The Bly Family Blog

Ah, Hindsite.

2009-01-28T10:04:00.004-06:00

OK, Mom and Dad, I'm about to out a little family secret, so brace yourselves: We were a family of spenders. Granted, we had very little money to spend, but when it came to spend vs. save, well, we ran with the philosophy that the former was way more fun, and we'd deal with the latter some other day. I don't ever remember my parents not having credit card debt, car payments and a mortgage. But we still took vacations and tried to live life to its fullest. There was little talk about the importance of saving for retirement, or a rainy day, or the collapse of the global financial industry.

I carried that mindset with me into adulthood. Credit card debt was just part of life, nothing to be worried about. Car payments were what you had if you wanted to drive anywhere. School loans? Well, you were investing in your future, so why not? Two homes? Ok, now we're getting out there, but hey, our first home is in a desirable neighborhood, surely it will sell soon-ish. A new business? It's in the green beauty industry, predicted to grow faster than any other segment of the beauty world, tons of market share to be had.

Worst economy since the Great Depression? Well that wasn't part of my plan at all. And now my life feels like a big ol' deck of cards and it's stressful wondering if and when someone is going to come along and yank out one of the bottom cards. I found myself looking around our Honda Pilot the other day (yet another source of debt), glad that we purchased a spacious car with a DVD player, just in case we ended up having to live in it.

I know we're still in the "lucky people" camp. The business is doing pretty well - all things considered - and we both still have our jobs - fingers crossed - and all of us are healthy - finally. But at PDI we've had to take pay cuts, and sales at the NOB have fallen flat this week, and so I can't afford to hire help, which means I'm still working 70 hours/week, not counting the hours when the kids are awake. Again, stressful. So please, buy yourself some natural soap, or shampoo, or lipstick. Do it for the children. : )

Speaking of which, for the most part, the kids are great. Assuming I remember, I really will post some new pics on here tonight. If you happen to be a Facebook friend of mine, you can see some fairly recent photos. Eliana is delightful, but I know she's still not breathing well enough at night to be rested during the day. She gets so tired by 6pm, she looks like she's been using meth or pulling all-nighters to prep for an organic chemistry exam. But she's brilliant and so compassionate. No one really predicted that last trait, but she is endlessly patient with Meron, even though Meron's behavior toward Eliana is unpredictable at best, and downright mean at worst. She still gets crushes on boys, usually older ones, but I think that's just going to be her. Her gymnastics skills have increased dramatically, which has me a little excited, given her petite frame and abs of steel (you have to see what she can do to really grasp what I mean).

Meron is much better since her surgery, but man is she still Two Years Old. Last night was the worst night we've had in a while. I think what makes it so horrible when she is having an off night is that her scream hurts. My left ear still smarts a little bit this morning, I kid you not. And when she's screaming in the car, I keep thinking we should hire her out to the CIA for use in their interrogation methods. Then I remember Obama's recent executive order, and conclude that there is no way Meron's scream falls within the rules of the Army Field Manual. It would, however, be highly effective. Had Eliana screamed like that, I would be deaf. So thank god for little miracles, I guess.

The Blys made it to 2009!

2009-01-08T22:02:00.004-06:00

Happy New Year!! Or, should I say, Happy Thanksgiving, Merry Christmas, AND Happy New Year!

You may be wondering just what I have been doing while not keeping the blog up to date. In fact, I've been blogging my crazy little fingers off...just not here. So if you're ever feeling like you need a little dose of Terri prose, you can go to the Nature of Beauty blog - http://www.fromthenob.com/ - and see what I've been up to with the biz. Or, you can check out http://www.feelgoodstyle.com/, too, as I post there from time to time as well. See? I have been blogging my little fingers off!

I'm sorry I've been so bad about updating you on the family, though. There's been a ton of stuff to write about, too. When I have the other computer with all the pics, I'll upload those. In the meantime, tomorrow Meron has surgery. My poor little punkin has had a sinus infection for the past 4 months, and after 3 courses of antibiotics, it hasn't gone away. It gets better with each one, but then comes back like the hour after she has her last dose. I try not to panic, and have been doing fairly well at that. Must be the Lexapro, because it's really the kind of thing I normally panic about. Just before Christmas I thought she had a bunch of ear wax in her ear, but when I went to clean it out, I realized it was...a....big booger. Then I looked in the other ear, and sure enough, yet another booger. While it was certainly possible Meron was experimenting with a booger relocation project, behind the nasty green blobs were streams of the liquid version (a.k.a. snot, in case you weren't following me). I figured that wasn't normal, and sure enough, the sinus infection had burst through both ear drums and the stuff was flowing out her ears. Apparently her nose was not large enough to do the job.

What that means is that tomorrow morning my little nugget is having tubes put in her ears. And they're going to test the junk in her sinuses to see if the bacteria is a drug-resistant kind like, say, a staph infection. Again, should be panicking, somehow calming typing instead. They may also remove her adenoids if they are infected, too. All in all, it's going to be a lovely morning, and I expect Meron to enjoy the entire process. I have already sustained some hearing loss after the visit with the ENT doctor. If you haven't heard Meron scream her best scream, just listen very carefully tomorrow morning around 8am, and no matter where in the country you may be, you will probably hear something that sounds like an air raid siren that occasionally stops to take a breath.

I think that's probably sufficient for now. I'll do my best to keep this blog in better shape, and within days, there will be some great new pics!

Love in all its many forms

2008-11-13T15:07:00.005-06:00

Eliana has entered a new phase in her artwork. Whereas before she was more abstract, her drawings now tend to reflect what is going with her today. Let's take a look at a recent piece:

Cute, yes? Now let's zoom in for a closer look:

If you look at the center of the photo, you'll see a little person with a line extending from her lips to another person, and a heart next to him. Yes, I said him. His name is Tommy.

I first heard of Tommy on the way from school a few weeks back. Eliana told me she had made up a song for a boy in her after-school program. It went something like this: Tommy cutie, Tommy funny, Tommy sweetie, I love Tommy. This may have been wishful thinking, but I assumed Tommy was another 5-year-old whom she was chasing in the playground, or something equally innocent and innocuous like that. So I asked her:

"Eliana, how old is Tommy?"
"Umm....I don't know."
"Is he in kindergarten?
"No. I don't know how old he is, but he's definitely not in kindergarten."

Well that had me a bit more curious, so I made a mental note to ask her to point him out next time I picked her up. Her after school teacher, Ms. Jodie, beat me to it. A couple days after the Tommy song, Ms. Jodie asked to speak with me before I gathered my child and headed out for the day. She told me that Eliana tends to follow Tommy around most days, and he tolerates it very well and is very nice to her. That particular day, however, Tommy wanted to play with friends his own age. Meaning boys who are 10 years old. Yup, Tommy's in 4th grade. An older man, if you will. Anyway, Eliana was apparently beside herself, wailing and sobbing about how she loved Tommy and he didn't love her back.

Sometimes, as a parent, you experience things you didn't really prepare yourself for. This was one of those times.

I stared back at Ms. Jodie with what I'm sure was a blank look on my face, totally unsure what the appropriate parental response was supposed to be. Ms. Jodie said that she thought it was fine, she just wanted me to know. Ok.

The next day, Ms. Jodie once again pulled me aside, this time telling me that Eliana crawled into her lap with a big smile on her face and announced that she had given Tommy a big ol' kiss. Apparently, she was pleased as punch about it.

Sometimes, as a parent, you experience things you didn't really prepare yourself for. This was one of those times.

I stared back at Ms. Jodie with what I'm sure was a blank look on my face, totally unsure what the appropriate parental response was supposed to be, and feeling a little inadequate that I was now 2 for 2 in that area. Ms. Jodie went on to explain what seemed to me to be a very complicated conversation she had with Eliana about how Eliana had to get our permission to kiss Tommy, and Tommy needed to make sure his parents were OK with it, and then Eliana had to ask Tommy if it was OK, and then I guess it was fine?

Paul handled it thusly:

"Eliana, at school there is a rule that you can't be kissing boys. So no kissing boys at school, OK?"

As far as I know, she has not made any further advances on Tommy. She did, however, tell us the other day that she kissed one of her girlfriends on the mouth, because the other girl asked her to.

Again, not ready. Just so not ready! If I thought this was her way of imitating behavior, if she was talking about having boyfriends but clearly didn't know what that meant, if emotionally she seemed to be feeling no differently toward boys than anyone else, I wouldn't care. But you can see it in her eyes when she talks about boys (she also loves a boy in her class named Anthony, or as she apparently refers to him, Sweetie Pie): she has feelings for them! She's only five!!! I was supposed to have at least 4 more years of opposite gender aversion!! Better yet, I was still holding out hope that she would prefer girls, which hasn't been ruled out given her kiss-on-the-mouth experience with that other girl, but you could tell it was different. She didn't dig this girl the way she digs Tommy Boy. I can't even believe I'm writing this. What on earth am I in for?!

Complete topic change

Speaking of preferring girls, I want to take a moment and get what may be perceived as a bit political. It breaks my heart that California's gay marriage ban passed. When there are so many horrible things happening in the world - rape, abuse, starvation, preventable diseases, unimaginable poverty - why do we expend so many of our financial and emotional resources fighting love? Millions of dollars go into these campaigns to ban gay marriage. Think of how many microloans could be made with that money that could transform third world communities by providing women with the start-up funding they need for their own business. And instead, we're spending it to say that marriage needs to be between a man and a women. Why? Because that's the way it's supposed to be because that's the way it has always been. Which is the most nonsensical reason I've ever heard. What if those in power had successfully used that rationale to prevent women from voting, or to prevent black Americans from having equal rights under the law? What if we used that rationale to justify slavery? After all, the Bible talks about slaves, and slavery in some form has existed throughout the history of civilization. Doesn't that mean it should always exist? So has spousal abuse. So has prostitution. We talk about the sanctity of marriage, so then why not ban divorce if we're so concerned about it? Oh, right, then it might affect us, the majority, and that's not the point at all.

If Jim and John who live next door to you get married, express their desire to be committed to each other until death do they part, how exactly does that affect you? How exactly does it affect anyone?

I get so sad when I think of the thousands, perhaps millions, of couples who have once again had to hear that their love for each other is not valid because it is directed at the wrong gender. It's love, people. Please think through whatever gut-level aversion you may have to the idea of a man with a man, or a woman with a woman, and remember that they are people in love. How would you feel if that were you? Go ahead and believe that it's wrong. Go ahead and attend a church that agrees with you. I don't care, quite honestly, and you have the right to believe whatever you want to. But why the need to turn that into a law?

News and a question

2008-10-15T10:38:00.002-05:00

So much going on!! So, so, so much going on!! I'm thrilled to say the business is growing like a big organic weed. Well, I guess right now it's still a little organic weed, but it's growing quickly and we couldn't be more excited! Or more tired! This Saturday I will be on everything green radio (www.everythinggreenradio.com), which broadcasts on an AM radio station here in the Twin Cities, but the specifics escape me at the moment. I'll try and remember to post it as we get closer to Saturday. The following Saturday I will be on ShopGirls on 107.1, a fabulous mainstream show that covers everything that is big in the fashion and beauty scene, but locally and nationally. The two hosts are way cooler than me and I am thrilled to get to hand out with them in the studio for a couple of hours!! I will be talking green beauty and am so excited I can barely stand it. Those are just two of the highlights. For more information, you can always go to the Nature of Beauty blog, which you can access through the website, or at fromthenob.com.

OK, now for a question. This has nothing to do with me or my family, but I want to put it out there, because I need to figure this out. What is the deal with people getting mad when you talk on your cell phone in a coffee shop? Is this just about people being pissy about the whole cell phone revolution in general? I don't think I talk louder when I'm on the phone than when I'm talking to a friend, although maybe that's not true. SO maybe I need to watch myself. But I'm here in a coffee shop, I'm surrounded by noisy women chatting about their lives, and a noisy toddler chatting about whatever is shiny enough to catch his attention, and yet the grumpy old man in the corny singles me out to stop talking on my cell phone. This happened last week, too, and the same hippie coffee shop I go to when I have to take our Suburu in to get repaired (which has been way too frequent as of late). Some lady told me that it was rude to talk on the phone in the coffee shop. I don't get it. This isn't the library. Is it more rude to talk when my fellow customers can't hear someone talking back to me? Does the brain register one-way conversations differently? Do people want the coffee shop to be a library with espresso? Or maybe we still tend to talk louder on the cell phone, due to those early years when a call to someone a block away had the clarity one would expect from calling Siberia.

I'd love to hear your thoughts on this. Cell phone use in coffee shops: OK? Rude?

First day of kindergarten and more new pics!

2008-09-29T14:21:00.008-05:00

Hello, everyone. Once again, long absence. Things continue to be insanely busy. I keep telling people that I always feel like I'm out of breath, and most of the time my touchie hasn't left the couch. Of course, said touchie's recent...um...changes definitely confirm that I have in fact been spending most of my time sitting on the couch. The business is going very well. Very, very well. It's the hardest thing we have ever taken on - yes, including the two children - but just like with the girls, it's amazing to see the direct connection between what we put into it and what we get out of it.

Still, this post is to put new pictures of my girls on the blog. Eliana started kindergarten a few weeks ago, and LOVES it. "Totally awesome" are her words at the end of most days when asked how her day at school went. Meron's verbal skills have taken off to the point where her daycare providers doubt she can really still be less than two. I believe she must be, but it sure adds a little pain to the heart to know that we will never know for certain what her actual date of birth is. She is so sweet, and so funny, and I just dote on her to the point of ridiculousness.

Here they are, the two cutest, smartest, funniest girls in the entire universe.

First day of school:

My girls being lovey and adorable:

Compatible senses of humor:

Can you even handle those dimples?!

Introducing The Nature of Beauty

2008-08-06T11:48:00.002-05:00

OK, I'm pretty sure no one is actually reading this anymore, but I wanted to at least post a little message here to let you know that our business is up and running. We are The Nature of Beauty, LTD, an online (so far) organic and natural beauty and personal care retailer, selling 15 lines of amazing products from around the world - seriously, from Ohio to New Zealand. We are adding a couple more lines of products next week, and hope to continue doing so regularly as things get going. Competition is not strong at this moment in time, but quite honestly we should have put this together at least 6 months ago, if not a year or two ago, because we're going to find ourselves in the midst of some crazy expansion in this area in the next year. So hopefully we can move fast enough to keep up! The site it here:

www.natureofbeauty.com

I'd love feedback, questions, comments, whatever you got. Later, I will post pictures of my honey babies, as they are amazing as always. Seriously, I am enjoying being a mom way more now than at any point in the last 5 years. I love love love having two girls. I still don't want to be a stay at home mom full-time, but I'm very motivated to work from home. We have to let our nanny go, though, because we aren't selling our other house quickly and may not for a while. We just can't afford two homes and a nanny (go figure). I kind of can't believe we're not sinking faster than we are. Anyway, the point is that life is good, the girls are wonderful and so smart. Eliana is now doing puzzles with 750 pieces that are for kids ages 12 and up. Watching her do them is almost creepy. She has a bizarre gift for this, and I'm not at all sure what that means for her future. She's not this gifted at reading or things like that, but her penmanship is quite honestly better than Paul's, and this puzzle thing is incredible. Something about her visual-motor skills and IQ. I imagine I'll bring it up again in more detail...once I know what that detail might be.

I will try and write more when I have another moment!

Update, long overdue

2008-05-13T21:34:00.002-05:00

I want to apologize for the loooooooong delay in posting. I have a good excuse, though: Paul and I are starting a business. So between working full-time, taking care of two children, and starting a new business....well, I'm sure you can understand how updating my blog has been pushed to the backburner. But on the bright side, we're starting a business! Can you even believe how crazy we are?! Just when you think I can't possibly outdo myself in the contest for Most Insane Woman Ever, when it seems like I may have finally settled down and committed to a normal, boring life, I dream this up. But when you finally learn just how brilliant and amazing our business is going to be, you will understand why I have been up every night until 11pm putting this together. Unfortunately, it would be a poor business decision to splash our business plan all over the Internet (OK, so I get that this blog does not equal "all over the Internet," but still, you never know who's out there). However, if you happen to have my contact information, and you're dying to know what I'm up to, feel free to give me a call or shoot me an email.

In other non-kiddie-related news....well, peripherally it's totally kiddie-related....I have big, fat ADD. Yup. Apparently, I've had it my whole life. 35 years of undiagnosed, untreated ADD. And yes, I know, I've managed to do pretty well in life, considering. But now that I'm medicated, and know what I'm dealing with, I can't help but wonder how life would have been different had I known, had anybody known. You see, I also have signs of chronic anxiety (I got to do a qEEG as part of my psych testing), chronic jaw tension, and chronic over-functioning. In other words, I have probably compensated for the ADD by trying so hard I've tried myself into a neurotic ball of tension. Let me share just this little piece of data: The bizillion hours of testing they put me through found that my ability to sustain attention and focus on both visual and auditory stimuli is in the <1%,>99%. In other words, I am willing to try and try and try and try and try and try, even if I'm getting nowhere. In which case I apparently keep trying. I won't go on ad nauseum about this, but it hit me pretty hard to have the last 35 years of my life summed up in a bunch of numbers and diagnoses. I guess I can relate to my patients a little better now.

If you're wondering how this related to the kiddies - or rather, the kiddie - it would appear that Eliana has inherited some of my genes. The doctor who assessed me described what the same traits would look like in a young child, and it was as if he had spent hours on end with Eliana. Now, we're not exactly about to diagnose the kid before she's even entered kindergarten, but had you been there, hearing what the doctor said ADD coupled with anxiety coupled with a very high IQ would look like in a 4-year-old, you would see no difference between his description and our offspring. So at the very least we will need to keep that in mind as we make choices like schools and such for our bright, active, hypervigilant little person.

I hope you've enjoyed your update. Maybe not what you expected, huh?

Happy Spring!!

2008-03-30T17:17:00.007-05:00

Latest quotable quote from my eldest: "Mom, I ate too much at breakfast. I have a feast in my tummy; a colony of food."

Another good one: "Dad, I won't be able to turn you into a king for two whiles." In other words, Eliana figures that if you can say, "I'll do it in a while," that must mean taking longer than that requires "two whiles." I plan to use it at work ("I won't be able to get that report written for two whiles," or "It'll be a lot of whiles before I'm able to do a simulation at 11:30pm for the India office.").

On another note, it's Spring!! Yay!! We kicked it off with an earlier than usual March Easter, complete with freezing cold wind and lots of snow. But that didn't stop us from having a lovely morning full of Easter eggs, pretty dresses, and happy family time. Well, most of us were happy:

In case you're curious, here's the deal: I can never get my two girls to smile for the same picture at the same time. It's logistically impossible. Either Eliana is smiling while Meron looks devastated or furious, or Meron is smiling and Eliana looks like she will be taking the short bus to school in the fall (I just delete those pictures, so I have nothing to show you as evidence). Separately, though, they are quite the photogenic pair, so maybe they just aren't interested in sharing the spotlight.

Kindergarten, Parenting, and Mike Mauseth

2008-03-26T14:31:00.007-05:00

The countdown is on - we registered Eliana for kindergarten. It's an emotional time for most parents, I think. Their baby is growing up, it's the start of a new era, and so on and so forth. For me, it's not really so much that she's growing up. I actually love it, because as she gets older, I enjoy parenting more. We get to have conversations, share our thoughts, she even coaches me when I'm being hard on myself during a mom-daughter craft project ("It's OK, mama, it doesn't have to look just like the picture").

No, the emotions I can barely hold back have to do with my own experience of elementary school. To put it bluntly, grade school was hell. The worst 7 years of my life, bar none. It all started in kindergarten, when I realized I had no social skills. Or rather, the other kids realized I had no social skills. It's amazing how quickly little people catch on to that sort of thing. I didn't know how to break into groups of children playing. I had a hard time understanding the rules of their games and figuring out where I could fit. In short, I just couldn't connect.

In the middle of first grade, my family moved to a new part of town and I had to go to a new school. I was given my first nickname on my first day at the new school. As most of you know, my last name was Elofson. Say it out loud and you realize - as did the very clever Mike Mauseth - that it sort of sounds like Elephant. Mike chose to yell out his brilliant revelation while I was still standing with my mother and new teacher: "Elofson? Hey, that sounds like Elephant. Ha! ha! ha!" And what better way to begin one's career at a new school than with a nickname like that?! The writing was on the wall. Mike, and grade school, would torture me for the next 6 years.

By third grade, things had gone from bad to hopeless. Not only was I socially inept, but I was also very tall and very smart. Did I mention we were pretty poor, and so most of my clothes were from Target, long before Target clothes were cool? Oh, and I had ginormous glasses and long, stringy hair because I hated washing it and my parents were all about letting us make our own choices. So, let's see: no friends, tall, smart, huge glasses, greasy hair, bad clothes. Yeah, I can't imagine why things didn't go so well for me back then.

I don't intend to write an autobiography here, but I wanted to give you a bit of my background so you can understand my nearly posttraumatic reaction to Eliana starting kindergarten. I cannot bear to watch a person I love as much as her go through something that devastating and truly (and negatively) life-altering. We already got feedback from her preschool teacher that she's getting into fights with some of the other kids because she wants to join their games but does not want to follow their rules. She doesn't understand how to adapt, she gets frustrated, starts crying, and when I hear that, I want to start crying, too. She has an amazing preschool teacher who is helping her learn how to be more flexible, and we're doing our best to model that behavior at home, too, and help her practice. But what if she ends up like me? What if she has no friends by third grade and comes home crying all the time, confused and lonely? What if she feels sick every day because school is so chronically stressful?

To be honest, I think I'll home school her if things go that poorly. I know, some of you probably think it's best to make her deal with it. But I'm not sure I agree. Maybe if I am there to school her but also provide more structured social opportunities to allow her to learn in a more guided fashion how to navigate the social parts of life, maybe she would be spared the trauma I think forever altered my ability to adjust to new situations and new people. I don't want to overreact, and I don't want to assume that just because she's having a few problems now it means she is turning into me. After all, many of the circumstances are different, and she is not me.

Hopefully, all of my fears are unnecessary. Hopefully, Eliana will never lose the amazing self-confidence, sense of humor, and love of people that I'm not sure I ever possessed, and maybe that will serve as a buffer for anything life - and other children - will throw her way in the coming years.

Hair

2008-03-17T21:37:00.011-05:00

Here's Meron today:

Here is Meron's hair:

And here is Cosmo Kramer's hair:

As far as I can tell, if I don't figure out how to style Meron's hair soon, the only way you'll know the difference between Meron and Kramer is if you look at the color of skin and the number of wrinkles.

When we announced our plans to adopt, every black woman we met asked us the same question: "Do you know what to do with her hair?" Being the over-confident woman that I am, I'd always respond, "Oh, I'm very good with hair, I'm sure I'll figure it out when the time comes."

Well, people, the time has come and I have no freakin' clue what I'm supposed to do. Part of the problem is that Meron screams when I so much as attempt to put one stupid barrette in her hair. Imagine how well she'd enjoy having me tug and pull on her hair for hours at a time! There are classes, I think, and websites, but that leads us to problem #2: I'm way lazier than I ever thought I was when it comes to my children's hair. Check this out:

Sure, that's first thing in the morning, but if you think I manage to get it all perfectly laid down flat and styled with cute clips and braids and what not, you are sorely mistaken. It pretty much looks like this all day long, only with one lone little plastic barrette trying desperately to keep enough hair out of her face so that she can eat peanut butter and jelly without wearing half the sandwich as hair product for the rest of the day.

So my new task is to get with the program on styling Meron's beautiful yet unruly loose black curls. And to find some pediatrician-approved sedative to knock her out while I practice.

Flagrant self-promotion

2008-03-10T21:43:00.002-05:00

Hello everyone! I have no idea who is reading this blog, but apparently it's someone other than me, because I promise you I have not logged in 6,000 times. So thanks for checking in, whoever you are! That is, unless you're some creepy child predator, in which case you most definitely do not have my thanks.

Anyway, I'm writing a quick post to encourage all of you environmentally friendly, or environmentally curious, folk to check out my new blog: jollygreenmama.blogspot.com. I've been wasting so much of my time at work (don't tell my boss) reading about all that is Green, I figured I oughtta share what I've learned with anyone who cares. So check it out.

Eliana: preschooler, dancer, total diva

2008-03-05T21:11:00.004-06:00

I'm going to put this on record, because surely my friends and family will not believe me later on when my predictions come true: I did not - I repeat, DID NOT - encourage Eliana to be a performer. I have never pushed her toward dancing or acting, and have never encouraged her to be a total upstager. I have never rewarded her exhibitionist behavior, and have never punished her for not performing on command. And yet, mark my words, this kid is headed toward show business, whether I take her there myself or she bikes herself to the nearest theatre to audition.

The other evening Eliana and I went to a small theatre where several local acts were performing 10-minute samples. I knew she would enjoy the ballet school performance, and hoped she might enjoy watching the Suzuki guitar players (kids) and maybe the magician. Sure enough, she thought it was all pretty great, including the host of the event - a goofy amateur comedian who made very funny faces. While we adults found him a smidge off-target, Eliana thought he was a laugh riot. Of course, he appreciated having a little fan sitting right on the aisle close to the stage, so we weren't 5 minutes into the show before the whole audience knew her name. To make a long story short, by the end of the show, the cheesy country-western patiotic lounge singer had invited Eliana up to the stage with her, most likely because Eliana had been upstaging the poor woman by shaking her groove thing next to her seat like she was at a Hannah Montana concert. Eliana loved being on stage. She was appropriately subdued (she chose to march along to the woman's song, don't ask me where that inspiration came from), but hardly scared.

As we were leaving the theatre, Eliana turned to me and said, "I really loved being on the stage, Mom! That was great!!" She was so wired for the next hour or so, bouncing off the walls and talking about her stage debut without so much as pausing to take a breath, I knew she had been bitten by the stage bug. Not sure what I'm going to do about it, but there's no question there is a part of her that is seriously drawn to performance.

I just wish I had some idea where she got it from.....

Mother Guilt (part 984 of 2,938,218)

2008-02-25T20:54:00.004-06:00

As I have made clear in previous posts, I do not like staying at home with small children. I cannot handle hour after hour of rolling a ball, meandering at .00002 miles per hour down the sidewalk, or reading the same 5-page book for the eight thousandth time that afternoon. It makes me sad in my brain. I get sluggish, lazy, depressed. I have no patience with my children, I call Paul and yell and cry for no reason, I eat too much, I can't seem to figure out how to make it to the gym or take out the garbage. In other words, I kinda stop functioning. So it's no surprise that I do not like staying at home with small children all day every day. In a way, going back to work is simply the obvious choice, as I cannot tolerate the alternative. Plus, I love working. I love having a job that challenges me, gets my brain revved up, puts to use the 28 years of education I endured. I truly enjoy working.

Which may have you wondering, what's my point? If it's so obvious that I should be working and not staying at home, why am I bothering to write about it....again? After all, most mothers out there still work, I'm hardly out in left field.

My answer is, I'm writing about it again because it's not a simply either/or decision. What I dislike most about having children is that there are so few decisions that feel best for me and best for my children. Whether it's our choice of vacation spots, Paul's and my need to get away and be alone together for a few days, or even getting the optimal 30 minutes of exercise every day while still achieving the best-practice 8 hours of sleep every night, the decision that is best for me is so often not what's best for my children. And that is no more obvious than when I'm trying to think through work-home balance.

Now, I'm not saying that mothers working outside the home is bad for children. I don't think it is, especially not when we're talking long-term effects. But in the short-term, well, my kids want me home with them. Eliana wants me taking her to preschool and picking her up, she wants me to take my turn reading a story to her class in the middle of the day or chaperoning a field trip. Meron's wants are somewhat more straightforward: she wants to be touching me every minute during which she is awake. And I can do none of these to their satisfaction while I'm working full-time. Sure, I can drop Eliana off once a week or so, and I can probably manage to chaperone a field trip before the year is up, but it's not as much as the "other mothers" are able to do (all of Eliana's classmates save one other mother work at home). And I don't have a prayer when it comes to satisfying Meron's desire for all Mama all the time. So I usually go to work feeling like I'm failing my children, and go to bed feeling like they did not get enough time with me.

Working part-time is clearly the ideal solution. I have figured out that much, in case you were wondering if my brain was incapable of finding a happy medium. But quite honestly, that is easier said than done. It's a lot easier to do, for example, if you have a few years built up at a job, where you've made yourself indispensable enough that they're willing to let you pull back if it means you'll stick around. But I'm still very much in the early stages of my career. Even when I was planning to go into private practice, the person I was going to going into business with was pushing back on me a bit when I said I wanted to work only 20 hours per week. Not to mention that when you're working part-time in an office or business where most everyone is working full-time, the dynamics can get a bit weird. Not only that, but it becomes all too easy for your 20 hours a week to start looking more like 30 hours per week, plus another 10 that you end up doing from home, because everyone else is still working and so you find yourself getting asked to do something on your one day a week you have blocked off. So unless your part-time job involves working for yourself, it's not always as straightforward as negotiating a cut in hours.

And there's another reason I hesitate to go part-time: I want a career, not just a job. I want to commit myself to a career path and really invest myself in it, become really good at what I do. Working part-time makes that all the more difficult. I mean, really, how much meaningul work can you do in 20 hours? The answer, in case you're wondering, is not much. Or at least, not as much as I want to do.

So there you have it. Two parts of me that are quite large, quite noisy, and fighting for dominance: The part of me that wants to be with my children, wants to sacrifice my sanity a bit if it means they are happier, and the part of me that wants so badly to have a career to be proud of, a career that I can look back on and say, "I did that! Me and my brain and my hard work!!!"

Hopefully some day soon I will figure this all out. Until then, I guess just being aware that those two parts of me exist will have to suffice. In the end, I hope my children grow up to understand that no matter what they think of my choices, I love them very much. And i hope that for myself, I will look back on the choices I made and feel at least mostly good about them.

The First Annual Bly Family Vacation

2008-02-09T20:34:00.000-06:00

I know, I know, you might be asking yourself why I'm calling it our first family vacation since last year Paul, Eliana and I went on a cruise. But now we're a complete family, and so this is the first offical family vacation as I see it. We went to Cancun. If you just rolled your eyes, groaned, or thought to yourself, "Gosh, I didn't picture Terri as a Cancun kind of person," well, you're right. I hate Cancun quite honestly. It's dirty, crowded and hell-bent on setting the feminist and environmental movements back 50 years. However, it's also easy to get to, NWA flies direct from Mpls to Cancun, and where else can you find a Chile's on the beach? When you have two small children, sometimes you have to make compromises, and I felt better knowing we would find food our kids would eat, clean(ish) water, and low crime.

We rented a 3 bedroom, 4 bathroom condo on the beach. That, I have to say, was the best vacation-related decision I have maybe ever made. It was fantastic, and so great to have enough space for the girls to run around when we were inside, and a large patio to dry our suits and a full kitchen for preparing meals. I will attach pictures so I don't have to spend too much time describing the place. But if you're interested in learning more about the condo, you can find it at sunsetbeachhouse.com, and go to the link for the condo in Cancun. The owner has two other homes, one in Puerto Vallarta and the other in Hawaii.

Aside from the Hooters, the garbage, and the commercialization, we had a fine time. I wouldn't call it relaxing, since I'm not sure relaxing and children ever go in the same sentence (or blog entry), but it had some very fun moments.

Eliana is a total fish (see pic). She probably spent close to 4-5 hours in the water every day. When she wasn't swimming, she was playing computer games. I will not be posting a pic of that, as it is just not that interesting to look at, and a little embarrassing as a parent to admit I allow my 4-year-old to play computer games at length. Still, she was a blast to take on vacation. She was last year, too. I think it's pretty clear Eliana isn't hyperactive and in need of medication - she just likes to be really active. She was so happy the whole week, so well-behaved, and just delightful.

I wish I could say Meron was as much fun. I don't know if it was being out of her routine that threw her off, or being in a new place, or the two molars she pushed through the week we were there, but man was she off her game. She was highly suspicious of the ocean until the very last day. The pool she loved, as I imagine for her it just seemed like the biggest tubby in the universe. When she wasn't in the pool, though, she was usually in some stage of grumpiness (see pic from our last night at Chile's). She was particularly difficult when we'd go out for dinner and I have no idea what that was about.

My mom came with us. That was a bit of a godsend, as it gave Paul and I one night to go out and have some time to ourselves. We don't do a very good job of making sure we have dates anymore. It was nice to have that time and I think we need to do more of that in the future. Even though there were some difficult moments, overall it was a nice week, and I would absolutely go back there again with the kids - but only if my mom, or perhaps a nanny, came with us! Here are a few more pics of us enjoying the sun, the sand, and the water.

Happy New Year

2008-01-01T21:05:00.001-06:00

I have never been so glad to see the back side of a year. 2007 was, without question, an exhausting, trying, stressful, emotional rollercoaster. My only wish for 2008 is that it be less of all of those. And that we are able to dig ourselves out of debt. That feels more like a pipedream, though, than some kind of New Year's resolution, so less drama is the official goal for my new year.

Switching topics now. I want to say to any of you reading this blog because you're considering adoption: It is the best decision I think we've ever made. And if you've wondered whether it's possible to bond with an adopted child as well as with a biological one, my experience has been yes, yes, and more yes. I feel a connection with Meron that I'm not even sure I felt with Eliana at the same age. It's possible that Eliana just never slowed down long enough for me to feel as connected with her. She was either awake and moving, or asleep, without much in the way of transitioning from one state to the other. Meron takes her time to fall asleep, and loves to snuggle in with me before doing so. Lately, she has started a beautiful little routine that brings tears to my eyes every night. She finishes her bottle and I hold her so that her head rests of my shoulder, facing away, and I hug her with both my arms and rock her. After a few seconds, she takes a deep breath and lets it out. I do the same. Then she does it again, and I respond. We do that a few times, and then she lifts her head, looks at me, gives me a kiss, smiles her huge dimply smile, and then puts her head back down on my shoulder. I get a little choked up just writing about it. When we do this, I feel an enourmous connection with her, as though we merge our souls for a few brief seconds, we kiss, and then she falls asleep. It is an indescribably healing, spiritual experience for me, and by far my favorite part of the day. So yes, I have so far had the most positive experience with adoption imaginable, and I love Meron more than I ever thought possible.

Lest you think I'm planning to send Eliana to boarding school next year and forget all about her, never fear. She continues to be a challenge, certainly, but she is a brilliant, delightful, energetic little person who will one day make a noticeable impact on the world, that is certain. She and I are still a team, and love taking her to the movies, the theatre, the zoo, the grocery store, you name it. She's my favorite little companion and makes me laugh on a daily basis. She is now in the process of mastering a 300-piece puzzle, is well on her way in reading, plays computer games on her own, and this afternoon when she was upset with me in the car, muttered, "Mom, you're unbelievable." I could say the same thing for her. She's starting to express some fatigue with having a little sister. The first sign of this was when she was sleeping over at her friend's house and told her friend's mother that Riya (her imaginary friend) likes to kill babies. Call me an over-interpreter, but I'm guessing it may be connected to having a baby sister who most decidedly has been getting on her nerves lately.

Meron, by the way, is now walking all over the place. She has not only caught up on all developmental milestones, but is a little ahead of the average. Eliana is ambivalent about all this mobility. Meron can now take apart Eliana's towers, walk over to where she's sitting and pull on her hair, and follow her around making all sorts of loud noises. It's the noise Eliana complains about most, ironically. Eliana hasn't stopped making sound since she emerged from the womb, so I'm not sure she has much of a leg to stand on when it comes to complaining about another young child's sound production, but nevertheless, she doesn't like the noise. She told me yesterday she wants to trade in Meron for a different baby. I'm going to file this under normal and not worry too much about it.

I'll post Christmas pictures very soon, hopefully tomorrow, so check back.

Smart kid

2007-12-11T22:06:00.001-06:00

Eliana scares me with her brain. I know, all kids are smart. And I don't think Eliana is a genius who will, you know, need to attend a special school in Arizona or skip 3 grades in order to stay challenged in school. But she has a mind that causes me to worry about our future. With increasing frequency, I'm thinking boarding school sounds like a great option. Why parent yourself, when you can outsource it to the pros?

What scares me is her ability to come up with reasons why she should get her way. Her ability to manipulate a situation in her favor is uncanny. Example: She was sleeping over at her friend Emi's house, and was pretty set on sleeping in the inflatable bed she brought along. Emi's mother, however, thought the two girls would just sleep in the guest bed. Eliana said no, so Emi's mom said, "Why don't you give it 10 minutes and then see how it goes. I think you'll find the bed is pretty comfortable." Ten minutes later, Eliana comes strolling out and tells Glenda "the bed is hurting my legs. I need to sleep in the other bed." Now, what is Glenda going to say to that? No, I guess your legs will just have to hurt? Of course not. Eliana wins.

The other night, Eliana and I were reading one of the books in the Olivia series. Earlier that day, we had had some disciplinary issues and Eliana ended up in a time out. But by bedtime, I thought it was all water under the bridge. So as we page through the book, we come upon a picture of Olivia and her mom building a huge skyscraper sand castle. "Can you build a sand castle like that, Mom?" she asks, sweetly and innocently. "No, I can't, sweetheart," I reply, suspecting nothing. "Yeah," she says, "You'd have to be a smart mom, who doesn't get mad at her daughter." What, exactly, does one do with that?

My last story before I go to bed is about feeling old. This past weekend, for reasons I won't go into, I taught Eliana the chorus for the early '80's tune, "Everybody's Workin' for the Weekend," by Loverboy. Again, I won't go into details, but it involved a headband Eliana insisted on wearing that morning. She learned the song, it was hilarious, so I told her I'd take her out for ice cream if she sang it for her preschool teacher. Monday evening, she tells me that, sure enough, she performed it for her teacher. "So," I ask, "what did she say?" "She laughed," replied Eliana, "and then she said that I should show it to her mama because her mama would like it a lot." And there it is. My preschool teacher wasn't even born when the song came out, but her mother would sure appreciate the humor.

On that note, it's after 10pm and my aching back and sore feet need to get into bed. I've taken my Geritol, had my tea, and dang it if my knee isn't telling me we're going to get snow tomorrow.

Merry Christmas season

2007-12-08T22:13:00.000-06:00

Well, again, it's been a while. I'd like to start out by saying to all of my friends and family: I'm so sorry you haven't heard much from me lately. I owe many of you thank you cards, emails, and calls, and I've been horrible at all of it. BUt it's not because I don't appreciate all of you. I'm just having trouble finding time for things that don't seem imminent. Horrible excuse, hence my apology. My December resolution is to change all of that.

I'm working now. So far, I love it. I really do. I'm surrounded by smart, ambitious, kind, and supportive people. Because my firm is not hierarchical, there isn't a ton of cut-throat competition. Everyone seems pretty keen on supporting their peers, which is exactly the kind of place I want to be. And I've befriended several women with small children (there are only a few of us, unfortunately), and that has been very helpful as well.

My girls are fantastic. Eliana is sleeping over at a friend's house tonight. She is just so grown up now. I bought a Christmas dress for her last night, and when she tried it on today I got tears in my eyes. She is turning into a beautiful little lady. Smart, too. She's turning into a puzzle fanatic, and is way better at it than I think is normal for someone her age. She has two 100-piece puzzles so well learned, she can do them by herself in about 45 minutes or less. She's learning to read, and is doing quite well. She loves to learn, and I'm pretty sure she is going to LOVE school.

Meron is adorable, and is on the verge of walking. I'll post a few pictures of both of them. She is just so sweet, and such a cuddle-bunny. It's very nice, I must admit, to have a baby who likes to cuddle. Eliana had no time for cuddling, as that took time away from running around, and with her head on my chest she was bound to miss something huge. Meron seems to understand that she can spend a few minutes cuddled up to mama and still manage to catch most of what is going on around her. Thank god, because it's awesome.

There's been quite a lot of debate on the ethics of adoption; ironically enough it's been happening a bunch on an Ethiopian adoption listserv I'm a part of. Most of the people on the message board have already adopted, or are waiting for referrals, but they are debating the ethics of the whole process. I understand the questions - adoption, especially international adoption, is fraught with ethical grey areas and inequalities. That being said, I'm now at the point where I cannot see my adoption of Meron as a bad, or even questionable thing. I can debate and address the enormous societal, global, and racial issues contributing to Ethiopia's poverty, gender inequality, and inability to support millions of their children. And I will continue to seek ways to help Ethiopia become stronger as a nation so that fewer children are forced to leave their families of origin. That being said, I love Meron so much that I cannot see adopting her as the wrong decision. I'm officially blinded to the debate where my daugher is concerned. I can address it on an intellectual level, but please do not question me about my decision to adopt from Ethiopia, because I cannot hold the debate with an open mind, as I will never reconsider the wisdom behind my decision to mother such an amazing, adorable, and beautiful little girl.

Good night everyone. I hope to write again soon. In the meantime, here are a few more pictures.

The Bly Sisters' first Halloween together

2007-11-07T13:23:00.000-06:00

I don't have time to write, but I wanted to post this great pic, complements of my sister who was in town just before Halloween. Eliana doesn't have her face paint on yet, but I think this is a great pic. Eliana had a blast, but Meron only made it to 3 houses before declaring loudly and clearly to all in the neighborhood that she was done for the night.

I have to run, Meron is adding her own special touches to Eliana's latest art project. Enjoy!

Children, jobs, homes, and money

2007-11-01T15:57:00.000-05:00

First, the children.

Before we left for Ethiopia, we had been going through some very difficult times with Eliana. She refused to listen to us, she cried easily and often, and temper tantrums complete with accompanying incontinence were not as rare as they should have been in a 3-year-old. I could not imagine how I was going to handle this when I also had a baby to care for.

And then Meron came home, and Eliana changed.

Many people assumed that Eliana would go through a difficult transition period. We all speculated that she might regress, or get clingy, or hit Meron, or just increase the already problematic behaviors I mentioned above. Instead, she grew up. I've really never seen anything like it. She became a big sister overnight. Suddenly she was fetching diapers, comforting the baby, playing by herself without complaint while I talked to the on-call nurse as Meron vomited in my lap. She was teaching Meron how to roll a ball, splash in the pool, and toss toys in a bucket. She feeds her Cheerios in the backseat to keep her happy on long car rides, and sings to her before bed. She has stopped tantruming, and has been listening better, and is more affectionate. She lives to make Meron laugh, and to this day no one has been able to get the kind of belly laugh out of Meron that Eliana can get without having to do much at all.

In short, I have never enjoyed Eliana as much as I have these last few months. I cannot believe this smart, funny, energetic, and well-behaved child is mine.

But wait! There's more. In addition to getting the world's most fabulous 4-year-old, I have been given the world's most beautiful, funny, and exuberant baby! Meron has quite the personality, and I have never seen a baby who can mimic facial expressions and sounds like this one. I can't help but wonder what that skill will become as she gets older. For about a month now, this child who is not even a year old has been able to say Mama, Thank you (well, close to it), Hi, and Bye Bye. Now she can say "Papa," and makes pretty good attempts at any word we throw at her. She blinks when you blink, puts her hands over her mouth when she coughs because she saw us do it, and points the remote control in the direction of the TV every time and starts pushing buttons at it. She recognizes the Little Mermaid soundtrack and tries to sing along. Truly, she has a memory that is astonishing.

I still have moments of doubt, though. I think about her first mother every day, and wonder what she is thinking, and how she feels about her choice. I wonder how Meron will feel about all of this when she finally understands what happened to her. My worst fear, of course, is that she will reject me as her mother, and hate me for taking her away from Ethiopia. I also struggle with believing I am her mother. I truly love her as much as I did my biological child, but I never forget that another woman has a claim to her as well, and that Meron is not "100% mine." Maybe that's the wrong way to think about it. I mean, she is mine, and I am her mother who loves her, cares for her, and would die for her. But I cannot ignore the knowledge that another woman also thinks of Meron as hers, that the woman who is sharing Meron with me gave birth to her, has a genetic link to her, and is of the same culture, race, and biological family as her. Sometimes, it's hard not to feel as though this other woman has the more legitimate claim to the title of "real mom."

Insecurities aside, the two girls together are an awesome team. Meron worships Eliana, and Eliana is extremely happy having a baby sister. She is so proud of her, and shows her off whenever we're out. Every day at preschool when they do their morning prayer, Eliana tells the class that she would like to pray for her baby sister. When they take their baths together, I watch them splashing around and laughing and know that my family is now complete. Before Meron, I wouldn't have told you that my family was incomplete. But now that we have Meron, I can tell you that is was not complete before, because now I know what "complete" feels like.

And now, onto jobs.

I'm sorry this post will be so long, but there is so much to cover, and since we're moving soon, there's no tellin' when I'll be able to post next.

I've struggled with the stay-at-home-mom vs. working mom thing for a while. I don't mean which one I should be, but rather, what percentage of each do I want to be. I still don't like staying at home full-time. OK, to be honest, "don't like" is really much too tame to fully describe my feelings about it. Staying at home with small children makes me crazy. There are great moments, and there's a part of each day when I think, "I am so grateful I get to have this time with my girls." But much of the time, I'm watching the clock, counting the hours until my husband gets home and I can have another adult to talk to.

So the original plan was to stay at home until January, and then work about 30 hours per week doing private practice. Then Donna (hi, Donna), general manager of a human resources consulting firm in our town, called to meet for breakfast. My husband and I have known Donna for years. The company where she works just happens to be the company where he and I met. I was temping as an admin, he was just starting out as a new consultant. Anyway, that's another story. Donna had been trying to pursuade me to come work for her for about two years, and I kept putting her off, saying that I wasn't ready to work full-time. So when she called to meet for breakfast, I spent the days leading up to that meeting making sure that what I had planned to tell her was in fact the right decision. That plan was to tell her no. The reason hadn't changed: I still had no intention of working full-time. My expectation was that she would be disappointed, would try and change my mind (which she is exceptionally good at), but that I would just think of my girls and would hold firm.

So we met for breakfast, she asked where I stood on the job offer, I gave my rehearsed speech, and her response? "OK, why don't you come work for us part-time then." Let me say, she has never been willing to do that before. But some circumstances there have changed, and she apparently had more flexibility to hire me on a less than full-time basis. I took the offer. The only real down side is that I have to start on November 12th, a good 6 weeks before I had planned on going back to work. But I'll be working 30 hours per week, and we hired a nanny to take care of Meron, as I was having a difficult time finding childcare I felt comfortable with, and the nanny thing just seemed like a better option for now.

I imagine I'll write more on this later, but this post is getting really long and I have to use the facilities, so I think this seems like a good place to end for today. I will cover homes and money in the next post, don't you worry. Life is changing, mostly for the better, so stay tuned.

An update

2007-10-16T22:11:00.000-05:00

Hey everyone,

I just wanted to let you know that we've ordered a new computer, and my goal is to regularly post once we have the new one ordered. My apologies for the delay in updates, but it's hard to write when you don't have a computer. Goes without saying, huh?

The girls are fantastic. Meron's finally crawling, Eliana acts more like a teenager than a preschooler, and I love them both more than I can stand. My career continues to take unexpected turns. Our house remains on the market, and will likely do so until Spring. People are holding fire sales on their houses right about now, and we're just not willing to discount it below what we feel is reasonable. It's one thing to acknowledge a struggling housing market. It's quite another to discount your house to 20th century prices. My surgery is still up in the air, and we'll be moving to the new house within a couple of weeks. We saw King Lear starring Sir Ian McKellan, and it was "bloody fantastic," to quote our Irish-born friend, Maz.

So there's the brief update. I'll write more, with pictures (as soon as we purchase our replacement camera - sigh) as soon as possible, so stay tuned.

Bad Karma

2007-10-05T16:59:00.000-05:00

I want to begin by letting The Universe know that we, the Blys, are truly sorry if we did something to offend, either in this life or in a past one, so please stop beating up on us.

This is going to be a short post. I just don't have much energy in me today, but I wanted to update any of the readers still checking my blog on the latest adventure in our series, Things That Are Not Going As Planned.

Saturday night, between 10:45 pm and 5:45 am, some very bad people crept into our family room via the one unlocked window in the whole place, and silently and without creating any mess whatsoever, walked away with our computer, camera, and videocamera. They now have all of our pictures of Ethiopia, video of Eliana (sooooo creepy to know they have this stuff), and everything I have been working on (writings, recipes, resumes, etc) for the past two years. The worst of it, by far, is that we were all upstairs sleeping when it happened. To think of all of the possible outcomes that would have been immeasurably worse than what transpired....well, I cannot go there because, as I said before, I no longer have the energy.

I've gone through the various stages of post-theft recovery: Freaking Out, Crying, Shaking, Eating Poorly, and finally, Hopelessness. That last stage is kind of pathetic, I know, but I'm having a really hard time staying positive. Our house, which hasn't sold yet and really needs to sell really really soon, was broken into. Our house, which we want to leave more than ever, is not attracting buyers. So it's hard not to feel hopeless.

To spare you all from a longer version of my pity party, i'll end there. I'm a little tired today, as I've been sleeping on the couch in the living room all week while Paul's been away on business, armed with a fireplace poker in case the intruders return for more. Not sure what I'd do with the weapon, since I can't see more than 4 inches in front of me without my contacts, but I may be a frightening enough image for them - a blind woman screaming and flailing a poker about in their general direction - that they might decide it's not worth it and leave. That's my hope and plan, anyway, should they come back.

Wish us luck, everyone. If you're the praying type, feel free to send a few our way. If you're the home-buying type, don't let my tale of thievery scare you - it's a lovely home as long as you lock all the windows and doors at night. And I hear security systems aren't that expensive.

Where there's smoke (or elevated liver enzymes) there's fire (or gallstones)

2007-09-18T20:39:00.000-05:00

Yup, I have gallstones. Twins, and apparently they are somewhat on the large side. And I also probably have gallbladder disease. Could be worse, right? It could have been cancer. Of course, it could be better. It could have been nothing. But at least this a) explains much of the pain I've been experiencing for the last year and a half, and b) explains the liver enzyme elevation. It also comes with a simple cure - you just take the damn thing out. And by thing I mean the gallbladder. And therein lies the down side. It's looking like I will need surgery. Most likely it will be laparoscopic (I really hope my history of c-section doesn't complicate that), and then it only takes a few days to recover. It also means a day surgery situation, although I have to say that an excuse to get away from the house for a few days, have people waiting on me hand and foot, wouldn't have been the worst news ever....

I'm feeling OK about it. Probably because it really could have been worse. Honestly, it's not great news because I really don't need surgery right now, thanks. We kind of have our plates full at the moment, and I have a rapidly expanding baby to lug around, which won't be possible for a few days post-surgery.

But I'm probably not going to die, and that's a really big deal.

Speaking of baby, I promise I will post more pictures and write about her progress soon. In brief, she's humungous. Or maybe I should use the newly Webster-ized term, ginormous. How do you spell that, anyway? Anyway, the kid is big. She's chunkalicious.

Eliana loves pre-school and continues to be the world's best big sister.

I promise to write more later. Now it's off to bed for some Harry Potter before sleep overtakes me. Thanks to all of you who expressed your concern and sent me positive thoughts and prayers.

Reflections on mortality

2007-09-13T20:38:00.000-05:00

Tonight I'm using my blog to sort through some thoughts I've had regarding news I received from my doctor yesterday.

I went to her because I've had a lot of pain and tightness in various areas of my body, and I was growing a little concerned that there was more to it than lack of yoga. She agreed that my symptoms seemed a bit concerning, so I had some blood drawn and x-rays taken, and off I went. Two days later, I have a message on my cell phone:

"Hi Terri, this is Dr. Cuddihy calling to follow-up with the blood work and x-rays. Basically, the x-rays look good, no signs of inflammation or other problems that would explain the back pain, so I guess you should just keep stretching, doing yoga, and take it easy. There was, however, something that came up in your blood work that has me a little concerned...."

This is when you know something's about to come out of her mouth that you don't want to hear. Cancer? AIDS? Seriously, it seemed like 15 minutes passed between the first part of the sentence and the punch line. Turns out, my liver enzymes are high. Quite high, actually. One of the two types they measure, the AST level, is twice the upper limit for normal. If you look up ALT and AST levels, and peruse the list of possible causes for elevated liver enzymes , none of them are good. Well, except the possibility of medication or herbal supplements causing the elevation, but considering I'm not taking any meds or supplements, those aren't likely suspects.

So here I am, trying to stay calm while waiting for Monday to arrive, when they start what I'm guessing is going to be a lengthy battery of tests, ultrasounds, god only knows what else. Given my tendency toward hypochondriasis (which I believe I discussed in a previous post), staying calm takes considerable effort. Add to that the strong recommendation that I steer clear of alcohol until they know what's wrong (apparently, when your liver is sick you're not supposed to make it work extra hard, go figure), that means no red wine at the end of my day to help me relax. I guess I'll have to learn to relax the natural way, like that's the way our bodies were meant to do it.

I've always wondered what it would be like to get That Call from the doctor, the one that carries with it potentially disastrous, life-changing news. And while this wasn't really That Call, it certainly has potential, and it's certainly the closest i've come to receiving one. I know one thing - I'm not ready to die. I have two little girls and I ain't leaving them. And I guess I know a few other things, too: I'm not ready to be an invalid, I'm not interested in undergoing surgeries, chemo, bed rest, long hospital stays. And I know I'm scared. Really, freakin' scared.

Addendum:

I just did a few more internet searches and found that antibiotics can cause elevated liver enzymes. I just took a whole series of those for strep throat, so to keep myself sane until Monday, I have concluded that this whole thing is a simple after-effect of the antibiotics, plain and simple. No worries necessary. Now I can go to bed.

A Long Time Gone

2007-08-31T15:10:00.000-05:00

Clearly, I haven't been posting for a while, and I'm sorry to any of you who have been checking in for updates. I guess I just got caught up in other things. Like trying to sell our house, make some money, raise a baby...little things like that. There is so much that has gone on, I guess I've been avoiding writing it all down because I knew it would take time. Time that should be spent cleaning the kitchen in case someone comes by to see the house.

But let's start with that. The house. Boy, if you don't have to sell your house right now, by all means, don't. It is a SLUGGISH market, which you've no doubt heard by now. No one is buying, and too many people are sellin'. I personally blame the media. All this talk about the housing market going to hell is scaring people away, people who would probably have no trouble getting a mortgage, perfectly good people who should be buying OUR house. The fact is, there is nothing inherently wrong with the housing market - it's actually a really good time to buy, if you have good credit and a reasonable income. You just can't buy more than you can really afford like you could a few years ago, and that is a good thing. The bottom line, though, is that right now we do not have any prospective buyers and I'm doing my darndest not to freak out yet.

On to other things.

The baby is good. She's really good. Great even. Attachment is going so well she won't let anyone hold her when I'm around. When discussing this from a detached point of view, this is awesome and exactly what we want to happen. From a more personal vantage point, it can be really hard. When Paul comes home, that's supposed to be my "me time," at least enough time to make dinner, anyway. But with each passing day of mother-baby bonding, she becomes less interested in being with papa minus mama. It's all mama all the time, and it can be exhausting. Today at Eliana's gymnastics class, a bee got in her bonnet (not literally) about something, and man did she let everyone in the entire gymnasium know how unhappy she was. From then until bedtime, she made it very clear that I would be the only one holding her, and woe befell me if I tried to shirk my duties as baby-holder. When papa came near, she grabbed a fistfull of my neck skin with one hand and clutched my shoulder with the other, laying her head firmly on my chest. No, there is no question that attachment is indeed happening, and I'm a little nervous about blowing it somehow.

And man is she gorgeous. Here are two from last week. Have you ever seen such a beautiful baby?!

I'm pretty in love with this little face here. She's very smiley (as long as I'm within 8 inches of her person), sleeps well most of the time, and eats like a champ. With each day she gets a little bit stronger, and cognitively she is right on target. I can't imagine a more perfect baby. We really, really got lucky.

Then there's my other baby. She's also doing really well, especially when I let her nap in the afternoon. We've concluded that sleep is really the key to Eliana's well-being and good behavior. When she's tired, she miserable and takes it out on us. The problem is when she naps in the afternoon, she's unable to fall asleep at night until close to 10pm. This happens even when I wake her up after an hour. It's hard to know which is worse - a grumpy kid or one who falls asleep when we do. Today I went with happy night owl. Yesterday I chose the grumpy option, and coped with the torture by taking pictures of her, like so:

This is my pouty little super model, Eliana.

And finally, before I crawl into bed, I have to put something out there: As much as I love my girls, I really, really, really don't like being a stay at home mom. I know there are thousands of women out there who would give anything to quit their jobs and stay at home tending to the little ones, and I should be grateful that I have the option to stay home for more than six weeks, but I am climbing the walls. Hour after hour of rolling a ball back and forth, doing puzzles, reading Cinderella, helping a baby learn to sit up....it doesn't exactly stimulate one's mind. It has its really great moments, and I recognize its importance in the little ones' lives, but 14 hours a day is just too much. It's too much of anything, really. I need a break. I need to feel my brain working on more than just figuring out what I did with the canister of formula I swear I just bought. I envy women who feel completely fulfilled gluing foam flowers onto pipe cleaners, playing ABC Bingo, and rolling around on the floor all day, but I am never going to be one of them. I just have to decide at what point my need to be away does not come at the expense of my newest child's development as a secure, happy individual.

Pictures from the trip to Hosanna

2007-08-03T15:17:00.000-05:00

OK, I have to do this quickly, so please forgive the lack of formatting and descriptions these pictures will have. I think I'm going to try and figure out how to make a slide show from them, and they will look much better once I'm able to put that together. But anyway, here are some from the trip south, to the region where Meron was born (she continues to be the most enjoyable baby ever, by the way, and I am completely and totally in love with her). I hope to post pics of Meron this weekend. In the meantime, enjoy the beautiful countryside of Southern Ethiopia!

Things are gonna get hairy

2007-08-01T21:19:00.000-05:00

I may have to take a bit of hiatus from my beloved blog for a week or two. I'm still going to post some pictures very soon, possibly tomorrow, but that may be all I have time for until our house goes on the market.

I'm sitting on my couch watching the continuous coverage of the bridge collapse in Minneapolis. What a horrifying event, so surreal to think that it's only a few short miles from my house, and that I drive over that bridge numerous times every week. In other words, it really could have been us. What a fragile thing life is, and how quickly it can be taken away.

We learned about the tragedy immediately after our realtor, Mike, left us with a mind-numbing list of things we need to do before putting the house on the market. What a ridiculous thing selling one's house has become. The "stager" (the woman who creates false impressions of a house using rented furniture and wants us to pretend that children don't actually live in the house, or that if they do, they spend their days sitting in quaint chairs near the fireplace reading Chicken Soup for the Soul) has all sorts of ideas regarding what all needs to happen to the house to get it ready for sale. Some of her points are valid, and some are simply unnecessary. I'm sorry, potential buyer, if you don't like my red love seat, but hey, you don't get to keep it anyway, so put on your imagination hat and picture my family room without it. I think it looks cool. Clearly I'm a little defensive when someone suggests I should take my furniture out of my house and put rented crap in it, but I think we have nice furniture and I have no intention of renting something else. All in all, Mike thinks we may end up coughing up close to $5000 getting the house ready. God, where did I put my Xanax?

Enough about stupid house crap. I only included it to explain why I may not be posting as much for the next couple of weeks, as most of my free time will be spent boxing up books, painting walls, and removing any trace of family living.

On to more interesting topics. Both of my girls are exceeding expectations, I am proud to announce. Many people have been asking about Eliana and how she is doing with the new addition to the family. She is doing amazingly well. Truly, she has risen to the occasion and is officially my big girl. Meron adores her, and Eliana makes many genuine attempts to play with her. Eliana's favorite game is to suddenly rush at Meron and give her a big hug. Unfortunately, from an observer's standpoint, it looks more like a tackle, and the poor baby nearly always ends up on her back with a preschooler on top of her, looking more than a little discombobulated.

Meron slept through the night last night, and napped on a regular schedule today, waking up after an hour or so. I think she has officially (and so quickly!) adjusted to the time difference. I am amazed and grateful that she was able to adapt so quickly. She fussed a couple of times during the night, but all I had to do was put my hand on her back and she quieted down. She is a noisy and busy sleeper, moving a lot and making little noises periodically. I wear ear plugs at night now, but it's way better than having to get up for the day at 3am.

So far, I am really enjoying parenting a baby, and I could not have said that with my first, which leaves me feeling sad and a bit guilty. I have no idea what role hormones and first-time parent cluelessness played in my difficulties dealing with Baby Eliana, but so far anyway, parenting a baby like Meron has been much more enjoyable. It took me about 3 days to adjust, whereas with Eliana it took, oh, about 9 months. With my first child, I was always stressed out, always worried about when and for how long she would sleep, when and how I was going to eat my lunch, when and how I would ever piece together more than 5 hours of sleep, and whether life would feel enjoyable again. Yes, it really felt that dire for a few of those early months. I guess I'll just have to pay for Eliana's future therapy sessions, when she realizes just how much she and I traumatized each other during that first year, and try to keep the "you were never this easy" comments to myself.

Reality has officially slapped me in the face (at 3am)

2007-07-30T10:08:00.001-05:00

My my my, is jet lag ever fun. And if you think it's fun when traveling all by yourself, imagine how much more fun it can be with an infant who has no concept of it, sleeps when she darn well wants to sleep, and wakes up guided by the same principle. I've been up today since about 3:15am.

As if that isn't enough fun for one person to have all by herself, Eliana came down with a fever yesterday, our first full day back. By noon yesterday, her temperature was 102.5, which means that she can't go to daycare today, which means that I am home today with both children, running on about 5 total hours of sleep. I guess I'll have to recover from jet lag on my own time.

I feel like I shouldn't be complaining, as Meron is an absolute doll when she's awake, albeit a tad fussier than before the trip home (and I will discuss the trip home in a minute), but considering all she's been through in the last few days, I think she's doing an amazing job adjusting to her new life. Aside from the sleep issue, I couldn't really ask for more. I just hate being sleep deprived. It really does a number on my emotional and mental functioning.

So, the trip home. What an adventure that was. But not because of Meron - she was the world's best baby, sleeping for about 14 of the 30 hours of our journey, and a miracle baby during the hours she was awake. I, however, was a mess, starting with the Frankfurt-Chicago leg of the trip, when I experienced the worse vomiting attack I've maybe ever had in my life. Attention: Skip the rest of this paragraph if you're squeamish. I threw up so hard, it was pouring out my mouth and nose. I don't know if I've ever barfed through my nose before. The worst part of it is that everything smelled like vomit for the rest of the day. I couldn't get the stench out of my nose (literally). I threw up one more time on that flight, narrowly missing some woman's hand. I had rushed to the bathroom, knowing that I was about to be sick, and all of the stalls were occupied. I turned to the woman next to me, announced to her that I was about to throw up, and she promptly handed me a sick sack, and before her hand was an inch from the bag, I threw up in it. And then threw up again, in front of a crowd of people gathering to watch the barfing lady. It wasn't at all embarrassing, humiliating, disgusting, or frightening. No, not at all. I have no idea where the sickness came from. I guess when you're in Africa, living with a bunch of kids who just came from an orphanage, all seemingly infected with some sort of virus or bacterial infection, pinpointing the origin of a stomach bug...well, let's just say I haven't bothered to give it much thought. Paul had thrown up once on the Addis-Frankfurt flight, so maybe it was something we both ate. I was a little concerned that it might be e coli or something I picked up from changing Meron's diapers, but since I had no other major symptoms, I decided to put my hypochondriacal tendencies on hold for a couple of days. I'm feeling better today, so it probably isn't anything fatal. Whew.

The trip was rough for me from the beginning. As we were waiting in the living room of the Guest House, Paul returned with Meron's Life Book, containing the missing pieces of Meron's story, and quotes from Desalech. I was unprepared for this, particularly the details regarding Meron's story. I was suddenly emotionally overwhelmed, sobbing without the ability to control myself, grieving for Desalech, grieving for Meron, and just so, so, so sad for both of them. I wish I didn't know as I much as I do, and I wish I didn't have to pass along the information to Meron some day. I will likely seek advice when the time comes, as I really have no idea how to prepare Meron for such a story.

And then we were off to the airport. I looked like hell, as I still had pink eye, although that was hard to discern from the red puffy eyes I earned from sobbing. And we still had 30 hours of travel left to go.

By the time we pulled into Chicago, I had pink eye, 4 hours of sleep, dried vomit in my nostrils, cramps in my legs and back side, and very sore back muscles from carrying Meron in the Baby Bjorn while also toting a stuffed diaper bag packpack. I tried to catch a few minutes of sleep on a bench at the airport, while Meron dozed on the floor under Paul's supervision. It helped enough to get me through the rest of the trip, but by the time we reached Minneapolis, I was completely useless, nauseous, and exhausted. And you can imagine how damn sexy I looked. Meow. It was the longest wedding anniversary Paul and I have ever had, lasting 32 hours, and boy was it ever romantic.

I guess that's enough for today. I do want to add, since the tone of this post has been somewhat negative, that Meron is still delightful. She's more demanding than she was before, but that is a good sign. She's learning to expect more from me, and is learning how to ask for it. She's eats like a horse, and doesn't know when to stop, and today she has barfed up half her bottle, twice (is it just me, or is today's post developing a theme?). I think she finds the bottle comforting, which is why she demands it more than her tummy allows. The little stinker won't take a pacifier, though, and so I'm wondering what options we have to allow her the comfort factor of the bottle without the overfeeding problem. I guess that's a post for another day.

Tomorrow I plan to post all of our pictures from the trip. So tune in!

Last days in Ethiopia

2007-07-27T08:14:00.000-05:00

This will be my last post before returning to the States. And quite frankly, I’ll be lucky if I’m able to make it over to the office to post before we leave. Of course, now we have Meron in our care full-time, which gives me less time to write. So forgive me if I leave out some details.

Speaking of having Meron with us full-time, our little trooper surprised us last night by sleeping 10 hours straight! I have no expectations that this will last, and the days after our return when she is recovering from jet lag are likely to be a real treat. But for now, she is sleeping well at night, and taking a couple of decent (albeit a bit short) naps. It can’t help that our house here is constantly chaotic. There are a total of 12 kids under the age of 19, and over half of them are under the age of 6. So things get pretty crazy and loud, and I’m surprised Meron is able to sleep at all. Right now I am sitting on my bed typing on my computer, and Meron is in her crib, having just woken up from her nap, and she’s playing with her sock, sucking her thumb, and staring at me, without making so much as a peep. The weirdest part of her napping behavior is her tendency to sleep with her eyes partly open. That’s totally creepy. My theory is that it’s just too much work for her eyelids to cover that much surface area.

Oh, there she goes again – she’s pretty much nodded off to sleep again, but her eyes are half-way open. So bizarre.

Anyway, we went back to the market today to get a few more gifts, memorabilia, and the like. So to all family members reading this: don’t be surprised if your Christmas gift looks like it may have come from Ethiopia. Things aren’t as cheap here as I had hoped, so we didn’t go overboard with the souvenirs, but I bought another shawl, and some nice jewelry, plus a traditional Ethiopian dress for Eliana.

Yesterday afternoon we went to the farewell ceremony. It was pretty emotional, and I cried through most of it. They asked if we had anything we wanted to say, and while I most certainly did, I couldn’t talk because I was crying and knew that talking about my appreciation for everything the nannies have done for our baby would tip me right over the edge. So I communicated to Paul in sobbing whispers what I wanted him to say, and he told the staff how much we value the care they have given our daughter, and that we promise to raise her as a proud Ethiopian-American and to teach her all about her heritage and her home country. We mean it, too. There is so much about this culture that we have come to love, and we want our daughter to be proud to say that she was born in Ethiopia. I also have to interject that only the men spoke at the ceremony, which bothered me a little. We have some fairly conservative, traditional families in our group, and there seems to be a man-in-charge atmosphere around here. Had I had the wherewithal to speak, I would have done so at the ceremony to not only express my heartfelt appreciation for the staff, but also to make a little tiny bit of a point. Oh, and they also asked if anyone wanted to pray during the final prayer circle part of the ceremony, and again, it was only the men who spoke up. I’m not a big public prayer, so I was less tempted to interject my voice during that part.

After the ceremony, everyone ate cake, including all of the toddlers at the Care Center who attend the ceremony every Thursday. I’m guessing for these kids, the weekly farewell parties are a highlight, since they get to eat cake and sing songs, knowing that one day it will be their turn to put their hand print on the wall and go back to the guest house with their new parents.

Meron is asleep again, and her eyes are completely closed.

I think it’s fair to say that both Paul and I are ready to return home now. We miss Eliana a bunch, and I’ll be ready to go back to cooking my own meals, sleeping in my own bed, and driving along paved roads. Boy, that’s something I will appreciate way more than before: paved roads. The roads here are just awful. It’s appalling that the government can’t prioritize the public enough to pave the freakin’ roads. The downtown streets are paved, but as you head to the outskirts of town, the roads are more what you would expect driving through the uninhabited mountains of Montana than a large, densely populated city. This is a city in which owning a Humvee would make sense. Other things I am looking forward to: sleeping in a city where wild dogs do not own the night. I am so tired of stray dogs barking and fighting from 10pm until dawn. It’s a nightmare. I’m not a violent woman, but if I had a gun on my person, I cannot say for certain that I would not use it at 3am, when I simply cannot take any more barking. I also won’t miss being stared at, being asked for money, or getting mud all over my shoes and pants. I won’t miss having to use bottled water for everything. I feel very guilty when I look at the hundreds of water bottles piling up outside the guest house, waiting to be taken to the nearby landfill (I’m assuming this, anyway; I don’t actually know where they take the bottles, but I’d be stunned if they recycled them). I won’t miss the pollution, the questionable toilet situation, or the daily stroll past the decapitated goats lying on the side of the road next to their heads and viscera. I won’t miss having my bathroom floor constantly covered in dirty water. I guess in the end I am truly a spoiled American, used to the comforts that come with privilege, and eager to get back to them.

But I will miss the beautiful women walking down the street on their way to church, cloaked in their traditional white shawls they wear on Sundays and holidays, carrying their parasols that are also part of the Orthodox tradition. I will actually miss the Muslim call to prayer every couple of hours, as I found it very peaceful and meditative. I will miss the sense of accomplishment that I had at the end of every day for navigating my way through my little corner of the city. I wish I could return to the Ethiopian countryside, as I already miss that, even though things did not turn out as I had hoped. But my goodness, was it beautiful.

Well, it looks like Meron is waking up for good, and she has perfect timing, for it is time for dinner.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

It’s Friday morning, and this is definitely the last entry I’ll be able to make before we leave. We’ll be heading to the office to hopefully access the Internet and send this last update to my friend Jessica, who’s been kind enough to post my entries onto my blog, as I can’t access blogspot from Ethiopia.

All of the children seem to have something wrong with them. Meron has an ear infection, congestion in her lungs, and is most definitely teething. Another child has a blister on his thumb, origin unknown. One of the girls has some yellow puss-y thing on her lip, the other baby has an infected scratch on her back, and both the two year old and I have pink eye. It’s time to go back to the land of modern medicine and relatively sterile environments, so that we can all get healthy.

We heard some sad, or at least strange, news about Meron’s first mother. Because it is unusual and could be interpreted a number of ways, I think Meron should be the first to hear it, so I won’t go into details here. The bottom line is that we have no idea if she will ever receive the picture we brought of Meron and of us, or if she will ever know for certain that her daughter is in good hands, will receive a good education, and will be loved beyond all reason. I am thankful that I have a few years to figure out how to tell Meron all of what we have learned, and to help her make sense of something that cannot truly make sense to someone living in America.

Lastly, as I held a sleeping Meron in my arms this morning, I knew for certain that I will be able to develop as strong an attachment to her as I do to Eliana. I do not look at her and think, “Well, this is not my real child and I cannot imagine loving her as much as Eliana.” It seems ridiculous to even type the words. She is my real child, I already love her (which surprises me somewhat), and I know that it won’t be long before I have that throw-myself-in-front-of-a-train-for-her love that I have for Eliana. I can feel it coming on every time I look at my little peanut.

I imagine my next post will be from the U.S., and unless things go much better than expected, it may be a while before I’ve had enough sleep to post anything coherent. Thank you for following along with our journey to Ethiopia. I hope you have enjoyed my ramblings and musing, and I’m sure there are more to follow. Wish us luck on our journey home and for the days the follow as we all adjust to being a family of four.

Days 4 and 5

2007-07-25T08:22:00.000-05:00

I am sitting on my bed in the guest house, wrapped in my Ethiopian shawl that I purchased from the market today. I imagine I might wear this a great deal back home, once the chilly weather sets in. It's cold here in Addis, and women everywhere are wrapped in these white cotton embroidered blankets. I can see why they are so fond of them. I wish I had purchased more.

We're a little over half-way through our trip to Ethiopia, and I feel like we've settled into a groove. Of course, we don't have Meron 24/7 yet (that happens later today), but things are going very smoothly for us. I think Paul and I have benefited from traveling internationally before. I think you get better at adjusting to newness with each trip beyond U.S. borders. Having said that, last night we ate at the local pizza shop, a nicely decorated restaurant with a brick oven, delicious food, and lovely red wine, and it was really nice to escape Ethiopia, if only for an hour. For that one peaceful hour, I didn't have to put forth that little extra effort that comes with being in a completely foreign environment. We walk over muddy, rugged roads every day to the Care Center, occasionally having to head up to the grass to avoid the goats being slaughtered right there on the street. People are staring at us wherever we go, and very few people in our neighborhood speak English.

Another difficult aspect of being in Ethiopia is there is no fumbling one's way through Amharic, because they use characters, not letters. In, say, Mexico I can put my pathetic Spanish to use, and can at least read the letters on signs, menus, and in stores, and sound them out loud with some accuracy. I've also heard enough Spanish to understand what someone is saying to me (as long as they speak slowly and simply). But here, there is none of that. If they can't speak English, I'm screwed. Our driver for the Guest House doesn't speak English well at all, and the lack of communication between the clueless Americans and our Amharic driver has caused some mild frustration.

So as I said before, it is chilly here. Yesterday was downright cold. It's been raining quite a lot, which we expected, but I did not expect the cold temperatures. I did not bring enough warm clothing for Meron, so my hope is that she doesn't spit up too much or blow out her 3 warmish outfits.

Speaking of Meron, we got to spend a lot of time with her yesterday, since our U.S. Embassy visit took longer that we expected. We have great news: she took a bottle. The other baby here did not, so we're feeling pretty lucky. They cup feed the infants here – which is quite a spectacle – and so none have ever taken a bottle before. But our spunky little Meron took one right away. Granted, it took her about a half hour to drink an 8 oz bottle, but I imagine that will get better with practice. She seemed to enjoy the experience, and was in a fantastic mood the rest of the afternoon. And then she fell asleep in my arms. Oh, and that reminds me of our other great piece of news: she reached for me! Paul was holding her and she was having a great time playing with his face and looking out the window of our van, and then she started to fuss and reached over for me. Soon after that, she fell asleep. I'm going to take this as a sign that Meron is attaching to her new mother. When she woke up about 90 minutes later, she seemed pretty happy to see us. She is such a chatty baby, and so intense!! She smiles more every time we see her, and reveals more of her personality every day. I think she's a good match for Eliana. So far, she doesn't strike me as the kind of kid who will let her older sister push her around. She also seems pretty extroverted, from what we can tell at this young age. She is intensely curious about everybody in our travel group, and loves playing with the other baby. She is outward-focused, as was Eliana. She reminds me a great deal of Eliana when she was a baby, with the notable exception of her ability and willingness to sleep in a car. I sure hope that doesn't change. She's also pretty easy to entertain. She thought Paul's buttons were pretty fascinating, and couldn't get enough of the square cement pillar in the middle of the Embassy waiting room. She felt each side with her hands, then pulled Paul around to explore what was around the corner, and each time she discovered a new side of the pillar, she would look up at Paul in surprise, as if to say, "Would ya' look at that – there's another side!!" A curious child indeed.

As I said earlier, we went to the market today. They basically take us to the tourist market, where I'm pretty sure we got ripped off. But they apparently don't think we'd be safe at the regular, open air market that Ethiopians go to. That bums me out, because we drove through it and there are so many things I'd like to look at. And I know we'd get better prices than what we got at the markets they took us to. Nevertheless, we bought some interesting gifts and souvenirs, and we're hoping to go back tomorrow. I think our shopping trip was somewhat shorter than usual because the other families brought their newly adopted older children, and their attention spans are pretty short. Granted, they are very well-behaved children, but children are children, after all, and they only want to spend so much time in teeny-tiny little shops full of breakable goods and other items they're not allowed to touch. On the way home, we saw many beggars and people sleeping on the sidewalks. I notice myself hardening my heart here, separating myself from the reality of this place, in order to cope with the poverty, the likes of which I have never seen. I turn away from the blind man whose irises are covered with cataracts. I avoid looking at the three crippled women begging on the sidewalks, or the man who approached us outside the shops, whose feet were completely disfigured and useless, painfully dragging his way along the sidewalk on an old pair of crutches, hoping to get a few birr from the Americans.

This afternoon we will go to the good-bye ceremony, where the nannies and Care Center staff officially say farewell to the children they have cared for and loved, and entrust them to their new parents. I imagine it's very sad for Ethiopians to see their children leave the country with American parents. They are such proud people, and they value their children above all else. It must be very difficult to be confronted with the reality that they cannot care for them all.

Day 2

2007-07-23T08:10:00.000-05:00

Another day, another lack of clue where to begin. How can I capture our time in Ethiopia with words? I could spend hours carefully choosing each word I write and still, I know that it will at best be a Polaroid picture of what we have experienced so far. But I will try. Just know, dear reader, it is merely a sketch that I am drawing for you, and nothing more.

Actually, before I begin, I want to say this to anyone who has done little, if any, international travel: Do it. It will change your life. And to anyone who is considering adopting from Ethiopia but is hesitant to make the trip: Please don't be. This trip will be one of the most important and life-altering ones you ever make. The staff at Children's Home Ethiopia goes well out of their way to help those with little international experience transition gently to life in a third-world country.

OK, now to our day. We were up at 4:30am after a difficult night's sleep (due, in large part I imagine, to jet lag). Breakfast was at 4:45, and by 5am we were off. It was dark and rainy as we bounced along in our Land Rover, driven by Sagae (pretty sure that's not how it's spelled), our driver and guide for the day. But by sunrise, the clouds were rolling away and we witnessed the sun coming up over the low mountains of southern Ethiopia.

I wish I could describe the landscape of Ethiopia. Alas, I'm not much of a nature writer, so my hope is to upload some pictures soon to spare you my inadequate descriptions. Let me say, though, that it was as peaceful as driving through France, or Vermont. Sloping hills dotted with thatched roof huts and small plots of farmland, low mountains green with the recent rains, even dormant volcanoes hiding ancient monasteries at their peak. We were so fortunate to be traveling down to the southern region during rainy season, as everything was bright green and lush, with rushing rivers and blooming tropical plants everywhere. It was relentlessly beautiful.

Ethiopians walked along the road, with their donkeys, bundles of wood, children, goats, cows, water, or their daily goods from the market. Each village was easily identifiable as primarily Muslim or Christian. In Ethiopia, Sagae informed us, Muslims and Christians have lived peacefully together – until recently, that is, as extremist Islamist ideology has slowly drifted into the country. Every once in a while, we'd reach a village made up primarily of mud homes slammed together side by side along the road, almost like townhomes, only made of mud and not anything like townhomes. There is no question that poverty is everywhere, although it's easy to pretend it isn't so bad, given how peaceful it looks from the inside of a Land Rover, and the smiles on so many of the beautiful faces we pass by. Truly, we Americans have forgotten how little it takes to be happy.

Sagae let us stop and take pictures whenever we asked, and also answered all of my questions about Ethiopian culture, history, politics, and impressions of Americans. He was a willing teacher, and he and I chatted for much of the drive down to Hosanna. Paul was pretty tired, and has had a stomach ache for the last day or so, so he was pretty silent, asking only a few questions. Segae informed us that sometimes when a girl is born, and the father in particular wanted a boy, they will say "let her be," which is the meaning of Tihun. It does make you pause and wonder if we should even keep Tihun as her middle name, if that is how the name is often used.

Upon our arrival to Hosanna, where we hoped to meet Tihun's first mother, we stopped at the nicest hotel in town to use the facilities, and have some coffee. Believe it or not, I have been drinking the coffee here straight, with only some sugar and a little milk powder if available. Considering that less than a year ago I didn't like coffee at all, and until we came here could not drink coffee unless it was combined with a bunch o' milk and some chocolate, I've come a long way. The hotel was beautiful, with marble floors and intricate woodwork everywhere, including on the ceilings. The rooms were less luxurious, and the toilet had some of its plumbing missing.

Although the hotel was lovely and relaxing, everyone was anxious to get to the CHSFS office to meet the birth families. As we arrived, swarms of children from the town gathered to see the Americans, hoping that we had brought trinkets, candy, or some other treat for them. Fortunately for them, the 4 teens from South Dakota brought trinkets, and passed them out while their parents met with the birth mother and father of their 3 newly adopted siblings. Tsion, our social worker, walked up to us as we came through the gate to inform us that Desalech, Tihun's first mother, had not yet arrived. Tsion said they had contacted her, and that Desalech said that she would come, but she was not there. Then they informed us that Desalech would have to walk for 3-4 hours before she would have access to transportation that would take her to Hosanna. In an attempt to reassure us, they said that if she showed up after we had gone, they would drive her up to Addis to meet with us there. I'm not hopeful. Tihun, she named her, and perhaps Tihun is what she meant.

The news hit me pretty hard. I don't know if it was the lack of sleep, or the pent up emotions about the whole situation, but I sat down and started to cry. Everyone else's birth families had shown up, why not ours? It wasn't fair. Why couldn't they go to her and bring her to the center themselves? Why did she have to find her own transportation? They made it clear that they made every effort to help the birth families get to the care center, but from what I could tell, they hadn't done anything to directly assist Desalech with the trip. I wanted to meet her so badly. I didn't know why the need was so strong; maybe it was for my own sense of closure, my own need to let Tihun's mother know that she would be loved and well taken care of. Maybe it was sadness for Tihun that I could not tell her that I had met her mother and that she had said this or that to me about Tihun. That I could not tell Tihun that her mother told me of her love for her daughter, that I could not tell Desalech of my love for her daughter. I had such big plans for this moment, and now they were dashed, and I could do nothing.

The children from town stared at me while I wept. Maybe they had never seen a white woman weep before. For all I know, maybe weeping isn't done very often at all. After all, you probably have to be pretty tough to make it in the kinds of impoverished conditions in which they all lived. I tried distracting myself by showing the children my rain boots, black with checkered laces. They laughed, although I'm not sure if it was at my boots, or at the very white legs poking out over them.

Skip ahead to the trip back. I was tired from crying, and devastated that we left without meeting Desalech. I wondered why she hadn't come, and if we'd ever get to meet her, or even have a picture of her. I chatted with Segae, again in an effort to distract myself from the sadness, while Paul sat silently again, occasionally nodding off. He was so tired, poor guy, and his stomach still hurt. Quite the birthday for my husband.

We were exhausted beyond reason when we got back to the guest house, physically and – for me at least – emotionally drained from our long day. The drive to Hosanna is 4 hours one way, much of along bumpy roads. We collapsed in our bed and slept for an hour. After dinner, we walked the 15 minutes to the care center and visited our beautiful baby. With every visit, I fall more and more deeply in love with this precious little person. And I think the feeling is mutual. We see more of her personality each time. Today she was pretty interested in her papa. She took turns playing with each of us, testing us to see what we would do when she, say, put her hand out our mouths, or tapped our foreheads with Paul's name tag. She would laugh when we'd blow gently on her face, and it was during one of these moments that we discovered the dimple on her left cheek. I'm telling you, she is astonishingly beautiful.

I need to end this long, long entry. I apologize for using so many words, but again, there is so much to capture, and I don't want to forget a moment.

Day 1

2007-07-22T22:44:00.000-05:00

I’m sitting in the living room of our guest house, and I don’t even know where to begin. The last 24 hours have been incredible, amazing, life-changing – and the trip has barely begun. I guess I’ll start from the beginning.

The flights were uneventful. I guess that’s not the life-changing part I was referring to. We arrived at our guest house last night around 10pm. Although our house would not qualify as luxury accommodations, considering we’re in Ethiopia, I have no complaints. The living area has lovely leather furniture and a large screen television. There are two terraces outside, with swings and lounge chairs, and beautiful landscaping. The bedrooms are fairly separated from each other, which affords us quite a bit of privacy. Our room has its own spacious bathroom, a queen bed, and a small toddler bed, lots of closet space, and plenty of room to store our luggage and other belongings. Something in the bathroom consistently leaks a bit of water, so the floor is always wet. But we were warned about this and brought flip-flops.

Paul and I fell asleep soon after hitting the sheets. The sounds of the mosque calling everyone to prayer woke us up at 7am, which was great because we needed to be ready for breakfast at 8. The prayer call reminded me that I was in a country quite unlike my own, a culture new and exciting and definitely worth exploring. Ethiopia has robust Muslim and Christian populations, and from what I can tell, they manage to co-exist quite peacefully.

On the way to the office, I noticed that we were surrounded by low mountains. The elevation here is very high (not sure how high, but given how hard it is to breathe when going up stairs, I’m going to say it’s probably like Denver). The countryside is beautiful. It was also impossible to miss the street scenes around us. Bumpy dirt roads are full of cars, people, goats, and donkeys. I don’t understand how they are all able to use the same roads without constant casualties, but from what I can tell, they make it work. The houses in our area are quite nice, and it’s clear that we are separated from the poverty that I know is not too far away.

First, we stopped at the office to sign some papers, and then it was off to meet our daughter. We waited on a balcony while the cameraman made sure everything was ready to film our encounter. I was nervous. I don’t know why I was nervous, but I was very aware of my heart beating quickly, my hands shaking, and my eyes filling up with tears before I’d even headed into the building where she lives.

I walked into the nursery, and immediately knew which baby was mine. She was laying in her crib, looking up at the ceiling, and I turned to the nannies and asked if I could pick her up. I suspect that was a dumb question, since she is my baby and all, but it seemed like the polite thing to do. When I picked her up, the first thing I noticed was that she was so tiny. I was crying by this time, so I don’t remember in great detail what happened next. I know that I introduced myself to her while she stared into my face, neither crying nor smiling. She just stared. Paul then held her for a while, and within minutes she was laying her head on his chest. He was a pretty proud papa, I’ll tell you that. Then we took her over to the part of the floor where the babies play, and we sat her down and played with her for a little while, and watched her interact with the other babies and the nannies. I loved watching her face light up with a smile when her nanny would walk through the door. I can’t wait until she smiles like that when she sees me. After about 10 minutes of playing, she lunged forward a little and nudged my arm with her head. She repeated this a couple of times, and I finally figured out that she wanted me to hold her again. So I picked her up and held her so that she was laying in my arms, facing up at me.

This next part is the part I will never forget. Meron Tihun stared up at me, with an intensity I can’t really describe. She was studying me, though, that’s for certain. This baby has the most intense gaze I’ve ever seen. To be on the receiving end of it is quite an experience. She put her tiny hand toward my mouth, and put her thumb on my lips. I started kissing it. She seemed to enjoy this, and kept putting her thumb back on my lips. Then she took another finger and did the same thing. This game went on for some time, after which she took her hand and held onto my nose for a while (she’s probably never seen a nose this, um, prominent before), and then moved on to feel my face, and then pulled some of my hair from out behind my ear. That seemed to surprise her, and I realized that she has probably never seen hair down before as all of the nannies keep their hair tightly pulled back. Well, that and she’s probably never seen hair that isn’t black before. Anyway, she continued exploring my hair and face for a few more minutes, all the while staring intently into my face, and then she closed her eyes and fell asleep. Paul and I both teared up as our new baby lay asleep and content in my arms. I passed the mommy test, and we’re well on our way to forming a bond.

The rest of the day so far hasn’t been quite as emotional, but is going well. We had a great lunch – the food so far has been fantastic – and spent quite a while at the office for our “orientation.” Tomorrow we go to Hosanna to meet Tihun’s first mom. If I thought today was life-changing…

I will have much, much more to write, but Paul unfortunately needs the computer to do some work, so I will end today’s post. By tomorrow I hope to post some pictures as well!

Eliana's last day as an only child

2007-07-18T14:16:00.000-05:00

That is how I think of today. It is Eliana's last day of being the only kid in her parents' spotlight. It is the last week in which she gets to think of herself as the lone being in the center of someone's universe. For 4 years, it's been Eliana and Mama, a little team. Sure, there's Papa, too, but she and I have spent a lot of time just the two of us, and even though there have been difficult moments in there, it's fused us together in a way that makes it hard to imagine another little person finding a place to squeeze in. In short, I don't want it to be over. I say all of these things knowing that Meron will find her way in, and once we've all adjusted, we'll be a tight little group once again, and I will look back on this day and wonder why I was so nervous about the change. Anyway, I decided to keep Eliana with me all day. We've done a few craft projects, hung out at Tillie's Bean, and after her rest time, we'll probably go swimming. I thought that would be a nice way to spend our last day as just the two of us.

We're pretty much packed, although I had hoped to get more done on the house before we left. I suppose you could say that we had too much on our plate to realistically accomplish everything. I suppose you could say that.

My writing instructor asked me last night if I was thrilled to be leaving Thursday. I replied that "thrilled" probably wasn't the best word. Terrified, apprehensive, nervous, excited in a nail-chewing kind of way. Yes, I'm excited, but I'm also completed terrified. And I can't really articulate my reasons. So I won't. I've been in a funk all week, without really knowing on a conscious level what is going on inside of me. Maybe I don't want to know. Maybe I'd rather just let my unconscious conflicts duke it on below my level of awareness and hope for the best.

I'm planning to post while in Ethiopia, so please tune in over the next 10 days to learn about our adventure as it happens. Hopefully we'll be able to post pictures as well.

I guess I will end today's post. It's shorter than I thought it would be, but quite honestly, I can't seem to make my thoughts coelesce well enough to put down on paper.

Wish us luck.

Five days and packing

2007-07-14T20:53:00.000-05:00

We leave in five days. We spent much of today packing - you should see our list. Three pages, single spaced, complete with every rash cream, diarrhea medication, and baby item you can think of. It's like we're moving there. Four large suitcases packed with a few things for us, and a million things for our baby and a bunch of other babies waiting for their families.

I have to tell you, there's something very strange about packing for a baby you've never met before. We're packing toys, clothing, baby lotions, things we've packed before, but feeling totally clueless. With Eliana we knew what her needs were. We knew what to pack for long plane rides, because we knew what sort of baby she was, where she was at with eating solids, how many diapers she'd likely go through, and what kind of toys kept her entertained (answer: none). At the very least, we knew what size clothing she wore. With Meron, we know none of these things. Sure, we have her most recent measurements - 14 lbs and 24 inches, in case you're wondering - but we're just assuming she wears 3-6 month clothing, because that's what Eliana wore when those were her measurements. We don't actually know.

It's also very strange to get on a plane, fly around for 24 hours, and then meet your baby. We're going to meet this little tiny person who's been on the planet for 8 months, without us, and she's going to be our daughter. She'll be placed in our arms as a stranger, and yet we are expected to become instant parents to this child. I guess it's not entirely different than when Eliana was born. I had a big tummy, I was put under general anesthesia, and when I woke up my tummy was slightly smaller and they handed me a miniscule person who was the color of cheese popcorn. She was jaundiced, in case you're wondering about that last part. I was expected to know what to do with her, and failed at every turn. Maybe that's why I'm so nervous about going to fetch a child who's had 8 months to develop likes and dislikes, opinions, and preferences. Eliana seemed to have all of these things the minute she was forced to exit my womb, and I couldn't for the life of me figure out what they were. How can I possibly do a better job with a baby who's been around enough to legitimately have these things?!

In any case, the suitcases are packed, the toys have been cleaned off, and she has at least 25 onesies to poop through. I think we're set.

I have to briefly tout my victorious adventure in frugality today. I purchased 5 pieces of furniture for Eliana's room off of Craigslist! It's great stuff, and I'm so proud of myself for getting it on the cheap. She has a dresser, two nightstands, a trunk, a mirror, and then a queen sized headboard for the future guest room, all for $300!! Repeat reuse recycle, I always say...er, since this morning.

All's well that ends well

2007-07-11T14:09:00.000-05:00

First, I should point out that we leave for Ethiopia one week from tomorrow. Sheesh! I cannot wait to meet my baby. I also cannot believe how much I have to do before next Thursday.

Why do I have so much to do, you ask?

Because we are getting The House!!! After all of that up and down craziness: no it's not your house, yes it's your house, ummm sorry it's not your house...there has been a miracle. The aluminum wiring was housed in conduit. This is a rare and beautiful thing, and it means that rewiring the house is not going to be an impossible - or even a major - project. It will take 3 days, and the cost is pretty reasonable.

There is a theory in psychology asserting that you appreciate something more if you have to work for it. That's why fraternities and sororities go through all of that rush nonsense. Once you've been to hell and back to get something, you're going to value it all that much more once you have it. I guess that means that I will love this house with all of my heart for a very long time.

I have to include what in my opinion is the loveliest part of the whole debacle. This morning we met the owners of The House. They asked if they could be home during the electrician's visit, and we said yes. After the electrician and our realtor left, they asked us to stay and chat about the situation (against their realtor's strict orders), and it was one of the most enjoyable hours I have ever spent. They are the nicest, funniest, most lovable couple ever. I would like to adopt them as my grandparents (to my real grandma and grandpa: I love you both dearly and have no intention of replacing you. I see this more as an addition of grandparents, not a substitution). We got along famously, exchanged phone numbers, and came up with the game plan for taking care of everything that needed to be done so that we could buy the house. Just don't tell their realtor that we did all of that. They are insisting on paying for the rewiring. We said that we would do it, but to them it is a matter of pride and "ethics." They apparently had no idea that the aluminum wiring was an issue and that is why it wasn't written down anywhere. They wanted to make it clear to us that they hadn't been trying to pull the wool over anyone's eyes, and even got a little emotional as they told us that they were sorry that this whole thing had to be dealt with. Frankly, I'm thrilled, because had it not been an issue, the other buyers would now have the house.

In the end, it all worked out perfectly. Call it a miracle, call it a meant-to-be moment, whatever. We got the house.

Holy crap. That means I have a house to sell - a messy, cluttered house. Gotta run.

Please keep your hands and feet inside the ride until it has come to a complete stop

2007-07-09T10:29:00.000-05:00

The house may not be ours after all. It all seems impossible, this little housing saga of ours, as though I'm intentionally creating drama to pass the time until we go to Ethiopia. And while the time is flying, it's not worth it. I have a stress-induced zit under my chin that is so large, it's like I grew a double chin over night. Which I guess would make it a triple-chin, since all of the stress eating has earned me a few extra pounds as well. Don't I sound pretty?

What happened to the house, you may be asking yourself at the moment? It was built in 1971, as I mentioned before. Charming, yes, but it also turns out that for a brief period in our nation's history, as we were stockpiling copper to use in our war against the Viet Cong, home builders started using aluminum wiring which, as it turns out, was a bad decision. For reasons with which I am now all too familiar and uninterested in boring you, gentle reader, aluminum wiring is a fire hazard. Unless, that is, you do a kind of repair called COPALUM. No one in Minnesota is certified to make the COPALUM repair. Not only that, but more importantly, we're having a devil of a time finding an insurance company that will underwrite a home with aluminum wiring, even if you have the government approved repair done. I suppose I may be able to fight this, as there is plenty of research to support the safety of the COPALUM repair, but how much do I want to fight for this home?! I'm adopting a baby, I'm traveling to Ethiopia, I am highly sensitive to stress. At some point, it may make more sense to just walk away. Anyone who knew me during the breastfeeding saga knows that I'm not very good at knowing when to walk away. THose same people, however, also know that I'm pretty good at figuring out how to get my way in the end. So we'll see.

Well, happy Monday, everyone. I'm going to see if I can do something about that goiter on my neck.

Your love is like a rollercoaster baby baby....

2007-07-05T21:07:00.000-05:00

Now we have the house. The House, the one we pictured our children growing up in and all that business, is ours. Seriously. I got a call from our agent today, informing me that the deal with the other buyers fell through and now they wanted to know if we - the rejected ones - were still interested in buying the house. I have to tell you, I hesitated for a couple of hours. For the last week and a half, I have been coming up with all sorts of reasons why I was glad we didn't get the house. I love Minneapolis. I love not being in debt. I love our neighbors. I love being 30 feet away from endless miles of paved running and biking trails. I even found a nearby daycare for Meron that sounds perfect. I was all set to settle in.

And then Mike calls and drops the bomb.

What a freakin' rollercoaster this has been. I'll spare you the psychological gymnastics I went through before finally saying yes. I think Paul was ready to say yes right away, but I needed to process first. I know, you're very surprised, as you've heard that psychologists hate processing things. But I guess I'm unique that way.

Anyway, until the house is taken off the listings, any interested readers can check it out. I should warn you, though: this house is all about potential. It is a mint condition 1971 house. I'm pretty sure they've changed the carpet and the stovetop and that's it. So don't judge the decor. One of the major appeals of this house is that it was VERY reasonably priced, which allows us to slowly remodel whatever we want, however we want, and customize the house to fit our taste. Of course, we won't be able to afford that until the kids have gone off to college, so they will grow up looking at psychadelic wallpaper, groovy light fixtures, and a kitchen so old it actually has a built-in blender attachment in the countertop (anyone else but me have one of those in their homes growing up?), but it could be worse.

Edit: I decided it maybe wasn't such an internet-savvy thing to do to post all that info. If you're interested in knowing where the house is, email me. If you don't have my email address, then you're probably not someone to whom I want to give my new address.

Happy fourth from the neighborhood insomniac

2007-07-04T00:17:00.000-05:00

I can't sleep anymore. Before this year, I could sleep through anything. Stress, sickness, you name it. About 9 months ago I lost this ability. I have no idea what changed, but I can tell you that I never drank coffee before this year and now I'm chugging a latte every other day. Anyway, it's after midnight, officially the 4th of July, and I can't sleep.

Tonight, my inability to sleep was aided by some ya-hoos down the street. So please, allow me to rant for a minute.

Eleven months out of the year, the vast majority of Americans obey certain codes of nighttime conduct, both written and un. Included in those rules of normal behavior: One should refrain from setting off small explosives in the middle of the night. Why we set aside those rules to celebrate our independence from England over 200 years ago is a point A to point B thing I don't really understand. It's fun to watch beautiful pyrotechnic displays one night every year; an American tradition, and a lovely one at that. But stupid little bottle rockets that go boom when you set fire to them are a far cry from intricately designed rainshowers of red, white, and blue. I don't consent to it. And I can't sleep through it. Apparently, neither can my toddler, who's been up 4 times since the amateur display of noise began. This also doesn't help me sleep.

So here I am, up in the middle of the night, knowing full well that I will pay dearly for this tomorrow. I hope coffee shops are open on the 4th.

I also wanted to further explain my pooh song post, in case you were wondering where that came from. I've been reading up on others' experiences of going to Ethiopia. It seems that pooh becomes something with which they all become intimately familiar, both their own and that of their new child(ren). This is why my packing list has pretty much every GI medication available in the States, both OTC and prescription. When parasites live freely in the water supply, they easily and often find their way into one's bowels. You get where I'm going with this. Basically, everything comes down to pooh, and I imagine that tune will be going through my head most of the week while I'm in Ethiopia, and probably for several stinky weeks after we return.

Good night, everyone. I hope you were able to get a better night's sleep than what it is store for me.

2007 NBC Scrubs Music Song about Poo

2007-07-03T11:03:00.001-05:00

I'm guessing this will be our theme song once we get the baby home....

No house for you!

2007-06-27T11:42:00.001-05:00

Overlook Road doesn't want us. Our bid to buy The House, the one we imagined ourselves living in for the next 18 years, was turned down in favor of another bid. It's hard not to take it personally. We put in a great bid, and considering the current market, it's hard to understand why they would turn it down. I have no idea what the other group offered. Maybe they had the whole thing in cash, which would look better than our virtually cash-less offer (still, why should it be their concern where we get the money, as long as we get it?). I could, of course, go around and around for days wondering why, playing the woulda coulda shoulda game, but the end result is the same. I guess I'll have to console myself with the knowledge that the timing would have been bad (as an understatement), and selling this house in the current market would have taken years off my life. I'll have to find something else to focus on, to lift my spirits.

I know! I'm about to have a baby! I'm about to take a trip around the world! I'm about to turn my life upside down! Maybe, just maybe, putting my house up for sale right about now would have been a bad idea. Other things to life my spirits? I have a pretty great 3 year old here at home. Oh, and a fantastic husband. Not to mention a great neighborhood, a nice house, overall a pretty damn good life. I really have nothing to complain about. So we didn't get the house. From what I can tell, there are a few other decent houses in the Twin Cities, and one of them is bound to go up for sale in the next year. I wish I had more confidence that we'll find a house with the amazing features of the one that we lost, at the price they were asking, but again, what's the point of going there. They didn't want us. No house for you!

Hallelujah, WE HAVE A TRAVEL DATE!!!

2007-06-25T16:52:00.000-05:00

Yes, it really has happened. Meron Tihun Bly is really ours, officially, as of today. Which means I can post a picture of her here on our blog. I have to say, I was starting to think that it wasn't ever going to happen. Maybe that's the side of effect of being an actor. I'm used to leaving an audition feeling pretty good(well, sometimes), followed by increased excitement, great anticipation, and then interminable silence. Where I come from, sometimes the phone never rings. And so you learn to cope by assuming it won't ring, planning on it even, thinking that the rejection will hurt a little less in the end. I think I went into that mode here. I coped with the lack of calls from Kristina by deciding that it wasn't going to happen, that they cast someone else in the role of Meron Tihun's mom, and I should just prepare myself for that. Of course, I knew that wasn't the case, intellectually, but I honestly had to remind myself of that on numerous occasions.

Today, however, was the worst. Kristina had told us our case would be heard today, that it would most likely go through, and by 10:30 this morning I was having to consciously remind myself to breathe. When the phone rang at 11:15, however, I did not jump up and down screaming with joy as I had anticipated. Instead, I continued to feel cautious, guarded almost, as though I could not quite allow myself to feel the full excitement of what had just transpired: my baby was my baby, and I will see her 3 weeks from Thursday. My guess is that this inability to allow myself entry into a happy place might explain why it took me another 5 hours to finalize travel plans. I'm not one to dawdle on such things, and 5 hours in Terri Time is like 8 years for those who approach life with more spontenaity. But now hotel and air travel are booked. The clock is officially ticking.

By the way, tune in later this week to find out if we bought a new house.

Was that the blog version of a cliffhanger?

An important reading assignment

2007-06-16T14:53:00.000-05:00

To anyone and everyone interested in international adoption, I urge you to read the beautiful essay written by a transracial woman who was adopted from Korea. The link is on the right-hand side of the page, but you can also find it by cutting and pasting the following address:

http://kadnexus.wordpress.com/2007/06/04/my-sisters-adoption-essay/

Waiting Sucks

2007-06-13T12:16:00.001-05:00

OK, so I realize that my title for today is not so eloquent, but sometimes the words the fit one's mood best are not English-teacher approved.

Meron's court date was postponed. Apparently this is happening a lot right now, as there are many children's cases that have to be processed and the system is bogged down. Not surprisingly, knowing that does not help much. I'm still waiting, and it still sucks.

I had a dream about Meron last night. We went to Ethiopia, which actually looked more like Europe (I wish), I did not have jetlag, I felt fantastic, and my baby was amazing. She was snuggly, happy, and attached to me immediately. She looked more Hispanic than African, and for a moment I was afraid they had given me the wrong child. I was so content to be holding her, so excited to be her mommy.

I woke up a little surprised. Surprised that this was the first time I had dreamt about Meron, and surprised that I was so happy in my dream. After all, I have been writing mostly about my fears and apprehension at adding one more child to my already hectic and sleep-deprived life. I would have predicted a dream filled with fatigue, frustration, and maybe a baby whose head spun around on its shoulders. But instead I had this beautiful little baby. Somewhere in my unconscious, I really am excited to be mommy to two.

If I had to guess, I'd say this dream was inspired by the wonderful day I had yesterday with Eliana (I just realized now that I should have taken pictures - I'm so bad at that!!). We spent 3 hours planting a garden of wild flowers in the front yard. She was such a trooper. It was hot as blazes, and yet she hung in there with me, wearing her Princess baseball cap and gobs of sunscreen, going to the nursery to find flowers, shoveling away at the dirt, picking up worms, going back to the nursery because we needed more dirt, watering it all down, picking up empty cartons, and getting very, very dirty. Afterwards, we sat down to lunch, and I asked her what she thought about staying home with me during the day. She replied, "I like being home, but staying home with you makes me tired." I could have responded in kind, but I didn't. I just laughed.

I cannot emphasize enough how much more fun it is for me to parent a toddler than to mother a baby. Eliana and I can bake cookies together, plant gardens together, go to the swimming pool, the gym, the zoo, the park, or just stay home and read books or watch movies. I will be sad when this phase of her life ends, and perhaps that is why I'm now so excited at the prospect of getting to do it all over again.

True Ambivalence

2007-06-04T21:47:00.000-05:00

Many people think ambivalence means a state of not really caring. But those people would be incorrect, albeit by no fault of their own as this word gets misused all the time. In fact, true ambivalence is, in my opinion, much more interesting than mere indifference. Ambivalence refers to a dissonant state of mind in which two opposing emotions co-exist. In other words, to be ambivalent means to be torn.

This afternoon I began going through Eliana's baby clothes, keeping those that I thought would fit Meron and would be appropriate for the season, tossing those that were too stained to feel good about using again, and designating the too-small stuff for either neighbors or the Care Center in Ethiopia. As you might imagine, going through Eliana's old baby clothes conjured up many emotions. A highly diverse group of emotions pulling me in opposite directions. Ambivalence. Or, a conversation in my head that probably verged on an attack of multiple personality disorder.

It started out innocently enough, this attack of ambivalence/MPD. I was looking at an adorable pair of Baby Gap size 6-12 month overalls and thought to myself, "Oh my gosh, these are so cute! I'm so excited to have another baby!!!" Immediately, a raspy, low voice emerged from the corner of my brain where the cynical, sleep-deprived, frazzled and bitter old woman lives: "Are you crazy?! Excited for what?! 2 am feedings? endless hours of stacking blocks? Blow-outs? The freakin' Wiggles for crying out loud?" This voice was joined by the cautious woman inside my head, the one who wants to play it safe and gets neither too excited nor too pessimistic about anything - until she has a reason, of course, and then she totally freaks out. She appeared to be taking the crabby-ass lady's side today. "Seriously, Terri," she cautioned, "Remember how tired you were? How bored you were? While it certainly might be better this time around, it's probably best not to allow yourself to get too excited. You'll only be let down when things go entirely the opposite of what you have planned."

And yet, the optimistic mother in me, the one who truly enjoys baking cookies with her daughter on the kitchen floor, going for super-slow walks, taking trips to the zoo, watching oddly composed puppet shows in the living room, and even has some fond memories of watching 3am re-runs of Conan O'Brien, well she just doesn't want to shut up. She wants to be excited. She needs to be excited. After all, this baby is coming and why not be happy about it? Haven't you seen the picture? It's almost hard to imagine a more beautiful creature, and one who most decidedly needs a mother. It totally makes sense to get really, really excited!!

Of course, as soon as this train of thought gets rolling down the track, the other voices rumble in the background, unwilling to be silenced, having learned from the first child that their concerns are well-founded.

And this, my friends, is ambivalence.

Being a parent is hard

2007-05-29T15:40:00.000-05:00

Here's an Eliana story for you all, and this time it will be my segue into today's topic: parenting. It's hard.

We were at a cast party for the show I'm currently in, and we were all sitting outside eating snacks. Eliana particularly enjoyed the cheese popcorn, and at one point asked if she could have some more. Seeing as she had already eaten about 5 cups of the stuff, we said no. Next thing we realize, she has gone into the house on her own, and emerged with her face full of an unknown food substance.

"Eliana," I said," What are you eating?"

She looks at me, eyes wide, the wheels in her head visibly spinning. "I was hungry," was the muffled response.

"Wow," says my director, "She's being intentionally evasive." I think he was simultaneously impressed and concerned.

I ask again. "Eliana, what is in your mouth?"

And again, she pauses to think, then shrugs. "I don't know," she replies.

Well now people are starting to giggle, and who can blame them? Here's my crafy future politician coming up with various ways to avoid giving me the right answer without actually lying. So I ask once again, this time with more (I think) anger in my voice."

"Eliana! Tell me now what you're eating!!"

She slowly turns to face away from me, and says, "Nothing."

Parenting is hard. It's difficult, if not impossible, to always know what to do in a given situation. I know Eliana was lying, but what do you do with that? Do you punish her? Will she understand what's so bad about what she did? Is talking to her the better road to travel? I just have no idea. Nor do I have any idea what to do when she gets upset and, as she did the other day to her father, yell with all the rage and fury she could muster, "Papa, you're nobody's best friend!!"

Research shows that the most well-adjusted kids are those with parents who are high in demandingness and high in warmth. I think we have the warmth part down. The demandingness, well, I'm starting to wonder. I've always known we had the potential to be too soft on our kids, but I thought we'd been doing pretty well with limit-setting, consistency, and consequences for her actions. And yet, she continues to ignore us, disobey, and come up with all sorts of reasons why she can't go upstairs to bed right now. Of course, much of this is typical 3-year-old behavior. But what are you supposed to do about it?

Our other dilemma is her nighttime behavior. Eliana is up at least once - sometimes 3 or 4 times - per night, dorking around usually, under the guise of having to go potty. We're trying a sticker incentive plan that I am stealing from my boss (nice to have psychologists around you sometimes), and it's working OK, but I'm not convinced the results will be long-term. It seems like with Eliana it is one thing after another, and those things usually happen around or during bedtime. I worry sometimes that we're letting her get out of control, and yet I have no intention of spanking her. Aside from time-outs and removal of privileges, what do you do?

I'll tell you: you yell. I can't help it. I know that yelling isn't the hallmark of great parenting, but lately I can't help myself. I feel like I'm yelling at her all the freakin' time and I hate that! Every day takes a toll on me, because it seems like every day is filled with me or Paul asking her to do something, and she then tries to get around it. We go through our little privilege-removal/time-out routine, and eventually we just yell. I get so crazy and frazzled that I can't even keep track of what is working. It's almost as if I'm so deep into it that I have lost all objectivity and I'm now going solely by instinct. And I'm definitely not convinced my instincts are praise-worthy.

Of course, all of this exhausting parenting business has me wondering just what the hell I signed myself up for when deciding to have another child. I never feel bored with this one, never have that "our family is missing something" moment, and never think to myself, "Gee, I sure love continuously interrupted sleep, no time to myself, temper tantrums and self-doubt as a parent. I know! Let's do it all over again!!" But I guess you just do it again, huh? Which is why God made wine and chocolate.

The Ethiopian Condition

2007-05-18T11:14:00.000-05:00

Before getting into a fairly serious topic, i want to begin with another story about my daughter, Eliana. This kid cracks me up! She and I, along with Elise who was going to be babysitting that evening, were sitting at the dinner table, and Eliana was telling Elise about her kids' house. Eliana has for a long time now had an imaginary kids' house, where her 162 kids live. Elise asked Eliana what their names were, and Eliana told her that today there were 3 princesses living there. After a pause, Eliana said that she would tell us what their names were: "Jasmine, Cinderalla, and Jeff." Well of course Elise and I burst out laughing at this one, which Eliana didn't care for, as she was telling us a rather serious story. She then explained that Jeff didn't wear a dress, he wore a shirt. I later learned this shirt is pink.

Now, about Ethiopia

Anyone who is at all concerned with anything in the world should read the book, There is no me without you, by Melissa Faye Green. This woman has written the most moving, amazing, infuriating, eye-opening book I have ever read in my entire life - and I have read a lot of books, just ask my mom. She attempts to explain the very complicated role the West has played in the disasters facing the continent of Africa. I know it's easy to say that the African people do it to themselves, with all the violence and female oppression and what not. But the more you learn about the ways in which our country and other Western countries have meddled in the affairs of Africa, the more you realize that we cannot wash our hands of what is going on over there, because we are partially (if not largely) responsible for the wreckage.

In Ethiopia specifically, there are a number of overwhelming problems facing the country. AIDS, of course, is a huge problem, and millions of children have been orphaned due to this disease, which is wiping out an entire generation of parents, doctors, teachers, and business people. Think about it: what would happen to our country, our economy, if suddenly we lost two-thirds of all adults between the ages of 25 and 45? Would we be fairing any better? Now imagine that other countries had medicine that could save millions upon millions of lives and stave off the disease that was killing off the adult population, but they refused to give it to us so that they could keep their profits high? That is what is happening in Africa. While they die by the millions over there, we here in the West have medication that keeps symptoms of AIDS at bay and prolongs the lives of those with HIV for decades. Most people in the US with HIV live long, normal lives now, thanks to the triple cocktail. But the pharmaceutical companies aren't interested in allowing the medications to be replicated by generic manufacturers, because they are making so much money from the pricey cocktail. Thus, aided by European and American government, Big Pharm keep the drugs way out of reach of most Africans. And they die, leaving their children without parents, and their country in shambles.

Then there is the health care crisis. And I'm not talking about what we call a crisis here in the U.S. Not to downplay the crappy deal many poor and elderly folk have been given here in America, but it pales in comparison to what is going on in Ethiopia. In the region where Meron Tihun was born, there is 1 doctor for every 36,000 people. Read that again. Now think about it. If a child gets sick, who is going to give them medical attention? If a mother develops complications in childbirth, who will assist? This is one reason why the death rate for mothers in childbirth is 1 in 14 in Ethiopia. In the U.S., it's 1 in 5,800. Mother and fathers also die of other illnesses, such as tuberculosis, illnesses that in the U.S. have either been virtually wiped out, or are easily cured. When we visited the International Travel Clinic in Eden Prairie for our vaccinations, the doctor there told us that if something should happen to us while we are in Addis Ababa - the capital city of Ethiopia - we should go to Nairobi, Kenya. Although I have been told by an Ethiopian friend that this is not necessary due to the existence of some newer private clinics in Addis, it still says something about the health care situation in Addis if the official advice is to flee the country should something happen to you.

Mothers who live in these conditions have to make the decision every day as to whether it is better for their children to remain with their mothers, or if the best thing to do is to give them up in hopes that they will have a better life elsewhere. As a mother myself, I can understand why they often choose the latter, and at the same time, I cannot fully fathom the indescribable pain of doing so. How lucky for me that I probably will never have to make that choice. And how undeserving I am of that luxury.

See, this is the part that tears at me. Going through this adoption process has thrown me into quite the existential crisis, the depth of which I promise I will spare you. In short, what have I done to deserve the right to live in a country where I can see a doctor because my eyes have been a little itchy lately? Where my most difficult decisions involve whether I want to stay in my cozy house in S. Mpls or move to a half-million dollar house in the suburbs?! What is so special about me that I won't ever have to decide whether I want my child to live with me, or if I would prefer that my child live past the age of 5? It's not OK. It's not OK that Meron Tihun's mother had to make this decision, and I do not. And I don't know how to resolve that in my head.

An update on my baby girl

2007-05-17T10:31:00.000-05:00

Kristina, our beloved social worker at Children's Home, sent us an update on Tihun. She is gaining weight, her ear infection is gone, and she is rolling over on her own. These may seem like little things to the casual observer, but to me they were huge. It means that she is healthy, that her body can fight off infections, and her brain is developing pretty much on track.

And yet, part of me is not happy. Part of me is really, really unhappy. And why is that, you ask? I am not the one observing the progress. I should be the one seeing her roll from back to front for the first time! I should be the one noting that her personality is "playful"! I should be the one putting medicine in her ears or giving her antibiotics, and holding her in my arms when she is fussing! Me me me!!! Given my tendencies toward control-freakishness, it's a major challenge for me - to put it mildly - to have a child that is thousands of miles away.

I now have to take a moment to share with you all a great quote from Eliana, who thus far has been woefully neglected in this blog. She was sitting on the floor putting on her sandals, and I was standing a few feet away. She looked up at me and said, "Wow, Mom, you're tall!" I replied, "You're right, I am pretty tall." Then she says, "You're taller than Jesus!"

Don't ask me where that came from, because I have no idea.

Adoption Etiquette

2007-05-14T15:10:00.000-05:00

This entry is for friends, family, and anyone else who may be interested in the world of adoption, but are not so clear on the basic rules of etiquette. Yes, indeed, there are rules when discussing adoptions, and it is not as hard as you may think to utter a faux pas without realizing you are doing so. Quite honestly, I'm guessing that I still manage to offend adoptive families without realizing I'm doing it. Once I'm carrying around a black child, I imagine it will all become much clearer. It is a sensitive topic, adoption, due largely to the complex reasons why people adopt and to the highly sensitive set of circumstances to bring a child to a new set of parents. Many adoptive parents, I'm learning, get pretty hot under the collar when people ask the wrong questions or make insensitive comments. As someone who often manages to ask the wrong question, however, I'm more of the line of thinking that people can't be expected to know what they don't know. And why someone should know the etiquette of adoption talk with no prior exposure to adoption...well, this is why I'm writing this entry, so that now you can't say you didn't know.

1. Information about the child's background is usually kept private.

I write about this one first because I believe it is probably the most important thing for people to know, and yet most of you probably have no idea that this is the policy for most families. Once I explain, though, I think it will make a lot of sense.

All children come to adoptive families via some form of tragedy. It is a tragedy, pure and simple, when a child can no longer be with his or her family. Of course, there is an endless range of situations that lead to mothers choosing to relinquish their babies, but all of them involve an enormous loss. In Ethiopia, mothers give up their babies for so many different reasons. For many children, their mothers are no longer living, and the extended family does not have the resources to care for the children due to the overwhelming poverty that exists in this country. Other mothers become pregnant out of wedlock, and face shame and even exile by their own families. Many mothers simply do not have the resources to feed their babies, and no doctors anywhere to provide care if the child becomes ill (more about these issues in a future post), so they make the choice to relinquish their babies in hope that someone else will be able to provide the kind of life that these mothers cannot.

Whatever the situation, the story of how the child comes to his or her adoptive family is a private one, and it is up to the child to decide how much others should know. This is not to imply that there is shame involved in a child's adoption story - it is simply a matter of privacy, as these details of the child's beginnings are extremely personal and yes, for some, the details may be too painful to share with others.

The moral of the story: Do not be surprised if adoptive parents decline to share details of their child's biological family. It may be safer just not to ask. If the parents want you to know details, they will offer them without you asking, is my guess.

2. There are varying levels of comfort with discussing the cost of adoption.

This one pretty much explains itself. While Paul and I don't mind talking about the process, including costs, many people do. The feeling is that adoption begins to sound like a transaction, a purchase. It's also akin to discussing salaries, I think, in that discussing money (especially the kind of money involved in adoption) feels personal and revealing. So just be careful when asking these kinds of questions. If the parents seem to hesitate when you ask, leave it alone. For the record, our adoption costs around $20,000 when you factor in travel costs as well as all agency and country fees. We'll get much of that back in the form of a tax credit, and Paul's company will also give us $5000 to go toward the adoption.

3. Keep your opinions about transracial adoption (or adoption in general) to your damn self.

I have learned a few things in the last couple of years about what people are more than happy to share regarding their feelings about transracial adoption. I've also learned a great deal from families who have already adopted from Ethiopia. I will share with you some of the most valuable things I have learned when it comes to talking about your friend's/family member's child of color.

For starters, to comment that a child is not "that black" is not a good idea. Think about it: why is this worth noting? Do you see that as a good thing? Should the parents be happy that their child is not "that black?" I'm not asking you to pretend that the child is not black. I'm simply asking that you stop for a moment to ask yourself what the point is of your comment regarding the child's appearance. Or just say, "Wow, what a beautiful baby," and leave it at that.

Many individuals in our society have strong opinions about white people adopting black children, and so many white parents with black children are really sensitive to others' comments. Paul and I have been on the receiving end of negative comments about adopting a black child, and it is painful to know that there will always be people who do not hesitate to discuss their opinions about transracial adoption. I think that many adoptive families are not all that interested in your opinions about transracial adoption, and we certainly would prefer that you reserve your comments for times when the child is not present.

4. Along the same lines: please do not say that the child should be grateful for having been adopted, or commend the parents on the amazingly generous thing they are doing.

This is a big one, and I probably should have put it higher on this list. I know that it seems like you are giving the parents a compliment, praising and supporting them for adopting an orphaned child. But the bottom line is that adoption is not an altruistic event. At a conference we recently attended, the Ethiopian speaker put it this way: You would never say to a husband or wife, "You really did a generous thing marrying him/her. S/he should be really grateful." Imagine that you were the other half of that couple. So it is with adoption. How do you think a child would feel when given the message that he or she should be grateful to their parents for adopting them? They did not ask for any of this, and can feel however they want to about it. They don't need to be grateful.

Back to the altruistic comment. Parents adopt or give birth because they want children. No one talks about how generous someone is for getting pregnant and giving birth to a child. But adoption is no different. We aren't adopting because we want to be Ghandi. We're adopting because for us it was the right way to expand our family. Sure, we're very much aware that we are giving a child the opportunity to have a life she would never have had otherwise. But we are first and foremost doing it because we feel good about doing it. It is for us, not the child, that we are adopting. Just like it was for us, not Eliana, that we gave birth to her. I know this might sound cold, but it is simply honest. It is a mutually beneficial relationship.

I think those are the major points I wanted to make. Please feel free to write comments or questions. I hope this was helpful!

The Name Game

2007-05-04T11:06:00.000-05:00

We're making progress on the issue of naming the baby. Paul and I both agree that we will not likely keep Tihun as her first name. I hate to say this, but I just can't warm up to it. Sorry, Tihun's first mom. That being said, we are also moving away from giving her an "American" first name. Our daughter is Ethiopian, and we treasure that fact and want her to as well. I do not want her to grow up believing that her Ethiopian heritage was one we wanted to disguise or downplay by giving her an American name.

In Ethiopia, mothers choose names based on meaning. I think this is a beautiful tradition, and is one I have decided to use in choosing a name for our baby. I looked over a list of Ethiopian girls names and their meanings, and ran my favorites by Paul. I'll be honest: my search involved finding a name that had significant meaning but was also fairly easy for us Euro-Americans to pronounce. At the top of my list is the name Meron. It means "gift from God," which seems awfully relevant. It also sounds pretty. Paul agrees, and we've both been playing with it to see if it feels right. Eliana's verdict was immediate - she doesn't care for it at all and got a little upset when I proposed it. The good news is that Eliana will survive and will likely resign herself one day to the fact that her sister is not called Isabelle.

So today our new daughter's name is Meron Tihun Bly. Stay tuned for updates.

Why we're adopting

2007-05-01T15:23:00.000-05:00

Since this is the first day of my blog, I might as well make a couple of entries, so that the one lonely post doesn't look so, well, lonely. Here is the story of why we chose to adopt.

While we were living in Maine, Children's Home Society & Family Services sent us a newsletter. We're not really sure why we received this newsletter, so if you're the kind of person who believes in fate, perhaps you will conclude that we were meant to get it. If you're me, you just assume that you probably got these newsletters before, but never noticed them. In this particular newsletter was a story about CHSFS's Ethiopian adoption program. I read the article, and it resonated with me. Paul and I had talked about adoption before, in a pretty hypothetical way, so I was open to the idea but hadn't really thought about it in the here and now. Something about this article, however, spoke to me in a more here and now sort of way. One night, while crawling into bed (in our tiny loft bedroom in a cabin in the woods of Holden, Maine), I mentioned the article to Paul. Turns out, he had read it, too, and had been left with the same feelings I had: maybe this was something we should do. I believe the conversation, in its entirety, went something like this:

"Hey, Paul. Did you read that article in the Children's Home Society newsletter about Ethiopian adoption?"

"Yeah. Did you?"

"Yeah. You suppose maybe we would want to do that?"

"Yeah, I think so. How about you?"

"Yeah, I think so, too."

"OK."

"OK. Good night."

That was kind of it. I mean, we talked about it a lot after that, but I think our decision was made in those few sentences late at night in a log cabin in Maine. For a while, whenever I was asked why I wanted to pursue Ethiopian adoption, I was unable to give a good intellectual reason. It just felt like the right thing to do. Or rather, it felt like something I wanted to do, could do, and was called to do (not necessarily in the religious sense of the word, but I guess that's not terribly important).

Then I did some research, spoke with people, and began analyzing it from a more intellectual perspective. Thus began a very difficult journey. As it turns out, it is one thing to imagine bringing home a motherless infant and meeting all of her needs with love and affection. It's another thing to fully grasp that this child is motherless because of global politics, racism, poverty, and cultural factors completely outside my realm of understanding. And then there is the reality of bringing a black child home to a white family, in a society where white privilege is very much the foundation of our country, and people will have strong opinions about our child, her family, and her background. Finally, this child will carry with her the most basic and primal of losses - that of a mother. And I will never be able to fully heal that wound.

Thinking about all of that nearly caused me to abandon the whole process. It was overwhelming. How could I ever be qualified to raise this child? What if she hates me? What if she believes in her heart of hearts that I did the wrong thing by her? How could I ever forgive myself if she were to conclude in her adulthood that I basically ruined her life?

I cannot say that I have fully resolved all or any of these issues. I have simply learned to tolerate them, to talk about them, and to be aware that they exist. I have spoken to many people about my own issues around race, and have done a surreal amount of self-examination (that some might call neurotic obsession) to understand my motives and expectations for this adoption. I have read books, blogs, and magazines, have watched videos and attended workshops, and have talked with women of color and with adults who were adopted transracially. In short, I think I'm doing my homework, and my hope is that it will benefit my daughter.

Now when I am asked why I am adopting from Ethiopia, I respond that I believe strongly that children need parents. I acknowledge that adoption is not a great answer to the problems families are facing in Ethiopia; that it is, in effect, the lesser of a number of evils. I state that I am committed to doing what I can to help the situation in Ethiopia, but that in the meantime, babies are being brought to care centers and orphanages, and they need parents, period. I can be one of those parents. I have found that my faith in this answer has to be strong, for many people I have encountered feel differently. Transracial adoption stirs up strong emotions in some people, and I have to be prepared for their energy being directed by way. We will see, when the time comes, how I handle negative remarks, anger, racism, and just plan rudeness. In the meantime, I will continue to educate myself and do the work that I believe is necessary to adequately care for an African child.

My first blog post

2007-05-01T12:34:00.000-05:00

Today I feel old. I'm trying to create a blog for friends and family, to update you all on the exciting changes in our family, but I have no idea what I'm doing. So please bear with me as I attempt to create the Bly Family Blog!

Tihun - the inspiration for our blog
I was inspired to create this after receiving our referral for a beautiful baby girl named Tihun Tesfaye. She was born around November 15, 2006, which means she is only 5 months old!! We were completely expecting an older child referral, so we are still straining to wrap our minds around what we will have to do now that we will be bringing home a BABY!! Our house is currently prepared (more or less) for the arrival of a toddler, since Eliana was 2 when we moved in. But a baby...well, that's another story altogether. So we are in the early stages of discussing high chairs, bottles, formula, onesies - I still cannot believe we are going back to that phase of parenting.

I'll admit, I kinda thought I had managed to worm my way out of parenting a baby again, by extending our referral age to 24 months. Don't get me wrong, I love babies! But my memories of Eliana's first year are blurry from sleep deprivation, and loaded with anxst and frustration. Not to mention a healthy dose of postpartum depression. My hope is that all of that will remain in the past, and that with my previous experience as a mother, I will be able to weather the challenges of babyhood with less neuroticism than last time. But I would't count on it.

Naming the baby
One of the first dilemmas we are facing has to do with Tihun's name. In Amharic, it is pronounced Ti-hoo-nah. If you say that out loud, you may notice that it sounds a lot like Tuna. I am having a really hard time warming up to the name Tuna for my baby girl. On the other hand, I'm reluctant to just willy-nilly change her name just because I don't particularly care for the name her birth mother chose for her. It seems awfully presumptious. We originially thought we would name her Isabelle Tihun. In fact, we sent out an announcement to our friends and family with that name. But now Paul and I are both unsure of that decision.

On the one hand, she is now our daughter, and giving her a name that we (actually, Eliana) chose has some meaning for us. It is symbolic of her entering our family. On the other hand, her mother named her Tihun, and to just toss that aside, or assign it middle name status, has a touch of disrespect in my opinion. As though we are trying to downplay her heritage, or declare that her Ethiopian name wasn't good enough, and that she would be much better off with an American one. Another thought I had today was that we could give her another Ethiopian name, one that has a particularly meaning for our family (Tihun means Let her be). Names apparently are chosen for their meaning, and I think choosing an Ethiopian name that has a special meaning to us, with Tihun as her middle name, may also be a good option. My plan is to consult with an Ethiopian woman (a friend of a friend) and get her thoughts on this topic. Obviously, it's one I don't plan to take lightly.

Traveling to Ethiopia
Lastly, for today, I wanted to write a little bit about our upcoming trip. One thing we are debating (we do a lot of debating in our home) is whether to stay at the Guest House or at the Hilton. Paul says that he promised himself, after spending a year "roughing it" in Tanzania, that the next time he went to Africa, he was going to travel in style. Or at least, in relative comfort. Apparently, the guest house is quite nice, but can get a little crowded, and electricity and showers are far from guaranteed. The Hilton usually has reasonable rates, and we have enough frequent flier miles and Hilton Points that we may very well get to stay for free, depending on availability when we are given our travel dates. And then our showers are guaranteed, and we would have some time to ourselves to unwind, perhaps with a glass or two of wine, at the end of each day.

Regardless of where we stay, I am so excited for this trip, 30 hour plane ride and all. I know it will change my life forever, and I hope for the better. We will get to travel south, to the region where Tihun is from, and perhaps even meet her birth family. This will probably rip my heart right out of my chest, and I know that I will have strong doubts about what I am doing, and wonder how on earth it is ok for me to take another woman's baby to the other side of the earth. But I suppose I will write a lot about that later.

We will likely be traveling in late June or early July, much to Paul's dismay, as that is about the busiest time of the year at Thomson. I feel kind of bad for him. He's trying to be the best Thomson employee ever, while also doing his best to be father of the year. And while he gets pretty darn close to achieving both of those goals, I don't envy him. We'll see how it goes this summer. Paul may acquire a few more gray hairs and some additional wrinkles on his forehead before it's all over. I feel pretty grateful to him for affording me the opportunity to stay home with the children for a while. I think (I hope) that we will all benefit from my taking a few months off from work.

That's all for today. Thank you for tuning in to the first post on the Bly Family Blog. Stay tuned for updates!!