Dear Santa...

Guess what Santa is bringing for Melese.

In a Good News/Bad News Situation...

Good news, Meazi's school provides free music lessons during lunch.

Bad news, Meazi has chosen the violin.

These Days

And I would go so far just to be where you are... would take no time bringing my heart to you. 

These days I am a really good mother...

While they are sleeping.

It's the when they're awake part that I need to work on.

I usually wake up around 5:30, giving me a full 30-45 minutes to get my shit together. This week was particularly tough for some reason. The kids have been bickering a lot. All of us have had numerous meltdowns. Three of our four kitchen chairs have been decimated by the two-year old. Not sure how we are going to have family meals anymore without chairs. I think Meazi is a little anxious because school is winding down. She is also sad that her dear friend Masha is leaving to go to Russia for the summer. This 'short four day' week has dragged on and on. I am depleted.

Before they wake up, I have it all figured out. I will not raise my voice. I will not nag her to get into the car so we can make the first school bell. I will listen to him more, and make sure he has a lot of my undivided attention.

I will cut down on the processed food. I will measure their feet again and make sure I have them in the right size shoes. I will schedule a dental appointment for Meazi. I will go through their clothes and take out what is too small. I won't cry so much in front of them. I will set a good example. I will teach them coping skills that they will use throughout their lives.

Doesn't happen. There isn't time. I am navigating meltdowns, and low blood sugar episodes. I am refereeing. I am asking them to put away their toys for the 13th time apparently in a voice so harsh that it causes Meazi to cry and say, "Mom you are scaring me!"

One mistake can go through this life so slow, want to keep myself from making two.

I don't want to keep making so many mistakes. One mistake can go through this life so slow.

But each sunrise, I get another chance.

And the sun will rise and we'll open up our eyes and see love showing what's really true.

I get another chance to remember to wear my homemade Mother's Day pin.

 I get another chance to give my undivided attention to his amazing Buzz Lightyear shoes.

I get another chance to be the mother that I thought I would be.

These Days is a song I am listening to over and over lately. It is on this album. It is a beautiful song. I can't find a video of Alison singing it, but I did find this one. Think I'll give it another listen.

Lift me up consume my darkness. Mother's Day.

I will walk out of the darkness

And I'll walk into the light

And I'll sing the song of ages

And the dawn will end the night

We have this homemade cd in the car. Meazi asked for #6 over and over again yesterday. While I was waiting to become a mother, I used to listen to this song over and over, and cry and cry about always dwelling on the threshold.

I'm a dweller on the threshold
And I'm waiting at the door
And I'm standing in the darkness
I don't want to wait no more
I have seen without perceiving
I have been another man
Let me pierce the realm of glamour
So I know just what I am
I'm a dweller on the threshold
And I'm waiting at the door
And I'm standing in the darkness
I don't want to wait no more
Feel the angel of the present
In the mighty crystal fire
Lift me up consume my darkness
Let me travel even higher
I'm a dweller on the threshold
As I cross the burning ground
Let me go down to the water
Watch the great illusion drown
I'm a dweller on the threshold
And I'm waiting at the door
And I'm standing in the darkness
I don't want to wait no more
I'm gonna turn and face the music
The music of the spheres
Lift me up consume my darkness
When the midnight disappears
I will walk out of the darkness
And I'll walk into the light
And I'll sing the song of ages
And the dawn will end the night
I'm a dweller on the threshold
And I'm waiting at the door
And I'm standing in the darkness
I don't want to wait no more
I'm a dweller on the threshold
And I cross some burning ground
And I'll go down to the water
Let the great illusion drown
I'm a dweller on the threshold
And I'm waiting at the door
And I'm standing in the darkness
I don't want to wait no more
I'm a dweller on the threshold
Dweller on the threshold
I'm a dweller on the threshold
I'm a dweller on the threshold

"Mom, I hear so many instruments in this song." She named each one, and Melese screamed at us to turn it up "Youder!" And so we did.

You Are The Sun

Little Wing

Tuesday is Show & Tell day. I mentioned what Meazi brought two weeks ago. Last week she brought a lovely photo book. The book was made by my friend Deb. It documents the time from our M&m 'baby' shower, to our arrival at LAX, and even the first few minutes of Meazi and Melese seeing their new home for the first time. It was an incredibly thoughtful gift.

Last night Meazi said, "Oh I can't wait to go to school tomorrow and do that thing that adults do with those tables and those pens!" She meant voting. Her class is doing a mock voting. I said, "That's great Meazi, and what will you bring to share for Show & Tell?"

She is bringing this picture of Jimi Hendrix.

Did I mention that I love her?

I asked her what she would tell the class and she said, "That he was a great musician who played the guitar, and that he had a really nice deep voice."

I was tempted to send my I-phone with her so she could play Little Wing for everyone. Can you think of a better song to mellow out those little Kinder Kidlets and get them ready for a big day of learning about voting and the letter 'P'? (Remember when I could put songs on the blog? I really liked that). You'll have to just go find Little Wing on your own and get yourself ready for a mellow day of voting.

What We Sent, What it Meant. Part II-One Voice

$34.99.

Thirty-four dollars, and ninety-nine cents. This may be the best money we ever spent. On the advice of this mom we sent a voice recorder to Meazi. We also purchased and sent one to Melese, but I don't think his was ever used.

We filled Meazi's recorder with songs, stories, and sounds from our home. Of course we were pronouncing her name wrong during the whole recording process, but I think she will eventually forgive us for that. This voice recorder was the single most important item that we sent ahead of time to Meazi.

I had wondered if the nannies at the orphanage would have the time to find it, give it to her, and show her how to use it. I thought it was a long shot, and that surely the staff had more pressing things to take care of at a very busy care center. I thought about how every single Ethiopian person that I know loves the singer Gigi. I thought that if I put a Gigi song on the recording, it would definitely get played.

It was played. And played again. I don't think I can convey how useful this small item became when we actually got to Ethiopia.

Meazi was afraid. Wouldn't you be if these two people came to take you home with them? I had asked the nannies for the care package back. Our agency did a great job with the transition period for the children. You'd see them briefly the first couple of days, and eventually they would spend more time with you. In the beginning, when Meazi and Melese started coming back to the guest house with us, Meazi would cling to that recorder. She would fast-forward, rewind, and flip the tape over to the other side. I would hear my own voice reading a story, or mispronouncing her name. She would be holding it up to hear ear, eyes wide, staring at me, trying to put the voice to my face. She did it with Steven's voice too. It was as if she was confirming what the social workers and nannies had been telling her; these people are your adoptive parents.

Meazi was terrified the night we took her into custody. The day, although celebratory in some ways, was one of the saddest days of my whole life, and I am sure it was one of the scariest days of her whole life. It is why we will never celebrate it as a "Gotcha" day, not ever.

She kept listening to the recorder. She walked around our small guest room listening to it over and over, the metal up against her ear.

It played the Gigi song. I chimed in, "To the one God we all have, to the one God we all love...." She looked at me. She couldn't believe that I knew the words. She smiled. When we got to the "Sing, sing" part, we sang together, she in a very soft breathy voice, (a voice that she sometimes uses now and will always be an indicator to me that she is feeling scared). From that point forward, we would always sing those parts together. Eventually, during that adoption week, she started to put the recorder down.

When something came up that was disconcerting to her, she would look at me with those gigantic eyes and start singing those words, waiting for me to sing with her. I would, she would smile, and then relax a little. It would happen several times a day. My mom had sent along a little "lovey" for Meazi, you know those mini-blanket things that kids sometimes use for security? It was soft and cute with a puppy head at the top. Meazi had no interest in it. This cold, metal, voice recorder was Meazi's lovey. The music on it was a universal language. It was our way to communicate when communication seemed impossible.

When we got home, Meazi had the recorder with her for the first few weeks, if not held up against her ear, then in very close proximity. She always knew where it was.

I played some Ethiopian videos for Meazi on Youtube when we got home. Almost every morning, for the first few weeks, Meazi would wake up and say, "Gigi mommy." Groggily we would make our way to my computer, go to the link, and play the song that helped us come together.

One of our first days home...



More recently...




Thirty-four dollars and ninety-nine cents.