got to be so overwhelming. Sometimes I forget to remember that and to think about how things look from their point-of-view. Case in point, this past weekend we took our first camping trip when I took the kids to Colt's family reunion outside of Vernal. The concept of camping was beyond them and they couldn't understand how Grandma would be sleeping there too, while her house was staying in Vernal. When we got there, they did just fine and Tsegereda enjoyed her first horseback ride with the only person she would allow to lead her (her aunt with the glorious auburn tresses) and Rodas her first trip on a four-wheeler (five feet) with another sweet Aunt (who has the softest hair that she couldn't stop petting) and they both spent their first night in a sleeping bag. There were a few bumps and a little bit of sugar and stimulation overload, but for the most part they did very well. They had fun, which I guess is truly what matters in the end. And the boys felt like they finally got to do something fun and normal in a summer that has been not-so-normal.
Colt's family was wonderful with the girls and their aunts and uncles and numerous boy cousins and sole girl cousin made them feel so very welcome and comfortable. Knowing how well they did with this short stint, I am excited for them to meet the Armstead clan as well! Hey, we at least have TWO girl cousins on that side! (0;


So, with some more firsts under their belt, the girls are slightly more than a week away from what might possibly be one of the hardest firsts that they will have to deal with: being apart from each other for extended periods of time while Tsegereda goes to school. She is still nervous about going, but is trying to be positive about it. Mommy School is helping, I think, but it does nothing to prepare her for something that I'm not sure she has totally realized yet...the fact that her constant companion for the past three or more years is not going to be by her side while she braves a frontier that terrifies her. My wonderful Mother will be coming to stay for the first couple weeks of school so that I can spend extra time with Tse in class if needed, so hopefully that will help ease the fear and separation anxiety...but it is still going to be something that they both will have to face. I know it is for their good in the long run, but it is heartbreaking knowing the pain that they will likely face. However, Rodas will have a captive audience (her favorite) in Mom and Tsegereda might just find school to be not such a bad place.

I guess we just will have to wait and see.

So many firsts...

Week 435

I just survived one week with Colt gone...and it seriously felt like a looooooooot longer than seven days!!!!

BUT the key word is SURVIVED!

I did it.

Yes, I nearly pulled all my hair out and Rodas got to sleep at the table with me on the floor beside her for one night....but we ALL survived. Period.

Okay, so it really wasn't that bad, but it was tough. I had the single parent routine with the boys down pat so that when Colt left on fires, it barely created a ripple in their day to day life other than the obvious void that a wonderful father leaves (morning hugs, night-time wrestling sessions, TV or cookies when Mom's not looking...). This was the first time Colt has been gone for more than a couple of days at a time and it was a juggling act at first and included a number of late nights trying to get to the laundry, dishes, garden and sometimes even the email. Since the girls came home, Colt has really stepped it up to help out around the house, and now when he is gone I really feel the weight of it.

The week also included Wyatt's first swimming meet (he swam the 25m freestyle and did great!) during which three bored siblings constantly wondered when the three-hour meet in the stinky, hot indoor swimming pool would be over. It also included the week Rodas needed to start a particularly yucky tasting medicine, which she would not take in any form it was handed to her. I tried fun, I tried subtle, I tried CHOCOLATE ICE CREAM (which actually did a really good job of hiding the ickiness), but no go. Thus the night at the kitchen table (I have a rule that I always follow through on a consequence I lay down...I thought it would work with her and we'd escape the consequence but it didn't. So, we both slept at the table and I will not make that a consequence again...BUT, she now truly knows Mommy doesn't back down...and Mommy knows that neither does she...argh!). Anyways, lest you think I am a mean Mommy--it is a very important medication that she must take and when she wouldn't take it in the chocolate ice cream--which I KNOW did not taste too bad--then I knew she was making it into a control thing and this is something we can't budge on. We are currently in the search for a liquid form of the medication, which I am pretty sure will still end up with Colt and I forcing down her throat with a tube...something I am horrified to do as I DO NOT want us to in any way be viewed by her as a physical threat.

Please, please drink your medicine little one!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

It also included a number of days where Tsegereda constantly voiced her decision NOT to go to school, thus prompting her little sister to do the same. Being told that school is not a choice was not received well. I feel for her as I truly understand how the idea of school can be so daunting to a young girl from another land and language. As she put it once, "Mommy, at school everyone English, only Tsegereda Tigrinya!"

So, we started Mommy School in order to help Tse feel more comfortable with some of the terms and concepts that she will be expected to know in Second Grade. It has been a good refresher for Wyatt and Noah as well. Tse is very bright, but there are gaps in her learning that are going to be difficult to bridge. She is going to have a wonderful teacher this year, and Wyatt will hopefully be in her class to help. But I know we will also have to work extra hard at home to catch her up. The biggest hurdle will be to help build her confidence enough so that when she gets frustrated she learns to forge ahead instead of shutdown, which is her current way of dealing with it. I am a bit torn because I honestly feel the best thing for her would be to delay school for a few months, get her a tutor to help with her English and the gaps in her reading and math skills, and then put her in school. She would be more confident, as her communication skills seem to be her biggest worry, and she would not get so frustrated thus would be more open to learning. She loves doing the school work and is now saying "yes" to school...but I fear the first day at school might be overwhelming and turn her back the other way (is that pessimism or realism?).

I could homeschool, but Colt and I also feel that school and being with her peers will teach her the social skills she needs and provide her (hopefully) with friends and an even better grasp of English. I am also not sure that I could teach her what and how she needs to be taught, thus my dream for a tutor (oh, Sharina, why did you have to MOVE!!!!!) (0:

So, maybe the answer to what is right might come this month as the countdown to school is down to less than a month.


But for now, right this minute, I am grateful that my husband arrived home safe and sound from fires far away and I am grateful for my wonderful children that make every day an interesting voyage.

The Sugar...

Okay, so as I look back on my recent posts they seem more focused on the struggles we have gone through as opposed to the blessings we are experiencing. So, this post will be devoted to the sugar we have been blessed with from the entrance of Tsegereda and Rodas into our family. I won't lie and say that the past month has not been full of challenges, and that I'm pretty sure the challenges will continue for some time...but I want to make sure and also chronicle the wonderful things that we are discovering every day about our children:

Sweet Miss Tsegereda Rosalie Mortenson...we have delighted in seeing how shy beginnings turn into vibrant storytelling, singing and dancing with our sweet rose (Tsegereda means "rose"). She has come so far in the month since she has been home! She is now willing to try different foods and even eats oatmeal and rice milk with Mom some mornings! She still withdraws at times when an answer or action is not what she would like...but we are learning how to bring her out of it and she is beginning to trust in our love and safety, I think. She is mourning for her Ethiopia, but still willing to embrace America. She laughs at Mom's jokes---and actually seems to understand them! She loves the water and her first time in a tiny inflatable pool she was floating and doing strokes!!! She is more happy than sad and she says "thank you, Mom" for clothes, snacks or dinner...which is HUGE! I love knowing that she is comfortable enough at home now to often just be a goofy eight year old girl...just like she should be. I am sure that there is much pain in her past, but she is already opening up to me about her scars--inside and out--and I think that when language becomes easier she will allow us to help her heal the emotional wounds that still hurt. She LOVES little ones, and more than once I have seen her leave her beloved swing at the playground to help a little toddler uneasy with climbing up a ladder.

She is determined to master the bicycle, the monkey bars, roller blades, and reading and writing in English...and her frustration is lessening as she is learning the art of practice and perseverance. She is an incredibly bright young woman with a glowing spirit and as I look at her sleeping at night, with little sister safely tucked in next to her, I think...yes, I am blessed.

Miss Rodas Reyne Mortenson...with a smile, dimples and laugh that could melt the heart of the coldest soul. She knows how to use them too, much to our consternation! She has a stubbornness rivaling her brother Noah and Mom and she is tough as nails. The only time the girl cries is when she is angry...I can count on one hand the number of times she has cried from pain (five shots and blood drawn count as two of those, though I truly believe she was really just mad that we would have the audacity to make her go through such a thing!). She is often very warm and affectionate, especially to her family. She loves chasing her older brother Wyatt through the house, trying to plant kisses on his arms. I love hearing her at night say "Luv you Noah," after she and I tuck Noah into bed. She has a huge heart and though she and I often find ourselves in a battle of wills, she still loves to hug and plant kisses on Mom's cheek every night no matter how tough the struggle over teeth brushing or why she can't wear her Tiana pj's (in the wash) has been. She will do anything for her big sister, often at the expense of her own happiness...to the extent of handing over to her a cherished doll or eating Cheerios (yes!). Her language skills are excellent, and she is picking up English quickly although she still prefers to use Tigrinya. Many of her motor skills are impressive as well--the girl can fold blankets with a precision that rivals her PopPop's! She is a wonderful helper and can often be found helping Mom or Dad water plants outside, weed, or do laundry. When it is laundry time, she pulls the clothes out of the dryer and hands them to me, telling me who they belong to with amazing accuracy. She can tell the difference between Wyatt and Noah's underwear (and I would bet a large sum of money that even her Dad can't do that!), although she also consistently says that Colt's boxers are Wyatt's and that one truly boggles me! I hold them up and say "Wyatt's???" and she lets out a cute giggle and say's "nooooo, Daddy's!" with a sheepish grin.


One thing that I am in awe of is the girls' devotion to each other. They do everything together and go everywhere together. If one has to go to the bathroom at night, they wake the other and go together. If one wants to go swing, the other (usually Rodas) will put down their bane (bagel) or doll and go swing. If one is wearing a skirt, the other one will often demand to wear a skirt as well. It is endearing, sometimes frustrating, and a little heartbreaking as we are beginning to realize that it might not just be a habit of comfort, but an ingrained protective measure. I am hoping that I am wrong, and consistently tell them that they are safe here, that Mommy and Daddy are gentle and love them. I pray for the time when Tsegereda feels comfortable enough to go to the bathroom at night, alone, and when Rodas will feel comfortable enough to impart her affection fully out of true love for us, as she does with sister, not partially as a survival method to maintain our protection.

The day will come, we will make sure of it. And until then, Colt and I will work hard to let our Sugar and Spice, and their brothers as well, know that their Mom and Dad are truly blessed by all of them.