Dear God, I missed church again!

You would think that a 44 year old woman, who has been parenting for over 13 years would be able to organize, entice, motivate, bribe, or propel three children out the door and get to church by 10:30. 

(IF you did think that, you would, in my case, be mistaken.)

This week, I must confess, it was the hair.  I could no longer take the pained look my daughter gave me as she gestured dramatically towards her unruly mop and said “Mom, what? Me go – like this?”  (as if, somehow, her chaotic curls were my fault)

Every other day this week, I said, “Yes, it’s fine, of course you can go (to school/soccer/grocery shopping/a friends’) like that; or you can choose to spray it with water, or put on a hair band”  -(sigh)-  “I just don’t have the time.”  

Hope lit up her face as she said, “Later?” 

“Mmmmm, maybe”, I mustered.

‘Later’ turned out to be Sunday morning.  We had planned to go to church.  I warned everyone that I was going to do Faven’s hair, and that would completely and totally take me out of the picture for at least an hour and a half.  Everything was going so well…… until we got out of the shower.  The Extra Moisture conditioner was no match for the dreadlocks forming in the back of Faven’s head.  It took three of us- a bottle of detangler, leave in moisturizer (and a pot of coffee)- an hour JUST to brush those out. Then came the straightening balm, the heat glide, the blow dryer, and the flat iron. An hour later Ward came to check on us; I was more than half done. 

I asked him, “How we doin’ for time?” 

He said, “Great, as long as we leave in the next ten minutes we’re fine.” 

I looked at Faven, who now had an asymmetrical mix of smooth, sleek dark tresses and tight, rebellious coils, and said, “All right, let’s go to church, we’ll finish the rest later.”  Her response was not affirming!  We missed church.

I am not sure why I feel such responsibility for her hair; it could be because we are still bonding (and YES, I want her to like me); it could be because I know her birth mother, aunts, grandmother and caregivers would have bent and twisted her hair to make it ‘stand down’ in ways that were nothing short of miraculous; it could be because I simply want to be needed, despite my time constraints; but also it is because I too was a girl who wanted to have great hair. 

Cleanliness is next to Godliness

I got home late last night after a soccer game.  This morning, I staggered into the kitchen groggy and aching.  Ahhh, the dishes were all done; a hot cup of chai tea was waiting for me on the counter.  Two out of three kids were up AND dressed.  Nice.

The table, however, had so much post-supper remains on it I wondered if the kids actually got any food into their mouths.  As they were getting set to eat their breakfast, they grabbed their bowls headed for the table, paused briefly and did a quick U-turn to the island.  Clearly, even they could not tolerate the previous days’ accumulation of grits.

In desperation, I enlisted the help of the dog; “Abby come”, I said, then I ran my bare hand across one end of the table scattering a smorgasbord of food remnants onto the floor.  She looked at the floor, and looked at me, “Go ahead”, I encouraged; she seemed to shake her head in disbelief and then went to the family room, weaved around the Barbies, Lego, and discarded clothing and lay down.  I’m on my own, I thought.  Out of the corner of my eye I spotted the vacuum cleaner, which (thankfully) had not been put away from two days ago.  I fired ‘er up and sucked that table clean.  Oooo, that felt good!  I continued on with the stovetop, the countertops, and all the utensil drawers.  Then carried on to the lunch bags, veggie drawer, fruit drawer and microwave.  It was so quick, so efficient, I was sure that I was not the only mother who had sucked at motherhood!

Later the same day, Lauren asked me to help her find a lost blue pencil crayon. She was working at the craft table that butts up against the couch.  So logically, I moved the couch.  Another amazing collection of goodies awaited me.  I couldn’t tell you how long it had been since that couch had been moved – but I found the lost padding from one of my breast-feeding bras, and my baby is turning eight in March!  More surprising though was the family of mice that had moved in and managed to build an energy efficient condo complex just using the debris that we had unwittingly discarded down there.  Who knew? 

Cleanliness may be next to Godliness, but we all know that Godliness is next to impossible!

'Tuning' In

December 18, 2009

I took my kids Christmas shopping with me, and their pre-planned reward for behaving was that they could each pick out a toy at Toys 'R Us (okay, so I'm desperate - but it worked!).

Lauren picked out a 'toy' guitar - she wants to be a rock star.  She doesn't need lessons because she is fully capable of teaching herself.  Hmmmm........  It was a sparkling pink six string guitar . . . with real strings . . . that needed to be tuned.  Now we are in trouble, I thought.  Ward and I are about as musically gifted as a Canada Goose at a Lune family sing-along.  Not to be deterred, I popped open my laptop and did a Google search on "guitar tuning" - there were over 6 million hits!  I chose one that had a video lesson on guitar tuning.  Here goes....
   "The easiest way to tune your guitar is with an electronic tuner..."  DUH!  If I had an electronic tuner, would I be on the internet at 10:30 at night with a pink guitar on my knee?  Moving on.... let's try, Standard Guitar Tuning.
   "You can get a tuning fork, this is an A tuning fork.  The way you can tell that it is an A tuning fork is that it has an A-440 on it.  440 happens to be the tuning frequency of the string and that's how you know it's an A tuning fork.  You can get these at any music store."  WOW - they must have been sold out at Toys 'R Us.

Fine tuning my search on Google, I tried guitar tuning for dummies.  Only 127,000 hits - not nearly as many dummies out there.  Proud to be one of them! This was more like it - Tune Your Guitar to Itself, how hard could that be?  I've paraphrased this method below.
To tune a guitar to itself, use the relative method - tune all the strings in relationship to each other. (Cool) Choose one string as the starting point — say, the 6th string (Is that from the top or the bottom?). Leave the pitch of that string as is; then tune all the other strings relative to that 6th string by using the fifth-fret method. (I am fretting all right!)

The fifth-fret method derives its name from the fact that you almost always play a string at the fifth fret and then compare the sound of that note to that of the next open string. You need to be careful, however, because the fourth fret (the fifth fret's jealous understudy) puts in a cameo appearance toward the end of the process. 

English please!! Clearly, these particular dummies are pretty smart.  I didn't have a hope.

I worked on that guitar for another hour or so..... and then went to bed.  It didn't sound half bad.

The next morning, Lauren was playing her guitar upstairs in the hallway outside her room.  I strolled by and noticed that she was turning all of the knobs that loosen and tighten the strings.  

I panicked, "Lauren, what are you doing?" I stammered.  

She didn't even look up, as she earnestly said, "I'm tuning it in to country."

What dis?

December 13^th, 2009

Overheard at Co-op this week.....

"Mawm, what dis..... diapers?!"

"NO, not diapers."

"Mawm...what?"

"Nothing Faven, please quiet...... oush!"

"What Mawm, YOU diapers........ ha ha ha ha ha ha"

What kind of mother takes her curious, loud, english language learning daughter grocery shopping - for pads?? Oh, that would be ME. Yup.

Ethiopian Moment

November 27, 2009

Faven and I had just finished an hour at an International Adoption Seminar - we were the panel, presenting our adoption experience. By the end of it, she was bored, tired and hungry. Once we settled in the van, I handed her her snack bag.

"No", not hungry", she whined. "Tired" she groaned, as if she was in pain.

"Okay, have a sleep" I muttered.

Several minutes later, as I was traveling down Crowchild Trail, I checked the rear view mirror to see how she was doing. I couldn't see her at all. I imagined she was slumped over asleep, but couldn't exactly turn around and check while doing 80 km/hr in traffic. I adjusted the mirror downwards, and her seat was empty - and so, it appeared, were all of the other seats. I stole a quick glance and saw Faven lying face down across the back seat, sound asleep.

"FAVEN!!........... WHAT are you doing?" I hastened.

"What Mom? Sleeping." she offered with a tone that said, Are you blind - or daft?

"Dangerous!" I stammered.

Maintaining my cruising speed, I inched over to the inside lane, looking around for somewhere to stop....... there wasn't anywhere. "Faven, seat belt." I managed, more calmly than I felt.

"Mawm, tired", she complained, starting to cry.

"Faven, Canada, seat belt, Ethiopia, no seat belt. Seat belt NOW!"

She sat up and put her seat belt on, then proceeded to lie back down again. I started to protest and then thought better of it. I had survived without seatbelts, she would be just fine.

Our first month

November 18, 2009

Our first month in Canada with Faven has passed. There have been some real ups and downs, and lots of learning about who we are and what our strengths and weaknesses are. Faven is extremely happy, delightful and adaptable; she is also strong-willed, confident, funny, energetic and athletic.

In the last week, we have finally been able to return to many of our favorite foods - Faven is happily eating most of what we make for supper. Breakfast and lunch are still a challenge, but she is a tremendous fruit eater, so that helps. We are still enjoying our share of Ethiopian food, as the Ethiopian community was able to find a woman who would come into our home two afternoons a week, to help out with everything Ethiopian from cooking, translation, grocery shopping - what Faven likes and doesn't like, and some child care, so that I can start to think about getting out on my own. Whew! Faven is enjoying the opportunity to easily speak to another person - the first day Bethlehem (Betty) was here, Faven did not stop talking for four hours!

Over the past week, Faven has moved out of Lauren's bedroom and into her own room, which has meant that Lauren has moved out of our closet! Our two girls are not well suited for sharing a room - Lauren, our ONLY introvert needs some space to call her own, where she can close the door and re-charge if she needs to. (I SO get that!) Faven is extremely happy to have 'things' to call her own, and has smoothly transitioned to her own space. Thankfully, we are all now sleeping fairly well.

Faven and I have started Grade 4 (very part time) at Edgemont School, where both Lauren and Yohannes are currently going. We have found an amazing grade four class that is small (20 kids), is culturally and ethnically diverse and has a teacher and a full time teacher’s aid (who is from Tanzania). We go to school every morning from 0900 - 1030, it is fun! Also, twice per week, Faven has a two hour 'tutoring' block, in our home, with a woman from Ethiopia, who continues teaching Faven reading and writing in Amharic, as well as teaching her ESL and music. Also, once a week both of our Ethiopian born children are attending "Ethiopian classes", which are organized and facilitated by the Ethiopian community - they are learning Amharic, history, cultural traditions and songs. Faven is a 'youth' volunteer in the program and loves it. I fill in the rest of her education, which is mostly about living in Calgary, Canada, what our community looks like, and basic literacy and numeracy - with alot of physical activity thrown in to keep us sane. Two weeks ago, I was able to get Faven registered for soccer, and she is showing her prowess in that area (just like her Mom!). It is such a joy to watch her play, and see how much she enjoys this sport and being with other girls.

For our part, as parents, we are confused and befuddled MOST of the time. All our 'at-home' kids are showing us many, many different behaviors, which challenge our patience and create chaos on a daily basis. However, it is only brief moments that are challenging; as a whole, everyone is handling the change and transition pretty well. We will over the next weeks and months start to build in time away from our crew, and that will go a long way to re-energizing and connecting.

Thank you for walking along with us. Wendy and Ward

The Game is Bond...

November 8, 2009

A wise parent to five children recently said to me, during one of my discouraging moments, “It is not your job to make your children like you.” Huh, I thought, If they don’t like me, how can the love me, respect me, abide by me - Oh, wait I am getting mixed up with my marriage vows.

What are we trying to accomplish as parents, I pondered?

Right now, I am engrossed in Bonding 101; Faven only arrived in Canada 28 days ago, the equivalent of only one menstrual cycle! And the days are about as predictable as my hormonal mood swings! At this point, my ‘like-ability’ is all I have; it is inherent in a parent-child bond, isn’t it?

Truth be told, in my 13 years as a parent, my ‘like-ability’ has been my greatest asset - or liability, depending on who you ask. I started parenting with Kristin and Fraser when I married their father. Without a single labour pain I was delivered into step parenting with only the skills of a complete ‘wanna-be’. In the beginning I counted on my fun spirit, my love of kids and my ‘like-ability’. Of course I tried hard to get them to like me, who wouldn’t? Thankfully, my efforts paid off in short order and I quickly became a member of their expanding family; they coined the name of ‘bonus parent’ for me, and they certainly became bonus kids in my life and my heart.

My next sojourn into parenting started at the beginning - a birds and bees kind of beginning with a little fertilizer thrown in! Getting pregnant was difficult, and I had already thought of what we might do if we were unable to expand our family in the traditional way. However, pregnancy came along in the summer of 2001, and we welcomed Lauren in March. Perhaps in the beginning, it didn’t matter if she liked me - what was not to like with those massive milk-producing mammary glands? We got along famously! Life was simpler then; now she has very strong ideas about what will happen during her day, who is in charge, and whether or not I am the best or worst mother she has ever had! I strive to be consistent, and that doesn’t always make my daughter happy - but I still want her to like me.

Next came Yohannes, a family addition through international adoption. He was almost 3 years old when he joined our family. Again, I relied on my ‘like-ability’ and to a lesser extent, my parenting experience. My skills as a parent and, it seemed as a human being, were inaccessible to me in those initial months. Regardless, Yohannes took to me like a monkey to bananas - which incidentally described our respective temperaments as well. Despite my personal struggles, he made me look like an adoptive parent aficionado.

My most recent bundle of joy is 10 years old, 61 pounds and, well, let’s just say her idle speed is much, much, faster than mine; she can go from 0 - 60 faster than Abby chasing a rabbit. (Faven definitely rivals Yohannes, energetically speaking!) There is a sign posted in our local coffee shop that reads: “If you leave your child unattended, we will give them an espresso and a puppy”; it describes my Ethiopian-born children to-a-tee. Both Yohannes and Faven wake each day with a zest for living and an excitement about that days ‘new puppy’. It is both exhilarating and exhausting.

Researchers believe that the first two steps in attachment are Senses and Sameness. In order to lay the ground work for a trusting and loving life-long relationship, my focus is on stimulating all of her senses by hugs, kisses, tickling, talking, reading books, styling her hair, massaging her shoulders and feet, and by trying to find things that we both enjoy, emphasizing our similarities. These would be very difficult to do with a child who did not at least like me. Right now, I can’t afford not to be liked. However, there is risk involved in this endeavor of mine. My ‘new baby’ is 10 years old, smarter than a newborn, and not adverse to grabbing the stick and running it for all it’s worth. Faven is testing me on a daily (hourly) basis. I don’t understand the emotions of a 10-year-old Ethiopian orphan, turned daughter, enough to know what is normal. She wants to wear her new shiny white shoes out in the snow; she doesn’t want to wear a jacket outside; she wants to wear her new indoor soccer shoes outside; she doesn’t want to eat macaroni/soup/sandwiches/oatmeal/toast/etc. for breakfast/lunch/supper; she doesn’t want to give her sister any time to herself; she wants to sprint right across the street, despite traffic; she wants to explore with wild abandon every time we go somewhere new; she wanders away from me and hides, and then she thinks it’s funny when I can’t find her; and she wants me to buy her $100 hair extensions - AND she wants them to be blond! (Oh, I could go on.... and on.....)

I know that this is normal child development stuff. But for us, it is so much more - she is cycling through all of this on a daily basis AND, when she does not get what she wants or doesn’t understand what exactly she is getting, the throttle gets stuck; she flails, she wails, she protests loudly and with vigor, in pure toddler-like fashion. It is reminiscent of (pre-motherhood) grocery store visits where I watched a toddler throw a tantrum that made the 2004 Tsunami look mild, telling myself with confidence THAT will NEVER happen to me! Faven is not at all intimidated by being out in public. Yes, go ahead and assume - embarrassing!! Thankfully, for the past two years I have been intentionally engaged in parenting workshops with an amazing facilitator, and I have some tools to handle most behaviors in a warm and firm way. It is still a challenge.

I am constantly doing battle within, questioning each and every move/decision/action and weighing it against my desire to build trust and ultimately create a lasting bond. Every decision I make seems to have attached to it a cost/benefit equation - but my ability to compute is hindered by the very anxiety that is created by this process.

But the jury is already in, Faven already engages in so many sensory activities with me - a testament to my ‘like-ability’! Who’da thunk?