Hello, Colorado!

Or should I say, "hello, again, Colorado!" I was born and raised on the Front Range of the Colorado Rockies and Colt worked and lived in Rifle, Colorado for a time, so I guess we aren't exactly first time Coloradoans. We have not lived in Craig, however, and Craig is definitely not Fort Collins or Rifle--although it has similarities to both. For me, our home in Craig echoes with many memories of growing up in Fort Collins (or what Fort Collins used to be) and LaPorte~the sweet, lilting song of the meadowlark as the sun rises over rolling green hills. The smell of fresh cut hay. Wide open spaces. Deer in the back pasture. Wind that whistles and makes tall grass move like the green ocean waves. Elbow room, with a few houses and fences sprinkled along the way.

I love so many things about our new adventure. I love the acreage and once-again being able to see wildlife everywhere--this house is literally situated where the deer (back pasture) and antelope (front pasture) play. I love the sound of the Elkhead River as it slices through the backyard and the throaty calls of the sandhill cranes in the morning. I love the green, green and more green. I love change, and I love to re-design, so moving every five years means I get to re-decorate my house that often. The actual moving part with boxes sucks, but once the pictures start going up on walls it feels like a sort of rebirth that is, well, refreshing. 'Course, I'm still waiting for the refreshing period to arrive as there seems to be no end to the boxes and my big picture hanger-upper is fighting fires in Florida! We are still surrounded by boxes, but I'm wading through it. I am growing to love the house, although there are a number of new things that we will have to get used to. Water from a well that smells like sulphur and tastes nearly as bad. [Thank heavens for reverse osmosis!] Waking up to no water because the pump decided to take an extra long coffee break. Mosquitoes the size of birds that are EVERYWHERE, just waiting to descend upon you in a bloodthirsty swarm! Busting our little push mower after a few swipes at the tall grass (that move like green ocean waves with the wind...) and realizing that we really do need a little mower/tractor.

The community has been very welcoming so far, and reminds me so much of Price. The people are very accepting of the girls and a number of times I have had people go out of their way to help me (entertaining the kids while it took me 30 minutes to get a new driver's license) or make a positive comment about them and their good behavior (hah! They obviously had not seen Noah five minutes before as he was poking his fingers into burger packages because it made a cool sound...). I am used to the extra attention, as our colorful family tends to engender it, but it has been overwhelmingly positive and the comments have mostly included all my children, not just the girls. I think we are going to be just fine here.

The kids miss their friends, but are being positive about things. They've met some kids at church and we've just started soccer and swim lessons so that should help things as well. They aren't the only ones who miss their friends...I miss my neighbors and dear friends and wish I could have packed them up in some of my boxes. They helped so much during our move and continue to help as we leave a vacant house in need of attention. I don't know how we can ever thank you all enough...just know your help has been so very much appreciated!

Colt enjoys his job so far and is looking forward to the challenge of being the fire management officer for all of northwestern Colorado. The Craig paper did a nice little article on Colt and two other new guys--you can take a peek at it at http://www.craigdailypress.com/news/2011/jun/15/blm-craig-adds-new-officials/ The print version added a little more of Colt's comments (beyond Hawaii...). (0: As we're still pretty green and much of the southern half of the U.S. is burning up, he left on Friday with his Interagency Type II Team to fight fires in northern Florida and figures he'll be gone the full 14 days. Please keep him and all the firefighters pounding the ground out there in your prayers.

I've included some pictures of our new digs and the move so you can live our adventure vicariously through my blog. Yippee.
(0:

Love and peace to all!
K

Good-bye Utah...

We have to pack up the computer now, so I guess this will be my last official post from Price, Utah. In a few days we head to our new adventure in Craig, Colorado. The kids are doing pretty well so far, but it is beginning to sink in as we start to say good-bye to friends and their rooms are taken over by boxes. It will be fine, but it won't be easy for a while. Saying good-bye to something or someone that is dear to you never is. We will miss Price very much...especially the dear friends that have become family to us (you know who you are!!). We love you all and want you to know that you better come visit us! (0:

Good-bye, for now, but please keep in touch! You can always visit us here, to see what is new and happenin' with the Mortenson clan...

Helloooooooooo Colorado!

One Year Ago...

It was one year ago today that we became the legal parents of daughters we loved dearly but had never met. I think back and wonder at all the amazing changes that have happened in our family since that time. It has been a roller coaster ride, but one that I would take again and again. I simply cannot imagine my life without my girls...and I know Colt feels the same. I also strongly believe that our incredible boys would agree. Wyatt and Tsegereda are close and although the age and height thing raises its ugly head now and then, overall it has been a pretty smooth transition. Noah has found his place in the foursome and they all truly act as though they have grown up together since birth. The house is full of laughter, yelling (mostly me), crying and hugging--with Barbies, legos, hair bands and transformers strewn all over. Just as it should be.

Looking back again at our first glimpse of our daughters, it is amazing THEIR transformation:

In Memoriam

We received heartbreaking news last week...our dear friend and brother, Francis Kisanya, passed away from Brucellocis. He had been sick with malaria, but last we heard he was getting better. We usually spoke with Francis every week, but lately it had not been as frequent because of bad phone connections. In an email to me a few weeks ago, his wife had thought he was getting better. Then, out of nowhere, a friend called to deliver the shocking news of his death.

We are still shell-shocked.

Francis was the Kenyan who helped us track down and expose the truth of the evil adoption fraud that entrapped ours and 27 other families in Uganda. The whole debacle eventually led us to our daughters, to which we have been forever indebted to Francis. Colt was able to stay and spend invaluable time with Francis and his family while visiting Kenya and Uganda in 2009. I only knew Francis through phone calls and email. But we knew each other well. Well enough that he endearingly called me sister, and I knew him as a brother. He was a dreamer, which was amazing in that he was a man who had gone through much pain in his too-short life. Too often that creates a bitter and hardened man, but Francis used the pain to build more hope and desire for a better day. He was a teacher who loved his students and loved to learn. He had just finished his masters in education (going to school in Uganda) and was just starting his doctorate work. He always wanted to better himself and his world. He was constantly bombarded with struggles, but they only made him fight harder.

Whenever we talked, he always asked when I was coming to visit. I promised him that one day, I would come. I shed tears now because I never will meet the mortal man whom I call brother. He was so dear to Colt and I, and his family a part of ours. We simply cannot believe he is gone. Two years ago, nearly to the day Francis passed away, we lost another dear friend suddenly and without warning. The call delivered the same blow of disbelief, the same cry of "no!" as he was one of the most vibrant, simply amazing men we knew. After we got to know Francis, Colt and I often marveled at how similar Francis and Brett were, and now to have both of them gone...so suddenly and way before they had reached their dreams...well, it is hard to understand.

But there is always a reason and we must trust that we will see them again one day.

The following is what I wrote to Jackline, Francis' wife, after learning of his death:

Francis Muhalia Kisanya

My Brother.

I will not say kwaheri (good-bye).

I refuse.

I will say asante (thank you). Asante sana, dear brother.

I will say that my life was forever changed when you walked into it, as it will be forever changed now that you have journeyed beyond me.

I will say that the world is a much darker place now that you have left it, but that the stars are so much brighter now that you are there to shine your light upon us.

You always reached for the stars while you were here on earth…now you are with them.

I will always regret that I was not able to meet you in person, yet I knew your voice, your determination, your eternal hope, and your heart. It never mattered that we did not share blood, never shook hands…you are my brother.

You will be missed, dear brother, by all who have ever had the privilege to be touched by your light.

Asante sana, dear brother…we will meet one day.

I hope that he hears those words and knows the truth in them. Please tuck his family into your prayers and your hearts. They now have a difficult road to journey without him...

Movin' on...

So, just when things are finally settling down and our family is beginning to find its sense of normalcy, we have decided to shake things up (it seems to be our style...). We are headed for a new adventure once summer comes:


Colt recently accepted a position with the Bureau of Land Management as the Interagency Fire Management Officer for an extensive area in northwestern Colorado. He starts May 22nd, which means we are now in a mad dash to sell our house and find a new home as well, as well as deal with all the emotions of saying good-bye to a home and community we have loved.

We thought long and hard about this move, especially since our girls are really doing so well here in Price. The community has been so open and supportive of our family and we have some terrific friends that are going to leave gaping holes in our hearts when we have to leave.

Tsegereda Rosalie loves school and has some very dear friends that she doesn't want to leave, which makes pulling her away all the harder. She doesn't want to go, and we wouldn't uproot her except...well...we truly believe this is the move we are supposed to make. It will place us smack dab in the middle of both grandparents and will allow the girls to actually get to know my side of our family. It is a wonderful opportunity for Colt and he is ready for the challenge of moving to a new agency and overseeing an incredibly diverse and extensive environment. Although it will be hard tearing her away, we have known that a move was in our future and we truly believe that it will be easier to do it now, while the children are still younger, than when they have entered the teenage years...

While gnawing over this move, I felt that it just might actually help the girls more wholly attach to us. They will see that when we move, no one will get left behind (as has been done to them before). They will see that we will do everything as a family--it will be new changes for ALL of us, not just them. We will start new memories all together, moving in to a home and community where we are all the newcomers together. They will hopefully see that just as their move from Ethiopia to America brought them blessings, so will this move. Moving starts with sad "good-bye's" but it ends with "hello's." We are praying that this move will be a positive one for all of us.

Rodas keeps asking if certain things will be going with us ("that picture, Mommy?" "this doll?") so I know that she is thinking about it, but she doesn't seem as concerned. Time will tell.

Wyatt is excited, but sad to leave his good buddies. As he remembers the last move, he feels like "the expert" in moving and is trying to help the others feel better about the change. This is the home that Noah remembers the most, having moved from Eden when he was just a toddler, so he is a bit more reticent to leave. I have no doubt that he will be fine though as he truly thrives on a bit of chaos.

I am going to miss my dear friends, some of whom I have seem to found only just recently. You'd think I'd be good at saying good-bye by now...but it is something I hope I never get used to. Every time we leave I seem to leave a part of me behind, and take a part of where I left with me. I guess I'm just carrying around a lot of baggage, but, on the flip-side, I'm also sprinkled across the West...

Having lived in wolf-hating Salmon and rural Utah, after a quick visit to Craig to look at homes, I've realized that once again, I will probably have to be a closet recycler and keep my organic tendencies on the down-low... (-:

You are NOT a Good MOM, Part II

One year ago this month, this was the only way I could show love to my new little girl. Now I am blessed to be able to hug her every day. I can't forget that...



I awakened this morning at 5:30 to the pitter patter of tiny feet running to the bathroom. I peeked in to find her perched on the toilet. Wary that it was already too late, I was pleasantly surprised to find that she had woken up and made it on time. That rarely happens when she doesn't empty her bowels before bed, so I'm truly thanking my guardian mommy angels!

I sent her back to bed and she slept until 7:00 (another miracle). When she was up for good, I asked her if she wanted me to be Good Mom or Bad Mom. She mumbled something that sounded like Good Mom, and when asked to speak up she wouldn't. I asked her if she liked how I acted yesterday and she shook her head "no." I asked her again who she wanted me to be and she very quietly but more clearly stated "Good Mom." I gave her a hug and she proceeded to say "ow" and cry, acting as though her lip had been hurt badly by my shoulder. I knew she was not hurt but was trying to find an outlet for her anger at having had to ask for Good Mom back. She often does this--making a tiny touch or brush of skin seem like someone was intentionally causing her mortal harm. She usually does it to try to turn the emotional tables on you. I set her down and told her that I loved her, I was sorry she hurt her lip on my shoulder when I hugged her, and that I would continue to work to be a Good Mom to her. BUT, I also said to her, YOU need to also continue to work to be a Good Daughter. Love and Family are not one-way streets.

So far the day has gone pretty well. She's now waking from a loooooooong nap to recoup from yesterday, and I'm blogged out. I hope that she learned something from this...I know that I have. I also know that motherhood is seriously the toughest job I'll ever love.
l

You are NOT a Good Mom!

"You are NOT a good Mom!"

Rodas Reyne quietly but firmly stated this after a discussion she did not like (about why Mom asks her to use the toilet even when she doesn't think she has to go...). As I pulled her out of her car seat, I had commented that I don't do these things just to be mean but because I care about her. I told her that even though she might not see it, I try to be a pretty good Mom...to which she pulled away from me, gave me her half shrug with a quick shake of the head, and quietly but angrily disagreed.

We had actually had a good morning leading up to that, having spent two hours helping Noah's Kindergarten class paint like Paul Klee. She had been excellent the whole time, but had become distraught when she spilled some of her pretzels on the floor and I asked her to pick them up and throw them away. There were more pretzels in her bag, so it wasn't just a matter of her snack disappearing. She simply didn't want to throw them away. I think that started it. We had to hurry home to get her dressed for dance class, and on the way home I mentioned that she needed to use the toilet and then get dressed as quickly as she could so we wouldn't be late. We had time, but the girl can seriously be as slow as molasses. She usually doesn't balk about going "shinten" or pee, but she can get ornery about bowel movements, or "kaka" (it means the same whether your talking spanish or tigrynia!). Without going into further detail, let's just say that it is very important to get her bottom on a toilet regularly, so this isn't a negotiable issue. Reynie--like most three-year-olds--doesn't like non-negotiable issues.

Hence the attitude out of the car and the "bad Mom" statement.

But, instead of being the perfect mother that everyone else seems to be but I keep failing at becoming, I picked her up, plopped her down on the floor inside the house, and I regressed to three years old. I wailed about how much this "bad mother" did for her, how I flew half-way across the world for her, how I sang to her, played games and dolls with her, combed and took care of her hair (NOT EASY!), filled her closet, gave her baths, dealt with her exasperating food issues, repeatedly cleaned poop out of her pajamas or pee off of the floor...how I loved her and would not leave her!!

She sat crying and, after my tantrum, I realized that I'd blown it once again and was actually proving her point that I was, in fact, a bad Mom. My tolerance with Rodas and Noah has been spread thin lately and when Colt is gone (going on week two...) I get exhausted from trying to not let them get to me. I counted to ten...maybe 20...then decided to prove her right. I would become Bad Mom. For the whole day. I told her she had five minutes to get changed if she wanted to go to dance. She could go to the bathroom or not, but if she had an accident at dance (the teacher asked specifically that they not have to use the restroom during class) then no more dance. I explained to her that, since she seemed to think I was a bad Mom, then that is what I would be to her for the rest of the day. I would continue to be the good Mom that I strive to be for Rosalie, Wyatt and Noah, but would treat her as a bad Mom would. I told her a bad Mom probably wouldn't care if she went to dance or not, so if she wasn't ready when we had to leave then no dance. No reminders or help.

She didn't make it to dance.

Trying to act like nothing had happened, she flitted behind me the rest of the morning asking what we were going to do. I told her that I was going to do some laundry then work on the computer; she could entertain herself. I did just that. She followed me around and asked if I'd play a game with her and I said, "No, I don't want to." She didn't quite know what to do with that answer (it's usually, "Yes, just let me finish this first."). She wandered in while I was on the computer and asked what next. I told her I was going to fix myself some lunch, and she asked what she was having. I said, "I dunno, you can go fix yourself something." She laughed and said, "Nooooooo, YOU fix me lunch!" I looked soberly at her and said that a good Mom would fix her daughter a healthy lunch, but that I was not being that today so she could either get her own lunch or take what I put on her plate whenever I chose to do so. She didn't find that so funny.

I gave her two pieces of bread for lunch, after I made my own lunch, and although I knew she'd like it I also knew she would want more. I couldn't put anything else on her plate because it would either be healthy and take effort or take no effort and be unhealthy (which she'd probably love), so I settled for in-between.

After lunch, "Good Mom" usually reads her books then puts her down for a nap. When she asked about nap I said, "A good mom wants you to be healthy and get the sleep you need, but today I am not that so I don't care, take one if you want." Happily she said she didn't want a nap and continued to follow me around. Back to the computer we went, and after an hour she started to get the idea that I was not going to suddenly snap out of this funk and start to play. She worked very hard to try to have fun all by herself or make me think she was having lots of fun by herself. She actually does pretty well with independent play, especially given that she has probably never had to play by herself until she came to our family, but she would rather play with someone.

She was saved when 3:30 rolled about and the boys came home from school. They arrived with a flurry of activity, clamoring to tell me who did what to whom and who threw up in what trash can (seriously). They washed their hands and sat down to a healthy snack of grapes and crackers. I usually give Rodas the special crackers that she likes with no fruit (though it is always offered)...but not today. She got what the boys got and she was not amused. She had run to the table as soon as the plate was set down, then when she saw what it was she put her nose in the air and declared that she wasn't hungry and walked off. It was truly difficult not to laugh at the act.

After picking up Tse from dance class, I explained to all the other kids, within earshot of Rodas, what had happened with her earlier that day and that, for today, I was being the Bad Mom to her that Rodas seemed to think I was. We discussed attributes of Good Moms versus Bad Moms (loving us, helping us eat well, giving us baths, playing and talking with us, not hitting us, helping us get the sleep we need, etc.) hopefully reinforcing to Rodas why I was doing what I was doing.

Dinner came and I served spaghetti. I usually put oil and berbere on the girls' pasta instead of our spaghetti sauce, but tonight I only did it for Tse. Rodas asked for it and I said "no" because it is extra work that I'm choosing not to do for her. She said nothing more and gobbled up two servings of plain noodles (something she has pushed away a number of times before).

When it was bath time, I announced that the boys needed to get in the shower and I would be giving Tse a bath. When Tse was done, Rodas asked if she needed a bath. I said "yes" but that I wasn't going to give her one. Baths are a lot of work for Mom, especially combing out her hair, and I just didn't want to do it. A good Mom would do it because she knew her daughter needed it...but I was not being a Good Mom to Rodas today. She began to flounder a bit and let her act slip a little, for the first time all day. As all the kids began getting ready for bed, she just wandered around aimlessly. A hot water heater crisis provided a bit of excitement and interruption, but our friend and neighbor, Mr. A, came to our rescue and abated potential catastrophe (I'm so paranoid about the septic tank backing up that I'm almost relieved it's just the water heater!).

With the failed water heater turned off and draining, I set about reading to Wyatt and Tse and tucking them in (Noah was already in bed). I told Rodas she could do what she wanted and the only thing I requested was that she put on her pull-up. She wandered about holding her pull-up, and clearly wanted direction about what to do. It suddenly became tough, really tough, this Bad Mom business. I wanted to guide her to bed, doing all the nightly ritual things we always do, leaving her to drift off with happy dreams. But I also wanted this lesson to sink in and I still wasn't sure it had. She hovered in the hallway, obviously lost in what to do, and her sweet brother Wyatt suggested gently that she go to bed. I found her there ten minutes later, dressed in her pj's with pull-ups on (whew, because she DID NOT use the toilet before bed) sound asleep. Although I'm dreading what accident might be waiting for me in the middle of the night with a pent-up bladder and bowels, I am grateful this part is over.

What started out as an easy job of being a Bad Mom became achingly painful when I saw how lost she became at the end. I wonder if I went too far...if this "lesson" was really just me getting back at her for her hurtful comment. I'm sure part of it probably is, but I truly think it is a little part. I am a good Mom, or at least I truly strive to be, and I sincerely want her to understand that I do what I do and ask what I ask of her not because I am mean, but because I care about her and want her to be healthy and happy. I want her, in some way, to realize that she might not have it so bad, being stuck in our crazy household, and that, all in all, being loved isn't so bad.

To be continued tomorrow...