The kids have been working on handstands in gymnastics. As I have already written about, Mary absolutely loves gymnastics. It continues to be a great source of joy for her. She spent all of last week at a gymnastics camp and thoroughly enjoyed herself. Recently she asked me if I would help her with her handstand. I was more than happy to oblige.Handstands happen to be one of my most favorite things to do in yoga class. Handstands are inversions in "yoga speak". Inversions are important because they facilitate a different perspective not just physically but mentally as well. From a physical point of view, turning your body upside down reverses the effects of gravity, nourishes your brain, and activates certain glands. Yoga for me, however, is more than physical. Yoga helps me challenge and change my mental habits as well. Inversions give me not only a new perspective physically while I am in the pose but emotionally and spiritually long after the class is over.
Doing handstands together with Mary was fun and got me thinking about this past year. It has been almost one year since Mr. Garvey, Mary, and Miss Almanzo joined our family. It has been a year of big transitions for everyone. Overall I would say that everything is just about where I hoped it would be at the one year mark. Life feels settled and normal again, albeit much more busy. Many of my perspectives on life, mothering, and gender have been challenged. I still struggle with how to be as good of a mom to 5 kids as I was to 2. I have learned and am still learning what it means to be a mother to daughters. There is definitely a different dynamic between mothers and daughters than mothers and sons. On that front, I am still a work in progress.
I recall when Pa and I first began considering the adoption of a child, we were going to adopt one baby girl. We had two sons and although I love those two boys more than I can say, with each pregnancy I secretly hoped for a girl. Once Pa and I decided on Ethiopia, one girl quickly became two sisters. We felt that with the transracial and transcultural issues this adoption would present, it would be nice for our new child to have someone else in the family who would completely understand the experience of being adopted, of losing your culture, of looking different than the rest of your family. Long story short one baby girl became three older children.
Once we knew Mr. Garvey, Mary, and Miss Almanzo would be joining our family, my biggest fear was how I would bond with Mr. Garvey. I was afraid that I might find out that I could not love him like I love my bio sons. I was so relieved to find that these worries were just worries. I liked Mr. Garvey instantly and I felt that he fit right into our family as if he had always been here. I never had these concerns about Mary and Miss Almanzo. After all they are girls and I use to be a girl. This should be a piece of cake right? Well having daughters is a lot different than having sons. For those of you with children of both genders feel free to laugh. I know. I know. Boys and girls are different. On an intellectual level I get it. I just didn't know what it would mean in a real world situation.
Here is an example:
Ma: It's time for bed.
Boys all run up give me a kiss, hug, and the customary "Sweet Cheese. I love you. See you tomorrow. Night. Night." The boys head up the stairs to their room not to be seen again until morning.
Ma: Girls, it is time for bed. The boys are all ready upstairs. Let's go.
Girls saunter in. I get the kiss, the hug, the customary "Sweet Cheese. I love you. See you tomorrow. Night. Night." They however do not proceed up the stairs to their room. Suddenly they have 5 million tidbits of information they need to tell you right this minute. They double team Pa and I talking at a breakneck pace without even a pause to catch their breath. I'm not sure how they keep from passing out. Their volume increases with each new statement as they try to be heard over the other. Now I am one of those annoyingly chipper morning people. When I wake up I am ready to go. Evenings are a different story. I have less patience, less ability to go with the flow. I try to listen for a few minutes, but then my head is spinning. I'm tired. I just want quiet. I finally convince them that some of this information can wait until morning. The kissing and the hugging commence again. They finally head upstairs. On good nights we won't see them again until morning. Other nights there are some topics that really, in their opinion, can't wait until morning, thus forcing them to come back downstairs and share.
On one night in particular, when it finally appears that the girls are in bed for the night, I turn to Pa and ask, "Why do you think that they must tell us every detail of every move they make or even think about making? Why do they tell us every thought they have?"
Pa laughs. He also looks at me as if I just asked the proverbial "Does this make me look fat?" question. He seems uncomfortable and isn't sure he should say what he is thinking. I finally insist. He begrudgingly answers, "They're little women."
I respond, "You mean this is a woman thing? Is this something I do also?"
Rather than answer the direct question, he replies that women like to talk and in general talk more than men. Turns out he's right. According to a show I heard recently on NPR, women speak an average of 22,000 words per day and men only 7,000 words per day. I would say Pa is on the low end for men and me for women. Mary and Miss Almanzo are definitely on the other side of the curve making up for all us quieter women. Mary must hit a good 35,000 words per day and Miss Almanzo is completely off the charts. Guess I am going to have to start encouraging them to talk more in the morning, if I am going to have quieter evenings.
