November 10, 2010
November 9, 2010
Laundry
Where does your laundry go after it's been laundered? Into a bin, up the stairs, folded in to piles and placed into dressers or on hangers in closets? I so wish that were the case for us. For us it's more like washer to dryer to bin to stairs to... being dumped on the guest bed in the guest bedroom where the clothing items stay until A) they're worn, or B) some sort of miracle happens and we actually make it around to folding them. Though option B never (really, never) happens more than a day before the next load of laundry makes it up the stairs. So really, we should just call our guest bed the laundry bed and the guest bedroom the where-laundry-goes-to-die room. There will be a day in the future (note: not near future) when all of the clothes are clean and folded and put away with more than 24 hours between this time and when the next mountain of laundry needs dealing with. It really will happen. Just not any time soon.
November 7, 2010
November 5, 2010
One Day
And if you have ANY connection to the worldwide education movement that is TFA (Teach for America) you know exactly how that slogan goes...
One day, all children in this nation will have the opportunity to attain an excellent education.
I am a member of the 2001 TFA Corps. I taught for two years in my first placement school then went on to help an incredible team of educators (mostly TFA alums themselves) start a small public middle school in the South Bronx of NYC. I spent two years building and leading the math and photography programs at that school before moving on to where I am now, working as a project manager in the field of education technology.
And, if you're a fan of Jane Aronson and her Worldwide Orphans Foundation (WWO) you may be familiar with this phrase:
To transform the lives of orphaned children by taking them out of anonymity and helping them to become healthy, independent, productive members of their communities and around the world.
Because every child deserves a loving, healthy family. To state the obvious my husband and I value the mission of WWO and became acutely aware just a short time after meeting that our future lives together would include adoption. Not because we wanted to save a child, but because we knew that if there came a time at some point in the future when a mother would make the painstaking decision to entrust us to parent her brilliant, beautiful child, that we wanted nothing more than to fulfill that privilege.
So now, more than 9 years later, nearly10 years since our wedding day and 10 years since my first days in the classroom and 3 years since our life changing trip to Ethiopia and 1 year since "completing" our family with little Leni, I'm being called out. Called out by TFA and the global education reform movement in general. Called out by the adoption community and worldwide organizations tasked to challenge the orphan crisis and improve the quality of life for children everywhere. Called out, and big time.
What am I doing today?
Since my days with TFA and IA (international adoption), which for all intensive purposes have not nor will ever end, I seem to have allowed myself to become less and less angry. Less angry about the injustices in education where the playing field is still so not leveled you'd be lucky not to be catapulted off one end if you walk the plank too far, and injustices in the worlds children where the immediate needs of orphanages requesting simple supplies simply aren't being met. I've somehow allowed myself to slip in to a routine that is just, well, just less angry.
It's good to be angry sometimes. It's amazing what you can get done when you're angry. I remember hating hating certain moments of teaching because I knew that despite any amount of effort put forth from my students they would always be at a significant (and I mean SIGNIFICANT) disadvantage when it came to graduating and going on for any sort of college experience. I hated hated walking through orphanages ripe with ringworm and other afflictions easily treatable by over the counter medications you often find being given away for free in American doctors offices. Things made me angry and I moved because of it. And then life, things, became easy. Sure, not without your run of the mill daily challenges but easy nonetheless.
After my experiences teaching and having done a decent amount of travel to the worlds countries it's pretty damn difficult to call my life anything other than easy.
I need to be angry again. To veer from the easy and move to the, movement. Not one day, but today, so that One Day...
10 years ago this kind of feeling landed me starting the best 10 years of my life, teaching, traveling, becoming a parent, twice. It's time to launch the next 10 year plan.
One day, all children in this nation will have the opportunity to attain an excellent education.
I am a member of the 2001 TFA Corps. I taught for two years in my first placement school then went on to help an incredible team of educators (mostly TFA alums themselves) start a small public middle school in the South Bronx of NYC. I spent two years building and leading the math and photography programs at that school before moving on to where I am now, working as a project manager in the field of education technology.
And, if you're a fan of Jane Aronson and her Worldwide Orphans Foundation (WWO) you may be familiar with this phrase:
To transform the lives of orphaned children by taking them out of anonymity and helping them to become healthy, independent, productive members of their communities and around the world.
Because every child deserves a loving, healthy family. To state the obvious my husband and I value the mission of WWO and became acutely aware just a short time after meeting that our future lives together would include adoption. Not because we wanted to save a child, but because we knew that if there came a time at some point in the future when a mother would make the painstaking decision to entrust us to parent her brilliant, beautiful child, that we wanted nothing more than to fulfill that privilege.
So now, more than 9 years later, nearly10 years since our wedding day and 10 years since my first days in the classroom and 3 years since our life changing trip to Ethiopia and 1 year since "completing" our family with little Leni, I'm being called out. Called out by TFA and the global education reform movement in general. Called out by the adoption community and worldwide organizations tasked to challenge the orphan crisis and improve the quality of life for children everywhere. Called out, and big time.
What am I doing today?
Since my days with TFA and IA (international adoption), which for all intensive purposes have not nor will ever end, I seem to have allowed myself to become less and less angry. Less angry about the injustices in education where the playing field is still so not leveled you'd be lucky not to be catapulted off one end if you walk the plank too far, and injustices in the worlds children where the immediate needs of orphanages requesting simple supplies simply aren't being met. I've somehow allowed myself to slip in to a routine that is just, well, just less angry.
It's good to be angry sometimes. It's amazing what you can get done when you're angry. I remember hating hating certain moments of teaching because I knew that despite any amount of effort put forth from my students they would always be at a significant (and I mean SIGNIFICANT) disadvantage when it came to graduating and going on for any sort of college experience. I hated hated walking through orphanages ripe with ringworm and other afflictions easily treatable by over the counter medications you often find being given away for free in American doctors offices. Things made me angry and I moved because of it. And then life, things, became easy. Sure, not without your run of the mill daily challenges but easy nonetheless.
After my experiences teaching and having done a decent amount of travel to the worlds countries it's pretty damn difficult to call my life anything other than easy.
I need to be angry again. To veer from the easy and move to the, movement. Not one day, but today, so that One Day...
10 years ago this kind of feeling landed me starting the best 10 years of my life, teaching, traveling, becoming a parent, twice. It's time to launch the next 10 year plan.
Reading Comprehension 101
If you enjoyed (or not) Tim Wise's recent post I linked to yesterday then you may (or may not) wan to check out his response to the criticism it received. Again, below is a short except from the post but as always a full-read is recommended.
Reading Comprehension 101: Text, Subtext, and the Politics of Misinterpretation
"That said, and while I know we live in a culture where reading comprehension (and writing itself) is devalued — what with our emphasis on short, sweet text messages, or tweet-talk, in which we are expected to make a point in 140 characters — I am yet amazed at how difficult some find it to decipher the words I have caused to appear on the page, and to really interpret what they mean, as opposed to that which they do not.
- Tim Wise
Reading Comprehension 101: Text, Subtext, and the Politics of Misinterpretation
"That said, and while I know we live in a culture where reading comprehension (and writing itself) is devalued — what with our emphasis on short, sweet text messages, or tweet-talk, in which we are expected to make a point in 140 characters — I am yet amazed at how difficult some find it to decipher the words I have caused to appear on the page, and to really interpret what they mean, as opposed to that which they do not.
To wit, after my latest piece on the election results went viral, there have been more than a few folks who have written to say how appalled they were by my “attack on white people,” or my “attack on America,” or my “hateful diatribe” in which I “gleefully anticipate the death of the elderly” and the “initiation of violent payback of whites writ large by people of color” once whites become a less prominent portion of the national population, a few decades hence. In other words, putting aside the inherent absurdity of this interpretation — I am white after all, as are my kids, as is my wife, as is my momma, all my immediate family and my best friend too — some who read the piece believe against all logic and in the face of plain English (however aggressive the piece may be), that I have announced, excitedly, the coming of a glorious race war and the end of white people.
(Sigh).
So perhaps we should start with the obvious, for those a bit too slow to begin the reading of the essay with, ya know, the title."- Tim Wise
An Artistic Depiction
We think this may have been Bridger and Helena's way of artistically visualizing this week's election results. Bridger, the aging fat cat in full death-stare mode yet still maintaining his distance from the clearly shocked infant unwilling to roll over yet still maintaining a death-grip on the pacifier. Call it what you will.
November 4, 2010
A Note From Tim Wise
Interesting commentary from Tim Wise on the results of this week's elections found HERE. Warning, depending on your preferences regarding exposure to "potty words" you may prefer to read outside of the presence of children. Below is a short excerpt from the post, but I highly recommend clicking on the linked title to read the whole thing.
An Open Letter to the White Right, On the Occasion of Your Recent, Successful Temper Tantrum
"And in the pantheon of American history, old white people have pretty much always been the bad guys, the keepers of the hegemonic and reactionary flame, the folks unwilling to share the category of American with others on equal terms.
An Open Letter to the White Right, On the Occasion of Your Recent, Successful Temper Tantrum
"And in the pantheon of American history, old white people have pretty much always been the bad guys, the keepers of the hegemonic and reactionary flame, the folks unwilling to share the category of American with others on equal terms.
Fine, keep it up. It doesn’t matter.
Because you’re on the endangered list.
And unlike, say, the bald eagle or some exotic species of muskrat, you are not worth saving.
In forty years or so, maybe fewer, there won’t be any more white people around who actually remember that Leave it to Beaver, Father Knows Best, Opie-Taylor-Down-at-the-Fishing Hole cornpone bullshit that you hold so near and dear to your heart.
There won’t be any more white folks around who think the 1950s were the good old days, because there won’t be any more white folks around who actually remember them, and so therefore, we’ll be able to teach about them accurately and honestly, without hurting your precious feelings, or those of the so-called “greatest generation” — a bunch whose white members were by and large a gaggle of miscreants who helped save the world from fascism only to return home and oppose the ending of it here, by doing nothing to lift a finger on behalf of the civil rights struggle.
So to hell with you and all who revere you.
By then, half the country will be black or brown. And there is nothing you can do about it.
Nothing, Senõr Tancredo.
Nothing, Senõra Angle, or Senõra Brewer, or Senõr Beck.
Loy tiene muy mal, hijo de Puta."
- Tim Wise
November 2, 2010
1 + 1 > 2
I don't know how parents of 3+ children do it. YOU'RE OUTNUMBERED! Please, do share your secrets because 2 has created quite the juggling act for us. I will give us some credit and admit that at least we seem to be keeping the balls in the air for now, but never without a few buckets of sweat threatening to barrel down our brows... You know the phrase "just by the hair of my chinny chin chin"? Well, we're exhausting those there hairs. We rarely notice how huge the presence of the juggling act is until we spend some time with our family in MN and are reminded how much simpler things can be with a few extra sets of hands to balance the balls. We just don't think about it much when it's just the 4 of us, because that's just how it is and we roll with it and everything eventually gets done. But man, when you get to enjoy the sweetness that is family for a few days the juggling act turns into 7 1-ton semis smashing in to your forehead upon return to the norm.
It's similar to when one of us is traveling for work and the other is left to tend to the kiddies solo. After a day or so I get into a grind and things run pretty smoothly, but then we're both around for the morning/evening routine for a while and get used to having 2 sets of hands and then WHAM one of us leaves and the other scurries to the back corner of the upstairs closet as fast as humanly possible. I suppose it's no revelation that when things are made easier for a while it makes the return to slightly more difficult a WHOLE LOT MORE DIFFICULT. Almost makes me want to just stay put in slightly-more-difficult land so as never to get comfortable on easy street.
Wait, nope. Easy street is welcome in our parts any time. In fact I'm going to put out a welcome sign with gigantic blinking arrows pointing towards our house right now just to make sure it doesn't get lost on it's next run through town.
On a completely unrelated note Leni had her 4 month check up and is now 13 pounds (25%) and 24.5 inches (50%). Her 6 month check up in December will be a combo check up/travel vaccines for her and travel vaccines for Ash.
Mom + 6 month old + 3 1/2 year old + lots of needles = Daddy had better have one outstanding bottle of wine waiting with dinner that night.
It's similar to when one of us is traveling for work and the other is left to tend to the kiddies solo. After a day or so I get into a grind and things run pretty smoothly, but then we're both around for the morning/evening routine for a while and get used to having 2 sets of hands and then WHAM one of us leaves and the other scurries to the back corner of the upstairs closet as fast as humanly possible. I suppose it's no revelation that when things are made easier for a while it makes the return to slightly more difficult a WHOLE LOT MORE DIFFICULT. Almost makes me want to just stay put in slightly-more-difficult land so as never to get comfortable on easy street.
Wait, nope. Easy street is welcome in our parts any time. In fact I'm going to put out a welcome sign with gigantic blinking arrows pointing towards our house right now just to make sure it doesn't get lost on it's next run through town.
On a completely unrelated note Leni had her 4 month check up and is now 13 pounds (25%) and 24.5 inches (50%). Her 6 month check up in December will be a combo check up/travel vaccines for her and travel vaccines for Ash.
Mom + 6 month old + 3 1/2 year old + lots of needles = Daddy had better have one outstanding bottle of wine waiting with dinner that night.
November 1, 2010
The Growing Family
My little sister just got married and Ash couldn't be more excited to have a new uncle to climb on and run circles around. Of course their current plan is to remain in MN so our plans to move family members to our neck of the woods in NY seem to have failed once again... Thankfully the whole "it requires a wedding or a funeral to bring a family together" idea doesn't seem to apply to our family. We manage to make it to MN several times a year and welcome the MN fan club to NY frequently as well. It's no secret that Ash is no stranger to airports, whether it be to pick family up or check-in ourselves. And no, I don't plan trips to MN for the sole purpose of being able to enjoy a hot cup of coffee that hasn't been reheated in the microwave 5 times. Though it is a pretty nice perk.
This time, though, one of the events waiting for us when we landed was my sisters wedding. And by "we" I mean me and the kids. Daddy was of playing in Barbados (ok ok, he was "working" there) so met us in MN instead of flying with us. Just me, the 4 month old, and the 3 1/2 year old. And if I do say so myself, we were a pretty darn cute bundle of commuters for 2 days. Yes, you read that right. It took us 2 days to complete the 3 hour flight from NY to MN. Let me explain...
Day of flight: Received an email 7 hours before takeoff informing me that our direct flight had been canceled. Spent 30 minutes on the phone figuring out new flights (direct flight no longer an option) only to discover that I had to leave the house (and fetch Leni from the babysitter and pickup Ash from school) in less than 5 minutes to catch a connecting flight through Chicago. Arrived at the airport, strapped both kids to the security buckets that get sent through the scanner at airport security and sent them through. OK, OK, no I didn't. But I wanted to. Boarded the plane. 2nd in line for takeoff, but wait, it's windy in Chicago so we're going to hang out on the tarmac for 2 hours. Got on the phone with the airline to sort out a new connecting flight since I'd now certainly miss the first one I was re-booked on only to find out that it had been canceled anyway. Guess we're spending the night in Chicago. But wait, a passenger got sick so we had to return to the terminal giving us the opportunity to get off the plane, spend the night in Brooklyn, and board a new (DIRECT!!! DIRECT!!!) flight to MN the next morning.
24 hours later we arrived only to find out that daddy's flight from Barbados to MN had been canceled. One day and 3 martinis later (I kid, I kid) the 4 of us were together in MN clinging to whatever strands of sanity managed to withstand the events of this most epic trip to family. And it goes without saying that it was so entirely and most definitely worth it. We'd do it again in a heartbeat, just might pack a grandma or two for the commute next time.
Which brings my most long winded of a story full circle to the real point of this post. Life may have landed us a few thousand miles from most of our family (SHOUT OUT TO OUR FAM IN PA WHO ARE ONLY 90 MINUTES AWAY - YOU ROCK!!) but that hasn't stopped us from being a part of it all. It just takes a few extra hours, a re-prioritization of finances in favor of the airline industry, and about 10,000 tons of patience in reserve for when life decides to make things interesting.
Welcome to the family Brad. And just for the record, it's your turn to come to NY.
This time, though, one of the events waiting for us when we landed was my sisters wedding. And by "we" I mean me and the kids. Daddy was of playing in Barbados (ok ok, he was "working" there) so met us in MN instead of flying with us. Just me, the 4 month old, and the 3 1/2 year old. And if I do say so myself, we were a pretty darn cute bundle of commuters for 2 days. Yes, you read that right. It took us 2 days to complete the 3 hour flight from NY to MN. Let me explain...
Day of flight: Received an email 7 hours before takeoff informing me that our direct flight had been canceled. Spent 30 minutes on the phone figuring out new flights (direct flight no longer an option) only to discover that I had to leave the house (and fetch Leni from the babysitter and pickup Ash from school) in less than 5 minutes to catch a connecting flight through Chicago. Arrived at the airport, strapped both kids to the security buckets that get sent through the scanner at airport security and sent them through. OK, OK, no I didn't. But I wanted to. Boarded the plane. 2nd in line for takeoff, but wait, it's windy in Chicago so we're going to hang out on the tarmac for 2 hours. Got on the phone with the airline to sort out a new connecting flight since I'd now certainly miss the first one I was re-booked on only to find out that it had been canceled anyway. Guess we're spending the night in Chicago. But wait, a passenger got sick so we had to return to the terminal giving us the opportunity to get off the plane, spend the night in Brooklyn, and board a new (DIRECT!!! DIRECT!!!) flight to MN the next morning.
24 hours later we arrived only to find out that daddy's flight from Barbados to MN had been canceled. One day and 3 martinis later (I kid, I kid) the 4 of us were together in MN clinging to whatever strands of sanity managed to withstand the events of this most epic trip to family. And it goes without saying that it was so entirely and most definitely worth it. We'd do it again in a heartbeat, just might pack a grandma or two for the commute next time.
Which brings my most long winded of a story full circle to the real point of this post. Life may have landed us a few thousand miles from most of our family (SHOUT OUT TO OUR FAM IN PA WHO ARE ONLY 90 MINUTES AWAY - YOU ROCK!!) but that hasn't stopped us from being a part of it all. It just takes a few extra hours, a re-prioritization of finances in favor of the airline industry, and about 10,000 tons of patience in reserve for when life decides to make things interesting.
Welcome to the family Brad. And just for the record, it's your turn to come to NY.
October 31, 2010
October 29, 2010
October 26, 2010
Right
I seem to be in a bit of a rut that's making me question whether I'm doing things the "right" way. Not that I didn't question before, but lately it's become annoyingly more frequent. It just seems that everyone is posting about literature that suggests we do this and experiences that suggest we do that and it all seems to eventually be contradicted somewhere else by someone else who swears this is the "right" way to do it. And then I close the Internet browser window, drop the magazine, turn off the radio, and look at my kids. Two pretty wonderful seemingly well-adjusted children who, in my humble opinion, are the epitome of right. We must have done something really really right to be granted the privilege of parenting these two. Their scenarios are unique. There are wrongs and there is loss. We will continue to make our best effort to do things the best way possible. Whether that's always going to be considered "right" by everyone else is another story. But beyond the research, the trends, the recommendations, the absolutely-not-unless-you-want-to-scar-your-child-for-life kind of advice, there are two pretty happy kids enjoying pretty healthy lives and well, how much "wrong" could we be doing?
October 25, 2010
Online
I'd be lost without the ability to purchase necessities online and have them delivered right to my doorstep. Diapers, wipes, formula, baby gear, clothing, Halloween costumes, shoes, books, tights, etc etc etc. It's just so much easier to shop online than pack everyone up and go to an actual store. Diapers.com offers free (next day!) delivery for orders over $50, and I signed up for Amazon.com's "Prime Membership" which cost me $19 but guaranteed me free two-day delivery on purchases. Next day? Two days? These are words not found in my let's-make-a-plan-to-go-shopping vocabulary. Usually I start to think about going on a shopping trip and then a week or two later it might have happened. Not in the virtual shopping world though, no no no. I can discover I've ruined my last pair of black tights and have a new pair delivered in time for this week's meeting, no worries no stress. We can use the last baby wipe (haha, as if we'd ever run out of those - I think we have a stockpile large enough for a family of 25 in the basement...) and have a new case delivered the next morning. No delivery charge. The very thought of having to go to an actual Babies R Us to purchase such necessities and load them into the trunk and unpack everything at home only to realize I forgot at least one essential item gives me the shivers.
And on a completely random totally unrelated note...
He settled for the cream meant for daddy's coffee
And on a completely random totally unrelated note...
Ash trying to order from the beer beverage menu
He settled for the cream meant for daddy's coffee
October 24, 2010
And, We Survive
So, even on a Friday afternoon when Ash comes home with a temp of 103 and Leni is scratching at the leftover sticker-spots left on her forehead from her hearing test, it was still day 1 of an amazing fall weekend. Dose #1 of children's ibuprofen brought his temp down to the high 90's and dose #2 given in the middle of the night when he had spiked back up to 101 brought him down to the 98.6 range. Permanently. Leni never so much as sneezed the entire weekend.
So, we survived. And we owe our guardian angel big time. As a start we offer the following tribute to her. Enjoy.
So, we survived. And we owe our guardian angel big time. As a start we offer the following tribute to her. Enjoy.
October 22, 2010
TGIF, Until It's TGIF + Doctors
We were all set for a great Friday. A beautiful, 60 degree, semi-sunny, colors at their peak kind of Friday in the Hudson Valley. Then I had to take Leni to her follow up appointment to have her hearing tested (she originally failed the hearing test when she was discharged from the NICU a week after birth), which meant electrodes taped to her head here there and everywhere and long periods of motionless silence needed to detect the presence of her ability to hear. Thankfully she was an absolute rock star and was able to complete the testing in under an hour and passed with flying colors. Often newborns fail in the first weeks after birth simply because of the circumstances of the testing - fussyness, etc etc etc so we weren't terribly worried, but it's still nice to officially have the green light. And mere moments after leaving the docs office for Leni's hearing test we picked Ash up from school, where he appeared more than lethargic and obviously did not feel well, to discover he had a temp of 103. One dose of Childrens Ibuprofen and an hour spent napping in mommy's bed (with Scooby Doo on in the background) and his temp was down to 98.9. And we made sure to monitor Leni's temp throughout the evening and she seems to be (for the moment) avoiding her brother's bug. But he was SO SAD when we told him he couldn't kiss his sister night night...So I suppose as far as a Friday full of doctors could have gone, ours wasn't quite so bad. Leni's hearing is just fine and Ash's temp is under control and tomorrow it's supposed to be 62 and sunny so our previously planned pumpkin picking adventures should be a go.
Thank goodness tomorrow is Saturday.
October 21, 2010
The Sleepy Feeding
As much as we try to keep life casual and free flowing, we definitely have a schedule. Actually we have lots of schedules. One for Ash's school, one for Leni's babysitters (and soon to be daycare), both of our work schedules, the cleaning lady's schedule, the studio assistant's schedule, the travel schedule, the this the that and the other schedule. Lots of schedules. One in particular is Leni's feeding schedule. Specifically, the one feeding that falls outside of normal awake hours usually sometime between 4AM-6AM. The sleepy feeding. We swap who takes this feeding each night so that we're both at least presented with the option of getting a full night's sleep every other night.
A full nights sleep. Yeah. About that.
We're not very good at going to bed before midnight, so even when it's one of our "nights off" from the sleepy feeding the maximum possible sleep hours is 7, and that's only if Ash sleeps till 7 (not common) and only if the "night off" didn't still result in being awake during the feeding, because let's face it - when she wakes up and one of us stumbles out of bed to go to her room and change her diaper and make a bottle and feed her...well, it's almost impossible for the other to remain asleep. So, a much more common sleep number is 4, sometimes 5, and when we're really really lucky and all of the stars align we manage to attain 6 full hours of sleep. That doesn't happen often.
More common?
In bed around midnight. Asleep around 12:30. Shrieks over the baby monitor around 4:30. Back to bed around 5:00, only to be awoken an hour or so later by the cutest 3 year old voice in the universe informing us that he's all done sleeping. And yes, I do understand that if we'd just go to bed earlier the whole 4-6 hours of sleep thing would quickly turn into 6-8 which is more than acceptable, but what would be sacrificed in order to make that happen are things we're just not terribly excited to sacrifice.
Like.
A couple hours of adult time, sans any interruptions from children. A couple hours of sanity where we can just sit and stare at something, whether it be each other or the TV or our computers. Just sit and stare and be quiet and breath a little easier knowing The Shriekers are tucked comfortably in to dreamland and we're free to just sit and stare.
So for tonight, who's turn is it anyway? Well, since I clearly remember stumbling to the nursery at 4:10 this morning that means it's daddy's turn to take over the sleepy feeding. And maybe we'll push our bedtime up an hour and manage to be asleep by 11:30, and maybe the Little Shrieker will sleep soundly till 6AM. But probably not. And that's OK. Because both of us sort of enjoy the Little Shrieker's sleepy feeding, and both of us sort of look forward to being woken up just after the sleepy feeding to the Big Shrieker's announcement that he's all done sleeping.
But.
Both of us really enjoy those hours spent after the Shriekers are sound asleep and we can sit and stare. In quiet.
A full nights sleep. Yeah. About that.
We're not very good at going to bed before midnight, so even when it's one of our "nights off" from the sleepy feeding the maximum possible sleep hours is 7, and that's only if Ash sleeps till 7 (not common) and only if the "night off" didn't still result in being awake during the feeding, because let's face it - when she wakes up and one of us stumbles out of bed to go to her room and change her diaper and make a bottle and feed her...well, it's almost impossible for the other to remain asleep. So, a much more common sleep number is 4, sometimes 5, and when we're really really lucky and all of the stars align we manage to attain 6 full hours of sleep. That doesn't happen often.
More common?
In bed around midnight. Asleep around 12:30. Shrieks over the baby monitor around 4:30. Back to bed around 5:00, only to be awoken an hour or so later by the cutest 3 year old voice in the universe informing us that he's all done sleeping. And yes, I do understand that if we'd just go to bed earlier the whole 4-6 hours of sleep thing would quickly turn into 6-8 which is more than acceptable, but what would be sacrificed in order to make that happen are things we're just not terribly excited to sacrifice.
Like.
A couple hours of adult time, sans any interruptions from children. A couple hours of sanity where we can just sit and stare at something, whether it be each other or the TV or our computers. Just sit and stare and be quiet and breath a little easier knowing The Shriekers are tucked comfortably in to dreamland and we're free to just sit and stare.
So for tonight, who's turn is it anyway? Well, since I clearly remember stumbling to the nursery at 4:10 this morning that means it's daddy's turn to take over the sleepy feeding. And maybe we'll push our bedtime up an hour and manage to be asleep by 11:30, and maybe the Little Shrieker will sleep soundly till 6AM. But probably not. And that's OK. Because both of us sort of enjoy the Little Shrieker's sleepy feeding, and both of us sort of look forward to being woken up just after the sleepy feeding to the Big Shrieker's announcement that he's all done sleeping.
But.
Both of us really enjoy those hours spent after the Shriekers are sound asleep and we can sit and stare. In quiet.
October 17, 2010
Sunday Styles
This was one of those weekends you wish you could press repeat-repeat-repeat on for the next 5,167 weeks. First we headed to the Poconos to hang out with family, including one of Ash's most favorite cousins. Then we headed to Storm King, one of the worlds best sculpture parks, with Ash's best girlfriend. Family + Friends + Hikes to Waterfalls + Massive Sculpture Parks + Beautiful Fall Weather = HAPPY.
October 14, 2010
But What's Her NAME Mommy?
Ash knows he has two mommies and two daddies, us and his Ethiopia mommy/daddy. He also knows we're here for good, that we're never leaving him, that he never ever ever has to worry about us going away. But sometimes in conversation he'll insist that he only has one mommy and one daddy, which leads us into a conversation with him about Ethiopia, his beginnings, etc, and then eventually he comes around to once again embrace the fact that he has two. Recently, however, the conversation started including increased interest in who his Ethiopia mommy and daddy are, specifically what they're called. He wants to know their names. He wants to personalize them. They're no longer "just" his Ethiopia mommy and daddy to him, rather now they've been launched in his mind in to being actual people that he feels inclined to care about. This is a big jump. A good jump.
We know her name but not his. We have many pictures of her saved to page through with him some night in the near future, but none of him. We received varied reports from varied individuals about his whereabouts when we were in Ethiopia so don't even know for sure the exact story. And now that he's asking, really really asking, I just wish we knew more. We know enough, I guess, I just wish we knew more.
Or maybe not.
I've read several accounts of orphans in orphanages lately that make me not want to know more. They make what I do know seem to be quite enough. We visited our son's orphanage and can picture him, 11 months old and barely 15 pounds lying in a dark sandy room the size of my bedroom jammed wall to wall with at least 10 infant cribs. The nearest nanny two rooms away trying to feed a room of toddlers single handed. And still this was a step up from what his birth family was able to provide. That picture burned in to memory permanently. Sometimes it makes me not want to know more.
But.
While at the orphanage we also met our son's birth mother. Despite being obviously wrecked by the memory of her last moments with her child she was stunningly beautiful. I have a thousand questions that I wish I would have asked her. There's so much more to that part of his story that I wish we knew.
And.
We'd be hypocrites if we wanted only half the details. We don't want half, we want them all, but it's still to this day hard for me to stomach the reality of what was his reality. It makes my heart hurt, and then enrages me that I haven't become a less selfish less indulgent human who didn't stop at one adoption but kept going, giving my all to help increase the quality of life for even one more child. And I'm not talking about keeping going as in keeping adopting. I'm talking about raising funds, donating time, being helpful.
I should be being more helpful.
My son wants to know more about his Ethiopia family out of curiosity and a longing to understand who he is. I want to know more of his story in part because it makes me want to be a better person.
"But what's her name mommy?"
Her name is beautiful. Her name is love. Her name is everything good in the world you can possibly imagine wrapped into the biggest embrace you've ever felt. Her name is tremendous strength and undying commitment to make sure you're OK. Her name is also extreme sadness, because the orphan crisis is real, more real to her than anyone, and we're not doing enough.
It's easy to slip in to the happy healthy cycle of the life that is currently ours and block the images we've seen. That's a big reason for why we value travel the way we do, because it forces the reality of the rest of the world back into our front view mirror and reminds us that we need to do more, to be more helpful. So, I need to do more. I need to be more helpful. When I talk to my son about his birth story I want to be able to say that we as people are doing everything we can to provide healthy environments and families to the world's orphans while working tirelessly to rid the world of the need for adoption in the first place.
I see so much of her in him. There's so much behind something as simple as a name.
We know her name but not his. We have many pictures of her saved to page through with him some night in the near future, but none of him. We received varied reports from varied individuals about his whereabouts when we were in Ethiopia so don't even know for sure the exact story. And now that he's asking, really really asking, I just wish we knew more. We know enough, I guess, I just wish we knew more.
Or maybe not.
I've read several accounts of orphans in orphanages lately that make me not want to know more. They make what I do know seem to be quite enough. We visited our son's orphanage and can picture him, 11 months old and barely 15 pounds lying in a dark sandy room the size of my bedroom jammed wall to wall with at least 10 infant cribs. The nearest nanny two rooms away trying to feed a room of toddlers single handed. And still this was a step up from what his birth family was able to provide. That picture burned in to memory permanently. Sometimes it makes me not want to know more.
But.
While at the orphanage we also met our son's birth mother. Despite being obviously wrecked by the memory of her last moments with her child she was stunningly beautiful. I have a thousand questions that I wish I would have asked her. There's so much more to that part of his story that I wish we knew.
And.
We'd be hypocrites if we wanted only half the details. We don't want half, we want them all, but it's still to this day hard for me to stomach the reality of what was his reality. It makes my heart hurt, and then enrages me that I haven't become a less selfish less indulgent human who didn't stop at one adoption but kept going, giving my all to help increase the quality of life for even one more child. And I'm not talking about keeping going as in keeping adopting. I'm talking about raising funds, donating time, being helpful.
I should be being more helpful.
My son wants to know more about his Ethiopia family out of curiosity and a longing to understand who he is. I want to know more of his story in part because it makes me want to be a better person.
"But what's her name mommy?"
Her name is beautiful. Her name is love. Her name is everything good in the world you can possibly imagine wrapped into the biggest embrace you've ever felt. Her name is tremendous strength and undying commitment to make sure you're OK. Her name is also extreme sadness, because the orphan crisis is real, more real to her than anyone, and we're not doing enough.
It's easy to slip in to the happy healthy cycle of the life that is currently ours and block the images we've seen. That's a big reason for why we value travel the way we do, because it forces the reality of the rest of the world back into our front view mirror and reminds us that we need to do more, to be more helpful. So, I need to do more. I need to be more helpful. When I talk to my son about his birth story I want to be able to say that we as people are doing everything we can to provide healthy environments and families to the world's orphans while working tirelessly to rid the world of the need for adoption in the first place.
I see so much of her in him. There's so much behind something as simple as a name.
October 13, 2010
October 12, 2010
Not Us
The parents who spend all day with their children and love every second of it, or who work outside the home and spend every moment away from their children thinking about their children. I admit, it's not us. I know - we're AWFUL. We enjoy being sans child every now and then. Wait, no. I'm being honest here. We enjoy it...frequently. We also LOVE our children. And we think about our children during some of the moments we're apart, but not all. And actually, we don't feel that bad about it. Because when we do think about them, and when we are together, well, we dig it. And when we spend A LOT of time together MULTIPLE days in a row? Well, we still dig it, but a little less. So maybe, just maybe, today when Ash returned to school after the holiday weekend and Leni's babysitter arrived to love her for the afternoon...maybe, just maybe, we went to lunch. Solo. Sans children. And it was really really good.
And when we returned home? We spent the remaining hours of the work day in the studio, working. And when the work day ended we spent the entire evening loving our children. Playing outside together, cooking and then eating dinner together, reading stories together, and singing night night songs together. And then we tucked the kids into bed and almost giddily tipped over in to our own. Happy to once again find ourselves enjoying a moment sans children, but even happier to flip on the video monitor and just watch them both sleep for a few minutes. Just a few, but a very very precious few.
That's us.
And when we returned home? We spent the remaining hours of the work day in the studio, working. And when the work day ended we spent the entire evening loving our children. Playing outside together, cooking and then eating dinner together, reading stories together, and singing night night songs together. And then we tucked the kids into bed and almost giddily tipped over in to our own. Happy to once again find ourselves enjoying a moment sans children, but even happier to flip on the video monitor and just watch them both sleep for a few minutes. Just a few, but a very very precious few.
That's us.
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