Where did January go???

So, January flew by and now February is following suit...where does time go? Seriously?!

Although it has skated past quickly, we did manage to grab some fun this past month and celebrated some more "firsts" for the girls. Tsegereda/Rosalie had her first birthday with us, turning nine. We chose the birth date of January 18 for her as that was the day, in 2010, that we signed the adoption contract papers with our agency committing to pursue adopting the girls. It's also close to Martin Luther King's birthday, which is so very special as well. She had fun and enjoyed an ice cream cake (she LOVES ice cream) and lots of princess stuff.

In early February, Tsegereda/Rosalie finally tossed off the training wheels and gave Noah and Wyatt a run for their money on her bike. Learning to ride the bike has been very frustrating for her--her gross motor skills and balance were not strong when she first came to America. Her frustration grew to where she avoided her pretty pink bike for quite a while. We've worked on her gross motor skills with family hikes, doing Wii Fit and playing basketball, and we took off the pedals of her bike so she could work on just gliding and thus getting a sense of balance. The balance thing just never seemed to catch on. Finally, on a nice winter's day, I coaxed her outdoors, put the pedals back on, and she did it! Now she's out there every chance she gets. Our next challenge: teaching her how to BRAKE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! (0:

Valentine's Day was another first for the girls, and once again we are all swimming in candy. I swear, America seriously is the land of sugar!!! The girls enjoyed giving and getting valentines and made sweet ones for the family. Colt and Tsegereda went on a fun "Daddy-Daughter" date put on by our church, but he had to be in Arizona (enjoying 80 degree weather, poor guy) for Valentine's Day. He just came home today to a valentine-filled home. Now we get to celebrate his birthday and reflect on how lucky we are to have him in our lives. He is an amazing father and husband and we love him dearly. Which reminds me, time to go fill some black balloons...
(0;

Rodas Reyne and her dietary habits have not changed much. She IS trying new things more readily, but doesn't seem to like anything she tries. We have added cold peas to the list of vegetables that she'll eat (making that TWO items), although she's starting to rebel and now takes an hour to eat one spoonful. I'm trying to not let it get to me, but she's still constantly asking what's for dinner and when is it snack time...then doesn't eat half the time! As I write this, she is sleeping behind me in my chair, having woken up from her nap earlier than it seems her body wanted. The first thing out of her mouth when she truly wakes up and shakes off the grumpies will be "what's the time?"--Rodas-lingo for "is it snack time yet?"

Ahhh, life with a three-year old.

Mom, I'm Hungry...

Okay, I will post some pictures and updates on how the holidays went, but first I want to comment on the newest trend in our littlest munchkin's dietary habits (or lack thereof...).

I have remained consistent and strict in my enforcement of the "eat what is served or go hungry" policy for most of the month. It has hit Rodas and Noah pretty hard. The toughest thing is that there are so few meals that ALL my family eats that rarely is there not someone eating only carrots and apple slices--or nothing at all--for dinner. I do feel that we are rounding a corner, though, in that for the past few days Rodas has been voicing her hunger. Constantly, actually. And at all times of the day...such as the other morning when she woke me up at 5 in the morning with a "MOM, I'm HUNGRY." To which I responded that breakfast would be at 6:30 and she could eat then. I reminded her later that if I didn't eat dinner the night before, then I would be hungry early as well. That's why I choose to eat my dinner, even if it is not exactly what I want. At breakfast she proceeded to eat two bites of Rice Chex (the only cereal she will eat now) and then said she was full. One hour later she was following me around saying she was hungry. Snack time is at 10 and if she doesn't eat breakfast, then I choose the snack--which is always a fruit. I finally got her to try banana and apple, both of which she spit out. But at least she tried them.

She is trying more things, and now has decided she likes my hashbrowns and fried potatoes. Before Christmas, I weighed her and she had actually lost 6 ounces from her weight at coming home...but we truly think she is getting better. It is simply exasperating--especially when she chooses to not eat and then constantly comments on her hunger or gets angry over what is served (she was soooo NOT happy about a bagel with peanut butter on it for lunch one day...). Over Christmas break I catered to their choices so food would not be such an issue, and so a little regression and anger is probably due to that.

Speaking of Christmas vacation, it was wonderful. We celebrated Christmas here, and tried not to overdo it (not my forte) so as not to overwhelm or feed the entitlement, if you will, of any of our kids. The girls enjoyed it and didn't seem too overwhelmed. We left the next day to spend a Mortenson Christmas in Salt Lake City, which was fun. We saw the Temple lights and the kids had a blast playing with all their cousins and the girls enjoyed being cuddled by their adoring aunts.

We then traveled to Grand Lake to introduce the girls to the Armstead-side of their family. They were equally doted on by them and they had a wonderful time getting to know all their cousins and aunts and uncles. It was so special that everyone was able to make the trip to meet them, and it truly felt as though the girls have always been a part of the mix. The girls went sledding and ice skating for the first time, though Tsegereda enjoyed more dancing on the ice with her Aunt Maretta as opposed to actually skating. (0:

A wonderful bit of news came in the mail today...the girls' Certificate of Citizenship! They are now documented in the federal system as U.S. Citizens Tsegereda Rosalie Mortenson and Rodas Reyne Mortenson. WAHOOOOO!


We
Are
Blessed.

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.