And Now Back to Your Regularly Scheduled Mother

I ran across this post about 6 weeks ago and have been coveting the day that it too would apply to me. I believe that day has come. I think I can finally say the first trimester is loosening its death grip on me. This week I have begun to actually take an interest again in providing a clean, stimulating home abundantly stocked with healthy snacks and meals for those five lovely darlings currently depending on me for such things.

So here's to turning up the funky house music, baking a batch of cookies, and cleaning the house before my worst fear is realized; that being that all the hair the two dogs have shed in the last few weeks will reconstitute into a third dog before it is vacuumed up.

Wanting Things that Don't Matter Not to Matter

Mr. Garvey is a wonderful person. I often hear many complimentary comments from other adults who come in contact with him. They usually tell me how polite he is, how well-mannered and well-behaved he is, how mature he is, how smart he is, how athletic he is, how he looks out for the younger kids and plays well with everyone. All of this is true.

Underneath all of this, though, is young boy who has known and seen suffering that I can't begin to imagine. He grieves daily for his Ethiopian family that he loves and misses more than he can say. Sometimes a sound or smell triggers a memory and you can see the sadness sweep over his face. He becomes very quiet and introverted, lost in his thoughts and memories. He use to cry, but he rarely does that anymore because he has realized how much it upsets his sisters. He remembers his Ethiopian father's mandate that he must take care of his sisters. So he soldiers on silently and stoically waiting for the melancholia to pass. He waits to feel more settled and then returns to being his usual upbeat and determined self.

His life in U.S. has been pretty uneventful in a good way. He has transitioned into a new family, country, culture, and language with very few bumps in the road. He has embraced the many opportunities he now has without losing his perspective. Mr. Garvey has opened his heart to us and accepted us without reserve. He has forgiven us for any of our missteps along the way and is always willing to let us try again.

I have been pleased and relieved that Mr. Garvey and his sisters have been so openly accepted by our families, neighbors, and community at large. Racism, at least anything overt, has been non-existent. However, I knew at some point living in a small southern town that one of my kids would be the recipient of a cruel and confusing comment about skin color. It happened to Mr. Garvey the other night at gymnastics.

A new boy joined his class last week and teased him that he has been eating too much chocolate and that is why his skin is so dark. He went on to suggest that Mr. Garvey start drinking white milk as a means to becoming white. Mr. Garvey told him that he liked his skin color and did not want to change it. New Boy replied, "I doubt that. Nobody would want to have skin that is your color."

I want to tell New Boy how presumptuous and cruel and disturbing his comments are. I want to tell him that it is who we are and what we do with our lives that is more important than what any of us look like. I want him to know what Mr. Garvey knows. I want him to know what is like to live without enough food. I want him to know what it is like to see your own father refuse to eat so that you and your siblings may eat. I want him to know what it feels like to know that escaping the grinding poverty depends on getting an education but that your family only has enough money to send the oldest son to school and that's not you. I want him to know how it feels to be alone herding goats when a lion shows up. I want him to know how your life depends on being able to climb high and fast into a tree. I want him to understand how it feels to lose everything sacred and familiar and to begin again with strangers in a strange land. I want him to know how it feels to be told you are less than others because of a way you look. Of course, I don't literally wish any of these trials and tribulations on anyone including New Boy, but I do wish for things that don't matter not to matter.

Mr. Garvey wants me to let the matter drop. He doesn't want to cause any trouble. He understands that what New Boy said is wrong and cruel. He tells me that it is New Boy's problem not his. He is prepared to just ignore New Boy. I feel ignoring this is not acceptable. We have agreed, for now, that I will speak privately to his coach so that he can keep an ear out for any inappropriate remarks in the future.

Anyone else have any wisdom they'd like to share?

A Mr. Laura Declaration

We told the kids about the pregnancy pretty early on mainly because I was feeling so bad that I needed them to understand that I wouldn't exactly be myself for awhile. We cautioned them that it was early and that sometimes something goes wrong and that a baby would not be born in May. Mr. Laura always says good night to the baby and finishes with "See you in May - maybe." The other day he walked up to me and said, "I know nothing is going to happen to the baby. He's gonna be all right." I replied, "You are pretty sure of yourself. I hope you are right." To which he declared, "I am sure of myself. Mr. Edwards and I were both in your belly as babies and we both made it out alive."

By George I Think She Finally Understands

I have written before about how much the girls argue with each other. Their arguments are never of very much substance or really ever about anything in particular. They are more of the endless "Yes it is - No it isn't - Yes it is - No it isn't" variety. My latest attempts at curbing this behavior is to simply point out the behavior when it is happening. That usually works for a little while until they find a new topic to disagree on. I was hoping that this might help them recognize the behavior and eventually allow them to police themselves. I, of course, had not seen much improvement and then I had the following conversation with Miss Almanzo the other night:

Miss Almanzo: I'm sorry for not listening very well today.

Ma: It's ok. We all have bad days. It is important for me to know that I can count on you to listen to me. Sometimes it is very important. I know you will do better tomorrow.

Miss Almanzo: I can't do it. I don't know how.

Ma: Yes, you can.

Miss Almanzo: No, I can't.

Ma: Yes you can. All you have to do is try.

Miss Almanzo: Now you are arguing with me.

That's progress, right? She recognized the pattern and called me on it!