Thursday, June 30, 2011
My Pragmatic Learner
Picture this: In line at Disneyland, waiting, not so patiently, to get on Mr. Toad’s Wild Ride. I have told K probably no less than 4 times, ‘Please don’t stick your head in between those bars! You could get hurt. And Mommy doesn’t want you to get hurt, right?” And what does he do? Pushes his head ALL THE WAY through and gets stuck in the railing/fence. Happy Friggin’ Mother’s Day!
Now he is screaming bloody murder because his head won’t come out. My mom and dad are trying to help me help him but he has the strength of an ox at this point. His head is REALLY stuck. There are screams of major proportion happening at our point in line and to add insult to injury, the line has significantly moved, so it is us who are holding up others from getting on the ride. Initially, I try to use my calm, “Baby, calm down. Mommy is here” voice. It’s not working and he seems to getting more nervous/scared. So I transition to my, “K, stop it and calm down” irritated/in trouble voice.
How is it that his head can go in but can’t come out? I am trying to flatten his ears, push his skull together as if he was comin’ through the birth canal, but it won’t budge. I lick my fingers and rub the sides of his head. Nope—no progress. Finally, I see the scornful/scared/unapproving eyes of other parents in line. It’s clear that I am not living up to their parenting standards and I do only what I can to resolve this situation and blend back into the abyss of people at Disneyland. I quickly turn his torso to the side and push his whole body through the fence. Thank ya Jesus that his body is smaller than his head. I reach over and pick up his whimpering body on the other side of the railing and carry him inside the ride.
But again, I fail in the category of “Mom of the Year” because I don’t comfort him and tell him he’s gonna be ok. I ask him if he’s ok and when he nods, I scold him for not listening and tell him, “Stop crying! You did this to yourself because you didn’t listen!” I know I’m in trouble when the man in front of us reaches into his Disneyland bag and hands K a “collectors” Disneyland baseball, offering words of encouragement and sympathy to K (clearly for K being stuck with the wicked witch of the west as a mother).
Sadly, K’s a pragmatic learner. And fortunately, he hasn’t done it again! Lesson learned.
Tuesday, June 28, 2011
Public Discipline
It’s no secret, K is from Ethiopia. As many of you know, I taught myself a bit of Amharic so that I would be able to communicate with him when I brought him home. I knew that he would be verbal when I traveled and I wanted him to have “something” from his homeland (since I had basically taken him away from everything he had ever known within 5 days of meeting me). I wanted him to know that I respected him as a person and that I love Ethiopia, its culture, and people as much as I love him.
But now, he refuses to speak it. He understands Amharic and will respond in English, but won’t use any words except, “I love you!” Even having said that, I use it A LOT. Granted, I am not fluent, nor do I claim to be, but I have about 50 phrases that I still use regularly with him. Most of them are terms of endearment or punishment… The other day, I was at a supermarket that I don’t usually go to when I had to scold him. In public, I choose to discipline him in Amharic so I don’t have to look at the faces of all the mom’s questioning my parenting skills, and they do… Ironically enough, after scolding him in Amharic, I hear a cart in the next aisle almost racing down the row, and from around the corner comes an Ethiopian woman who simply says, “I wasn’t expecting you to be white!” All I could do was laugh and say (clearly not how these words are spelled, but phonetics work for me), “Selam! Ah-te-free! Sih May, Char” and then K chimed in with, “I’m K!” We only shared a quick moment, but what a beautiful moment it was. As she left, she said something to him in Amharic, kissed his forehead and the tops of both of his hands, as did so many lovely people on the streets of Addis Ababa. It blessed me.
Tuesday Truth-day! June 28, 2011
*I will use each Tuesday to rat myself out about something! It’s all in good fun and I am sure that these “truth-day” revelations won’t be things people don’t already know about me!
Farting. We all do it. Right? According to Dr. Oz, we pass gas at least 12 times a day. Sadly, gas comes at the worst times. You know, if you are in a meeting with your boss—it’s not like you can just play it off like it’s someone else. On an airplane, it’s a tough gig being trapped in a tin can with some serious gas.
Since I am a mom of a toddler (who initially didn’t speak any English), I have, at times, blamed him for my own farting. Is this nice? No. Is it fair? No (and life isn’t fair). Am I a mean mommy? Probably. But dang, no one says anything to a kid who has gas, but if I have to fart—I only got a 3-4 year shelf life to blame him, so I gotta tap that! Just sayin’!
Saturday, June 25, 2011
High Five for Friday—week of 06.20.11
*It is my goal that even when I kvetch, I still have an attitude of gratitude, so each Friday, I want to share at least 5 fantastical things that have happened to me!
1. First day of summer!
2. Dad’s day! Being able to celebrate the wonderful Dad’s in my life is always so amazing. I know some of the best men who are Dad’s, surrogate Dad’s, Uncles, and mentors! I am blessed and so is K.
3. Swim lessons—K is rockin’ the heck outta his swim lessons. He is loving it and I love seeing his confidence sky-rocket!
4. Days off to hang out with friends.
5. Doors opening that I thought were closed!!!
Thursday, June 23, 2011
Should Single Women Adopt?
I get this question A LOT! As most of you know, I would label myself a Christian. Not a hate filled, elitist, Bible in your face and “you are wrong” kind of Christian, but a believer in a God of Love. I love the God of miracles. I love my God who is a Creator. I am a worshipper of the Most High God who doesn’t hate people. He’s a God who hung out with the “whores”, tax collectors, thieves, adulterers, and the outcasts of society! Now that’s my kind of God. He’s so my kind of people.
So…am I wrong for not “waiting” for Mr. Right to build my family unit? I have been told that I am by a few “well meaning” people. And to that I say: suck it! I read this blog by an adoptive mom on this subject and what she has to say is pretty awesome:
You can wait for that perfect man and waste valuable years that could have been spent raising precious little ones in desperate need of a mommy. Two parent homes are thought by many to be ideal, but really….who says that has to be? Ever asked an orphan? ‘Ummmmm, excuse me. I am single. I want to be a mommy……but I am waiting for a daddy…so in the meantime you sit there and enjoy that orphanage….cause I’m sure you’d rather be one of 400 kids….with no one to kiss your boo-boos or listen to your dreams while I sit over here waiting for Mr. Right.’ Yeah, I don’t think so. There are kids all over this world who are longing for someone to say, ‘You are mine and we’re in this together. We may not have a daddy at the moment (or maybe ever), but I will be your mommy’…. I applaud the courage of some of my friends who have said, ‘I am not married, but I can be a great mom and I’m not waiting for a husband to do that.’”
When I made the decision to adopt K, I knew the “risks” I was taking. I knew what I was getting into. I knew I’d be doing it alone. I knew that some people wouldn’t understand why I was doing it. I knew that I’d lose friends over it. I knew that people would judge me. I knew all these things and you know what? I didn’t care! I have multiple tattoos and multiple piercings, so I have been judged before and I am cool with it! I also knew what I would gain from it. And the pros completely out weigh the “cons”.
Would I love to be married? Of course. Would I love to have a partner who could “tag” me out of the ring every once in a while—HECK TO THE YES! Would I love for my son to have a daddy? Most certainly! Will I settle for just anyone? C’mon now, you know me better than that!
If you are a parent who has a partner, don’t judge me, help me! Love my kid because he’s awesome and strong and a survivor and funny and just pretty darn cool. If you know how difficult it can be to deal with a 3 year old (or any kid at any age), offer to babysit for me. If you have kids and you know how expensive it can be—quit reminding me y’all. Don’t keep saying, “I don’t know how you can afford it on a single income?!” Offer to buy him some clothes, buy us some groceries or pay my childcare for a week (or a month)! Geesh!
Be a problem solver not a problem pointer-outter, please. That’s what I did when I made the choice to adopt! 143 million orphans—minus one!
Sunday, June 19, 2011
Why Ethiopia?
- One in ten children die before their first birthday.
- One in six children die before their fifth birthday
-44% of the population is under 15 years old.
- 60% of the children in Ethiopia are stunted by malnutrition.
-The median age in Ethiopia is 17.8 years old.
-1.5 million people are infected with AIDS
-There are roughly 4.6 million orphans in Ethiopia.
-Per capita, Ethiopia receives less aid than any other country in Africa
-Half of the children in Ethiopia will never attend school.
-Ethiopia’s doctor to child ratio is 1 to 24,000
Why Not?
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