Oh, and for those of you who know me live in person, the reason that I didn't use my last name, (the one that I share with my husband), is that I wanted him to stop banging his head on the desk each time I said I was sending more info about our lives into the Interwebs.
Mindful Mama is a content and social media site for (what else) mindful parenting. I'm trying very hard to make it an inclusive place for families that have come together in all sorts of ways. We'll have lots of content on there about pregnancy and birth, but we'll also have articles about the adoption wait, adoptive breastfeeding, blended families, and so forth. More importantly, we're striving to make each article relevant to parents through birth and parents through adoption (insofar as it makes sense—obviously the labor and delivery stories are what they are). But one thing that always annoys me about sites and magazines is that they have an adoption section, and then they feel like they've checked that box and now they can devote the rest of their content to "normal" families—as though adoptive parents don't deal with sleep issues, picky eaters, and sibling rivalry. So here's my little corner of the internet where I'll try to combat that.
Thank you Deirdre, for asking me to write for your beautiful site, and thank you to the insightful, inspiring moms (who have made it through to the other side) for contributing their thoughts.
And the award for the person who made the best use of her waiting time goes to... Meghan, Blueberry's mom
Meghan and her friend Amber raised sixteen thousand (yes, sixteen thousand!) dollars for Doctor's Without Borders. She also convinced tons of adoptive families to sponsor children at AHOPE.
Steven, always the realist said, "That's a whole year from now."
Our flowers have already bloomed.
Sigh.
This fortune was a hell of a lot better than my last one from this restaurant, "You will inherit money and jewelry." Uhm, yeah I did, because someone I love died.
Say hello to my little friend, (but say it like Al Pacino in Scarface)...
I heard him scurrying up my window screen. I hope Moses doesn't eat him.
My husband surprised me last night. He had been out shopping for work. He hit the thrift stores. (A little background, Steven has always thought that it is a bad idea to purchase anything for our future children. A lot of this has to do with the losses we have experienced in the past, and it also seems to have something to do with his being raised Jewish (apparently Jewish tradition discourages getting anything for the baby before he or she is born). Last night, after a disheartening week, my husband walked in the door with these....
Yep, Giraffe kiddo chairs, complete with sippy cup holders, and a compartment to hold your books, or Goldfish, or toys, or mini-remote control. This item of hope, found at the Goodwill Store made me really happy. The night before we had had a long discussion about a new development in Ethiopian adoption. I don't want to go into it here on the blog too much, but in a nutshell, kids waiting for adoption will not be allowed to stay in agency care centers anymore until after they pass court. We were feeling sad and worried about this, and what it might mean for the kiddos. I was feeling discouraged and depleted, anxious and angry.
Somehow this chair purchasing, something that was completely out of character for my husband, eased my mind a bit. I pictured our two kids, side by side in their little chairs, sipping on sippy cups in our living room. I thought, "Oh this will be a good chair for them to sit in when I do their hair." I thought about all the places these little chairs could be perched; on the sidelines of a soccer match, at a Fourth of July celebration, on the pier at my parents' house, in the Habesha Garden. These chairs made me feel like it was going to be okay. The purchasing of them, in of itself, reveals a lessening of pain in my husband. It is hard to have hope for the future if the mind is full of grief from your recent past. These chairs, grubby and used, hinted to me that maybe Steven was a little bit excited about the adoption. There is a lightness in his act of purchasing them, a hopefulness in their sagging seats, a promise of a future in their tattered edges.
For a moment I glance at the chairs. The sun streams behind them. They are empty, but look eager for occupants. I think about my husband in the middle of his work day stopping in his tracks when he sees them. I picture him placing them gently into the back of his car. I think of him thinking about our future.
I think about him being hopeful, and it fills me up.
Steven and I began updating our paperwork today. Our fingerprints expire in a couple of weeks. We high-tailed it downtown, hit immigration and got a same day appointment for our new fingerprints. We drove to the prints place....
Me: Hi, I'm here to renew my fingerprints for my I-171. Security Guard: You picked a really good day. Me: Why is that? Security Guard: Madonna is on her way in. She is doing another adoption. Don't say you heard it from me.
I am actually non-plussed by this information. There are already pictures all over the place of Angelina getting her prints. It is the LA office, and this task may be the only task that Hollywood superstars can't send someone to do for them.
My hands are so incredibly dry right now, that it took about thirty tries for each fingerprint. The old man who was helping me was completely silent and humorless. I tried several times to engage him in human conversation...
Me: Like snowflakes eh? Each one unique? Dead Air. Me: Oops, failed again! Will I ever pass this test?! Nothing. Me: Well, the toes are next right? (As I crouch down and pretend to slip off my shoe). Him: Just a hint of the tiniest smile.
We lingered for a bit, primarily because I thought if I could get a picture of Madonna, I could send it to my friend Rana and cheer her up. Unfortunately, Steven and I were both hungry so we left.
We were right near our favorite Ethiopian Restaurant.
See us in the mirror?
I am trying to keep a stiff upper lip. It's just tasks right? It's just paperwork. And really, even Madonna has to do it.
I am incredibly sad lately. I am sure it is just that insidious bastard- grief. That, coupled with the idea that there may not be any children in this house this year, has thrown me for a loop. I can also feel the self-loathing rush in. I know I should be grateful for all that I have. SO, I will spare you my misery, and remove myself from the blogosphere (for a week at least!)
I am out of funny pictures anyway.
*Please visit Charlotte. She has a lovely idea. I am thinking of submitting this post. What do you think?
Here are the top nine signs of possible proposal readiness and/or severe nesting...
(With apologies to Lori as this post may be teetering on the edge of the annoying nursery post).
9. You ask your husband to replace the tired old kitchen light bulb with this super cool cherry light. "Kids will like this!"
8. There are balloons at your dinner parties. Balloons that YOU provided.
7. You jump for joy after finding these way cool Pottery Barn Kids book shelves on Craig's List. (And Damn you Pottery Barn Kids! Why do you torment me? Why do you make me feel that my kids will only be happy in your beautiful monogrammed surroundings? I curse you and your pricey-ness!)
6. You dust off your tired old sock monkey collection in preparation for a possible second life. See the doll? A friend Steven works with found that doll and bought it for him, because it LOOKS EXACTLY like him! Imagine our surprise/horror when we shook the doll's hand and it said, "Hi, It's Me...Steve". Serendipitous Non? (Also, remind me to tell you the story of Monkton one day).
5. You purchase crafty letters for your kids' room. Doesn't matter that you don't know their names yet, everyone believes in PEACE right? I know that isn't the correct spelling, but the artist didn't make umlauts.
4. You set up a twin bed next to your queen bed to experiment with possible co-sleeping scenarios.
3. You invite previously uninvited four-legged creatures to sleep with you to experience possible co-sleeping situations. Note to those who may want to try this, canines dream in their sleep. Moses, apparently, dreams of running. His paws move when he dreams. His paws wake me from my restful slumber.
2. You are seen wearing an empty Ergo carrier in your living room. You are "making sure it fits".
And the Number one sign of possible proposal readiness and/0r extreme nesting is... Your idea of a rocking Saturday afternoon is hanging with this crowd.*
Those two in the middle did not appreciate our singing. Not one bit.
Oh I forgot one...
You take this out of your music library to make room for this.
Special thanks to my amazing friends who include me in these gatherings even though I show up with nary a sippy cup, nor a playmate of suitable stature.
Now is the winter of our discontent Made glorious summer by this sun of York; And all the clouds that lour'd upon our house In the deep bosom of the ocean buried. Now are our brows bound with victorious wreaths; Our bruised arms hung up for monuments; Our stern alarums chang'd to merry meetings, Our dreadful marches to delightful measures. Grim-visag'd war hath smooth'd his wrinkled front; And now,--instead of mounting barbed steeds To fright the souls of fearful adversaries,-- He capers nimbly in a lady's chamber To the lascivious pleasing of a lute.
At first glance, the first line of this speech from Richard the Third seems to mean that he and his pals are having a horrible winter; a winter full of despair,(not easily cured with a artificial lamp custom-made to aid seasonal affective disorder), BUT if you read it again you realize that he means that his discontent is almost over. Richard's discontent is in the winter of its life cycle. It is almost dead.
As is Ours... Some folks have asked if we have been nesting. Here is a song that describes exactly how we are nesting. Again, this song at first listen sounds depressing and sad, BUT listen again. Close your eyes and crank it up.
Run to your dreaming When you're alone Unplug the TV, turn off your phone Get heavy on with digging your ditch
Cause I'm digging a ditch where madness gives a bit Digging a ditch where silence lives Digging a ditch for when I'm old Digging this ditch my story's told
Where all these troubles That weigh down on me will rise Run to your dreaming When you're alone Where all these questions Spinnin' around my head Will die, will die, will die...
Run to your dreaming When you're alone Unplug the TV, turn off your phone Get heavy on with digging your ditch
Cause I'm digging a ditch where madness gives a bit Digging a ditch where silence lives Digging a ditch when I am through Digging this ditch I'll dig in for you Where all these worries Weigh it down on me will rise Where all these habits Pull heavy at my heart will die
Run to your dreaming When you're alone Not what you should be or what you've become Just get heavy on with digging your ditch
Cause I'm digging a ditch where madness gives a bit Digging a ditch where silence lives Where all these dissapointments, grow angry out of me Will rise... Will die... Will die... Will die...
Run to your dreaming When you're alone Unplug the TV And turn off your phone Get heavy on with digging your ditch
Boy meets Girl. Girl moves in. Boy marries Girl. Boy and Girl try to start a family. Girl is pregnant. Girl is not pregnant. Repeat. Girl gets cancer. Boy and Girl keep trying. Nine Years later, they may be getting close. Only Time will Tell...
The berries too...
And the carrots made an appearance...
Meskel Daisy by Evan McBride.
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