Little House on the Sandhills

Time for a Change, Time for a Move.....

2008-07-28T11:31:00.003-04:00

as far as my blogging goes anyways. I'll no longer be posting on Little House on the Sandhills and will be moving over to An Even Half Dozen. Feel free to drop on by. I'd love the company.

-Ma

All New Mothers Need a Mr. Garvey

2008-07-14T06:50:00.003-04:00

As you may have read, we have had a lot going on for the first 4 or 5 weeks of Baby A's life. Well add in recovery from a c-section, some nursing trouble (1 bout of mastitis followed by 2 rounds of yeast), a portion of the incision that just did not want to heal, and the fact that Pa's planned two weeks of half days didn't fully materialize due to problems at work for which he was needed. I'm sure no matter what, I would have put my head down and gotten done what needed to be done. However, my load was lightened significantly by Mr. Garvey. This kid is just awesome. Every morning when I pulled my sleep deprived feel like I've been run over by a truck self out of bed, I would find that Mr. Garvey, without me asking, had put in a load of laundry, emptied and loaded the dishwasher, fed and watered the dogs, shut the door to my room so the other kiddos would not wake me up, and had done just about anything else he could think of that needed to be done.

In addition, he is completely experienced with holding and calming a baby. There were times when Baby A. would be fussy and I couldn't or didn't have the energy required to settle him down. On one particular occasion, he asked if he could try. He held Baby A, made some "shu, shu, shu" noises, and gently jiggled him. Thirty seconds later Baby A was asleep. Mr. Garvey looked up with such a grin of satisfaction on his face and said, "I can't wait until I am a father." And what a wonderful father that will be.

Lightning and Rainbows: Mr. Laura and Mr. Garvey Processing Death

2008-07-04T19:46:00.015-04:00

I am not a religious person (in any organized sense of the word). I am, however, interested in several different religions and do a fair amount of reading about them. In a nutshell I pretty much believe that there is a universal truth to all religions, and each religion is just a different way of getting to that underlying truth. I personally find a lot of meaning in Buddhism. I feel a strong connection to the ideas of impermanence and non-attachment, as well as the Four Noble Truths. I like the way Buddhism inspires me to be a better person and to live more in the present moment.

With that said, I am not one to impose my faith and beliefs on others -- that includes my own children. Although I openly share with them what I believe and what brings me comfort during challenging times, I don't expect them to believe or to be comforted by the same things. We have talked a lot about death in the days preceding and since my mother's passing. I can't get two of their comments out of my head this week.

On the 2 hour drive home from my mother's memorial services we went through bit of bad weather. Now normally Mr. Laura would be quite worked up about this. He is terrified by thunderstorms. Fortunately, however, he slept through the worst of it. When he did wake up, he could see several streaks of lightning in the distance. Instead of getting "freaked out" he matter-of-factly said,"Hey mom look, God is letting Nana take pictures of us so that she can show them to Gigi and your father and all of our other family members in heaven".

A bit later, Mr. Garvey pointed out a large, bright rainbow in the sky. He said, "I think this is God's way of letting us know that Nana has made it to heaven".

Both of these comments made me both smile and cry at the same time. I don't usually find it comforting when folks tell me things like your mother is now "in a better place" or other things along those lines. I guess I have my doubts about the existence of heaven and an afterlife. For some reason, though, I found comfort in Mr. Laura's and Mr. Garvey's explanations of what happens after death in relation to the natural phenomenon they were seeing.

I will certainly never see rainbows and lightning quite the same again. From now on they will always be associated with a memory of my mother and a memory of Mr. Laura and Mr. Garvey trying to make sense of death. Their comments brought me a sense of closure and peace.

There is a Jack Johnson song that has the line "there were so many fewer questions when stars were just the holes to heaven". Thanks to Mr. Garvey and Mr. Laura I too have so many fewer questions now that rainbows and lightning are also holes to heaven as well.

Goodbye Mom, Goodbye Nana

2008-06-26T09:20:00.003-04:00

My mom (Nana to the kids) passed away yesterday afternoon. We found out her cancer had returned the day before Baby A was born. It was not a surprise. We had seen some decline in the preceding month or so, but had not heard officially that the cancer was back. This time it had invaded her spine and taken away much of her physical abilities. In these 4 short weeks she went from assisted living back to the nursing home to the hospital and then finally to hospice. I had not expected the decline to be so rapid.

Over the past 2 years, she gave her cancer a good fight with hardly a complaint or demand through all of the surgeries, the chemo, and the radiation. There was nothing medicine could do for her this time.

One of her last wishes was to meet Baby A. I took him down when he was 2 weeks old. Here is a picture of her holding him. What I love about this picture is that it was Baby A that reached out and held mom's finger.

One more of her holding him...

She will be deeply missed by us all, but we are comforted to know that she is no longer in pain and that the suffering is over. I cannot say enough wonderful things about our hospice experience. What a blessing and an asset for the community.

A Bundle of Joy

2008-06-24T10:45:00.003-04:00

All I can say is better late than never.....That goes for both me, the new mom, and our new baby bundle.

Our newest addition took his sweet time getting here. He was 10 days late. I'm almost 1 month late getting this post out. As I type, the 8 lb 3 oz. baby boy born on May 29th is almost 4 weeks old and weighs close to 12 lbs thanks in part to a combination of a more than ample milk supply and a nursling with an appetite that rivals Mr. Garvey's.

All is well here and everyone is enjoying the sights, sounds and smells of a new baby. Here are some pictures of Baby A.

P.S. So far I highly recommend becoming a mother unexpectedly in your 40's. I am so enjoying everything this time around. The wisdom and experience of having done this twice before coupled with knowing this is the last time I will give birth has me completely mesmerized and in awe of every aspect of being a mother to a newborn again. I am so thankful for the curve balls that life can throw you.

Tornadoes and Idiots

2008-04-06T20:17:00.007-04:00

There has been a lot of stress in our house lately concerning tornadoes. We have had a rash of pretty severe thunderstorms complete with high winds, hail, heavy rain, thunder, lightning, and tornadoes. Mr. Laura does not handle these well at all. On Friday night as another storm was ramping up and Mr. Laura was becoming increasingly distressed, I decided to google some information on South Carolina and tornadoes. I found a website that contains a database of all tornadoes and their corresponding strength on the Fujita scale since the 1950's. South Carolina has never had a F4 or F5 tornado and, at least according to the database, no fatalities have ever been a direct result of a tornado in these parts. Mr. Laura was feeling reassured and we began to play around on the website checking out other states' statistics. Soon the rest of the nestlings had gathered around my laptop. Mr. Edwards noticed that there were links to video clips of tornadoes. Soon we were checking out lots and lots of storm chaser videos in the midwest. The enormity and power of the tornadoes were both frightening and impressive.

Many of the clips had audio as well. They were usually the voices of early twenty-something sounding men. The words "dude", "awesome", and "cool" were repeated over and over. Other comments included "Hurry up man, we are going to miss it", "I want someone to take my picture with it coming towards me", "Oh my god! It just sucked up that house", and "We're getting close. There is debris hitting our car".

The audio led to questions from the nestlings as to who was filming the tornadoes?, who was making them chase the tornadoes?, do they get paid to do this?, and why would anyone want to do this?

I explained that many of them were probably not being paid, but instead got a thrill out of being that close to such a powerful force of nature. The nestlings were not convinced. They also wanted to know why it seemed that no women were chasing the tornadoes. I made some attempt at explaining that, in general, as boys get older and go through puberty that they experience feelings of invincibility and immortality and therefore are willing to take more and more risks than they may be willing to take at other times in their life.

At this point Mr. Edwards asked, "You mean we are going to act like idiots when we're 20"?

"Hot Girls" and a History Lesson

2008-04-02T08:00:00.000-04:00

Recently Mr. Garvey, Mr. Laura, and I were sitting in the car waiting on Mr. Edwards to get out of an art class he attends. I was lost in thought as Mr. Garvey and Mr. Laura began a conversation. I was snapped back to reality by the topic of their conversation. They were discussing "Hot Girls". A bit troubled by where they may have gotten the term and what it meant but not wanting to jump to any conclusions, I listened in. Both Mr. Garvey and Mr. Laura were in agreement that they were not interested in "hot girls" and would never ever consider marrying one. I decided to inquire as to exactly what a "hot girl" might be. As they explained, a "hot girl" is a girl who uses her looks to try and make you fall in love with her. She evidently resorts to this surface trickery because she is majorly flawed on the inside and is trying to hide that fact. Both of them were adamant that it was more important that their future girlfriends or wives be beautiful on the inside than the outside. Mr. Laura summed it up for me with a question.....Momma, he asked, would you rather marry the most handsome man in the world who also happens to be really mean to you or the nicest man in the world who happens to not look so nice?

A few days later we were reading about Julius Caesar, his adopted son, Octavius, Antony, and Cleopatra. In our reading we learned that even though Julius Caesar had conquered Egypt, he had been so charmed by Cleopatra that he allowed her to remain Queen of Egypt. After Caesar's death, Antony and Octavius split rule of the empire. Antony moved to Alexandria where he met, fell in love with, and married Cleopatra. Sharing rule of the Roman empire with Antony did not satisfy Octavius so he made war on both Antony and Cleopatra. After being defeated by Octavius, Antony committed suicide. As the story goes, Cleopatra then tried to woo Octavius as a means to remain Queen of Egypt. Octavius, however, did not fall for her womanly charms and planned to have her taken back to Rome and paraded through the streets as was done with other prisoners of war. Upon hearing of Octavius's plans, Cleopatra then killed herself.

After we finished our reading, Mr. Laura asked, "You mean Cleopatra was a "Hot Queen"? to which Mr. Garvey replied, "Yeah, but I really really like Octavius. He could see she was a 'hot queen' and did not fall for it".

"I'm a Little Bit Freaked Out Right Now"

2008-03-23T09:12:00.004-04:00

On a recent trip to visit my mom, Mr. Laura and I accompanied her to the cafeteria of her nursing facility for lunch. While my mom ate, Mr. Laura begin to fidget and ask constantly, "when are we leaving?" I repeatedly told him that we would stay with Nana until she had finished lunch and we could help her get back to her room. I was becoming annoyed with Mr. Laura for his repetition. Here is how the rest of the conversation and lunch went.....

Ma: Mr. Laura I have all ready answered that question. What is really bothering you?

Mr. Laura: I am a little bit freaked out right now.

Ma: About what?

Mr. Laura: There are all these little old ladies in wheel chairs waving and smiling at me. One lady keeps motioning me to come over. I don't want to go over there. She is a complete stranger.

I did a quick scan of the room and sure enough many of the women's faces were focused on Mr. Laura all vying for his attention. He was the youngest person in the room by a good 30 years. I assured him that it was OK not to want to go over to any of them. I suggested that if he were to just smile and wave back at them that he would probably make their day. The rest of lunch continued with out too much more anxiety on Mr. Laura's part.

As we were leaving, one woman swiveled her wheel chair around and while pressing something into Mr. Laura's hand said, "Here boy take this with you." Once we were in the hallway I asked Mr. Laura what she had given him. He replied, "A little tub of butter. And now I'm a little bit freaked out again."

Resurfacing

2008-03-23T08:19:00.003-04:00

Gosh, it has been more than 2 months since my last post. Motivation and lack of time have been the two main factors. The last two months have been filled with activity - some happy, some sad.

Here's a quick recap of the past few months:

My mom finally was released in early January from the hospital to a rehab/skilled nursing facility. Initial evaluation by the facility was not encouraging - they doubted she would ever walk again. After a lot of hard work on her part and her very dedicated therapist, she has surpassed these expectations. She is walking with the aid of a walker and has even begun to show signs of being able to stand from a sitting position unaided. The shunt operation to relieve the pressure in her brain has made all the difference. Mentally and cognitively she is back to her old self. She is getting stronger everyday.

Shortly after our return from Chicago, Mr. Edwards began to behave quite differently. He was having some very concerning anxiety/phobia issues along with exhibiting some OCD behaviors. For weeks he was not eating or sleeping. He was waking me 3 to 4 times a night. He refused to leave the house. Any semblance of a "normal" life and routine had disappeared for us. It was a very trying time for all of us. Mr. Edwards has been seeing a therapist since early February and has made tremendous progress. Life has returned mostly to "normal" - whatever that is.

As far as the pregnancy goes, it has been a cake walk thus far (knock on wood). No major complaints or complications. I am feeling the physical effects of this pregnancy more so than I did when pregnant in my 20's and 30's. We have 8 weeks to go and are getting excited about having a sweet new baby in the house again.

In early March, my grandmother, or GG as she is known to the great grandkids, quite suddenly and unexpectedly passed away. She had spent the past 22 months at my mother's side as my mom dealt with her disease. At almost 86, she was vital and able and giving until the end. She will be greatly missed by all of us.

We have decided to postpone building our house at the land for a while. Life has felt too hectic and unpredictable lately. Instead we are having an addition put on our current house. We are adding a master bedroom/bathroom and nursery to our house. The builder has nearly completed the shell and we should be able to get to work on the interior finish work soon. I doubt it will be complete by the time the baby arrives, but knowing that it is there is a comfort. We will go from a 3 BR/2 Bath house to a 5 BR/3 Bath house. While that sounds big to me, I guess for 8 people it isn't entirely unreasonable.

Our Chicago Holiday Road Trip by the Numbers

2008-01-04T10:25:00.000-05:00

We spent 4 wonderful days with Pa's family in Chicago over Christmas. It had been 2 1/2 years since we had last been up there. Most of Pa's family had not met Mr. Garvey, Mary, or Miss Almanzo. We had not met Baby W. Pa's family planned so many fun activities for all of the kids (9 in all). We had a cookie baking and decorating day at the Fuzzies' house and an ornament making party at cousin A's house and a birthday party for cousin G. There was lots and lots of delicious food and conversation. On the flip side, hopefully we did not create too much chaos or stress for anyone as we are quite a large bunch to have descend upon you especially when the option of sending the kids outside to play is pretty much non-existent.

The Trip Up to Chicago

800: miles driven between Chicago and South Carolina

0: extra seats in the van

1: number of times we almost ran out of gas while travelling through the section of the NC mountains with no gas station exits for about 30 miles.

2: how many times we looked like the southerners that we are by playing in the small remaining piles of snow at two Indiana rest stops.

1: number of other large trans-racial adoptive families we ran into in the middle of nowhere Indiana. (It was kind of surreal. They were a very nice family from Nashville with 3 bio boys, a daughter from China, and 2 daughters from Liberia.)

14.5: hours of music loaded into my iPod. Just enough to get us there without repeating any songs.

5: number of above songs with explicit lyrics that Pa and I forgot about. (oops!)

Weather in Chicago

50: degrees F the temperature dropped in our first 12 hours in Chicago.

40: increase in wind speed (mph) in our first 12 hours in Chicago.

2: hours the nestlings will stay outside in 25 degree weather with 40 mph winds and a couple piles of snow.

1: hours Pa was willing to stay outside in the above conditions.

0: hours Ma was willing to stay outside in the above conditions.

Accommodations

5: nights spent in a hotel

4: number of beds

5: different sleeping combinations of 7 people in the above 4 beds for 5 nights.

3: number of times I awoke to find by pregnant self squished between Pa and any one of the given 5 nestlings.

4: number of nights Mr. Edwards woke me with fears of spider bites, poison, or nerve gas.

0: number of nights Ma got a full night's sleep

Lego Store

00 (infinite): how far a posh Michigan Avenue shopping center, with a much coveted Lego store, is from Mary, Miss Almanzo, and Mr. Garvey's village of Lafto Lenka in Ethiopia

5: combined minutes it took Mr. Laura, Miss Almanzo, and Mr. Edwards to select their Lego purchases.

40: combined minutes it took Mary and Mr. Garvey to select their Lego purchases.

Ethiopian Food

12: number of Ethiopians we met at an Ethiopian restaurant

12: number of Ethiopians who repeatedly told Pa and I "Thank you. Thank you for what you've done."

3: number of nestlings who moaned and ooohed and aaahed and ate themselves sick on the delicious Ethiopian food.

2: number of adults who did the same.

1: number of nestlings who left the Ethiopian restaurant hungrier than when he got there. (That would be Mr. Laura - he is such a picky, picky eater. Plus he knew there would be cookies at the ornament making party at cousin A's house.)

7: number of times our Ethiopian children tried to get our server to bring them bunna (coffee).

7: number of times our server told our Ethiopian children it was not good for them to drink bunna.

Behavior and Good Times

5: number of extremely well-behaved nestlings.

2: number of nestlings who wanted to be left in Chicago with Pa's family. (That would be Mr. Edwards and Mary. Saying good-bye was difficult for both of them.)

The Trip Home

0: cubic inches of cargo volume remaining in the van for the trip home.

3: number of traffic jams we sat in on our way home.

3: hours late we were getting home.

3643: number of times Mr. Laura said, "oh my butt hurts" on the last 2 hours of the trip.

0: number of times Pa and I wished we had DVD or video game capability in the car.

1: number of times the nestlings bickered with each other.

18: hours the kids kept themselves busy in the van with made up games, reading, writing, and drawing.

2: number of times someone said they were bored.

The Good Memories

562: number of times Baby Walker's name has been mentioned since we left Chicago.

642: number of times the nestlings have asked when will we be going back to Chicago to see everyone.

Home Sweet Home

5: loads of laundry done after we returned home.

2: hours it took to clean the van.

Spankings or "The Naughty List": The Great Debate (hypothetically speaking)

2008-01-02T09:05:00.000-05:00

A few nights before Christmas, Mr. Laura, Mr. Garvey and I were sitting at the kitchen table making ornaments. Mr. Laura brought up the topic of who's nicer Ma and Pa or Santa. With a few questions from me, this started a debate between Mr. Laura and Mr. Garvey.

Mr. Laura: I think Santa is the nicest person in the whole world. Ma and Pa are second.

Ma: What makes Santa so nice?

Mr. Laura: He brings us presents every year.

Ma: What about that naughty list? That doesn't sound too nice.

Mr. Laura: Yeah but he doesn't whip us.

Ma: When is the last time you were spanked*?

Mr. Laura: I don't get spankings.

Mr. Garvey: I think parents are nicer because they only spank you. Santa won't bring you any gifts. That's mean.

Ma: But we've never hit you.

Mr. Garvey: I know, but if you did that would be better than not getting presents.

Mr. Laura: I still think Santa is nicer.

I find it interesting to note their positions in light of their vastly different backgrounds up until the last 18 months. For Mr. Garvey, physical punishment was common and material goods scarce when he lived in Ethiopia. Mr. Garvey is nothing if not careful with his things. He keeps everything organized and becomes upset if he loses or breaks anything. He sees the idea of Santa withholding gifts as unforgivable because he so cherishes everything that is his. On the other hand, Mr. Laura who has grown up in the land-of-plenty (or should I say the land-of-too-much) and scarce physical punishment takes the opposite view. I think he believes that if he were to get on the "naughty list" and not receive gifts that eventually there would be more. He doesn't see his supply of goods threatened or scarce at all. For him, the idea of physical punishment is more unforgivable.

************************************************************************************
*In the spirit of full disclosure, Mr. Laura went through a very frustrating phase as a 2 and 3 year old where he would bite Mr. Edwards, often drawing blood. It would not be unusual for Mr. Edwards to have 4 or 5 bite marks on his body at any given time. After many other failed attempts to curb this behavior, I did resort to giving him a pop on his bottom or hand. It was not effective in the least. What finally worked was Mr. Edwards becoming frustrated enough with being Mr. Laura's personal human chew toy that he bit Mr. Laura back. And so ended the biting.

Navigation

2007-12-07T07:13:00.000-05:00

It was not my intention to drop completely off the blogging radar, but sometimes life calls. About two months ago, in response a friend's question regarding how my mother was doing, I wrote that although she wasn't in great shape, she at least seemed to have stabilized for now. At the time "stable" felt like a relief to say after the summer we'd just experienced. I still vividly remember hesitating with my choice of the word "stable". Although not really superstitious, I did worry that using my mom's name and "stable" in the same sentence might jinx the situation. I was hopeful though, so I kept it as is. As it turned out using "stable" was a bit premature.

Mom suddenly lost her ability to walk on October 29th and spent three weeks in the hospital. She then spent two weeks at a rehabilitation center trying unsuccessfully to learn to walk again. The rehab was too intensive given her overall weakness. It was recommended that she go to a skilled nursing facility where the therapy would be conducted at a pace more suitable to her current condition. This has caused considerable angst between my grandmother and us (my sister, my brother, and myself). My grandmother is hard of hearing which makes these discussions all the more difficult. My grandmother won't hear of a nursing home. She wants her home. In truth, we all want her home, but we disagree on the best path there. Going home directly means 2 care workers in the house 24/7 as she is completely bedridden and it takes at least two people to lift her. It also means less therapy than she would receive in the skilled nursing facility. The reality of the situation is that my mom cannot afford in-home care. In my heart I also believe that she will get better care and therapy at a facility.

Both my sister and I have offered to have my mom transferred to a facility near either one of us and for my grandmother to move into our homes. They are adamant that they want to stay in their current city. Even though I feel that my mother's care could be better monitored with more eyes on the situation I can't make them move. I am finding peace currently by continuing to let them know that my offer is still on the table should they change their minds. In light of their desire, my sister and I spent an afternoon touring facilities. We found a nice one that was close enough that my grandmother could very easily visit everyday. We took my grandmother to tour the facility and even got her blessing. The rehab facility had a wonderful caseworker who helped me get the arrangements made. My mom was all set to go on Tuesday.

I received a call Tuesday morning saying that she was being readmitted to the hospital because her liver was not functioning properly. In the last few days test after test has been run and we are waiting on the results. We do not yet know what is wrong this time, what procedure, if any, will be needed, if she is even strong enough to endure anything else, and she has lost her spot at the nursing facility and moved onto the waiting list.

Everything is up in the air again. I hate the feeling. I'm a planner. I'm an organizer. I'm a fixer. I'm a bit of a control freak. While it may seem silly (or at least leave gaping holes) to base one's life philosophy on a movie, I'm not sure where I would be in life if I had never seen Out of Africa. Once again I'm finding words to live by in this current situation. In the movie, Tanne is reflecting on how she and her love interest, Denys, navigate differently. She says that perhaps Denys understands something that she does not - that the world was made round so that we could not see too far ahead.

I find these words comforting not so much for what they say, but for the world they negate. - the one where we would know everything that is going to happen and when. I find this to be a much more frightening alternative. So when my mom's situation begins to feel out of control, I repeat these words to myself, and work on shortening my view and surrendering to the current of life.

And Now Back to Your Regularly Scheduled Mother

2007-11-09T11:26:00.000-05:00

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

2007-11-05T07:00:00.000-05:00

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

2007-11-03T17:48:00.000-04:00

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

2007-11-03T17:25:00.000-04:00

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!

I've Been Tagged

2007-10-25T08:22:00.000-04:00

Egypt4 has tagged me for a meme:

Job’s I’ve held:
1) Restaurant hostess
2) Cocktail waitress
3) Mechanical Engineer
4) As an accountant (for the now defunct Arthur Andersen) doing Family Wealth Planning for wealthy folks - a really fun job. Lawyers are an absolute hoot to work with.

Places I’ve lived:
1) Atlanta
2) Buffalo, NY
3) New Orleans
4) small town in Texas

Food I love (must I really limit myself to four? This is going to be really hard):
1) All Ethnic Foods - never met one I didn't like yet
2) Coffee Heath Bar Crunch Ice Cream
3) A certain smoked Brook Trout I had eons ago at a bed and breakfast at Letchworth State Park in upstate New York. Pa and I ordered this as an appetizer 15 years ago and we still talk about it to this day. It is possibly the most delicious thing I have ever eaten.
4) Eating sushi with Mr. Edwards. He is simply hilarious to watch. He loves it so much that he can not stop moaning and sighing as he eats it.

Places I would rather be:
1) Someplace currently having an autumn
2) Someplace more open-minded and tolerant
3) Someplace actually addressing climate change
4) Someplace where I am not asked if I am babysitting or running a daycare. I really dread the comments once I start showing with #6

Movies I love:
1) Out of Africa
2) The Piano
3) Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, but really any movie by the screenwriter Charlie Kaufman
4) My Life without Me

TV shows I watch (OK this is going to be hard. I quit watching TV when Seinfeld went off the air, we don't have cable, and reception at our house is pretty much nonexistent. We do Netflix however so I've seen a few things):
1) Seinfeld reruns
2) The original BBC version of The Office
3) The kids and I always OD on the Home and Garden Channel when visiting my mom.
4) Frontline

Catching Up

2007-10-12T07:37:00.000-04:00

My brain is beginning to throw off the pregnancy amnesia shackles as I make my way through the morning sickness phase (read: 24/7 constant nausea). It all seems so much worse than before. Is it because I am older? Is it because I am admittedly less over the moon about this pregnancy than my previous two? The answer I have come up with and am sticking with is this: I am just plain busier and have very little opportunity to just stop and surrender to this force. For pregnancy no. 1, I had no other children and was returning to college to work on a second degree. It was easy to catch naps and just be plain miserable for a few weeks. Ditto for pregnancy no. 2. I had one 3 year old and my mother and grandmother were temporarily living with us. Now I have 5 kids who are all being actively homeschooled, who all have classes two times a week, who want to meet their friends and play, who understandably just can't be as quiet and still as I would like. I have turned into grouchy mom and we are all marking off the days on the calendar until, knock on wood, this fatigue and and morning sickness make their exit. Despite my disposition, the kids are being troopers and really helping out with lots of chores around the house.
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A belated Happy Birthday to Mr. Laura who turned 7 last Friday! He had a very nice day with presents, lunch and a movie, and finished off with homemade peanut butter pie. He thoroughly enjoyed all of his presents which were keeping with his current interest of becoming a vet. We have read almost all of the books and played all of the games. The big hit was the Owl Puke kit he received. He has spent countless hours excavating the owl puke pellet for the bones of one unfortunate, yet tasty, little mouse. Thank you notes will be forthcoming albeit slowly.
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I thought I'd share the kids' reactions to the news of another sibling:

Miss Almanzo: Dead Silence. She was completely speechless, a first. I'm not sure if she didn't understand or if she is bothered by the news since she will no longer be the baby.

Mr. Laura: "How do you know you are going to have a baby? Who told you you could have a baby? When will it be here?"

Mary: Immediate jumping, dancing, clapping, and shouts of glee. If Mary has her way, I won't have to lift a finger as a mother of an infant. She has all ready planned out all of the baby's care. Every morning I am greeted with "I'm so excited. I just can't wait."

Mr. Garvey: "You're joking. I don't believe you. You said you were too old to have another baby." This was followed by jumping and dancing after he was convinced that it was true.

Mr. Edwards: Silent disbelief followed by "Really?" followed by "Really?" followed by the clencher "Really really?" followed by jumping and dancing.

Recent Utterances, Cosmic Humor, An Announcement, and Divine Punishment

2007-10-03T07:34:00.000-04:00

Some conversations that I had one week in early September:

My mom: Did you know J. (my cousin) is going to have another child in April?
Me: Oh that's great! I wouldn't mind having another baby myself.
My mom: That's the last thing you need.
Me: Don't worry, I'm getting too old for that anyway.

I relayed the above conversation to Pa and we had the following conversation:

Pa: Do you really think you are too old to actually get pregnant?
Me: At 41, yea. As women age, their luteal phase of their cycle often becomes too short and it can make getting pregnant difficult. At this point all of the stars, planets, and moons would have to be in alignment - you know, nothing short of "perfect celestial harmony ".
Pa (laughing): That's reassuring.

Pa and I first heard the term "perfect celestial harmony" in reference to toilet-training toddlers. It has been kind of a joke between us when something lucky happens like finding a good parking space or realizing that all of the kids have busied themselves with something (relatively) quiet.

I also relayed the conversation with my mom to a friend of mine and here's how part of our conversation went:

Friend: Do you really want to have another child?
Me: It's not so much that I want to have another child. I just like knowing that I could if I wanted to. The fact that one day it will be impossible to be pregnant is the one thing that really bothers me about aging. It would be cool to know I still "have it".

One more conversation between Pa and I:

Me: Mr. Laura came down this morning and wanted to sit in my lap. He is getting so big that I realized I don't have much time left before I won't have a child I can carry. It makes me kind of sad.
Pa: What about Miss Almanzo?
Me: She may be 2 1/2 years younger, but she is almost as tall as Mr. Laura and weighs more than he does. Her days are numbered too.

In case you don't see where this is going, it does indeed appear that perfect celestial harmony occurred sometime around August 25. My expected September period was late and then later and then later and so far has yet to make an appearance. I explained it away as the beginning of peri-menopause. The old body is finally starting to sputter and stall -the beginning of the end. I knew deep down this wasn't true though. Too many pregnancy symptoms were beginning to appear - waves of nausea, a ridiculously heightened sense of smell, bone-crushing fatigue, middle of the night trips to pee, aversions to any and all food. I finally peed on the stick and it confirmed my "haveitness". Pa is currently in denial and keeps vacillating between "How did this happen? I'm never going to get to retire" and "adding one tiny infant with no language or grief issues has got to be a piece of cake compared to what we just did" (That is adding three non-English speaking big children to our family at one time.)

I am currently a tangle of emotions and thoughts as the reality sets in. I am on the cusp of being a mother to 6. Yikes! How did I get here? One of my all time favorite movies is Out of Africa. There is a line in that movie that keeps playing in my head over and over. Denys Finch Hatton has just suggested that he could keep his things at Tanne's house and come and go from there. It is not the commitment she is hoping for from Denys, but it is a big gesture on his "live one day at a time" part. She responds by saying "When the gods want to punish you, they answer your prayers." That is exactly how I feel right now.

What a Little Fresh Air Does For Mr. Edwards

2007-09-11T11:00:00.000-04:00

Mr. Edwards is my child who will come up with 5 million excuses as to why he can't go outside. If he does manage to get himself outside then, undoubtedly, there is a book in his hand and he has plopped himself in a chair to read. I can't really complain, though, he gets it very honestly from one of his parents (uhm, that would be me). The camping trip, of course, meant that he would be outside for several days in a row. All that fresh air did have an impact. Here is a funny picture of Mr. Edwards on the camping trip. And, yes, that water fountain Mr. Edwards is drinking out of is meant for creatures of the four-legged variety. He was quite disgusted when I told him, but then asked that I take a picture of him doing it again. Mary declined her turn at it and opted for one of the other drinking spots intended for us naked apes.

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Mr. Edwards is also my serious kind-hearted child who would never intentionally hurt someone else's feelings. He does not tease or pick on his siblings, although he stoically suffers their teasing quite often. One morning as I was helping Miss Almanzo with lotion, I asked her if she had put it on her face. She replied, "No. I need some for my other face." (I think what she meant was that she needed more lotion for her face). Mr. Edwards teased her, "Let's just hope that your other face doesn't have a mouth on it." It is no secret that Miss Alamanzo can carry on three conversations and sing and hum and make nonsense noise all at the same time, but Mr. Edwards teasing was uncharacteristic albeit funny. Even Miss Almanzo smiled.

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Did you know that the ant lion larvae holds its bodily waste inside its body for three years? Yea, me either. That is until Mr. Edwards and I were sitting all alone at the campsite. He is not much of a talker. He daydreams and reads and often prefers his inner life to what is going on around him. Anyways, as we sat there together, I made several attempts at conversation. He answered my questions but made no effort to keep the conversation going. I finally asked him what he would like to talk about? His eyes and face gave me that "Oh brother" look. I changed tactics and said, "Tell me something I don't know." That is when I learned all about ant lion larvae and their impressive holding capacity.

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We Survived (and it was fun)!

2007-09-10T08:44:00.000-04:00

We're back with five somewhat filthy, minimally sunburned, slightly bug-bitten, extremely exhausted kiddos. We managed to get all that we needeed either in or on top of the van. The trip was fun and uneventful in a good way. Our day at the beach was a lot less stressful than I was anticipating. With Tropical Storm Gabrielle off the Carolina coast causing rip currents and rough waters, I was worried about keeping track of our 5 kiddos plus the other 2 kiddos of the family we camped with. Once they got the idea of having to stay in front of our umbrella, the day went well. I'm not sure what was most fun for them; the beach, the water park, the playground, playing in the woods, or eathing lots and lots of food that we don't normally eat at home. Here are a few pics while I go and attend to the not-so-fun part of the trip - the cleaning and putting away of everything.

More Info on the Jena 6

2007-09-05T12:47:00.000-04:00

I first heard of the Jena 6 this past weekend from Emily at Collecting Raindrops. I found some more information on Egypt 4's blog today. I am also posting it to spread the word. Just when I think we may have taken a few steps forward with race relations in this country, I am always disappointed to find out that not everyone is in step.

More Info on the Jena Six

2007-09-05T12:46:00.001-04:00

A Packing Paradox

2007-09-04T11:17:00.000-04:00

We are going on our first camping trip this coming weekend as a family of seven. When the four of us use to go camping, the van was packed to the gills. So with reduced cargo room due to the fact that three more people will be in the car and the need for double the clothes, sleeping gear, and food, how does one make it all fit?

I'm thinking simply and creatively. I think I have gotten us down to the bare bones and that it will all fit. I'm concerned, however, about the inevitable expansion of our things that always seems to happen as you try to repack everything for the trip home. I'll let you know how it went when we get back.

Pa Gets His Walden Freak On

2007-09-02T16:33:00.000-04:00

It has been a while since I have updated the progress at the farm. Construction was slowed way down this summer due to so much going on with my mom and to the extreme heat we experienced in late July through mid August. This Labor Day Weekend has been wonderful both weather and temperature wise. We have been out working at the land for most of it.

The barn is mostly complete. The lower walls are not on yet, but it basically provides us with shelter to store building materials which is what we wanted. Here are a couple of pictures

Pa has moved on to building a small (think Walden) cabin. He has been working diligently lately and has finished the foundation, the floor joists, framed the walls, and put the exterior sheathing on. Next he will work on the loft floor and then the roof. We plan to use this cabin on the weekends while we work on the farm and build the real house. This way we will have a place to escape to for breaks and meals. Here are a couple of pictures.

This fall we will get the portion of the field we don't currently have leased to a farmer cleaned up and fenced. We plan to plant pasture grasses and get a few goats and maybe a few chickens as well as get ready to plant a kitchen garden, with okra of course, for the spring.

The kids all protested spending entire days out at the land although they quickly busied themselves with filling in holes, cutting a path through the brush to the barn, sawing where Pa needed it, collecting nails, and discovering an abandoned hummingbird's nest and a black widow spider. Here are some utterances I overheard from the kids this weekend even though it was the last place they claimed they wanted to be.

Mr. Garvey: Sam, you didn't play with any of the toys you brought.
Mr. Laura: I know, but this work is just too much fun.

Mr. Garvey: Can we come everyday and do this?

Mr. Laura: This is so nice to have our whole family playing, I mean working, together.

Miss Almanzo and Mary: "It's my turn to saw.", "No it isn't.", "Yes it is.", "No it isn't.", "Yes it is.".......

Mr. Edwards: I am so mad that I have to go out there today. It will be so boring.
Mr. Edwards (after 10 minutes of being at the land): Wow I didn't expect this to be so much fun.

All: Do we really have to go home already?

A Challenge - Take 2

2007-09-01T19:54:00.000-04:00

O.K. I had more fun than I expected doing this. The following ABC poem has been percolating in my head all day after hearing the term "bathroom cruising" on NPR this morning. It finally came together. Here it is below:

Arbitrary bathroom cruising
doesn’t exactly favor great hall incumbents.

Just knowing lust momentarily negates options;
produces quantifiable repercussions.

Senator’s toe-tapping;
unspoken vibrations which (e)xpose yearnings zealously.

A Challenge

2007-09-01T09:36:00.000-04:00

Slouching Mom (who got the idea from Sanne) wrote a 26-word poem, each word beginning with a consecutive letter of the alphabet. She challenged others to do the same. Here's my attempt:

Adoption begets confusion,
Desperate events form grieving hearts

Inconceivable, jagged, karmic losses,
Many never overcoming parent's quivering relinquishment

Sorrowful thoughts, unimaginable,
Voracious wishes xhausting your zest

Hard Questions

2007-08-27T07:49:00.001-04:00

As Mr. Laura sat at the table this morning drawing pictures of monsters, he asked me the following question: "Why can't the president of one country meet with the president of another country and do 'Rock, Paper, Scissors' instead of BAM! BAM! Blow People Up?"

This question followed on the heels of a question asked by Mr. Laura earlier in the week. He seemingly out of the blue asked "Are there really many good reasons to join the army?" Apparently this question was prompted by an ad on the radio declaring that yes, in fact, there are many good reasons to join the army. I guess the ad had not quite convinced him so he was checking with me.

Both of these questions reminded me of a question Mr. Laura asked me a couple of years ago. We had just received our adoption referral for Mr. Garvey, Mary and Miss Almanzo. We were discussing some of the more difficult aspects of why some children no longer have parents and need to be adopted. We talked about Ethiopia being a poor country and what that means like the fact that many Ethiopians don't have enough food to eat on a daily basis nor do they have access to medicine or health care like folks do in wealthier countries such as the United States. To which he asked, "If we have these things and they really need them, why doesn't our country share with their country so children don't have to lose their moms and dads?"

How does one articulate the complexities of these issues to a 5 and 6 year old? How does one explain that the motives behind a person's or a nation's actions do not always arise from a desire to "do the right thing" like sharing, solving disputes peaceably, or respecting the sacredness and dignity of life in all its many forms and colors? How does one explain that it is more likely that a person's or a nation's actions is based on fear and prejudice or on acquiring and maintaining money, power, or control over limited natural resources? Instead of even attempting to explain most of this, I am opting to encourage the act of the questioning itself. There will be plenty of time in the years to come, when Mr. Laura is more mature, to delve into the not-so-easy answers to these hard questions. For now I'll help him develop this habit of questioning. The answers and solutions to the big issues of our times will never materialize if we, as a citizenry, adopt a "that's just the way things are" attitude instead of realizing we have the right and the duty to challenge the status quo, the "powers-that-be", and the hypocrisy (our own and that of others) of our times.

A Saturday in Pictures

2007-08-26T08:15:00.001-04:00

They're Growing Like Weeds

2007-08-26T07:40:00.000-04:00

Here is a picture taken in June of 2006. It had been about 2 weeks since Mr. Garvey, Mary, and Miss Almanzo arrived in the U.S. This is when they looked 3, 5, and 7. Mr. Edwards in this picture is 9 1/2.

Here is a picture taken yesterday afternoon, 15 months later.
Mr. Edwards is now 10 1/2 and Mr. Laura just about to turn 7. Mr. Garvey is now 1 inch taller than Mr. Edwards. Mary no longer looks like Mr. Laura's twin, however, Miss Almanzo is certainly poised to takeover that role. I'd say they look more like 5, 6, 8, 10, & 11.

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In other news, thanks to naturalmom for bestowing on me my very first ever blog award. I am often accused of being "too nice" by many of my firends, so it certainly seems to be a fitting award. I am however, completely uninitiated when it comes to how these awards work. Will there be a party in my honor? A cash prize? Will my name go down in the "Nice Matters" history books for all eternity? Will I have to give an acceptance speech? What happens if I have one of those "Not-so- nice" days? ;o)

A Sign of Autumn?

2007-08-23T14:59:00.000-04:00

Our black lab, Thor, barks a lot. It is a character flaw that we have become pretty good at ignoring. His barking is mainly due to a misunderstanding, on his part, of property lines. He seems to think he owns our road and barks anytime any of the neighbors have the audacity to drive down the road we all share. One sure way to know that his barking requires our attention is when he is not only barking but running through the house frantically. Today, while we were getting lunch together, he began barking and running back and forth between the kitchen and the front door. I figured it was our mail lady delivering a package. I checked the drive but it was empty. We all went back to preparing lunch. Only Thor was not satisfied with the cursory attention we had given to his attempt to communicate something really important to us and would not settle down. I finally asked Mr. Garvey to check the front door to see if anyone was there. He came running back saying, "Hurry. Hurry. Come and see." Here's a picture of who we found at our front door just waiting for us to open up and let him in.

Of course being the nature lovers and homeschoolers that we are, we spent the rest of the afternoon trying to identify our guest. We think he/she is a juvenile, almost adult, rat snake. According to the description, they can grow to over 6 feet long and love, as their name implies, to dine on rodent. They are slow moving and when frightened will freeze often taking on a rippled posture. We also read that neonate Black Rat Snakes are the most frequently found snakes entering homes, usually in the early Fall or Spring. It has been so unbelievably HOT here for the last month that even I am willing to embrace this as a sign of Autumn - Come on in and make yourself comfortable!

An Interesting Thought to Consider

2007-08-17T11:20:00.000-04:00

Mary: Can I tell you something?

Ma: Sure. What?

Mary: In Ethiopia we did not have mirrors. I never knew what I looked like.

Ma: Do you remember the first time you saw yourself in a mirror?

Mary: Yes

Ma: What did you think when you saw yourself?

Mary: It was fun. I thought I looked nice.

As I pondered this, I found it odd to think about living my life without ever knowing what I looked like. On the other hand, I find it to be a very liberating notion.

Random Bits of Mangled English

2007-08-16T13:03:00.000-04:00

Mary has been creatively combining and mangling the words to two songs (Barney's "I Love You, You Love Me" and "This Old Man".) She has been singing it so much lately that I now catch myself singing it her way. It goes like this:

I love you, you love me.
We're a heavy family
With a great big knock knock on my door.
Won't you say you love me too.

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On Monday and Tuesday of this week, we were at my mom's house to take her to her radiation appointments. On the first night I decided to take Miss Almanzo and Mr. Laura with us. As we got into the car, Mr. Laura asked, "Now why are we taking Nana to a radio station?"

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When Mr. Edwards was a wee babe, Pa started referring to Mr. Edward's farts in the tub as motorboats. The name stuck and was quite useful especially when out in public. No one really knew what Mr. Edwards meant when he announced, "Oh no, I've got to motorboat!" With three boys between the ages of 6 and 10, the obsession and humor to be found with bodies and bodily functions is almost endless. They have created their own catalog of fart euphemisms. Here is a sampling "How do you like the radio station I just chose?", "Who turned on their radio.", "I just dropped a bomb.", "Somebody fired it.", and "Somebody's got the juice." When does this darling stage end?
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Hummingbird Saved by Mr. Laura

2007-08-16T12:13:00.000-04:00

I have discussed in earlier posts here and here about the animal lover that Mr. Laura is and his desire to be a veterinarian one day. This morning Mr. Laura was inspired to try and save a tiny, barely alive hummingbird Mr. Garvey had found laying on the floor of our sunroom. He acted quickly and confidently. He carefully picked up the tiny bird and placed him outside on the deck. Next, Mr. Laura was back in asking to make sugar water to feed the bird. As I prepared the bowl of sugar water for him, I suggested that he move the bird to a shadier, cooler spot. I brought the bowl of sugar water out to where Mr. Laura had placed the bird and began pouring it onto the hummingbird's beak hoping some would find its way into his mouth. Nothing happened. I for one thought the bird looked too far gone to be revived. Mr. Laura thought otherwise. He took the bowl from me saying, "you need to put him inside the bowl not pour the water on him." He gently lifted the bird and placed him in the bowl. Within 5 seconds the bird sat bolt upright and began to drink the sugar water. A moment later he flew away full of life. Mr. Edwards, Mr. Garvey, Mary, Miss Almanzo and I cheered and clapped for the bird and congratulated Mr. Laura on a job well done. You should have seen the smile on his face as he said, "Wow, I really have saved my first animal. This is good practice for when I am a veterinarian." I'd say he is well on his way.

Two Conversations on Looking Your Age

2007-08-10T08:48:00.000-04:00

A few weeks ago, as Mr. Garvey and I were walking together, we passed a man who did a double take. In the last year I have grown quite accustomed to stares, double takes, and puzzled looks. Folks are usually trying to "figure out" my family. Mr. Garvey, Mary, and Miss Almanzo are quite dark skinned. I, on the other hand, am of Scotch-Irish heritage. The question I am most asked about them when Pa is not with us is "are they mixed?" Based on their choice of question, it is apparent that their first assumption is that they are biracial only they can't seem to make sense of our two vastly different colorings. It is as if they are wondering how dark their father must be to have produced biracial children of such a dark color. So the question is usually asked in such a way as to let me know that they are a bit embarrassed and surprised that they are asking the question at all. When they find out that Mr. Garvey, Mary, and Miss Almanzo are from Ethiopia, I am usually met with sighs of relief and nodding heads. Yes, the world (at least as far as genetics is concerned) does still make sense after all. Now they can continue on with life as they thought it to be. Order is restored.

Anyways, I was all set to ignore this man who spun around to look at us again. I was stopped in my tracks when he called me by my name. After a few exchanges of pleasantries and no doubt a puzzled look on my face, he said, "You don't know who I am do you?" I replied, "I think we went to high school together, but I am still trying to figure out how you recognized me. It's been 23 years." He graciously replied, "You still look the same as you did in high school." To which I thanked him and told him he had just made my day. After a bit more catching up, we wished each other well and said goodbye.

A few days later I am running an errand for my mother. She has requested a certain type of lotion for her face. It reminds me of sending Pa out to buy coffee for me. I tell him that perfection for me would be "shade-grown, fair trade, organic, certified bird-sanctuary, swiss-process decaf and Ethiopian" but to please try and find one that matches at least three of those requirements. I now understand how he feels. I was completely overwhelmed with the choices for lotion. As Mary, Mr. Edwards, and I are standing there reading the different combinations of day/night, anti-wrinkle, beta-hydroxy, spf lotions, we are approached by a man who is obviously well-versed in the lotions. He soon has it narrowed down to two for us to choose from. I start to thank him, when the following exchange occurs.

Man: I bet you think that I look younger than you.

My thoughts go something like this: He looks about 55. No I am not thinking that he looks younger than me. I am actually thinking about how much I hate crowded big box stores and that I just want to get this lotion and get out of here. Before I can think of a way to end the exchange right here and now I hear myself talking.....

Ma: How old do you think I am?

Man: 38.

Ma: Close enough.

Man: Well how old do you think I am?

Ma:(being generous, I think) 48.

Man: (becoming very loud and hysterical and definitely making a scene) 48? Do I really look 48? That is 10 years older than I actually am. I'm 38! I'm 38! I'm 38! Everyone tells me I look 38.

Ma:(really wanting to extricate myself from this situation) I am so sorry. I am really terrible at guessing ages. I really should not have even attempted. I am sorry. I did not mean to upset you. Really I'm so sorry.

Man: (calming down) It's OK. I am not good at guessing ages either. Everyone really does tell me I look 38 though. The funny thing is that I am really 55 but everyone says that I look 20 years younger.

We finally go our separate ways, but I still keep thinking about how upset he got. He really did look to be in his 50's. Maybe in a different situation, he wearing something other than a t-shirt and shorts and far removed from the unforgiving fluorescent lights of a big box store, he would have indeed looked much younger. Obviously someone has told him that he looks very young for his age. He obviously treasures this revelation. In fact he treasures this news so much, that he actually believes that he is the younger age. He is insulted that I only shave 7 years off of his actual age. While I admit I was flattered by the long, lost high school friend of mine whose statement made my day, heck maybe even my whole year, I don't of course take it literally. He was being kind. He was making small talk.

And what is wrong with looking your age? I am determined not to waste any energy worrying about every new wrinkle, grey hair, or slowly but steadily southward bound body parts. I really don't want to miss out on what this stage of my life has to offer by hopelessly and desperately trying to recapture a bygone youth. Anyone else out there for aging gracefully?

Okra Recipe

2007-07-16T08:32:00.000-04:00

Well I've got at least one other person interested in trying okra. Naturalmom, author of one of my favorite blogs, left a comment asking for the recipe. Here is the recipe for Naturalmom and anyone else out there who may be interested.

The recipe is from Crescent Dragonwagon's (don't you love that name!) book Passionate Vegetarian. Give 1 lb. of okra pods a quick rinse and pat dry and place in a shallow baking dish. (She recommends skewering the pods. I didn't bother and it worked out just fine.) Pour marinade of choice over the pods. They will not be swimming in marinade; it may be necessary to rub the marinade around a bit to distribute it equally. Marinate for 1 to 2 hours at room temperature or up to 6 hours refrigerated.

Preheat grill to high and then lower heat to medium. Place the okra on the grill and cook until the first side is grill-marked, 3 to 4 minutes. Turn the pods and grill the second side for 3 minutes. Serve immediately.

Now for the marinades: She gives three choices. I have only ever tried the Indian version. If anyone else tries the Mediterranean or South of the Border, let me know what you thought.

Put all ingredients in a food processor and buzz until smooth, scraping down the sides if necessary.

Mediterranean: 6 to 8 large leaves of fresh basil; 2 cloves garlic, peeled and quartered; 1 large tomato, peeled, seeded, and chopped; 2 tablespoons olive oil; 1 tablespoon balsamic vinegar; and 2 teaspoons of salt.

South of the Border: 2 cloves garlic, peeled and quartered; 1 large tomato, peeled, seeded, and chopped; 1/2 bunch cilantro leaves; juice of 1 lemon; 2 tablespoons olive oil; 2 teaspoons adobo sauce; 1/4 can chipotle pepper in adobo; and 2 teaspoons salt.

Indian: 2 cloves garlic, peeled and quartered; 1 large tomato, peeled, seeded, and chopped; 1/3 cup cilantro leaves; juice of 1 lime; 2 tablespoons sesame or peanut oil; 2 teaspoons salt; 1 1/2 teaspoons ginger, peeled and chopped; 1 teaspoon cumin; 1 teaspoon turmeric; and 1/4 teaspoon ground cayenne.

Here's hoping you like it as much as I did. If not, that's ok. It just means there is more okra left for me.:)

Two More Poems

2007-07-14T09:00:00.000-04:00

The kids decided that Pa and I needed our own poems. These are also from all the small poems and fourteen more by Valerie Worth:

For Pa because he's been broken in and as Mr. Laura put it "he's a real dad now":
pail

A new pail,
Straight, tight,
Brushed to a cold
Silver shine,

Soon learns
Other ways:
Once filled with
Oats or ashes,

Grayed by rain,
Its handle
Bent, its
Bottom dented,

Grown peaceful
And plain,
It becomes
A real pail.

And for Ma and the inevitable day when "all the chicks have flown the coop":
fence

The old fence
Has fallen down,
A pile of gray
Rails resting
In the grass.

Where are all
The cows now,
That leaned
Hard there,
Hoping to get out?

Have they pushed
Through, and walked
Down the road,
Past all fences
Forever?

Poetic Essences

2007-07-13T12:47:00.000-04:00

The kids and I have been reading a book of poetry by Valerie Worth called all the small poems and fourteen more. Several times while reading the book we would say, "oh that poem really fits (insert person's name)." We decided to go back through the book and find a poem for each one of them that aptly describes the essence of who they are right now. Here are the selections:

For "heady" Mr. Edwards:
book

Such a
Bountiful
Box of
Tricks:
Packed
With the
Five senses,
The seven
Seas, the
Earth's
Four winds
And corners,
All fitted
Exactly in.

For "strong and ever striving" Mr. Garvey:
acorn

An acorn
Fits perfectly
Into its shingled
Cup, with a stick
Attached
At the top,

Its polished
Nut curves
In the shape
Of a drop, drawn
Down to a thorn
At the tip,

And its heart
Holds folded
Thick white fat
From which
A marvelous
Tree grows up:

I think no better
Invention or
Mechanical trick
Could ever
Be bought
In a shop.

For "the collector" Mr. Laura
pocket

These things
Might go
Into the pocket:
Sea-stones,
A bright
Beetle,
Knitted circles
Of Queen Anne's
Lace;

These things
Come out
Of the pocket:
Sand, splinters,
Scraps
Of paper creased
And soft
As an old
Face.

For "Live in the Moment" Mary:
amoeba

Never wondering
What shape to take,
But with a
Slow shrug
Making a start
In any direction,
And then following,
Flowing wholeheartedly
Into the fluid
Mold of the moment

And last but not least, for "boisterous" Miss Almanzo:
fireworks

First
A far thud,
Then the rocket
Climbs the air,
A dull red flare,
To hang a moment,
Invisible, before
Its shut black shell cracks
And claps against the ears,
Breaks and billows into bloom,
Spilling down clear green sparks, gold spears,
Silent sliding silver waterfalls and stars.

Confessions, Obsessions, Okra, and the Good Life

2007-07-10T07:55:00.000-04:00

I was born and raised in the south. With the exception of 5 years spent in Buffalo, NY and a year in Texas, which although south, is definitely not southern, I have always lived in the south. Food is a big deal down here and while I consider myself an eater of many varieties of food, I have never liked the mushy overcooked vegetables that you often find on many a southern table. One of my particular food nemesis during childhood was okra. My mother loved okra which in turn meant it showed up on the dinner table frequently. She would stew it with tomatoes, batter and fry it, or hide it in soups. No matter the preparation method, I could not bring myself to eat it. I do not like nor have I ever liked okra. There I said it. A few more blasphemous confessions from a southerner - I also do not like iced tea, rice and gravy, corn bread, butter beans, watermelon, cantaloupe, or tomatoes. I so despise melons that I won't eat any other fruit that has been touched by a melon. While one bad apple may not spoil the whole bunch, for me, one piece of melon does spoil an entire fruit salad. I realize that my not liking these foods in not very southern of me. Normally this would not be a concern to me, however, I am trying to eat more locally produced foods. I am doubting whether this will be possible for me living in the south. If it weren't for grits, peaches, and collards I would have all ready given up.

But back to the okra. Recently we had dinner with some friends who fixed the most amazing Indian feast for us. One of the dishes was a grilled okra dish. I saw the okra and instantly thought "oh no". Wanting to be polite, I put one on my plate. As I ate, I cut the okra up and scooted it around on my plate in an effort to make it appear as if I had eaten it. Somehow a piece of it managed to make it onto my fork and into my mouth. I cannot begin to describe the experience. My taste buds were tingling and my tongue a tappin'. The combination of spices was heavenly. The okra was crisp and crunchy. There was not a hint of slime anywhere. I was suddenly sorry that I had not put more on my plate.

I have been thinking about this okra for weeks now. I have been eagerly awaiting the arrival of okra at our local farmer's market. Last week's market bulletin finally announced that the first locally grown okra would be available on Saturday. In three short days I would have okra. I could hardly wait. You know you are getting old when the idea of getting your hands on a vegetable makes you feel like a kid a Christmas.

Our bounty from the farmer's market this past Saturday did indeed include okra. I hesitated in cooking it for a few days for fear that it would not be as delicious as I remembered. I finally took the plunge on Tuesday morning. I prepared the marinade and grilled the cute little guys. I am happy to report that it was as scrumptious as the first time. I am now completely obsessed with okra. I am counting down the days until Saturday when I can get my hands on some more of those delectable green slender lady's fingers. I am scouring cookbooks for recipes. (Apparently a dry-heat cooking method like grilling is what is necessary if you prefer crisp over slime.) I am dreaming of okra. I am driving my family crazy with okra talk. I am planning where in the garden we can grow lots and lots of okra next year. I have not felt this way about a vegetable since brussel sprouts in 1996. I blame that obsession on account of being pregnant with Mr. Edwards. I ate brussel sprouts morning, noon, and night for months. I have no such excuse this go round. I have never thought of myself as having an addictive personality, however I am beginning to understand what a junkie looking for his next hit must feel like. I suppose obsessions and addictions when they involve locally grown produce and intoxicating spices may not be such a bad thing. If we all only had it so bad. It really is a good life. Watch out tomatoes, you're next!

HELP WANTED

2007-07-02T07:43:00.000-04:00

On Sunday the girls woke up determined to fight, argue, and bicker with each other ALL DAY LONG. It drove the other five of us insane. They drove the boys so crazy that they declared it a "boy day" and played together in their room for most of the afternoon. We tried talking to the girls about it. We tried pointing out the behavior when it was happening. We tried ignoring it. We tried distracting them with new activities. We tried separating them by forbidding them to be in the same room together. Nothing worked. They seemed determined to annoy and be annoyed by each other no matter what. Their last argument before I finally banned them from being in the same room at the same time went something like this.

Mary: Can I try your dress on?

Miss Almanzo: No. It is too small for you.

Mary: Please, please can I try your dress on?

Miss Almanzo: No. It won't fit you.

Mary: I just want to try it on one time.

This continues for several minutes.

Miss Almanzo: I said no. Take my first answer. Quit asking me the same question again and again.

Mary: I did not ask you the same question again.

Miss Almanzo: Yes you did.

Mary: No I didn't.

Miss Almanzo: Yes you did!

Mary: No I didn't.

At this point you could safely go for a 30 minute run and not worry that you missed anything. Their arguing continued with each "Yes you did" and "No I didn't" getting increasingly louder. Miss Almanzo finally broke the stalemate with the following.

Miss Almanzo: Yes you did and now you are arguing with me.

Mary: I am not arguing with you.

Miss Almanzo: Yes you are!

Mary: No I'm not.

Miss Almanzo: Yes you are!

Mary: No I'm not.

At this point you could grab a quick bite to eat without fear of missing any of the argument. Their "Yes you are" and "No I'm not" volleying continued until I could take it no longer. Now they were actually arguing with each other over whether they were arguing with each other. I sent them to different parts of the house until dinner. Mary went upstairs to her room and fell asleep. Peace and harmony settled over the house for an hour or so with the exception of an argument between Mr. Laura and Mr. Garvey. It went like this.

Mr. Laura: Can I play with your cars?

Mr. Garvey: No because you break them.

Mr. Laura: I didn't break them. It was an accident.

Mr. Garvey: Maybe in a little while.

Mr. Laura: I don't like you any more.

Mr. Garvey: That is not a nice thing to say.

Mr. Laura stomps off upstairs mad. Moments later he is back and he and Mr. Garvey are laughing and rolling around on the floor together.

There is definitely something to be said for the way the males in general handle their disagreements. They say what they have to say and then they move on. What is the significance of the way women argue and hold grudges? I know my sister and I fought like this as children. I can still hold a grudge when I feel that I have been unfairly treated. Anybody out there have any good suggestions for curbing the non-stop bickering and arguing between their daughters?

"Extremely Fascinating", Well Perhaps Not Anymore

2007-06-11T12:55:00.000-04:00

Mr. Laura was an easy child for me to fall in love with. He was this incredibly happy, easy-going, snugly baby. He only had eyes for me for the longest time (I'm talking years and years and years.) . I must say I savored every moment of it. He learned how to charm the socks off of me from his earliest words. As a toddler, instead of saying "up" or "hold me" when he wanted to be picked up, he would toddle through the house declaring, "I want to hold you, momma". Needless to say he made me feel like he was doing me a favor by allowing me to heft his 30 or so pounds at his every whim. And needless to say, I picked him up often. As his vocabulary increased so did the words that I would find irresistible. He would still tell me he wanted to hold me and after I indulged him by picking him up, he would tell me things like "You are beautiful" or "You are delicious". As he grew and began to ask all of the "Why?" and "How come?" questions, he would often say, after I answered his questions, "You are extremely fascinating". Again and again he would manage to turn the situation around to where it was I who felt I had been given the greater gift in our interaction. I've been dreading the day that I would be replaced as the center of his universe. I know it will happen. I know it should happen. I already see signs that it is happening. So far it has been a nice gradual process. He hasn't completely pulled the rug out from under me. Things may be a changing though.

The other day we spent the afternoon at a friend's house. Mr. Laura, rather than playing with the other children, chose to spend his time with our friends' two dogs. A blissful and content expression settled on Mr. Laura's face for the rest of the day. After returning home, he described in great detail his afternoon with the dogs. He was very animated in his speech and gestures as he described the dogs' personalities, what he liked about each one, and how they interacted with him and each other. He then asked if animals had doctors. I said yes, they are called veterinarians. He declared that he would like to be a veterinarian and asked how he could become one. We talked about what kind of schooling was required. Always the planner, he wanted answers to such practical questions as Where the school was?, When could he start?, and my personal favorite, Would I be able to drop him off and pick him up from school?

I explained that although he was too young for formal training yet, that it was never too soon to start learning all he can about the animals he is most interested in. The more he learned now the easier school would be. I also mentioned that when he was a bit older he could volunteer at our local animal shelter and then as a teenager probably get a part-time job at a local veterinarian's office. Again he had some practical concerns, such as, Will I have to perform surgery on the animals?, How will I know what medicine to give each animal? and What if the dog is bigger than me?

Later that evening he approached me. Pen and paper in hand and poised to take notes, he wanted to know "what are the medicines that animals take?". When I explained that it depended on what was wrong with the animal. He then asked, "What kind of diseases do animals get?". I suggested that these questions were too broad and that he choose a particular animal to study. A bit disappointed that I was unable to provide him with a complete and comprehensive answer to the disease pathology and pharmacological treatments for any and all animals, he replied, "Let's keep it simple. How about a cat?". "Wild cat or house cat," I inquired. "House cat," he stated. I told him we could look for books on house cats the next time we were at the library. The disappointment became more pronounced across his face as he, maybe for the for the first time, realized that I don't know everything. He certainly at that moment did not find me "extremely fascinating". Ready or not Mr. Laura is growing up.

A Taste of Nepal or Not?

2007-06-07T12:42:00.000-04:00

The clean kitchen and a new saute pan have put me in a cooking mood. Here are a few pictures of our lunch today. It was simple to make and I thought absolutely gorgeous to look at. Even better was that it tasted so delicious. The kids absolutely inhaled it. I scraped every last morsel from the pots and left the kids asking for more.

Another nice thing about the recipe is that you can substitute vegetables based what is seasonally and locally available. Green beans, sweet potatoes, eggplant, or cauliflower just to name a few would have all been as equally scrumptious. Today I used yellow squash, carrots, zucchini, and snow peas. They are cooked in a coconut curry sauce and served with rice and a red lentil dal which is seasoned with garlic, ginger, and turmeric. The flavors and textures were wonderful in our mouths. I can't wait to make it again with varying combinations of local vegetables that will be available throughout this growing season.

The recipe is from one of my favorite cookbooks called "The World in Your Kitchen: Vegetarian Recipes form Africa, Asia, and Latin America". It is a Nepalese dish called Dal-bhaat and tarkari (or Lentils and curried vegetables). According to the book and I quote, "This is the main Nepali meal. In the villages, rice is served only to guests or on festival occasions. Instead, a heavy porridge is made from maize, millet, or wheat flour boiled in water. The lentils or vegetables are often omitted and a single accompanying sauce called tyun is made from whatever dried beans or vegetables are available - such as stinging nettle and fern shoots".

I do take pause to consider that a meal I consider fairly basic and economic may be considered a meal to be served only on special occasions or to guests in another part of the world.

The Best Kind of Quiet

2007-06-03T16:35:00.000-04:00

We awoke this morning to cooler temps and a slow and steady rain. Perfect conditions for a lazy morning and eventually some intensive cleaning. Our kitchen has been a bit of a disaster lately. With all of the trips we have been making to see my mom, the kitchen counters have become a collection point for all sorts of items. If there is one room in my house that I need to have clean and neat, it is the kitchen. I become miserable and grumpy until order is reestablished. Pa and I decided to give it a thorough cleaning today. We banished the kids and dogs from the kitchen and got to work.

Sometime while cleaning, we realized the house had become extremely quiet. When you live with five kids, a quiet house is rare and is usually not a good sign. Unsure of what may be going on, I decided to investigate. Here's what I found:

On the rare occasions that I find myself alone in my house, I never enjoy it as much as I expect to. I often find myself counting down the hours until everyone is back home safe and sound. The silence of an empty house always leaves me with feelings of longing and uneasiness. Today's quiet was sublime. Today's silence, while it lasted, filled me with peace and contentment.

Silver Linings

2007-05-19T13:24:00.000-04:00

It has been a while since I have posted. Life has certainly presented us with some challenges lately. In mid April, it took three weeks for a respiratory infection which was more irritating than serious to work its way through all seven of us. Since the beginning of May we have been trying to convince my mom to see a doctor. She began acting in strange ways and had really become the "anti-mom". She was saying and doing things that were so definitely out of character. She was often disoriented, confused and unorganized. Finally on May 11 we got her to agree to see her doctor. She has been hospitalized ever since. In fact, on May 17th she had the first of 2 planned brain surgeries. Thankfully it was successful and she is getting along well.

Mother's Day this year was to be a milestone of sorts for me. Last year this time was both difficult and surreal. Five days before I was to leave for Ethiopia to meet Mr. Garvey, Mary, and Miss Almanzo for the first time, my mom phoned to say she had been diagnosed with breast cancer and would be having surgery in two days. I made the two hour trip to be with her during the surgery and the day after. My grandmother, sister, and brother assured me that they had everything under control and that I should continue with my trip. I rushed back home to finish packing and to say goodbye to Pa, Mr. Edwards, and Mr. Laura. I spent most of Mother's Day that year 37,000 feet above the earth somewhere between Rome and Addis Ababa worrying about my mother, missing Pa, Mr. Edwards and Mr. Laura, and anxious about meeting my new children.

My Mother's Day expectations were high this year. This was my date for which I planned to look back and see how far we've come in exactly one year. My mom had finished her chemo in December and was getting stronger and more active this entire year. Life at home had really settled down. Mr. Garvey, Mary, and Miss Almanzo are family now. No longer do I feel like I am babysitting for Ethiopia and wondering when their parents are coming to get them. So spending this Mother's Day in the hospital with my mom learning that her breast cancer had metastasized to her brain was not what I had foreseen.

Despite the circumstances, the mood was surprisingly light and often even funny. One of the lesions on my mom's brain was affecting her memory. She would often say the same thing over and over. Her most repeated statement was "Where is my black bag with my lipstick? Make sure you don't lose that. I really need it." She would also have times when she could not recall our names and would refer to us as that woman or that man. Her personality had also changed. She was mellow and relaxed and often displayed an uncharacteristic sense of humor. On the night she was admitted to the hospital, the nurses kept trying to get her to take her jeans off. She insisted on wearing them under the hospital gown because in her words "I'm breaking out of here just as soon as I get the chance."

Even though I'd rather my mom not be facing 2 brain surgeries and the impending radiation with all the horrible, horrible side effects, I am grateful to have experienced, even in a situation like this, unexpected moments of joy and laughter. I am humbled by all of those I know who have come out of the woodwork with all sorts of offers to help with my kids during the times I have to be away helping my mom. I am glad that my sister, brother, and I can work together to figure out how we are going to rearrange our lives to be there for our mom. I am finally so thankful for my children who even in the most seemingly somber of occasions can lighten the mood and make people smile. There are always silver linings.

Handstands, Perspective, and Daughters

2007-04-16T17:00:00.000-04:00

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.

Root Beer and Salad

2007-04-04T08:10:00.000-04:00

Mr. Laura informed me this morning that he had tasted root beer for the first time this past weekend when he slept over at a friend's house. I asked him how he liked it. Evidently it was a tongue tingling, taste bud extravaganza that he thoroughly enjoyed. I stated that I had never liked root beer. I still vividly remember my first taste of root beer when I was six years old. It left an impression on me quite different from Mr. Laura's experience. He was really baffled that someone could not LOVE root beer and so the questioning began.....

Mr. Laura: Why don't you like root beer?

Ma: I don't know.

Mr. Laura (not satisfied with the answer): Yeah, but why don't you like it?

Ma: I just don't like the way it tastes.

Mr. Laura (still not satisfied): What don't you like about the taste?

Ma: I really don't know.

More questioning along these lines continued for what felt like hours and finally concluded with these last few exchanges.

Mr. Laura (getting exasperated): What do you mean you don't know?

Ma (getting equally exasperated): I just don't. Why don't you like brussel sprouts?

Mr. Laura (quite triumphantly): Because they taste like salad without sauce.

If I follow Mr. Laura's line of reasoning to its conclusion, then for me root beer tastes like a root without the beer. Perhaps this answer will satisfy him.

Warning May Cause an Allergic Reaction

2007-03-27T19:13:00.000-04:00

Is anyone else finding the pine pollen particularly bad this year?

It's A Sweet Baby Girl!

2007-03-25T17:27:00.000-04:00

Some fellow homeschoolers who live fairly close to us just bought two goats. They were told that they had not been exposed to the billy. Three days before they left for a trip to Sweden, one of the goats surprised them with a baby. They called and wanted to know if Mr. Garvey would be interested in feeding and watering the goats as well as helping out with the second female goat should she deliver while they were gone. Mr. Garvey has had a lot of experience with goats and was excited to get to be around goats again. He is amazing to watch. He is so confident and capable. He knows just what to do to get them to go where he wants them to go. On Friday we arrived to find momma #2 giving birth. Mr. Garvey jumped right in. He wiped off the new baby and declared it's a girl. We stayed until we were sure the baby was up on its legs and nursing. Here are some pictures we took today of the 2-day old baby goat. So sweet!

"You Mean You Are Old?"

2007-03-22T07:30:00.000-04:00

The other day the girls wanted to brush my hair which is one of my all time favorite things. They will literally brush it for hours if I let them. Anyways I was on the sofa nearly comatose from all of the brushing Mary and Miss Almanzo had done, when Mr. Laura walked up.

Mr. Laura: It looks like you have a few white hairs right here.

Ma: That's because I do.

Mr. Laura: You mean you are old?

Ma: Well I wouldn't exactly put it that way, but yes I am getting older with each passing minute.

Mr. Laura: I didn't know you were old. Are you going to die?

Ma: I'm not planning on dying anytime soon, but yes someday I will die.

Mr. Laura running off to tell the others: Hey guys, momma is old! Come look.

I think this is the first time I have been declared "old". I must admit it really bothered me. So much for the peaceful, blissful state created by all of the hair brushing.

Happy Birthday Mr. Garvey!

2007-03-15T07:29:00.000-04:00

Happy Birthday Mr. Garvey! He is turning either 8 or 9 or 10 or 11. As far as the U.S. is concerned he is turning 8. We believe that he is much older. Mr. Garvey has been waiting patiently for his birthday. He has had to watch all six of us have our "Happy Birthdays". After much anticipation and excitement his time has finally arrived.

In honor of Mr. Garvey's ?th birthday here are 8+ things about him that you may not know.

He loves sunglasses, his bicycle, and the Dixie Chicks.

He is very organized with his possessions. I know two other boys who could learn a thing or two from him.

He can climb trees really well. In Ethiopia he used to take his family's goats out to graze. He would have to climb a tree everyday and sit and watch the goats because of the threat of lion attacks.

He is a wonderful big brother to Mr. Laura who absolutely adores and worships Mr. Garvey.
He has the most wonderful set of dimples I have ever seen. I'm so glad he's happy here because that means I get to see him flash those dimples many many times a day.

He was one of the oldest kids to come to our agency's orphanage in Ethiopia. All of the little kids adored him. Whenever we would arrive back at the center, all of the kids would run out and chant his name over and over. He would work his way through the crowd like a rock star among his many adoring fans.

He is really strong. He taught us their version of "hide and seek". It involves the seeker carrying all found persons back to base piggyback style. He can actually carry me on his back. He can pick Pa up and make it a few steps.

His favorite movies are "Karate Kid" and "Spy Kids".

He loves $$$ but not to spend. He is a saver. He analyzes every potential purchase and then ultimately decides that it isn't worth it. I know four other kids who could learn a financial lesson from him.

Have a wonderful day, Mr. Garvey!

A Lesson in Thoughtfulness and Selflessness

2007-03-10T10:27:00.000-05:00

Friday night is Parents Night Out at our local gymnastics center. The kids love it. It is 3 hours of running around, making noise, playing games and snacking on pizza and juice. When Pa and I arrived to pick them up last night, about 25-30 kids were engaged in a rather energetic game of Duck, Duck, Goose. A handful of the children had not yet had the pleasure of being the "goose". Mr. Edwards was one of them. He was frantically waving his hand in the air to be chosen. I have to admit that I was a bit embarrassed by his apparent desperation. After all he is 10 years old and one of the oldest children there. Surely it wasn't THAT important that he get to be the goose.

Turns out it was important, but not for the reasons I assumed. In the next few minutes I would see what his desperation was all about. He was not desperate to chase down the one who would eventually choose him. He was not desperate to outrun the person he would ultimately pick as goose. In fact, I would soon learn that he was not desperate at all.

After finally being chosen goose, it was now his turn to choose the next goose. He began to walk around the circle tapping the other children's heads and saying duck until he reached the smallest girl there. She was probably 3 or 4 years old. He tapped her on the head and said, "Goose". He took off running and she after him. Half-way around the circle he slowed his pace considerably. The little girl, still running her heart out, tagged him before he reached the open spot in the circle. She was so thrilled to have tagged him. I was grateful I had arrived a few minutes early to witness this act. It was a small act but the thoughtfulness and selflessness behind it were great indeed.

The Twins

2007-03-08T17:54:00.000-05:00

On paper Mr. Laura is 1.5 months older than Mary. When we received the referral for Mr. Garvey, Mary, and Miss Almanzo, Mr. Laura was very excited about having a "twin". He would show everyone their picture and say, "This is my twin sister."

Reality turned out to be much different than Mr. Laura expected. Instead of a twin he got a much bigger, stronger and no doubt older sister. Both Mary and Mr. Laura have strong personalities. They took an instant dislike to one another.

What they have eventually learned is that they each have something to offer the other. Mary left behind a younger brother whom she cared for almost exclusively for a period of time. Mr. Laura has always loved to "play" the baby. Their relationship changed for the better once Mr. Laura realized he had another willing and capable "mama" and Mary realized she had a "baby" brother again.

Addiction? You Decide....

2007-03-08T17:45:00.000-05:00

Here is a picture of Mr. Edwards. It is 7:40 am and he is waiting on his toast to pop. He got six books for his birthday which was only a week ago. In this picture he is reading the last of those birthday books.

Should we plan an intervention?

You Look Like You Are Going to Cry

2007-03-05T12:05:00.000-05:00

My children are excellent eaters. They love veggies of all sorts. Others are often amazed at the kinds of vegetables they will eat and the fact that they will choose veggies over more typical "kid fare". Right after Mr. Garvey, Mary, and Miss Almanzo came to live with us, a friend cooked a meal for us which included baked chicken, mashed potatoes, a salad, and kale. When they saw the kale they went crazy yelling, "channa, channa, channa"(their name for cooked greens). Pa and I portioned out the kale and needless to say neither of us got a bite of kale for ourselves.

On Saturday I took Mr. Laura and Miss Almanzo with me to run some errands. While out, we stopped for lunch. Mr. Laura and Miss Almanzo both ordered water. The waitress stood there in disbelief. "You really want water for them to drink?", she asked. "Yes", I replied. Next Miss Almanzo decided that she wanted broccoli instead of french fries with her meal. Again the waitress was dumbfounded. "She really doesn't want french fries?" she asked. "No" I replied. In the waitress's defense she was young, probably in high school and no kids of her own.

This morning I was in a cooking mood. I made "yellow soup" because Mr. Garvey has been requesting it for days now. It is a yellow split pea soup with coconut milk, garlic, ginger, turmeric, and cilantro. It is really creamy and tasty.

Mr. Edwards started looking through his cookbooks and wanted to know if we had the ingredients to make another kind of soup. This particular recipe came from his cookbook called "The Soup Bible". Honestly soup is practically a religion for Mr. Edwards. He is that serious about it. He has very discriminating tastes when it comes to soup. He could eat good soup for every meal every day. Some of you may remember the Seinfeld episode about the "Soup Nazi". In these parts Mr. Edwards is our "Soup Nazi".

The soup Mr. Edwards chose was a spicy carrot soup with garlic croutons. After simmering the carrots until tender, it is spiced with cumin, coriander, and cayenne pepper and then pureed. Pa had made some sourdough bread last night. We cubed a bit of it, tossed it with olive oil and garlic and toasted it until brown and crispy. We then topped the soups with the croutons.

I asked Mr. Edwards how he liked the soup. He replied, "It is WON-DER-FUL". With every bite he took, he moaned "MMMMM!" Mr. Garvey started laughing and said to Mr. Edwards, "You look like you're going to cry". He really did. He was thoroughly savoring each and every spoonful. <>

Tiny Butterfly Girl to Visit Mr. Laura Tonight

2007-03-04T17:50:00.000-05:00

Today Mr. Laura lost his first tooth. True to form however, he did it his own way. He did not lose a tooth from the bottom as expected. Instead he lost one of his top two front teeth. This probably happened because he has an extra baby tooth and things were getting pretty tight up there.

Mr. Laura is so excited that he has joined the ranks of those eligible for a visit by Tiny Butterfly Girl.

Happy Birthday Mr. Edwards!

2007-02-28T18:00:00.000-05:00

Today Mr. Edwards turns 10. Ack! Where does the time go? Mr. Edwards has been very excited about his birthday this year. We have been given " X more days 'til I'm 10" greeting each and every morning since the beginning of the month. I'm not sure why he is so much more excited this year. Perhaps it is the double digit milestone. I'm having a hard time with 10. It seems so old, so grownup. It feels like it just snuck up on me. I really don't want to keep him young forever, but I'd love to be able to take a little time travel back through the years just to really remember what he was like at different ages.

Happy Birthday my dear, dear Mr. Edwards! You were my first and you changed my life in wonderful ways I could have never imagined. In honor of your 10th birthday here are 10 things about you that others may not know.

He loves to laugh. Fortunately he has two brothers that are more than happy to provide the craziness and antics for his laughing pleasure.

He once told me that he would move out of our house either at age 18 or 55.

The first word he ever read was "STOP" at age 2 1/2 from the backseat of the car as I accidentally ran a stop sign. His exact words were "S, T, O, P - Stop! S, T, O, P - Stop!"

If anyone could convince me that we have past lives it would be Mr. Edwards. The first few weeks of his life, he always had this sort of worried/amused expression on his face that seemed to say, "Oh great, here we go again. Another new set of first-time parents to break in." He was/is a patient teacher thankfully . Another curious trait that leads me to believe that Mr. Edwards has been here before is that he just "knows" things. Like the time, at the age of 3 1/2, he explained to me that there are male and female pine cones. I had never heard this before, but was so taken aback with his certainty that I wanted to find out if this was true. Now granted he was already reading at this age, so I was sure he had read it in one of his books. I scoured his bookshelves. Nothing. I looked through all of the other books in the house that might have this information. Nothing. At this point I was pretty sure that he was just making it up. One last thing to try. I typed "male female pine cones" into an internet search engine. Guess what I found out. Pine cones (most anyways) have genders. To this day I still do not know how he knew this.

He loves babies.

Once he choked on a piece of nori while eating sushi and literally would not eat solid food for weeks.

He is responsible for the following "family" words: groosegriver (screwdriver), abruxions (instructions), toe food (tofu), tipper dumpers (dump trucks), and squeezers (breasts). Groosegriver, abruxions, and toe food still get a lot of use around here.

He can get quite grouchy when he does not get enough sleep. Otherwise he is always a pleasure to be around.

He can't stand for anyone to be angry with him. He does not have a mean bone in his body.

He is currently interested in becoming a doctor, a chef, or a writer. He started his first book a few months ago, but hasn't written anything for a while.

Here is a picture of Mr. Edwards enjoying his coffee cheesecake (his request). It was yummy!

Phonics Tiles and Secret Messages

2007-02-24T08:10:00.000-05:00

This is what I found on the kitchen table this morning. Mr. Garvey had been playing with the phonics tiles and left them out. Mr. Edwards found them and could not resist playing with them also. He created the following pairs of words: "Sick Lice", "OperA Seat", "clay Gun", "thrEE YAKS", "Dill Heater", "blank Test", and my personal favorite "unstable Boy".

As I stared at these I couldn't help but feel a message lay in there amongst the white tiles. I moved them around and came up with this subconscious secret message from Mr. Edwards concerning his upcoming birthday: "HAS LEGO SETS BDAY. 'K? Of course I didn't need a secret message to know this. It is all Lego all the time with Mr. Edwards.

Goodnight Bears, Goodnight Chairs, Goodnight Creatures Everywhere

2007-02-19T16:57:00.000-05:00

Mr. Laura is a real animal lover. He loves all creatures no matter how small and creepy they may appear to me. Don't get me wrong. I have a deep respect for life in all its many variations, shapes and sizes. There are just some creatures I would prefer to appreciate from a distance. Mr. Laura has never met a dog or cat that isn't instantly taken with him. He will catch anything from snakes to lizards to frogs. He's even been known to catch a cockroach or two. There was also the time, when he was three, that he chased down a goose bigger than himself. He managed to get his hands on the goose's tail before it finally got airborne.

In his younger days he was not always so careful with the smaller creatures. Several frogs and lizards suffered early deaths because he was too rough. We worked on being gentle and also letting them go after a short time of captivity so they "could be with their family again." This reasoning worked very well with Mr. Laura. Many frogs and lizards were caught and safely returned to the wild. One day, however, he accidentally killed a lizard. This upset him greatly. He carried this lizard around in a box for the rest of the day apologizing for killing it. That evening he asked if we could bury the lizard. He picked the spot for the grave and I helped him dig the hole. As we place the lizard in, he requested that we say a prayer so we did. Mr. Laura covered him with dirt and marked the grave with rocks and flowers. It was all quite sincere and sweet. It was not until a few days later, when an unidentifiable odor began to appear in the house, that we found the poor lizard in Mr. Laura's room. He had dug him up and returned him to the box, he said, "because he did not like to think of him all alone without his family."

Last night, as I passed the bathroom where Mr. Laura was getting ready for bed, I noticed him blowing kisses and saying "Sweet dreams. I love you. See you in the morning. Night, night" over and over again. I asked him if he was telling his reflection in the mirror goodnight. To which he replied, "No. I was talking to the ladybugs." This particular bathroom is the warmest spot in the house and attracts lots of ladybugs much like Florida attracts snowbirds from the north every winter. I stepped into the bathroom and sure enough there on the counter were about six ladybugs that Mr. Laura was "tucking in" for the night.

A Labor of Love: Before and After

2007-02-17T13:00:00.000-05:00

Well today is the day that Mr. Edwards gets all of his hair cut off. He decided to grow out his hair really long after finding out that his grandmother has breast cancer. He will be donating his hair to Locks of Love. Here is the link if you are not familiar with Locks of Love http://www.locksoflove.org/

Mr. Edwards has always had longish hair for a boy, but he really began growing it out for this purpose 1 year ago. Everyone thinks that he is a girl. He thinks it is funny and rarely corrects anyone. I forgot to tell his new art teacher that he was a boy with long hair. She thought he was a girl for the first three weeks of class and addressed him as such. His good friend could not stand it any longer and finally informed her that Mr. Edwards is a boy.

I for one have absolutely loved his long hair. It will be sorely missed by me, but I think it is wonderful that he has chosen to think of others in need and to do something about it.

Well without any further ado here is Mr. Edward's after picture.

Tiny Butterfly Girl and Other Lies We Tell Our Children

2007-02-15T07:12:00.000-05:00

Mary lost three teeth sometime between Thanksgiving and Christmas. That is when the "lies" began. Mr. Edwards began filling her in on the details of the Tooth Fairy. He gave her all of the step-by-step instructions on how she could turn the teeth into money. However, "Tooth Fairy" was really a meaningless term for the Ethiopians so a different description was needed. Mr. Edwards explained that the Tooth Fairy was kind of like a tiny butterfly girl. This was an image they could understand. Of course right then and there Mr. Garvey had questions: "How does this tiny butterfly girl get into our house?", "How does she get the money under your pillow without waking you up?" and "How can such a tiny person carry so many heavy coins?"

I have waited 9 long years for these kind of questions from Mr. Edwards. Never once has he doubted the people with "magical" abilities that visit our house during certain times of the year. Mr. Edwards is an incredibly smart kid. He loves science. So I have always been baffled why at 9 1/2 he still believed so completely.

I had decided not to make a big deal out of Santa Claus this past year because of our new children. I didn't want to ruin it for Mr. Edwards and Mr Laura, but I also knew with the kind of questions Mr. Garvey asked about tiny butterfly girl that he would have some big questions about Santa Claus. I was afraid beyond just questioning the logistics of such an operation, that Mr. Garvey would also want to know things like, "Why didn't Santa Claus bring us food and toys while we were in Ethiopia?"

The inevitable happened sometime in early December. Mr. Garvey walked into the kitchen and said, "Mr. Edwards just told me that an old man with a very big abdomen is going to fly in the sky, come down our fire spot, and bring us toys and candy. Is this true?" I couldn't lie to him. I could not look this probably 10 year old in the eye and lie. I also didn't want Mr. Edwards to find out about the "lies" from Mr. Garvey. I managed a pretty vague answer and left him with "What do you think?"

On the next Saturday I took Mr. Edwards out to lunch. On the way to the restaurant, I broke the news to him. I told him that Pa and I were Santa Claus. He sat there a few silent moments and then let out a big sigh and said, "Well that explains why I never got anything I ever wanted for Christmas." Evidently he had been writing secret letters to Santa and asking for things that Pa and I were not aware of. We continued on to the restaurant and had a nice lunch peppered with a few more questions like, "What about the Easter Bunny?", "What about the Winter fairy and the Halloween fairy (don't ask)?" and finally with the tiniest bit of hope left in his voice he asked, "Tiny butterfly girl?" "Sorry, not real either," I replied. Overall he took it pretty well and now seems to relish the idea that he is "in" on the secrets. I have also let Mr. Garvey in on the truth about tiny butterfly girl and the old man with the very big abdomen.

The younger three still "believe". Tiny butterfly girl will be paying Mr. Laura a visit any day now for his first tooth. Mary is getting excited about the "big white mouse that lays chocolate eggs" coming to our house soon. Mr. Garvey, not being a fan of chocolate, is really disappointed by the upcoming holiday. He has approached me privately to work out a trade - his chocolate for some of my money. After we came to agreement on the terms, he said with a knowing smile on his face, "make sure that the 'big white mouse' brings some really good chocolate, you know the kind you like." Oh I will!

More on Panther G*d

2007-02-12T20:51:00.000-05:00

Mr. Laura often becomes really immersed in his fantasy life so much so that he actually lives it in real life and demands that others come along for the ride. Like the time a few years ago when he changed his name to Zipper. He ran around introducing himself to strangers by saying, "My name is Zipper. Watch me zip zap". He would become so frustrated with us if we forgot to address him as Zipper. This lasted about one week. Just about the time we were getting pretty good at remembering his new name, he abruptly informed us that he was no longer Zipper and that we could go back to his real name.

Or like the time more recently. It was shortly after our Ethiopian children came to America. I think Mr. Laura was jealous that they could speak to each other in a language he did not understand. Unbeknownst to anyone, he developed his own personal language and began teaching it to Mr. Garvey, Mary, and Miss Almanzo. They of course thought they were learning English and when they spoke to Pa and me in Mr. Laura's language, we thought they were speaking Amharic or Hidaya. There was a bit of confusion for awhile over the names of things until Mr. Laura revealed what he was up to.

Currently Mr. Laura is very focused on Panther G*d. We are learning more and more as the days go by. Here are some interesting and sometimes strange facts about Panther G*d.

Panther G*d wants Mr. Laura to be kind, share his toys, and help others.
If he violates any of these commandments during the day, Panther G*d visits him at night, shakes him awake with her claws and roars at him.
Panther G*d is also his wife.
Today when Mr. Edwards caught him violating one of the above commandments, he told Mr. Laura that Panther G*d might be watching. Mr. Laura matter of factly stated that Panther G*d was not with him at the moment. When asked where Panther G*d went, Mr. Laura replied that she was shopping. As it turns out, Panther G*d is very particular about what she eats and prefers to do all of her own food shopping.

Barn Building

2007-02-12T18:00:00.000-05:00

I did say this blog was going in part to be about building our barn and house. So I guess it is about time for an update. We have started with the barn. As you can see, we have gotten a few sections of wall up on the loft of the barn.

Today was a lovely day. It was about 65 and partly sunny. The kids and I met Pa at the land at about 1 today and got home around 5.

The kids and I walked an entire circle aound our field (it's about 25 acres) today. It is exactly 2,000 steps. We then measured my stride length and calculated that one loop around the outside of the field is a little under 1 mile. A round trip to the mail box will be about 1/2 mile.

The kids kept themselves busy the rest of the afternoon with building forts, running through the woods, and making up games.

Here's one more picture of Pa hard at work.

G*D

2007-02-11T17:47:00.000-05:00

As I folded towels in another room, I couldn't help but overhear a conversation between Mr. Edwards and Mr. Laura. It went something like this:

Mr. Laura: Am I Jewish?

Mr. Edwards: You can be if you want to be.

Mr. Laura: Are there people who don't believe in G*d?

Mr. Edwards: Yes.

Mr. Laura: I hate those people.

Mr. Edwards: Then you hate me.

Mr. Laura: G*d made us. How can you not believe in him?

Mr. Edwards: There are lots of different ideas of what G*d might be. Which G*d are you talking about anyways?

Mr. Laura: The Panther G*d of course. What animal G*d do you believe in?

Mr. Edwards: I told you I don't believe in G*d.

Mr. Laura: But if you did, what would be your G*d?

Mr Edwards (completely exasperated): Science!

Mr. Laura: That's not an animal.

"I'm so Happy!"

2007-02-10T07:47:00.000-05:00

The flight from Addis Ababa, Ethiopia to Charlotte, NC via D.C. took about 24 hours to complete. As we de-planed in Charlotte, I remember how relieved I felt that I had actually managed to get three children who spoke no English, had never been on a plane, and who were scared and confused back home safe and sound to meet Pa, Mr. Laura, and Mr. Edwards for the first time. That is when she bolted. Mary left me standing there with Mr. Garvey and a sleeping Miss Almanzo in my arms, three back packs and two carry on suitcases. Where she was going I'm not sure, but she was wasting no time getting there. I began screaming her name. Fortunately a woman figured out the situation and stepped in front of Mary long enough for us to catch her. From there we managed pretty uneventfully to make it to baggage claim to meet Pa, Mr. Edwards, and Mr. Laura and so began our new family.

To say that Mary and I have had a rough adjustment to each other would be an understatement. Mary pretty much disliked me from the moment we met. It was obvious that she did not want to leave Ethiopia and she needed to blame somebody. She understandably chose me. She had not asked to give up everything that was familiar to her and start again with strangers. Her Ethiopian family had made an adoption plan for her and her brother and sister that they felt was in their best interests, but that did not mean that she would be a willing participant. Mary possesses a lot of qualities that will make her a survivor, but these qualities are not often easy ones for the parent. She is independent, determined, strong-willed, brutally honest, opinionated, and questions everything. At the same time she is funny and playful, generous and compassionate. It is these latter qualities that I had difficulty seeing initially.

The first two months were very trying. She told me in no uncertain terms that she did not want to be here, that she did not like me, and that she wished I was dead. I'd like to say that as the adult I didn't take any of this personally, that it did not affect my feelings towards her, and that I was always patient with her while she worked this out. Of course I'd be lying if I did. I took a lot of deep breaths, apologized a lot, and kept telling myself that "this too shall pass".

Fortunately for the entire family Mary and Pa hit it off. It gave both of us some much needed space from each other. I remember the turning point for me. One day Pa remarked that Mary is really so sweet and it would have been a real tragedy if she had been left behind in Ethiopia. Sweet? Mary? Sweet? My brain locked up. It was as if Pa were telling me the earth was flat after all. I could think of a lot of other adjectives but I could not put Mary and "sweet" together. I couldn't believe we could both live in the same house with Mary and each see her so differently. I wanted to see what he saw. I began watching their interactions and trying to see Mary through his eyes. That is when I felt my heart soften. It hasn't been easy but day by day I feel the love and trust building between the two us.

One of my remaining concerns is that she never seems happy in the way that Mr. Garvey and Miss Almanzo do. She has understandably hesitated to embrace her new life fully. It is as if she has made a bargain with herself that she will accept her life such as it is, but that joy and happiness will not be part of it. She is never satisfied. Nothing is ever good enough. She is always sure that one of her siblings got something better than she did. She screams, "I hate this," as she opens the birthday gift you bought her. The birthday gift she explicitly told you she wanted. She is so determined to be unhappy.

So last night as we drove her to her second gymnastic practice of the week and of her lifetime, I heard the sweetest words I never thought I would hear from Mary. The car was quiet and completely out of the blue, as she bounced excitedly up and down in her seat, she giggled and said, "I'm so happy."

Happy Birthday, Miss Almanzo!

2007-02-04T07:30:00.000-05:00

Miss Almanzo turns 4 today! She has requested a chocolate cake with coffee icing and "white" ice cream. I really like her tastes! She is the most American of the Ethiopians. From the moment she lept into my arms eight months ago, she has never looked back. She has made herself right at home. So in honor of her 4th birthday, here are 4 things about Miss Almanzo:

She has the most dazzling smile, infectious laugh, and sweetest voice imaginable.

She absolutely wants to be older and get to do all of the things her older brothers get to do.

When she grows up she wants to marry her friend Colin or her uncle, Big "T" (or Big Coffee as she refers to him. She missed the point that it was the initial "T" and not the hot beverage "tea" and then got confused and substituted one hot beverage for another, hence the Big Coffee. We all kind of liked it and now refer to my brother-in-law as Big Coffee.)

She is definitely a Pa's girl. She prefers him over anyone.

Here is a photo of Miss Almanzo enjoying her Happy Birthday!

Yuck! If anyone shows me that, I'll punch them in the face!

2007-01-30T09:38:00.000-05:00

Warning: this is a birds and the bees post.

Mr. Garvey entered the kitchen one evening as Pa and I were cooking dinner.

Mr. Garvey: Ma, can I ask you a question?

Ma: Sure what is it?

Mr. Garvey: When babies are born, do they come out of your butt?

What proceeded next was an explanation of female and male anatomy along with many questions asked and answered. These led to the full explanation of what needs to go where to get the sperm and the egg together. Of course this kind of talk immediately set off the radar of all of the other kids and soon all five were in the kitchen taking it all in. At some point, unnoticed by anyone, Mr. Laura left the kitchen.

Meanwhile, Mr. Garvey was not exactly buying the "three hole theory" as it relates to the female anatomy, so Mr. Edwards showed him a human body book with sketches to illustrate that in fact the baby did indeed have it's own doorway.

At this point, Mr. Laura walked back into the kitchen with his hair wet and all slicked back.

Ma: Mr. Laura, what did you do?

Mr. Laura: I thought it was time that I start looking nice, so I fixed my hair.

Mr. Laura had boiled the above educational conversation down to one practical truth: if he ever wanted to get his sperm hooked up with someone's egg, his looks were an important part of the equation. Evidently there was no time like the present to start working on that. I went to give him a hug and tell him he always looks nice when I was stopped in my tracks by an odor emanating from Mr. Laura.

Ma: What is that smell?

Mr. Laura: Cinnamon toothpaste.

Ma: Oh, you brushed your teeth?

Mr. Laura: (with a sheepish grin) No.

Ma: Well sweetie, what did you do with the toothpaste?

Mr. Laura: (still grinning) You know what I did with the toothpaste.

Ma: No, I don't know what you did.

Mr. Laura: I used it in my hair.

Mr. Laura was wisked off to the shower to clean his hair and more importantly to get rid of the odor. Toothpaste in large amounts really smells bad.

I returned to the kitchen to find Mr. Garvey looking perplexed. The sketches still had not convinced him. He felt that seeing the "real thing" was what it would take to convince him. I reassured him that when he was older and he met someone whom he loved and loved him back, when they were in a committed relationship, when the timing was right blah, blah, blah, that he would see the "real thing". To this he replied, "Yuck! If anyone ever shows me that, I'll punch them in the face."

Something tells me he will feel differently when the time is right.

The Cast

2007-01-29T16:55:00.000-05:00

No show would be complete without the naming of the cast.

Caroline Ingalls, played by me. She is one of my heroes. Of course I'll never be half the woman she was. To think about all she did day in and day out without any modern conveniences just astounds me. If you would have told me 20 years ago that I would be a country-living, homeschooling, stay-at-home-mom of 5 (or a mom of any kind for that matter), I would have thought you had just described my worst nightmare. Funny how life happens when you are making other plans. Truth be told, I couldn't be happier with the way my life has turned out. I love being a mom. I love the freedom of not working or schooling on someone else's schedule. Interests at the moment are yoga, home plans and home building, learning to crochet, whole foods eating, reading and hanging out with my little people.

Charles Ingalls, unknowingly played by my dh. He could have given the real Pa a run for his money. He is so resourceful and can figure out how to do anything he sets his mind to from baking bread to making furniture to building a house. He puts up with most of my latest and greatest ideas of things we should try - that is if I am patient enough. It did take him 10 or so years to agree to the housebuilding idea and the adoption, but they were worth waiting for. He is easy going, open-minded, a fine cook, and an impressive feminist. The latter fact being very important to me, as I now find myself a stay-at-home-feminist (not sure that term actually exists and if it does it is probably as an oxymoron. Regardless, that is how I think of myself). His ancestry is half Greek and half English. Fortunately for me, his Greek half is from his father's side so he has the all important Greek last name which first got him noticed by my "Greek man radar". From the time I was about 10, I decided the only way I would ever marry is if it was to a Greek man. Guess I fell for all of the travel brochure pictures and decided only a man from that part of the world could sweep me off my feet. Of course he hasn't taken me to Greece yet, but some day......

Mr. Edwards played by my soon to be 10 year old son. He is nothing like Mr. Edwards on the show, but Mr. Edwards is certainly his favorite character. My Mr. Edwards is truly one of the most beautiful humans I have ever had the pleasure of knowing. He is kind, soft-spoken, smart, compassionate, and thoughtful. He is definitely an "old soul". I have much to learn from him. Honestly, when I am having one of those moments where I think I just may lose it because having five children is just too overwhelming, I stop and think What would my Mr. Edwards do? It is just so dang convenient having my very own personal Bodhisattva living with me 24/7 illuminating my path. My Mr. Edwards is also an obsessive-compulsive reader. He always has a book in hand. Once in a moment of lack-of-reading-material desperation, I caught him reading the vacuum cleaner owner's manual.

Mr. Garvey played by my son from Ethiopia. Officially he is 7 soon to be 8. He tells us he is actually 10. In the eight months he has been with us, he has put on 25 lbs, grown 6 inches and is now the same size as my Mr. Edwards. My Mr. Garvey is a motivated student, very athletic, a hard worker, and loves to turn anything into a competition. When he turns his need to compete inward he accomplishes anything he sets his mind to. When he turns his need to compete outward to his siblings, it isn't quite so enjoyable. We are working on that one. Overall he has made a wonderful adjustment and we love having him in our family. When asked what he likes most about America, he will tell you Trick-or-Treating, Christmas, and Happy Birthdays.

Laura played by my 6 year old son. Yes that's right, son. As far as personality, he is definitely spunky and mischievous like Laura. Overall not a bad match even if the gender is wrong. My Laura is a free spirit and definitely the clown of the house. He gets such a thrill out of making others laugh. There is nothing he won't do for a laugh. At the same time he is so in tune with people and their feelings. On Saturday night a neighbor's house burned down. When we saw it for the first time Sunday afternoon, his first comment was, "Seeing their house just makes me want to give them a big hug." He is also funny in the sense that at the tender age of 6 he has figured out that when he grows up he will marry his friend Holley, move to Boston, have four children, two dogs, 1 cat, and drive a blue van.

Mary played by my daughter from Ethiopia. She is probably 7 years old and is nothing like Mary Ingalls. She has little interest in book learning. She is definitely not soft-spoken. She is more a combination of Laura and Willie with a pinch of Nellie. She is very spirited, she knows what she wants and goes after it with abandon. She has had the hardest time adjusting to her new life. She misses her Ethiopian family a lot. She constantly brings me pieces of paper to write down all the names of everyone she ever knew in Ethiopia. I think she is afraid she will forget them. In the eight months she has been with us, she has really settled down. She went from demanding to be taken back to Ethiopia to now only wanting to "visit and then come back to America". I do hope that we can manage a trip back to Ethiopia in the next 2-3 years.

Almanzo Wilder played by my other daughter from Ethiopia. She will officially be turning 4 years old this Saturday. She really wanted to be Laura or Mary, but the older kids talked her out of it. When I asked her why she picked Almanzo, she said it was because she "liked him because he married Laura". My Almanzo has the most incredible smile I have ever seen. All she has to do is flash that smile and the answer is pretty much "yes" to whatever she wants. She constantly makes noise whether it is singing or talking to herself or just gibberish. She is also quite the flirt. She "picks up" men everywhere she goes. She may have to be sent to a nunnery until she's 25.

Thanks for taking the time to meet Ma, Pa, Mr. Edwards, Mr. Garvey, Mary and my gender benders Mr. Laura and Miss Almanzo

So....the name?

2007-01-29T12:04:00.000-05:00

Well obviously, "little house" comes from Little House on the Prairie. Four of my five kids are crazy for anything Little House. It is the only show they are interested in watching. They play "little house" each and every day. They work it into any and all play whether it be Legos, dinosaurs, outside play, etc. They have each chosen a character and rarely do they break character throughout the day. They label each other's behavior by which character would be most likely to exhibit the same behavior. Someone being silly is a Willie. Someone being mean or cruel is a Nellie, etc. They have even taken to calling dh and I, Pa and Ma. Not sure I'm crazy about the way they say "Maw".

Sandhills comes from the area we live in. The central part of SC is known as the sandhills because the coastline use to be here many, many, geologic years ago. As a result there is a lot of sand in our soil (and our house and our hair and our cars).

"Little House on the Sandhills" also represents a "pioneering" adventure we have just embarked upon. We recently purchased 70 acres of fields, woods, and ponds and have begun building, with our own 7 pairs of hands, a house and a barn. We hope to have most of it finished by the end of 2007. Plans are to have goats and chickens and gardens. We hope to eventually feed ourselves mainly from our gardens, orchards, and animals.

I will use this blog to highlight the progress of the "farm" as well as our homeschooling adventures, the adjustment of our three children recently adopted from Ethiopia, and finally just everyday happenings and events.

Ma