Big Brother is watching you....

And so he will video you rather than put you to nap.
Those are my boys!

Patron of immigrants: Feast of St. Francis Xavier Cabrini

Today is the feast of St. Francis Xavier Cabrini.
She is also known as Mother Cabrini; and a saint that is known as "Mother" is usually a very special saint indeed. Its the mom factor, they don't throw that word around lightly, you know? Nor should they! Anyhow, Mother Cabrini is a special saint, though not as well known as many.

She is known for starting hospitals, schools and orphanages in her native Italy and then right here in America. She was sent to America by Pope Leo the 13th. And as she was born in Italy but came to live out her days in American, she is also, importantly, an immigrant. She is the first American citizen, and an immigrant to boot, to be canonized.
So, lets make a list: uber organized, holy, immigrant, strong woman in a man's world, courageous, started orphanages, hospitals, and schools. And, last but not least, she came from a large family too. Bigger than ours even! So, how many links does that give us (by which I mean, me and my family)? I'm losing count. So, I figure she's a sort of patron of our family and the causes that pull at our hearts....the same ones that pull at many of yours. And if that is the case for you, then have a chat with Mother Cabrini, ask her for prayers. Surely, I know, she will pray faithfully for your intentions and concerns....because she has a mom's heart.

St. Francis Xavier Cabrini, pray for us!
Happy feast day.

Post Bday Post

Yeah, it's the post birthday picture report.
Because this birthday yesterday was kind of extra special...I'm can't help it. I gotta post some pics. You know I have to! If only for the far flung family types......

And I have to say that this day was kind of loaded, on different levels. We weren't sure if it was going to be a boffo day or a bust. And so we made sure to have it follow, as precisely as possible, the standard traditions of our family bdays. Marta has seen several now and so it was important to have it play out the same way, but with it being her turn. And so it did.

There was a lot of "Oh my goodness!" and many bounces up from the chair to hug and kiss, or a "come here" demand for a hug and kiss. Every single card and present got oohed and aahed over. Every card needed a kiss/hug. We had to say "Open it!" because Marta would just stare at the shiny wrapping with a grin...relishing even that. Every gift had a minimum of three springs out of her chair to hug/kiss.

There was much giggling, the usual small boy grabbing and tugging, the usual chaos and noise and mess. There was her favorite penne with a simple but super tomato/pancetta sauce, salad and strawberry pink ice cream cake, candles, singing and clapping.

A big, very good, momentarily overwhelming here and there, terrific sparkly day. And I'm just so glad.

Even the big kids were grinning real grins, it was just a happy thing to see.

And that makes me ridiculously happy, for her, for us, for the family.
A little tired maybe, but very happy.
And she is still floating and giggling.
And listening to Michael Jackson cd's.
A first and thirteenth birthday can be a very good thing indeed.

Happy Birthday Marta!

Today is our Marta's birthday!!!
She is thirteen today!

This is, in a way, her first birthday as well. Let me explain: As many of you know, they do not track or record birth days in Ethiopia. Meaning, a specific day or date of birth is typically an educated guess, at best. As a child gets older, and if that child has lost their parents and known relatives, this day fades - if it was ever marked at all. This sounds sad, but over there it is not. Its not a part of their culture, this tradition. But as we all know, its a very big part of ours.

And so, after much speculation, discussion, a little investigation, a bunch of translation....we have come to a day, agreed upon by all: Marta's birthday. Today. November 11. She is 13 today.

This is a big day for all of us. Our girl's first birthday. And yes, there will be streamers and candles and songs and cake and ice cream (Ok, ice cream cake). There will be her favorite foods: pasta and salad...and ice cream. There will be great swaths of pink, on the table, the cake, the streamers, the wrapping.....as many surfaces and items we can find, we will all don pink hats and shirts, even the dog....ok, maybe not. But you get the idea. It will be festive.

We will sing and we will take pictures. And give many many birthday hugs. But we will also keep it low key in a way too. Because just like a literal first year birthday, sometimes it can be overwhelming. So we will sit at the table for dinner in our usual spots. Eat her favorite meal, made the same way by mom. And we will still have ESL tutoring and get the laundry done. Because even though the mundane bits of life go on, that underlying crackle of pink specialness can still glow through the day. Because that is the beauty of a birthday....that quiet special sense that you are special and you have those who think so too. It is a day to mark with that sure knowledge. And so we will try.

Our Marta Therese on her first and thirteenth birthday:

You are a joyful spirit.
A simple happy complicated girl.
You love to sing and laugh at mom sing.
You love to laugh at everyone else dancing.
One day we will get you to dance too.
You are a beauty.
Someday you too will know you are a beauty too.
A good chunk of your beauty shines from inside.
This is the truest kind of beauty.
You truly deeply love the your faith, God, and the Mass.
And that inspires.
You love to laugh.
You love to play.
You can be silly as a small child.
You can be as demanding as a small child.
And as moody as any teen, ever.
You are impatient and stubborn.
You are helpful and compassionate.
You hate math.
You love pink.
You are working so hard on learning english.
But you really hate math.
Almost as much as you hate learning to tell American time.
You love to write cards to your Grandma.
And to sew quilts of your own design.
And you do not want any help, unless the machine busts.
You love pink, in anything and everything.
You love pink ice cream, yogurt, pjs, sweaters, socks, pens.
Pink.
And a dash of cheetah print might be nice too.
You love football.
It could only be better if they players wore pink, maybe.
You are my only kid who is excited for braces.
And yes, they are pink!

You have been home almost four months.
It feels like you just got here.
It feels like so much longer.
We are all slowly growing toward and in each other.
It's a long process.
But it can't be rushed.
It's kind of like this birthday:
It's marked by a 13, but its new and old at the same time.
Everything about us, each other, is new to each other.
But so many things too, are old in their way.
Mom dad daughter sister family.
It's age old.
And brand new.
Just like a birthday really should be.

Happy Happy Birthday Marta.
We love you and are so proud of you.
We hope all your wishes come true!

Adjustment: Marking the good. redux

I don't have a picture. Not the right picture anyhow. I have this picture, far below, which will have to suffice.

I had a "mark the good" moment today. And because I have written before about how I think its important to MARK the good when you recognize it, I want to write this down...for the record, and so it doesn't slip away from my foggy mind. In older child adoption, there is so much that is strange and awkward, especially at first. And only time can help ease into some things. One of those is worth a whole 'nother post (Fair warning...). But it is this very thing that had one of those moments today, the kind that stills and shimmers for a minute, you realize you kind of are holding your breath so you don't blink and lose it. Then you do blink because you have to, suddenly, there is a pending spill. And if you're lucky you recognize, that this is one to mark. A step forward. A settling in. A deeper twinge resonating.

Ack. Let me explain. Tomorrow is Marti's birthday. She is a bit giddy in anticipation. Just a little shivery giddy. But I didn't really see it until Mass.

Every day we go to Mass after we drop off the school kids (parochial school, one of the perks). Every day we sit in our pew, third from the back, left. Some mornings Coffeedoc gets to join us before clinic. Today was one of those.

Marta was in between us, she kept pulling Coffeedoc closer in, and squooshing closer to me. We were all mooshed up together in that pew, tho the pew was empty otherwise. If you didn't know it, it looked like it was below freezing and we were huddling for warmth. Then, in one of the quiet moments of the Mass, we sat again, taking our huddle. She grinned and she pulled him closer in, put his hand on her lap and grabbed mine, pulling it to his, placing our two old hands together. We smiled a small laugh at each other. Then she grinned wider.

She wrapped her little arms around our big ones on either side, grabbed hands in the middle and squeezed. "My dad. My mom," she whispered to us with a huge smile.

It was very much like a small small child, claiming again, for the hundredth time, their parents. But this was our teen. Not a toddler. But the declaration was the same. And we looked across her head and smiled that deep smile. And then, surprising myself...I blinked.

I don't have a picture to show you. I wish I did. But I have stored this one away safely anyhow, marking it for good.

The Deep

Sometimes you forget. Sometimes you forget the depth of what this is. This adoption stuff.

I guess you have to, because if you set it always in the forefront of your mind you will be frozen. It's so big. It's so much. Just what these kids have done, come from their first family to be woven into yours...it's so much. And so, when they have carved out that spot in your heart of hearts, that fierce love for them has gripped you...you forget. You forget sometimes, what they call that "primal wound." They might forget, for a while, too. Or not really realize or understand it if they are so young. Not yet. But its there.

The other night, Gabey had crawled into my bed. We all were sleeping but he started fussing in a dream. He whimpered. Turned over. Then, sleep-shouted clearly and loudly, "Don't leave me!"

Oh!
Instantly wide awake, my breath taken.

He has never, ever, said that. Not awake, not asleep. He does say "I want to go with you!" And with ferocious toddler power, "That's MY mommy!" But he has not said this. And he has not said this with that angry hurt sad deep cry.

And I wondered, was he just dreaming of the comings and goings in our busy house? I don't think so. This had a different quality. Not only because it was 2 a.m. But it was more.
I know it, I heard it, I felt it.
This was his hurt.
My boy's hurt.
His mom died. He was taken to the orphanage at eleven months. He was left.
It is primal.

And so I snuggled in close to him. I whispered, "I'm here." And then, "I'll never leave you." He relaxed back into sleep. And I lay awake, picking up the shattered bits of my heart.

Real kids. On their own.

Teenagers.

What happens to them?
I mean, what happens to them if they don't have a family?
If they don't have a home?
A bedroom?
A safe place to be?
Enough food, enough care?
Someone to watch over them, to give them grief, to tell them "good job", or "nice try", or "hey, no attitude!"?
What if no one is there to say "It's gonna be ok", and really mean it.
What if they are cold or hungry or sick or scared.
What if they are alone?
Alone.

Grim huh?
Well, its real.
Its real here in the states.
Its even more real, to an unfathomable level, around the world.
Real kids.
The "lucky" ones are in an orphanage or foster care.
But they are not really lucky at all.
Because they don't have a family, or a home, or anyone who really cares about them, every day.
And that temporary haven, of sorts, that orphanage or foster home, it's gonna end.
The time there is limited.
And then these kids, and even as older teens, they are still kids, with the same needs and wants of any teen kids....they are sent out.
They are sent out.
To a bleak future.
Tough to get a job when jobs aren't available, you have no connections, no transportation, no proper clothes, not enough food, and not enough or any school.
Tough to find a place to stay when you have a tiny pocket of money to "get you started."
That money can't even rent a place to stay for a few months, if you could find one.
That money can't get you in school, or help you find a job.
That money runs out.
Then the future becomes Grim.
It is all too easy to have that future include drugs, assault, living on the streets, prostitution, begging, illness, hunger, desperation.

And these are kids.
And these are our kids.
This was MY kid.

So this topic is close to home for me.
Too close.
It hurts to know that so many of these kids have such a bleak future.
That is not an overstatement.
Bleak. Grim. Future.
They have little to no future, in fact.
This could have been my girl.
She did get lucky.
We got lucky.
I'm not posting this to say that everyone should adopt older kids.
It's very hard.
It's very different from adopting a small one.
Oh, its worth it.
But there are other ways to reach out as well.

I want everyone to SEE these kids.
I want everyone to know that these are real kids, who like jokes, ice cream, hugs, a warm shower and bed.
These kids deserve a chance, any chance.
All of these kids can use a hand.
This new initiative by Gladney, "On Their Own," is for these kids.
For our kids, these forgotten ones.
As they age out, we can help them have a bit of hope.
We can help provide some of the tools they can use to get started, safely.
To find their footing, to know that even now, someone cares.
On their own.
Donate what you can, if you can.
Buy the bracelet above, the proceeds donate, the exposure helps.
You can help them step out on their own and step past the grim, maybe.
You can help them step over into hope.
You can change a life, just by caring a little.
You can change your life, just by caring a little, for these real kids - about to be on their own.

Almost Wordless Wednesday

Obligitory Halloween Pictorial...

The other kiddos were either sick and moody or attending a better party. Hmph.
Even so, a good time was had by all!

All Souls Day

Aladar Korosfoi-Kriesch

All Souls' Day --1910 Oil on canvas,

Its the Feast of All Souls Today.
And this day is cool because its not just the Saints that we are remembering, the big leagues, but all of the little guys, the regular folks who have died - the Joe Schmoes of the world who are just the regular guy in the trenches or mom in the laundry room. But even so, these folks, so many of them, have died, gone to heaven and deserve a remembrance. It's our nature to do so.

All Souls Day in Slovakia

Sometimes folks wonder why we even bother to think of a day to remember and pray for the dead. I mean, they have passed on, no use now right? Well, no. I think, and our faith teaches us, that in fact there is great use. Our souls are immortal. They are us, the realest us. They do not die. This is an article of faith and I know many who disagree. But I believe it. To my mortal bones, I believe we have souls that are immortal.

Painting by Rubens

Therefore, when I die, I hope and pray that my loved ones, heck, ANYONE, remembers to pray for me. Because I'm gonna need it.
I need it now, I will need it more so then, because my time on earth to actively turn my heart away from my measly selfish self and around to the face of God will be done. And so while I hope and pray I am going to heaven, I suspect...if I get to heaven I will be in the foyer of heaven: purgatory.

Yup.
I said it: 'Purgatory."

One of those words! One of those polarizing kind of words.
And I wish it wasn't.
Purgatory is a beautiful, sensible concept and gives me such comfort and hope.

As I am not a theologian, nor particularly smart or insightful...but am quite opinionated, I get to give you my take on purgatory and why I think its so cool. Keep in mind, I have simplified and condensed a rich complex theological concept into terms my little old middle age wandering mind can digest. So don't get all tied up in knots over this, go read someone knows.

But, for me, this is the deal with purgatory - a "mom" take on it.
In my rambling rabbit warren of a house, we are lucky enough to have a mud room. This is the main entrance to our house by all friends and family. And you know, even when its my son coming home from college and I can't wait to see him, we stop him for a moment in the mudroom...we say "Ack! Quick scrape those boots or take 'em off, they are covered in mud!" So he does and then we hug him and pull him into the kitchen to feed him pie and have the little's jump him with glee.


This is purgatory. Or just like it, to me.

Even if we have turned our hearts to God and want only to do the best we can...we screw up, we still are impatient and ill tempered and selfish (ok, me). And when we die, we don't just all of a sudden have those hurtful acts disappear; those sins still ripple out to those we left behind. We are still 'smudgy' with that selfishness. And while we may be deeply contrite and now, after our passing, fully understand how hurtful even some of our small 'unimportant' acts or "white lies" really are.....we are not ready yet to stand in the presence of Love and Truth. Because you can't. You can't if you still have some smudges. God's Divine self/presence cannot coexist with anything less than truly pure. Because God is pure. And so, we too become so - in purgatory. Purgatory is where we take off our muddy boots. We put on some clean soft slippers or go barefoot in to the pure white of the kitchen. And then, we are hugged, hooted over, loved and we all grin and eat pie.

So today we remember and celebrate those souls who have gone before us with their hearts turned toward God: All Souls Day.

Happy Feast of All Souls!
Perhaps even in heaven, or especially in heaven, it's all about the pie!

All the Saints

The challenge of sainthood

is to go where love takes me.

Today is All Saints Day!

Another name is All Hallows Day. It follows, of course, All Hallows Eve...or, obviously, Halloween. I love that we don't just celebrate Halloween and its not just a creepy horror fest or excuse to dress up and scarf down way too much sugar (Baby Ruth's, Reeses, pie, oh my!) But that in actuality these are three days of remembrance.

Remembrance of what?
No, not only that you need to stay on your blood sugar meds or that there's always tomorrow for a new diet.
Rather, its remembrance of the dead.

Its why I think the Dia de los Muertos is cool too, not creepy. Plus of course there is usually lots of food involved, especially Pan de los Muertos (Special bread), and whats not to like about that?

Its why those Dutch Veritas paintings were all the rage way back when (Ok, ok, 16 & 17 C). They were a way of reminding us that "all is vanity" in life (You know, Eccliastes and all); this life here is but a blink.

It's remembering our dear ones who went before us, and also those who were not so dear personally perhaps, but now can be so very dear as they listen to our prayers and pray on our behalf.

Yup, I'm talking about the Saints!
We love them!

And for those who have concerns with praying to saints, I understand. But, well, here is a bit on the concept of communion of the saints. But for me, I think its one of the most cool and natural concepts of the faith and well, life in general. Because this tells us that we are connected. You all know how much I rely on those connections!

And to be connected to those who have gone before us, and who, since they no longer are bound by their human tendencies toward sin, are pure of heart and intent...to be connected to these special souls and be able to hit them up for prayers? Well, that is just too cool and a huge comfort for me.

Its a lot like asking your best girlfriend or Aunt Midge to pray for you, but knowing that the prayers will be less distracted and without any overlying layers of selfishness. For instance, "Please let Coffeemom figure this out so she will stop droning on about this, it's making me nuts." See, thats one kind of prayer that any earthly person might (ok, surely does) pray if I ask them to pray for me.

But we know that the saints will pray for God's will for us, more along the lines of "O God, come to her assistance, send the graces she needs to understand your will and thus also take pity and have mercy on her best friend." See? Much better, don't ya think? Me too.

So, today is the day that we try to recover from All Hallows eve and the food feasting and instead feast on the deep contentment and uber coolness of knowing that the saints, both the "rock star" saints and the little known ones, will pray for us and care about our little human lives.

They've been there, done that, know the traps and are cheering us on our way. What's not to like? Or celebrate? I'll take every bit of help I can get. And, blessedly, this is real help, right now....and forever. Ah....

Photo by Richard Flynn. Saints in the cathedral of Our Lady of the Angels, Los Angeles: Cecilia, Stephen, Casimir, Ignatius of Loyola, Frances of Rome, Bernardine of Siena, Thomas Aquinas, Katharine Drexel, John of God, Maximilian Kolbe, John Baptist de la Salle, Paul Chong Hasang, Moses the Ethiopian, Kateri Tekakwitha, Thomas More, Nicholas, Dominic, Mary Magdalen, Ann, and Joseph.

Happy All Saints Day!
I'm gonna go have another piece of pie!

Happy Halloween! All Hallows Eve!

Preparations are under way.
Pumpkins have been carved, and tested in the dark.
Oohs and ahs, gasped, hands clapped.
Costumes tweaked and twirled and swashbuckled about.
Pillowcases found and tested for candy collection.
Candy tested, twice even.
Or more.
Snickers are frozen (Um, to test...yeah, that's it!).
Reeses and Baby Ruths picked from the bags (Best Halloween candy. Ever)
Trick or Treating timetable set.
Weather checked and fretted over.
Kids amped up.
Parents eyeing wine and margaritas.
Dusk soon, right?
Oh.
Ok, waiting a bit.
For my sister:
Brisket is cooking for chili.
Pumpkin Pies are baking.
Corn bread and little mini hot dogs in process.
(FYI: They are rightly, traditionally, called "Little mini hot dogs" - whether or not they are mini dogs or little smokies and it is not redundant to use "little" and "mini" on such a festive occasion. It's tradition for you newbies out there. Ask my sister. She's a lawyer and the oldest. She says.).

It's All Hallows Eve.
It's Halloween!
Its tradition: exhausting, wild, ruinous for teeth and figures, and big fun.

Happy Halloween to all!

If you give a boy a straw.....

He will drink soup!

Which is a big improvement over wearing it!

Good thing our Sally O' is clever! Thanx honey!

Happy Bday Bananas!

Happy Happy Birthday to my girl, my Bananas.

I know I say this all the time, but I can't believe you are this old.
Fourteen already!

14!
Oh my goodness. And when you pointed out that next year you get a drivers permit, well, ok, I am just NOT ready for that.
But I will say, perhaps you will be, because you are growing into a lovely young woman.

Finishing up grade school and preparing for high school.
You want to go to your brother's high school so much, but recognizing the difficulty of decisions and being willing to discuss and understand the different choices.
You have grown up so much in the past year or so, physically but also in maturity.
You were our baby that we "worked so hard" to get.
Shots for months, tests, procedures, heartbreak and dreams.
Finally you arrived, with the heavens clapping for you, and carved your place in the family, by your sweet smiles but first by your colic!
We knew, the boys knew, life would never be the same and you would make way for yourself!

Happily you have a big huge heart, filled with compassion.
And you love to laugh and are willing to laugh at yourself.
You are filled to overflowing with music, it bubbles through even when you're supposed to be quiet.
But we are really enjoying your new and growing talent on the piano.
And I would love to hear you keep singing and sing more, you have a beautiful voice.
You are creative and kind.
You are moody and dramatic.
You are smarter than you realize.
You are energetic, as long as you have fully woken up.
You are another night owl in the family.
You are a social butterfly.
But have your head on straight and so know how to do that social thing with integrity and kindness.
You are full of faith, a rare thing in a child your age.
Did I mention, it was FOURTEEN?

You are goofy and fun and love to laugh.
You share a bday, almost, with your best friend, who is like part of the family.
You are beautiful.
Your smile can light up a room.
Your room is still a disaster.
You love to travel and have a bit of wanderlust.
You are torn between big city life and that country girl in you.
They say you look just like me and remind my family of me.
I'm sorry.
I think however that they are wrong.
You are beautiful and better than me, in so many ways.

You are sharing your most private space, bedroom and bath, with a brand new sis.
You are a hero for that in my eyes.
And your dads.
And your brothers.
We love you so much and am so proud of you.
I hope all your birthday wishes come true........
except for that car thing.

Happy Happy Bday Bananas!

Firsts

No adoption blog really is complete without posting that ongoing, ever growing, list of firsts. The list ranges from the mundane to the sublime, but they all have impact and are a privilege for us to witness. Fun and nervewracking, scary sometimes, sometimes hard, but really...it's always cool to expand a world, bit by bit. To find out much is out there.

So, without further ado, here it is. First post of firsts.

Obviously, first Halloween.
First supermarket.
First escalator.
First ice cream.
First airplane.
First elevator.
First dentist visit.
First extraction, ouch.
First family dinner.
First ride on a boat.
First ocean.
First beach.
First Grandma.
First Grandpa.
First trampoline.
First cousins.
First Uncles.
First Aunts.
Frst pumpkins, first jack o'lanterns.
First Disney.
First roller coaster.
First frappucino.
First football game.
First swim.
First walk on beach.
First seashells.
First dolphins.
First movie.
First computers.
First piano.
First vaccinations.
First family party.
First sentences in english.
First trouble with american mom and dad.
First forgiving.
First big family.
First brothers.
First sisters.
First autumn.
First lazy naps on the deck in the sun.....
The best thing about most of these firsts is they are just that: firsts. Most of them have many more, countless, times to experience them again. Which might not be so thrilling on the no fun ones...but some of them, ah, its just so good.

Turn-keys

So many of the things that are involved with adjusting to an adoption keep crowding into my head. So, I'm processing stuff. Which means I have to post, you know it...its how I process. Bear with me. I wish someone had talked about this stuff when I was researching wondering dreaming about it all. I know, heaps o' books out there, but for my meager mind, I need things categorized a mite differently. Maybe. All those books are so helpful and even now crowding my bookshelves and stacked on my night table. I am still using them and will be for a good long while, maybe ever.

But even so, this is how my mind parses things out:
Turn-keys.
You know how you hear about "Turn key" businesses? Where you can just step in and the biz runs properly, right out of the box?
Well adoption is the exact opposite of that.

But even so, I have decided that there ARE "turn-keys" in the adoption process, the adjustment process. And I think they really are critical to the fine tuning of an adoption, at least for us, me, our family. These are the keys that literally turn and open or close the process of adjustment (at least in my opinion, I'm just a mom, not an expert, so take this for what it is).

Sadly, there is NO ONE key to the whole process; though wouldn't that be fantastic!? But I think these are a number of keys: time, touch, trouble, trust, truth, talk, terror even. I've written about the terror often enough. And time, downtime, that is. And recently about the trouble. But one of the most important keys, a true "turn key," is one of the hardest (of course!).

Trust.
Oh my.
I think this is one of the biggest.
In some ways, it's everything.
Think about it: TRUST.
There has to be so much of that.
But how hard it is to find, to grab, to hold, to create, to hang onto?
If you have it, it seems solid..and you are more fortunate than you may realize.
If you do not, or cannot, then it can be so ephemeral, so heartbreakingly out of reach.

I think it is what we are all searching for, as much or more than happiness, or possibly, love.
Because you cannot trust without love.
Because you cannot be happy without trust.
They flow and feed each other.
So, yeah, its big.
When you have brought an older, hurt, child into your family is it gigantic.
It is everything.

Gee whiz, trust. Sounds like a basic. I have realized I really took it for granted, that foundational unquestioning trust. I trust my kids, beyond those moments of obvious lying or um, borrowing, and run of the mill kid stuff that most kids have to test out. They trust me. Even if they hate me for holding them to curfew or being strict, they still, if push came to shove, would admit that (even if I am "so wrong and clueless") I have the best intentions on their behalf. I trust my husband, I trust how things work. I trust God. Right?

Well, this adoption has taught me that actually, I have MASSIVE trust issues! (It's the curse of the control freak, always) God, husband, kids, new kid, the whole shebang. Not too fun finding that one out! But, really, helpful, because with the entrance of a new, older, child into a home....everyone's level of trust is laid on the line. And you know what? You have to deal with it.

As mom, you have to deal with it yourself and for the others too. I'd love to say that foundational trust is unshakable. And it might just be for Coffeedoc and Buddybug. And thank goodness for that! But for the rest of us? Well, it was shaken some. You can see that shake in the jealousy, the attention seeking of new and old kids, the acting out, the frazzled tempers and moods (yeah, mine too, once or twice. Ahem.). Really, so much of that turmoil stemming from questions of trust, different levels, but still the same bottom line. And for our new sweet girl? Well, its still not there for her either. How can it be?

So, how do you build trust? How do you parent a child who just plumb does not, cannot truly deeply TRUST you? Its much harder than it seems and I think its one of the huge reasons that it can be harder to adjust to older child adoption. When you've raised a child from baby or toddler that trust has a million times over to be proven built tested and reinforced.

A new child, older, coming from a completely different world and ways? Do they have that tested track record with you? No. Do you trust them immediately in the same way as your children already at home? Honestly? You can't. You don't know them well enough yet to know their expressions moods triggers. You don't know when the honeymoon will switch to a meltdown or if it will even. So that takes time to trust and anticipate their actions and reactions. And so, until you build that foundation of trust.... Well, you're flying, um parenting, without a net.
And for the new child? Well, that trust is gonna be a long time coming, deep down. They might well trust that you will feed house and clothe them. But the deep trust, the kind that withstands the misunderstandings, the corrections, the grief the anger the complete discombobulation....that isn't there, not really. And so when they feel like they are drowning in all the change how do they trust you will save them, pull them up and not let go? Well, maybe they don't. Or maybe they are trying, but you have to do your part. Which is: be there, hang on, get over yourself (Now don't get all worked up and think I'm judging, I am totally typing about ME here), and don't let go.

Sounds easy. It's not.

But as you do it, you both are reaching a bit toward each other. Even the silly kinds of trust make such a huge difference. That you can tease and just be a little silly, for fun not hurt. And that really ice cream seems weird but is wonderful, try it. And that if mom says she will come in and kiss you goodnight when she gets home, she will. Heck, even that, just like a small child needs to learn, I always come back.

And just that effort, that repeated reaching, I think {and continue to hope and pray}, brings you (ok, me) all a bit closer, laces your heart to the other....a tiny bit at a time. It may not feel like it at all. And trust is really something that doesn't feel like much except a sort of sureness, an absence of fear. But it is the grounding for the feelings that feel like everything: happiness, love, joy.

So, really, I would love someone to hand me a shiny big ol' turn key to all this, to precisely fit this one critical lock. And then to open the door to a deep firm trust, for all of us. Trust in each other, trust in love, trust in the time and effort, trust in the good, trust without hurt, trust without doubt or question or fret. But I guess this particular turn-key is crafted from the clay of our (OK, my measly) hearts, bodies, and just plain old presence, again and again and again - for the whole family, old and new. But this key, once its made, will be one to treasure tight.

Almost Wordless Wednesday

The kids had a big time at the pumpkin farm Sunday.
The younger ones did some swinging
(the older ones thought they were too cool).
You can see them all below....

Look closely.....who's hitched a hideaway ride?

Autumn. Love it.

Bucket O Beach

It was beyond great to be at the beach last week; to spend time with my family, have Marta meet my family, to breath deeply that salty ocean air. It is one of the few places in the world I really relax. But again... you've "done your time." I'm not gonna blather on here.
This post is for the pics:

Uncle David, my big bro.

With Uncle John, my baby brother.

Counter Intuitive Adjustment

There is an odd part of the adoption adjustment process that I want to talk about, to kind of sort it out in my head. I've only really actually been able to see it clearly this time around. I suspect it plays out much more with the adjustment of an older child into the family. I'm talking about that boundary...the one that is so hard to cross the first few times.

I'm talking about trouble. I mean Trouble with a capital "T" (to borrow from "The Music Man"). And I guess I should throw out the caveat that I'm only talking about OUR house and family and experience here. So don't flame me, I know well enough that every single adoption - young or old - is unique and different from every other. However, that said, I have noticed something lately, and it feels important, at least to me/us. Its a whole counter intuitive experience.

Trouble. You all know it. There are different kinds of course. But I'm talking about routine 'trouble,' the kind found in oh, every single family in the world. The usual stuff of squabbling and testing boundaries and annoying behaviors and flat out breaking the rules to see how it plays sort of thing. The sulks, the tantrums, the rudeness, the ignoring.....life with kids. Not all kids, not all the time...but really, most every kid, some of the time.

With the adoption of an older child, ok, this older child, there are phases. You can read about them in the books. The honeymoon phase is the most fun, supposedly, the giddiness of meeting and all the excitement of the new.

All new, all the time.
Frankly, its wonderful and exhausting.

Part of that exhaustion comes from that very newness. Every single thing is new, needs to be explained, or pointed out, or giggled over. Everything is heightened. And it takes a little while, but then you realize that everyone is kind of walking through the day on eggshells. Don't make a false step or the eggs will crack and the mess might spill out. Everyone is on their best behavior because no one is quite sure how it will play when they are not.

But you know, that can't last.

It doesn't. And while it is a whole 'nother kind of exhausting to leave that golden honeymoon phase, it is a relief in it's own way. Because now, it becomes real. Things get rocky, possibly very very fast. It can be ugly. It hurts, there can be tears all around - anger, fury even, snits, snot, names, accusations, hopefully not hits pinches and shoves between the kids (but you know, it's possible).

And, as mom, you know what you have to do. You do it before you've analyzed it and set out a plan. You deal. Ideally, calm cool and collected. But, sometimes you (ok, ok: me) react instead of plan. Because while some moms might be able to only discipline in calm cool collection, according to their calmly evaluated plotline...THIS mom tends to react and maybe even has been known to um, yell, once or twice. (I am not admitting this, I am just saying that there is a possibility that there has been a slip or two over the years.)

What I am saying is: the kid(s) are in Trouble. Capital T.

Now. We are in this new phase now. Our new daughter has been in Trouble. Capital T. And it happened before I knew it. It has now happened a number of times. And, really, I now think it is such a good thing. Let me be clear, the trouble itself is not good. No one digs it. But the ability to be in trouble....priceless.
Let me give you a for instance. On this trip, we went to a swishy restaurant with all the kids - because we are maniacs. (But that is a topic for another post.) I won't bore you with the details, but suffice it to say that not long into the dinner, about halfway through, I got up and took Miss Marti outside.
Yes.
Outside.
In mom code, that's big stuff. Capital T stuff.
And I took her off to the side of the restaurant and told her in no uncertain terms that she was behaving poorly and in Trouble and it was all not ok. She is a stubborn little gal and so this included some back and forth between us, heads shaking, arms crossed, tears...the works. Shortly, we came to terms. More tears. Now hugs. And a long one. Done.

But then, for the second or third time since she's been home Marti looked at me and laughed a small laugh as she said her (Ethiopian) Mom's name. And then pretty much re-enacted our 'discussion." Then she pointed to me and said my name: "Mom."

I smiled and said, "Yeah. She would have said the same thing. Because we are both moms. Your moms. And we love you. So listen!" And then I got a REAL hug and a REAL smile and we walked inside to continue dinner (Waving at the bar patrons whom I had unwittingly provided the evening entertainment. doh!).

And you know, when she went inside she was happy again. Not sulky.
And it felt like things clicked one more notch down toward settled (still a ways to go, but every notch is something).
Because all that - that discipline, anger, apologize, forgive, move on thing?
That's NORMAL.
Normal.
And the other kids feel more normal if they know I will take her out (of the restaurant...c'mon on!) and she can get in the same kind of trouble they can.

It's a comfort, in a totally counter intuitive sort of way.
And it's one notch closer to "Normal."
For all of us.

Feast of St. Teresa of Avila

Painting by Janet McKenzie

It's the feast of St. Teresa of Avila!
I love her. I feel she is one of my patrons due to our shared tendency toward massive headaches and migraines. Only one who has them all the time can really understand how they scramble you...and she did. So, she's my gal!

Painting by Francois Gerard, c. 17C

But more importantly, St. Teresa of Avila is just one heck of a great saint. She is one of the three women Doctors of the Church (noting that her spiritual writings are both sound and very important, influential). For a woman of medieval times, that is no small accomplishment, not to mention: staying power! Her books such as Interior Castle and The Way of Perfection are just amazing reads. Not fast page turners, but mind blowers. You have to stop every few pages and just sort of...digest it all. And then soak it in, let it sink in....it's great great stuff and will change your prayer life. She founded the Discalced Carmelites (Meaning "shoeless," again, what's not to like?) and had an ongoing friendship and correspondence with the mystic and poetically powerful St. John of the Cross {And if you want a really phenomenal book, tough, dense, but OH so worth it: read the compilation/commentary on these two together: Fire Within, by Dubay}.

But on another level, not the "resume" angle...St. Teresa of Avila appeals to me because she was first of all a real living, breathing woman. I know, they all are, doh. But what I mean is that she was a woman of opinions and ideas and kind of stubborn and pushy, even when that wasn't always overtly sanctioned in the culture of her time. She was extremely social and loved to sit and chat and flirt even...she was quiet beautiful and knew how to use it too. She had to struggle against the urge to chat and flirt and spend too much time doing it, because she could lose afternoons to it. Sound familiar to any of you, especially you gals? Um, yeah. That stuff IS fun. Sounds pretty modern to me.

St. Teresa's monastic cell at the Convento de la Encarnación, Ávila

And yet, even so, St. Teresa could hear in her inmost self the whisper of God who loved her as she was, more than anyone else could. And she responded, bravely, to that irresistible call. And it brought her the ecstasy of union with God in prayer. And that amazes me and intrigues me as I know firsthand how hard it is to push all those opinions and flippy chitchatty conversations out of my head to pay attention to God himself. Distraction? I'm the poster girl for it. But St. Teresa gives me hope and I have hope that she prays for me...for my attention to what is important, for responding to that call, that whisper, for my headaches, for being brave enough to listen through the din of my modern mundane life.

Sculpture by Bernini, "St. Teresa in Ecstasy"

So, happy feast day!

St. Teresa of Avila, pray for us!

Three months. Adjustment

So, today is three months.
Three months since Miss Marta T landed in America. Stepped foot on US soil and became a citizen (IR3 visa, don't get all worked up, Gabey came on IR4, it's just different).

Three months of adjusting to a tsunami of change: only child to big family, no parents to two parents and even more: us, new food, new smells, new sights, new language, new ways, new everything single thing you can think of to name.

So, how are we doing? How is Marta doing?

I hope we are doing pretty well. That's the funny thing, it's kind of impossible to know in a way.

With older child adoption its a different kind of road. It doesn't come with the same maps as infant or toddler adoptions. There are almost no standards or norms, it seems. Because every child comes with so much history that their trajectory and ways are their own. Unique. Meaning, their paths, their ways, the adjustments, their quirks, their traumas, their charms are all unique to their very own self. And you can compare if you like (and its OH so tempting to do it), but it's not at all the same as comparing when your kid walked or talked or got their teeth. Those markers are not nearly so clear in this arena.

So, instead of judging this soon, I'm gonna throw out what's up at three months; what we know and what we are learning. About our new daughter: Marta Therese.

The beach is beautiful.
California is nice.
Swimming is so much fun.
It is very hard to learn to swim but its a ball anyhow.
Mom and Dad think this means there are big hazards around water.
Especially the ocean because its so easy to tip over and fall, even just standing there.
Because if you look down, it's disorienting.

Music is just the best.
Singing is good too.
Mom is very funny when she tries to sing and dance.
Shopping is one of the best of things.
Especially with an older sister.
Pink is maybe the best color ever.
And maybe yellow too.

Quilting and sewing is just fascinating.
Its new, but feels pretty good to be able to learn it.
Its great to be able to do it on your own, all by yourself.
Those seams will get straighter with practice.
That sewing machine makes ya feel powerful!
Those quilts are crazy colorful charm.

American food is great.
Pasta and pizza are always great.
Salad and ice cream are best of all.
Sweet potatoes are disgusting.
Carrots aren't much better.
But so many choices are just a thrill.
The rules of restaurants are a little hard to figure out though.
Ordering, why can't you change your mind?

Dentists are very nice, but not much fun to visit.
Braces are very exciting to think about though.
Pink is the color already picked out for the bands.

America is fun.
Movies are amazing!
Roller coasters can be very fun.
But they can also be very scary.
Boats are very fun.
School is fun, still.
Except for math and learning to tell time.
The english teacher is just so nice!
English is a very hard language to learn.

A big family is a good thing.
Except when the smaller ones make you crazy being pests.
But big brothers and sisters are wonderful.
Except when the big sister keeps you up at night studying with both music and lights on.
And except for when you have to figure out shower schedules.
And where to sit in the car or at the table.
And family rules are not always fun either.
You'll get in trouble if you cut your own hair.
Or ignore mom or dad or are rude.
Mom holds to those rules and will yell and scold.
But then its ok again after it all.
Buddybug is very much missed.
But its exciting to think he'll be home in less than a week for a bit.

Maybe the best part of a big family is that means BIG family.
And aunts and uncles and cousins.
Maybe the very best thing of all is to have grandparents.
And a Grandma who understands somehow.
Best of all are hugs from her, and mom and dad.

Three months is just the beginning.
The whole family is still adjusting.
Adjustments are both big and small ways.
Things can be hard.
Things can be so frustrating.
Feeling sad can make your whole body hurt.
Or parts of it.
It can feel lonely sometimes.
It can be so confusing too.
Its easy to get out of sorts and not really know why.
Things are very strange here.
But are starting to feel more normal, a little.
We all hope it gets easier.
Some days it is.
Some days it's not.

Some days you get a glimmer of feeling that depth, just under there, and its a shiver of good.
And you know, it's worth it to keep on trying.

Cultural Confusion

We got it. Cultural confusion, I mean.
And yeah, of course, we've got it going on on many levels, big and small.
But really, the one on my mind this trip, is the bizarro factor of trying to explain both the whole Disney deal to Marta AND how to explain Halloween.

I knew I was going to have to figure out the whole Halloween explanation to her, by the end of the month at the latest right? But, oh dopey me, I hadn't remembered that Disney does a whole Halloween extravaganza for the holiday...milking every last shiver and shriek they can out of it. And I know they have a holiday of sorts in Ethiopia where kids go door to door asking for candy, but really, that's where the similarity to our holiday ends. No costumes or horror or pumpkins even, that's American.

So I had a double whammy of explaining to do. I think I failed miserably. I tried, really I did. But I saw it all with new eyes: foreign no language eyes, to be exact. And frankly, really, its awfully weird. Both the Disney and the Halloween...but combined: bizarro world. I'm just saying, what else can it look like but bizarro world?

Think about it: you go on rides where you are scared out of your wits thinking you're going to fall out or be crashed into walls or fly right out of your seat...and then everyone gets off jabbering and laughing and hooting with silly grins on their faces. I know, some of that adrenaline rush doesn't need language. But some does: the "Are we having fun yet?" factor. Add to that the visual of every bit of the park is decorated, as only Disney can do, for the ghoul factor of Halloween (thankfully however, minus the more modern fascination w/ gore). But you've got skulls and cobwebs and big spiders hanging from every nook and cranny; skeletons and ghosts and spooky music and witches. Scary stuff, if you don't know the holiday behind it. And if not scary, well, really really weird.

Then you have the lack of cultural immersion is Disney-ana. I am not sure at all about how much Marta realized was real and not real. We stupidly forgot our dictionary, so it was hard to say, "those hippos and crocodiles on the Jungle Cruise are fake, dont' worry. Those pirates aren't shooting at you, it's not real, don't worry." No wonder Pirates of the Caribbean ride was NOT a hit. Aw.

Anyhow, so that's some of the cultural confusion we've been surfing through (in honor of our beach locale) this week.
Almost unexplainable weirdness.
Hopefully, someday soon she'll understand that we don't make a habit of decorating with skulls and cobwebs and skeletons here in America.....but that we just like a bit of goofy silly fun.

Heigh Ho, Heigh Ho, it's off to Disney we go..

Ok, so yeah, we lost our minds (Ok, Coffeedoc did) and decided we should "do Disney." After falling out of my chair with sticker shock upon researching the cost (even w/ current specials) for Disney World...I realized we could go see my family, the beach,and college if we went to DisneyLand versus the Florida world - for about a third of the cost. Plus, and here is a "Big Family Tip," since we are SO big now, we finally could get a group rate: buy 10 tickets as a group, get one free and group rate is about a 40% discount. Score! Decision: made.

Let me preface this post by saying I am a bit conflicted on the whole Disney thing. It's a love/hate thing for sure for me. Part of me totally loves the whole deal, I like the scary but not terrifying rides, the whole vibe, the make-believe kiddie fun. But part of me resents it in the sense of the sticker shock and, well, the after effects. You moms know what I'm talking about: its the "donkey effect." Yup. You know, I took Little Man, Marta, Sbird, and Miss M on Pinocchio's Wild Ride (or something like that) and it's all about Pinocchio's visit to Pleasure Island - where he and the other spoiled boys run amok and turn into donkeys. It occurred to me that this ride should really be placed at the very entrance to the park and be a mandatory ride for all families with children under fourteen. Because, the kids, they all start to bray by the end of the day.

But I digress.

Anyhow, so we went to Disney, myself, Coffeedad, and eight kidletts (one of them being a buddy of Booboo) on Day one and nine (nephew joined us) on Day two. Whew. And let me remind you that one of them doesn't speak any english and also doesn't have that built in cultural soak in Disney. And let me remind you that one of them is two. Double whew. Makes you tired just reading that, doesn't it? Go ahead, read it again, imagine it......yeah, has that effect on me too and they are my kids!

And yes, count those kids. Thats missing a few too.
And yes, I look like a dork but it got hot so I put on a skirt and I have bad feet.
Sue me. I don't care.

But I digress.

So. We went to Disney. Overall, really, it went better than expected...for a while anyhow. A visit to Disney goes through the same rough stages: giddy anticipation, arrival and shock at the crowds the lines but the giddy anticipation carries you through, giddy fun while seeing the cool pretty park and the wandering characters, giddy anticipation of the first rides.... The whole "giddy fun" factor holds over for awhile, until it's past lunchtime and then the slow crash begins.

Maybe you go on a ride that was a bad choice. Looked like fun but caused the newest teen to freak out. Was it the height? Was it the swinging? We'll never know, not for a long time anyhow. But you console, and move on. Get some food into you, move into the next phase of "who rides what and when?" Strategizing. The giddy anticipation stage is over and it's all strategy from here. It's logistics times 8. You strategize potties, lines, rides, fast passes, snacks, and shows.

Finally, the teen boys return, the family comes together again. One last ride before you try to find a spot for the fireworks. Lunch was so late you only need more snacks and as you park and sit on the ground, all the kids are starting to crash whine. You jolly along, wondering if it's worth it to wait. Finally the fireworks start, and they are amazing. Lots of oohing and aahing. All the teens agree that it was great, the smalls are too sleepy to say much and the two year old is asleep in his stroller. You walk back to the hotel, with the masses exiting the park, amidst the wails and whining of all the other small overstimulated children. Ah, the sounds of Disney at night.

And that is the plot line of the first day. Our first day. But really, I think the stages are roughly on target: giddy anticipation of the park, shock at the lines and crowds, giddy anticipation of the rides, giddy glee over the rides and fun, a few frowns and tears at a bad ride, hunger crashes and rallies, complicated logistical strategizing, and then the final surge of wow and the tired exit. Typical I'd say.

It really was fun, for the most part.
Watching Gabey see Mickey Mouse with his eyes huge and a little gasp: priceless.
Watching Little Man race to the rides and come off grinning: priceless.
Sitting next to him and Marta and Sbird with them all shrieking and burying their head against me, then grinning: hysterical.
Watching my Prima Diva go on her first real rollercoasters and come off with her face flushed, giddy and jabbering: priceless.

So, yeah, we had fun.
But OH so many more things to talk about.
But that will need to be another post. I've gotta take the kids out to the beach!

Forays and Firsts

So, we have taken fall break to make some foray's back toward normal. We decided to make a sort of slamming busy trip to California to have Marta meet the California side of the family (my side) and to "do the Disney" thing - by which I mean Disneyland, babeee, Disneyland! (Which I know is not normal, but in an odd way, is so normal for my family in that it is a kind of crazy intense undertaking, so yeah, kind of standard in its own wacky way). Plus, since we were already all the way out here, we figured we'd let Booboo go and check out a college he's dreaming about. So, this trip is sort of a foray into the future, the new here and now future, for our family. Maybe that doesn't all make sense to you, but somehow, to us, it does.

There will be more posts on this trip, as SO many things are cropping up. But I want to start with the best. These two moments, no matter what happens the rest of this trip, made this trip worth it. Period.

Marta met her grandparents, my folks. That picture above? In the airport, meeting my mom, her new grandma, for the very first time. I wasn't sure how it was going to play out, but I ran and hugged my mom and Marta was right behind me. And my mom? She just enveloped Marta in this huge welcome hug. I almost cried. Marta just closed her eyes and hung on tight. And Mom/Grandma just keep hugging and holding her, telling Marta it was so good that she was finally here. It was just so great, really great, to see my mom, who knows the hard parts of this adjustment, just wrap this girl up because she needs to be loved...like a Grandma can love and hug. And for Marta, this was huge, HUGE. And my dad, who is a very reserved kind of guy, physically and otherwise, he just hugged her big and Marta just hugged him big with her eyes squinched so tight that her forehead wrinkled. And I could'a cried right there on the curb. Marta did tear up on the drive to their house, and once there just stayed in the circle of grandma's arm, right next to her. I just love my mom.

And I was grateful for it all.

A little while later, we drove over to the beach. As we got to my folk's old condo, my favorite place in the world, I was getting settled in and Marta and Bananas ran out to the beach. I went onto the balcony to watch - this was Marta's first time on the beach, seeing the ocean, hearing smelling touching it all. And I was given a small gift, to watch this.

Marta ran down to the surf line, tiptoed to the water and touched a toe in. Then she stepped back, lifted her head back and sort of swirled in a circle lifting her arms, taking it all in.

All I can say is that it was very much a Sound of Music moment. She was Julie Andrews on the mountaintop, swirling in joy. I'm not kidding, it was kind of beautiful. Then she looked back up at me, and grinned.
And I was grateful for it all.

Feast of Our Lady of the Rosary

It's the feast of Our Lady of the Rosary!

Now, you all know I love the rosary. I go in seasons of saying it faithfully and then slacking off and letting my hectic life get in the way. I think that is a common thing. However, let me say this: The day is better if I say a rosary. Even if I am distracted and rushed, it's better if I say a rosary. I think it is the meditative aspect of it, it is a calming, deeply soothing thing. The rosary is a meditative prayer. Too often folks who don't pray it or know how to pray it say it's only a repetitive prayer. Well, um, yes it is repetitive. But that very repetition allows the meditation on the life of Christ and deepens it. It is a powerful prayer.

Lorenzo Lotto, "Our Lady of the Rosary"

In this prayer of the rosary we meditate deeply on the life of Christ, and ask his mother for prayers for us and our intentions, in addition to praying Christ's prayer as well, the "Our Father." It is a gift, this prayer. It is prayed worldwide and it is a comfort, and it teaches us to pray and meditate in order to deepen our joy. So today we celebrate the woman of this prayer, our Blessed Mother.

From the Liturgy of the Hours for today:

"Holy Mary...may all who celebrate your feastday know the help of your prayers."

Feast of Saint Francis of Assisi

It's the Feast of St. Francis of Assisi!

Now St. Francis is, arguably, one of the most popular saints (no matter your denomination or even if you have any belief system at all) of all time. Period. He is, if you will, a rock star of saints. Which, yes I know, is oppositional to all that sainthood is about, but there you have it. He is. He is known and loved around the world.

But you know, my issue, and one that kind of has kept me from getting too close to St. Francis, is that he is too often sentimentalized into a sort of "saint-lite." It seems like only the fluttery bird loving Francis is ever depicted. Churchs all over love to do the blessing of the animals in honor of St. Francis. Well, ok. I like animals too and we all know he loved them and talked to them and that's very cool.

But really, St. Francis was a radical! He came from a very wealthy family and after living the wild life for years, to the despair of his folks, he had a radical conversion and threw it all away, literally (stripping to the skin in the public square and renouncing his inheritance...not the way I'd encourage youth to model today, but still....). He then went to devote himself to poverty and prayer and building up the Church, literally and figuratively, in joy. Even by the standards of the day, way back when, he was a holy radical. That's the St. Francis that I like to think about, the one that draws me in and wonder, but is too often unrecognized.

Painting by Murillo, "St. Francis at Prayer"

My favorite thing about St. Francis, really, are these guys!! Also radicals for Joy, totally countercultural...... They are awesome and just light up a room when they are around. I tend to want to follow them around like a puppy. They are magnetic in their joy and just pull you to them!

Fransiscan Friars of the Renewal on tour of Ireland.

So, happy feast day!
St. Francis of Assisi, pray for us!

Saturday Something for Booboo

So last week was full of fete!

It was homecoming week and Booboo's girlfriend was on the homecoming court and queen nominee....so that meant Booboo got to go along for the ride as her escort.

And just because it was a fun weekend for them all, and we don't always see such happy pics of the teens at this age....I figured I'd throw them up for posterity!

The homecoming game was a win (of course, they are planned that way) and a good time was had by all, Marta was thrilled with seeing her brother and her favorite teen gal on the field.

Then the next night was homecoming dance and well, looks like a big time was had by all!


Look closely, just below, see that huge grin on my boy, smack in the center? (w/ his arm around a buddie's neck?) ...I"m just saying, we don't see that grin around the house so much....hmmmmm. This is one of those pics that makes me laugh because in twenty years it will make them all laugh and groan at how young and goofy and wonderful they all are. Slice of high school life, classic.

Booboo doesn't make the blog as much, trying to respect his request for privacy and all...but, Booboo, this one is for you!

Feast of Guardian Angels

Painting by Denice Taylor Rinks, "Guardian Angel"

Today is the Feast of the Guardian Angels.

Now some nowadays might well dismiss this as just a sentimental notion, wishful thinking, or peter pan-never grow up syndrome. Me, I just find it a comfort. I love the teaching that we each have a Guardian Angel to watch over us, I need all the help I can get and to know that my children have them as well is even more of a comfort. And yes, I believe it. I like being able to ask them for prayers and protection, I like being able to tell my kids to do so as well if they waken from a bad dream or are worried. It's a divine comfort. Really, a Divine comfort. And such a gift.

Now angels are pure spirit so we cannot begin to know what they look like. Which I think is cool as we can imagine them in different ways. As a child we might imagine them in the more traditional or storybook images. As we age we might have very different ideas, or not. But no matter, I think the imagery and the concept and the actuality of Guardian Angels is very powerful and strikes a chord deep within us. At least, I know it does for me. We are taught as a small child in our church this simple prayer:

"Angel of God, my guardian dear
To whom God's love commits me here
Ever this day, be at my side,
To light, to guard
to rule and guide."

Now, I'm 47. But that can still provide some comfort on those frightening dark midnights or those worried days - to know that I am not all alone, utterly. I have a helper who is far smarter than myself. I'll take it.


So I give you this, from the Office of Readings:

"The Lord will send his angel to accompany you and to guide you safely on your way."

Happy Feast Day!
Guardian Angels, pray for us!

Feast of St. Therese of Lisieux

It's the feast of St. Therese of Lisieux!

You all know I just love her! You all know she has heard more than one novena from me this past year (and so have you!). But you might not know that she is also a patron, we feel, of our Marta. They both have suffered from TB and from being "little and unseen." And so we are grateful for St. Therese for her example of joy and hope in even those difficulties. We have given Marta, with her permission and understanding, the middle name of "Therese," after this dear saint.

And just to clarify...for years I had a hard time approaching St. Therese. Her autobiography was written in the Victorian era and just TOO florid for my taste and I simply couldn't get through it. It made me nuts and impatient and I put it down. I started wondering "Whats the fuss? Why, exactly, is she a Doctor of the Church?" Finally I read a biography of her instead, by Guy Gaucher, and that was so much better. Then I read commentaries on her life and writings and I braced myself to get break through the stylistic barrier and really read her life and words. And now I know. I know why her "little way" is so powerful; so full of hope and encouragement for each of us, for me.

And I just say this to encourage any of you who find yourself in that spot, to give her writings or the writings about her a try. The tone deafness, if you will, of our modern ear and eye, its narrow scope when judging what is and is not worthwhile....is a false constriction that forces a loss of much richness and beauty, without even realizing it. So, if she pulls at you at all...give it a try.

It's hard to feel like you're doing much, or even enough nowadays. Even if you are doing all you can and then some. But by refocusing, with St. Therese's comforting encouragement and true conception of "the little way," we (ok, me) can find value even in what seems like the most mundane of days. And man, that just gives me hope and helps me keep stepping forward.

Mother Theresa even chose St. Therese as her patron. Right there, that tells you something, eh? No surprise, a dominican puts it well:

"Her mission was in fact, just that: her testimony to hope, to the joy of faith, amidst the darkness and unbelief of the 20th century. Her little way was the tightrope of faith she walked on, through illness and obscurity, over the abyss of meaninglessness, and into the heart of God, and she did that with joy." Father Bill Garrott, OP

Happy Feast Day Marta Therese!
St. Therese of Lisieux, pray for us!

Feast of St. Jerome

Painting by El Greco, “St. Jerome, cardinal”, c. 1587-1597

Today is the feast of St. Jerome!

He is a the famous curmudgeon of the bible - by which I mean, he is a Doctor of the Church, and famous for his translation of the bible from the original Greek into the vernacular of the day: latin. He was a noted scholar with a keen mind and a sharp tongue as well as gifted in languages.

'Saint Jerome and the Angel' by Simon Vouet, 1625

If he was alive today he, who knows how he might have put all our instant mass media to use....he was well known for his scathing letters and commentary on all sorts of goings on in the culture and even the church at the time. He was not a mushy feel good sort of guy, he was grouchy and reportedly ill tempered and critical, with ascetic leanings. Sort of like an old, holy version of a modern day James Carville maybe, but OH so so much better.

Painting by Joos Van Cleve, "St. Jerome" c. early 16C

And that's the thing that I tend to take away from St. Jerome. Not only is he the patron saint of librarians, students, school-kids, translators (and hey, I should be hitting him up for prayers daily, what have I been thinking?), archivists and so on. I think he just might be the ticket, the patron and go to prayer guy for grouchy critical folks like me! He shows us (ok, me) that even us grumps can get to heaven and God can work even through the grouchiness and beyond. It gives me hope, I tell ya!

Painting by La Tour, "St. Jerome"

Happy Feast Day!
St. Jerome, Pray for us!

Happy Bday BuddyBug! TWO decades!!?!

This is pic from his 13th bday.
The last time I could hug him, head to head.
He now towers over me.

Happy Happy Birthday to my first baby, now TWENTY years old.
I cannot believe it.

You all know BuddyBug, sort of, virtually at any rate, if not in person.
What can I say? I'm his mom, he was my first child, I gave birth to him two weeks early in a scheduled c-section because he was upside down and wouldn't turn around. I had no idea, a hint maybe, but really, NO clue he would forever turn my universe upside down. I had NO idea then how deeply you could really love a person; how being a mom completely transforms who you are at the very core.
But, enough about me.
Today is about him.
He is almost officially an adult.
But he has changed so much in the past few years that I see much more the adult in him than the little boy that once was.
But now and then I still get a glimpse of that shy observant happy kid.

His music bridges his whole life, from his toy piano in our front alcove way back in the Palisades...to the living room (called the "piano room") that is filled with music of all stripes: piano, multiple guitars, stands, old second hand violin, cords, picks, sheet music. A strewed reminder of my boy.
He is steady. His demeanor and personality even as a small boy was to be calm and observant, thought-full. Maybe too much so, overthinking simple things, commonly struggling with decisions (ahem...Buddybug!).

A rabid sports fan, favorite channel ESPN, period. Ever.
Sports, music, liturgy, graham cracker cream pie...these are his top loves, in no particular order.
Faithful. In all ways. Loyal to his friends "to a fault" as they say.
Tardy, terrible time manager.
Distractable and optimistically procrastinating, always, perhaps forever.

Ah. This is my son.
My twenty year old son.

All the cliches ring true:
"How did this happen so fast?"
"Time flies!"
"He was just my baby a few days ago, wasn't he?"
"He's still my baby boy."
"He's a fine young man."
"I'm not quite ready for this."
"I SO like who he has grown into."
"We are so very very proud."

Happy Happy Birthday BuddyBug!
I so wish I could give you a birthday hug in person.
But you have all my thoughts prayers and wishes today.
We all love you, so much, all twenty years of you!

It's all about the hair. Always.

I now have four, count them, FOUR girls living in my house.
Four daughters. Four girls who's hormones are in full kick...even the younger ones.

Think about it. Really. Think what this means: four teenage girls under one roof at the same time. I can feel more gray hairs sprouting even as I type.


And that is how it goes, because really, it's all about the hair. All the time. It's the hair.

This concept baffles Coffeedoc. But it's true. For girls, it's all hair, all the time.

An inordinate amount of time attention and expense is put to hair. Discussion, comparison, griping, squabbling over products and tools, dreaming of styles, pondering changes or not....it's all hair. Consuming. The mere mention some days can bring on grins or tears....again baffling Coffeedad.
But there you have it. This can be considered a public service announcement.
For a teen, or preteen girl...when in doubt or confusion about what's going on - it's the hair.
You're welcome.

Almost Wordless Wednesday

Yesterday was Super Hero Day at Boo Boo's school.
Super Mario, that is!
(His best pal was Luigi. Fun silly boys.)

Feast of St. Matthew

Painting by Caravaggio, 1602

It's the feast of St. Matthew today!

We all know of course that St. Matthew is one of the authors, divinely inspired, of the four gospels. So, a biggie, a bona fide, called by Christ, apostle. He was one of the shocking picks of the day, a hated tax collector for the hated Romans, and yet, Christ saw his interior heart.


But, beyond even that, Matthew is a great saint to remember, oh always, as he shows us how to set aside ourselves and, in the modern ad lingo of the day, "just do it."

Who knew, he was the first Nike athlete? Just a spiritual one! But do it, he did. When Christ called him, he didn't dither or hedge or ask for the fine print...as you might expect from a villified tax collector. Nope, he just said, "Ok, I'm coming with you," and he got up and went. Done.

Painting by Rembrandt, St. Matthew and the angel, 1655

St. Matthew is of course the patron of bookkeepers and accountants and tax guys, but really, maybe he should be hit up as a patron of those of us who have a hard time making decisions, or those folks who's bumper stickers read "He who dies with the most toys, wins." Because St. Matthew walked away from all of that, without looking back. He gives me hope because it helps me know that even those of us who get mired in the worldly cares of the day, the trap of fretting over or wishing for money/lifestyle, those who are unpopular and even scorned (rightly or wrongly)....there is hope for us all. Whew!

Etching by Jacques Callot, c 15 century

And on a personal note, I love St. Matthew for two reasons in particular. On a tiny "small world" note: he is thought to have possibly worked and lived in Ethiopia for a time (so hey, gotta love that...). And he is the patron to my dear nephew Matthew, now a big old sophomore in college out east, who doesn't come see his aunt often enough (hint, hint Matti). But I count on him to watch over my nephew, especially as he sets forth into the world. He's a terrific patron, and I'm glad he's praying for my Matti.

So, happy feast day!

St. Matthew, pray for us and for our Matti-mo!

Painting by El Greco, c 1610-1614

A WIN! Changing Lives, Families!

For all you families waiting to travel and about to travel to go get your kids from Ethiopia, there is great news! The kids are coming home! If they are 10 or under, they can come home. No more waiting for cultures, now they can come home. Wahoo! Read below for the particulars.

As you all know, this is an issue close to our hearts. Our daughter Marta was stuck in Addis and not allowed to come home for eleven weeks, waiting on a TB culture. We fought, screamed, pushed, shoved, and prayed. And still we waited. Many others have done the same, causing much anguish and many problems. However, times are changing!

Many people have been working very hard to get the Technical Instructions changed and get our kids home. It has taken much work and pushing and researching and talking and meeting by many amazing dedicated people: lawyers, adoption professionals, doctors, families, all sorts of folks. And now, change has happened, for good! This is a big darn deal and while it would not have helped us in our situation, it will help the vast majority of most of the families who might otherwise be stuck. It is a huge step forward and worth a big cheer and shout of joy, even clapping for the CDC, who agreed to make the changes. So, without further ado:

2007 Technical Instructions for Tuberculosis Screening and Treatment Addendum: Instructions for Applicants 10 Years of Age or Younger

September 18, 2009

CDC has developed the following addendum instructions for travel clearances for 10 years of age or younger. The criteria described in these addendum Technical Instructions are based on physiologic
aspects of childhood tuberculosis disease and children’s ability to transmit tuberculosis disease.
These criteria do not apply to adults or children with tuberculosis disease associated with higher
levels of transmissibility.

Applicants 10 years of age or younger who require sputum cultures, regardless of HIV infection
status, may travel to the United States immediately after sputum smear analysis (while culture results
are pending) if none of the following conditions exist:
 Sputum smears are positive for acid-fast bacilli (AFB). If the applicant could not provide
sputum specimens and gastric aspirates were obtained, positive gastric aspirates for AFB do
not prevent travel while culture results are pending.
 Chest radiograph findings include―
o One or more cavities
o Extensive disease (e.g., particularly if involving both upper lobes)
 Respiratory symptoms include forceful and productive cough
 Known contact with a person with multidrug-resistant tuberculosis (MDR TB) who was
infectious at the time of contact

For applicants 10 years of age or younger who travel to the United States while results of cultures
are pending, panel physicians should―
 Give the applicant a Class B1 TB, Pulmonary classification
 Document that culture results are pending on the Chest X-Ray Worksheet (DS 3024 [until
September 30, 2009] or DS 3030 [beginning October 1, 2009]
 Forward culture results to DGMQ “Quality Assessment Program” via fax at 404-639-4441
so that DGMQ can forward the culture results to the receiving health departments

Panel physicians should provide the DS Forms based on the date of intended travel. If an applicant
10 years of age or younger will not travel until after culture results are to be reported (assuming they
are negative), the panel physicians should wait until that time before completing the DS Forms. If
the applicant 10 years of age or younger will travel while results of cultures are pending, the panel
physician should provide DS Forms while cultures are pending.

Panel physicians should not delay treatment on applicants 10 years of age or younger for whom
there is high suspicion of tuberculosis disease and who would benefit from therapy being started
prior to departure to the United States. Consistent with other applicants started on tuberculosis
treatment prior to travel, if therapy is started for an applicant 10 years of age or younger, the
applicant is Class A for tuberculosis. A Class A Waiver petition can be filed so that the waiver
petition could be reviewed and the applicant can travel to the United States before completion of therapy. CDC supports the filing of waiver requests for young children with tuberculosis disease so that the waiver application may be reviewed and adjudicated in a timely manner.

For a Friday

Pope Benedict XVI, photo from the Times Online.

This is shamelessy cribbed from Deacon's Bench. But it is OH so worth reading, and yes, taping to our bathroom mirrors, or oh, tattooing on us somewhere if you're so inclined. And it's from Il Papa: Pope Benedict.

"We all stand in a great arena of history and are dependent on each other. A man ought not, therefore, just figure out what he would like, but to ask what he can do and how he can help.

Then he will see that fulfillment does not lie in comfort, ease, and following one's inclinations, but precisely in allowing demands to be made upon you, in taking the harder path.

Everything else turns out somehow boring, anyway. Only the man who "risks the fire," who recognizes a calling within himself, a vocation, an ideal he must satisfy, who takes on real responsibility, will find fulfillment. As we have said, it is not in taking, not on the path of comfort, that we become rich, but only in giving."

And, while Pope Benedict was speaking of vocations to religious life here. I believe this applies to us all. Especially moms, families, marriage....heck, life in general, heck: ME. It's just so hard to remember and harder to actually do, isn't it? Ah, don't I know it. Sigh. I'm taping this to my mirror, so I can see it each day....and try again...

Downtime

I am a "Type A" person. I know, this comes as a huge surprise to you all, a shock no doubt.
But, its true. I am fairly high energy, intense, and feel guilty if I am not doing something productive, or at least something that I can indulge in and justify. I have a constant "to do" list scrolling through my head...like a bizarre gerbil mill on speed: spinning spinning spinning. Fun, no? Not always.....

Why, you ask, am I indulging in this tedious reflection? Well, it is hitting me smack in my forehead that this very trait is a huge link, or broken link, in the process of adjusting. I know, I hear you: "Doh!" But there you have it.

Every time I allow myself, ok, force myself, to sloooowwwwww down and just, um, BE, with the kids (particularly the one newly home, now, years ago, whenever, tho this is just key with teens too) it is better. It can be just hanging with them, spending time next to them. But really, too often I tend to kind of slot that into MY agenda of work and errands and so on and consider that, that "downtime", checked off my list. Yup, done. Well, kind of. But the beauty and value of downtime unfolds when the downtime is really, um, down. By "down" I mean, of course, chilling out. Hanging with them, talking easy and slow. With, and this is key for us Type A's, NO AGENDA.

Whoa.
I know.

Sounds so easy and yet, so not. But when I can smack myself and allow myself to do this, to just let it be them directing the conversation, talking slowly, thinking, listening....it is so rewarding. And I like to think its rewarding for us both. If its with a baby or toddler or little one, you know its a great thing because they practically giggle or purr with contentment. But with an older child, ok, our new older daughter...it is just so important I think. I have been able to find and carve out a couple of these times in the past few days. They have been much needed; issues are arising of late. But those times, sitting on the deck in the late afternoon being lazy and answering any question that Marta lobs....sitting together in the art room, sorting pins (of all things, sounds weird, a spill), and then just yakking in two languages as lazily as possible.....those times feel so much better. They are building connections I believe. For both of us. And for that, that downtime is worth gold. Even my type A gerbil mill mind can be shushed and relish that.


We goal oriented moms (ok, sigh, me) tend to want to build the family, piece by piece, dinner by dinner, laundry load by car load. But what it is too easy for me to forget, is that the goal is not just the shell of the family to be in place, but the heart of it.
And that takes the downtime. That takes the willingness to just be there: lazy, accepting, quiet. It's a tough thing to do, too often. But now and then, we luck out, I remember, we grab that time.
We've begun.

Almost Wordless Wednesday

A new haircut.
Loving it, she still likes it pulled back best....but I think its beautiful down!

Our Lady of Sorrows

Today is the day we remember Our Lady of Sorrows.

Let me say just this: As a mom, this tears me up. No matter the denomination...moms will understand this concept of the sorrowful mother. She is every mother....

Drawing by Kate Kollwitz, Woman with dead child, 1903

So, as I cannot begin to sufficiently address this day and all that could be said,
I will let this most famous hymn do it instead.

Stabat Mater:

At the cross her station keeping,
Mary stood in sorrow weeping
When her Son was crucified.

While she waited in her anguish,
Seeing Christ in torment languish,
Bitter sorrow pierced her heart.

With what pain and desolation,
With what noble resignation,
Mary watched her dying Son.

Ever-patient in her yearning
Though her tear-filled eyes were burning,
Mary gazed upon her Son.

Who, that sorrow contemplating,
On that passion meditating,
Would not share the Virgin's grief?

Christ she saw, for our salvation,
Scourged with cruel acclamation,
Bruised and beaten by the rod.

Christ she saw with life-blood failing,
All her anguish unavailing,
Saw him breathe his very last.

Mary, fount of love's devotion,
Let me share with true emotion
All the sorrow you endured.

Virgin, ever interceding,
Hear me in my fervent pleading:
Fire me with your love of Christ.

Mother, may this prayer be granted:
That Christ's love may be implanted
In the depths of my poor soul.

At the cross, your sorrow sharing,
All your grief and torment bearing,
Let me stand and mourn with you.

Fairest maid of all creation,
Queen of hope and consolation,
Let me feel your grief sublime.

Virgin, in your love befriend me,
At the Judgment Day defend me.
Help me by your constant prayer.

Savior, when my life shall leave me,
Through your mother's prayers
receive me
With the fruits of victory.

Virgin of all virgins blest!
Listen to my fond request:
Let me share your grief divine

Let me, to my latest breath,
In my body bear the death
Of your dying Son divine.

Wounded with His every wound,
Steep my soul till it has swooned
In His very Blood away.

Be to me, O Virgin, nigh,
Lest in flames I burn and die,
In His awe-full judgment day.

Savior, when my life shall leave me,
Through your mother's prayers
receive me
With the fruits of victory.

While my body here decays
May my soul your goodness praise,
Safe in heaven eternally. Amen Alleluia

Our Lady of Sorrows, pray for us.

Exalted

Piece of the titular of the Cross, found by St. Helena,
photo by Coffeedoc, Santa Croce, Rome.

Its the Feast of the Triumph of the Cross.
This seems to many like a weird feast, a remembrance of unspeakable suffering...why would anyone do that? However, it is through the Cross that we find our truest selves. Obviously, in faith we know that without the Cross all would be lost. We would be lost. Without the the Cross and Christ's saving action, the world as we know it would not be as we know it. That's Christianity, 101. But too often that part of it all is forgotten in the felt banner, Hallmark card version of pop culture Christianity that is so pervasive. Who wants to be a downer, anyhow? Right? But...is it, really? Not so much. I, myself, don't think I could get out of bed most days if not for this and my faith in it. Period. So, today I celebrate the Cross, with gratitude.

Painting of St. Helena, mother of Constantine, who found pieces of the true Cross, 326.

"We adore you O Christ and we praise you.
Because by your holy cross you have redeemed the world."
From the Liturgy of the Hours

Adjustment: Marking the Good

So, you all know we are at two months now. And I've written some, or a lot, about the difficulties and unexpected strangeness of it all: this process of weaving in a new, older child into the family.
I want to be honest about it all, because it helps me to process it and because I want others to know the real stuff: the good, the bad, the tough, the surprising.

But its too easy to focus on the surprising and the tough stuff and too easy to let the good slip. And so, to that end, I want to take a page from Mary's blog, one of my heroes, and make sure to mark the good. Publicly. So I don't forget and so you can be sure to see that there are good moments too. Little victories, in a way, no matter how small. Because in this process, even small things matter....sometimes much more than you might imagine.

Mary did this about a year ago: making posts to mark the good things of the week, so she would record them. And if I've got my memory and timing on track, I believe she too was adjusting to bringing older children to the family. I too, need to remember to do this. So, I will shamelessly steal her idea, with a hat tip to her for leading the way. And I will throw up one or two good things, when I can steal the time to load the picture and post it (not on a schedule or set number, I'm just not that organized, folks...I know my limits!).

So, here goes - with the caveat for you readers that these will all seem like minute dreary nothings to you perhaps. But in the world of weaving a family, they are milestones: happy important markers. And I want to remember ours.

While we had a very rocky end of the week with that whole "honeymoon" concept being clearly swept away....we finally ended the week on a note of laughter. And I am grateful. I think it was a relief to us all. Last night was a casual chips and sandwiches Friday night. Everyone was a little punchy after a long week, friends were over and it was a little wild and crazy overall. Somehow they starting making faces and rolling tongues and vying for who could make the "better" face, giggling and challenging each other. I thought Marta might be baffled by it, but then she joined in with her own, laughing, wanting a picture. The faces got goofier, wilder, the silly factor skyrocketed. And for a few minutes, it felt like a normal doofy family on a tired wild messy Friday night. Fun. I'll take it. Savor it. This face, this laugh. I will mark it.

Adjustment: two months.

Relativity, by MC Escher

So. We are at two months now of being a family. And really, I think this drawing sums it up best.

That's right. Look closely. A little topsy turvy maybe? Yeah. That's our household. Seems like just when one of us thinks we have our feet under us and know where we stand, well then it seems to go a little wonky again. Someone else skews the mood or drops something down the stairs or starts climbing the walls. You know the feeling...just a little still, um, shifty.

So, really, everyone is still kind of finding their places, so to speak. Especially in the new relations to each other, its a shifting thing for awhile; an up-down, push-pull kind of thing. I am working on keeping balance with all the family, the kids in particular. I'm finding my sea legs, so to speak, but man, its a workout!

I know this all reads so vague. But, its because I guess there is still so much guessing going on. We still don't have much language floating around the house, not one that everyone can understand. So we do a lot of guessing, which of course leads surely to a fair lot of misconceptions flying about.

But even so, sometimes we make steps forward, on solid ground. We have negotiated bathroom times (still ongoing...girls, showers, 'nuff said), and are laying down the food rules (e.g. first real food, then sometimes ice cream). We have sorted through mundane teeny but oh so important practical issues of who sits where in the car and how mom can figure out whose clothes are whose in the laundry (Three girls who are much the same size = mom is confused, girls are mad. Can you say: "initials in all clothes?" I can!), and who does which chores and when. Whew. Boring stuff? Mundane stuff? Maybe, yeah. But not SO much when the smooth functioning of the house is at stake. And no, saying that, the house is not functioning smoothly, not yet.

But every now and then, that topsy turvy picture, above, morphs for a few minutes, into a regular old home, with our regular old life in a slightly newer version. Two months. We are at two months and counting.....and hoping and living.....together.

Happy Birthday to Mary

It's the feast of the Nativity of Mary! Which means, of course, that it's her birthday! And, as you have probably guessed by now...I love a birthday. They are full of happiness, just knowing that's the day they were brought into the world. What's not to celebrate about that, ever? This feast of the Nativity of Mary "is a commemoration of that happy and joyful day on which the ever-blessed virgin Mother of God first saw the light of day."
This feast is one of the few that celebrate the birth of a holy person. Most feasts celebrate the death of the holy person...which sounds really weird, but the idea is that the day of death is the day they enter heaven, which is something worth celebrating on their behalf. But this is one of the three days on the church calendar that celebrates a birth-day; only John the Baptist and Jesus himself get this privilege. So this is an extra special honor, signifying her special role in our lives and her relation to Christ.
All of us are born and have many chances to turn to God or away, and really, you can't ever know for sure until you get there (by which I mean, you die). So, for most of us regular Joes, we hope to keep turning toward God all along the way and we only mark and celebrate the death of the holiest, mostly saintly folks....and not their births; because they stayed the course, or turned to it for good. But for Mary, we get to celebrate her birth because God himself made her for himself, to be his entrance as a man to this world. Now that's cool.
"We pray Thee, O Lord, grant to Thy servants the gift of heavenly grace: as the childbearing of the blessed Virgin was the beginning of our salvation, so may the devout celebration of her Nativity accord us an increase of peace."

Happy Labor Day.

Marta's new passion....Thought it was worth a post: apropos of the holiday.

A dear feast: Mother Teresa!

Today is the feast of Mother Teresa!
Oh, how I love her!!!

As it is for so many around the world, her story and life is just SO compelling to me. But Mother Teresa was no fluffy saint, of course. She did the hard work, the gritty work that most could never even imagine to try.
Whod'a thunk that even Mother Teresa could be controversial? Someone who literally changed the world for good. But even so, she is. Partly because she could be a bit difficult and would stubbornly move ahead with a project, despite all practical facets not being evident. Some have called her work and faith into question after her "dark night" was revealed. This is when she spent many years without the consolations in her prayer life that we all crave. It was a time of hanging in with her faith and prayers and work, despite the lack of sure comfort that is so often found in prayer (the consolation). Rather, she had those hard dark times of prayer where its like shouting into the dark. And even so, she kept going and held on to her faith, not letting go. This, to me, is all the more reason to marvel.....those times are when it's so hard to hang on and not go seeking something, anything, else to provide that comfort once again.
But for me, look what this woman did. She loved, in action and emotion, the poorest of the poor. That's a pat phrase, but in reality, it is a very tough thing to do, particularly if you are coming from a life of relative comfort and ease (and she was coming from a convent that she loved). And it was hard. She didn't have any supernatural grace to not be repulsed by the sickness and the smells and the discomforts and difficulties. But she did them anyway. Because she was able to see Christ in them. And that perhaps, IS her grace. But that is ours for the asking as well....its just an awfully tough question to ask, eh?
All that said, she is one of my very very favorite saints (or, officially right now "Blessed"s). She has one of the faces that is just radiant with beauty. One of that that makes me exclaim "Oh, such a face!" And I love her. And I ask for her prayers, every day. And I am not graced with being able to SEE as well as she does, but some days, blessed days, I might catch a faint glimmer of what she saw.

Happy Feast Day.
Blessed Mother Teresa, pray for us!

Go Irish!

And so it begins....College football, I mean. And I was never a fan or followed it, not really. But now, my Buddybug is at college, and its a LOT more fun. In fact these pics were shamelessly snagged from his post on the football season. Go read it, he is much better with sports than I am and oh he loves his teams.

Anyhow, today is the first game, a home game against Nevada. We are supposed to win! And we, here at home are going to be watching and shouting, rooting for the Irish and also scanning the crowd shots for the one in 80,000 (Yeah, you read that right, big stadium!) chance of seeing my boy {Don't judge me, it may sound pathetic, but I miss him. It's a mom thing and I can't help it}.

I love watching Notre Dame football now and am hoping for a great fun winning season. 'Cause yeah, I like to win. It's the BIG event of the weekend up there, for sure. And down here in our little house its the big event as well! Got my ND t-shirt on...we are so excited!

GO IRISH!

Last year at the ND v. Stanford game, big fun (and Bananas begging to go again).

Feast of Pope St. Gregory the Great

It's the feast day of Pope St. Gregory the Great.

This saint is my Buddybug's confirmation patron, so we are keen on him around here; and ask him daily for prayers on behalf on my son. I don't remember all of Buddybug's reasons for choosing St. Gregory the Great as his patron. But I suspect that his love of music was one of the links. St. Gregory promoted sacred music, now known to us as, duh: "Gregorian Chant." And Buddybug (and his mom and dad) love Gregorian Chant. So, no surprise there.

Drawing by Matthew Alderman,
(fellow domer alum of my son), 2006

St. Gregory is one of the few who have "the Great" attached to their name, and is also a doctor of the Church (meaning a great teacher). He sent missionaries into England and Ireland, and then Germany - spreading the hope and faith throughout Europe. He was highly educated and founded seven monasteries. Eventually he even was elected Pope. As Pope, he tirelessly worked in service for the Church and indeed, promoted his favorite (and ours) title for the Pope: "Servant of the servants of God."
I always just mostly think of my son when I think of St. Gregory the Great. And another little but extra pleasing link for me: St. Gregory's mother was St. Silvia. My mother's first name is Sylvia (hence, Buddybug's grandma is Silvia). I know, teensy nothings, but yet, they make me smile. And since this saint and my boy are connected in my daily prayers, they are kind of supernaturally and eternally connected I think (and certainly are in my head).

So, I thank St. Gregory for his prayers for my boy.

And I wish him and my Buddybug:Happy Feast Day!

Pope St. Gregory the Great, pray for us!

Almost Wordless Wednesday

For the Record: Half the grandkids
(yeah, we make up half, how 'bout that?)
on Grandma's 75th bday last week.
Even with Little Man goofing for the camera,
one of the few of them all together, so...worth it!

The adoption process: what they don't tell you about coming to America

Well, there are SO many things that you cannot know before you move to America.
However, what they forget to tell you, or us new parents (tho, really, we should know better), is that there is a steep learning curve. NO, you hear and read and learn about the cultural learning curve and the language and family customs...and all those will be topics of posts to come, I am sure.

But "those experts" don't lay out the VIRAL LEARNING CURVE.

It's the same formula as starting school -its a new math:
New people + new food + new place = EVERY virus hits!

Every single virus and contagion that comes down the pike is gonna hit the new kid, flat.
It's like starting a new school in a new state.
It's like being a pediatric resident the first few years.
It's like visiting relatives who live across the country.
It takes a bit of time to inoculate your immune system against all the garden variety American bugs and viruses. So, since we have a "gulfa" in the house....so does Marta. Gabey did this too.
I guess I just forgot.
So, America doesn't only come with birthdays and ice cream...it comes with head colds.
{Consider this a public service announcement, from one adoptive mom to another. You're welcome.}

Popularity

Or, more precisely, how to be UNpopular.

Just in case you were wondering how to achieve this famed state, I offer the following, with guaranteed results:

Tell boys they may not whack the heck out of each other with the sticks in the yard {playing, not fighting, but still...}.
Tell the wild man that he cannot skateboard off the brick stairs at any speed, especially not high speed.
Remind them to take their medicine even if its yucky.
Make soup for dinner.
Tell them no ice cream for breakfast.
Or lunch.
Tell them to turn off the tv.
Tell them to go outside and play.
Or do their homework.
Or that you quite ready and happy to go in and clean their rooms, without their help.Tell them that they cannot wear flipflops to Mass.
Make them salad with dinner, again.
Enforce the chore schedules.
Ask the daughter if she has cut her hair, again.
Tell the teen that she cannot wear makeup to the football game.
Then tell her she cannot wear makeup um, anytime, she's too young.
Then tell her that her nose is only a little bit broken and it is still cute (just a little crooked).
Go on a date with your husband, only.
Ask them to water the flowers and garden.
Consider, out loud, getting a giant Sprinter van.

Now these are only a random selection from the past two days. But, the list, it keeps on growing and growing...and I am an expert on this one!

Supernatural Smile for A Sunday

Now, this is an odd one and maybe you've seen it. But seems somehow fitting for a Sunday.
This monk smiled, AFTER he died, after he was prepared for burial. Not a single muscle contraction, but a full face smile.
Go, read and see for yourself. Ya gotta wonder.....It makes me smile too.
h/t: the Anchoress.

Martrydom of St. John the Baptist

Carvaggio, 1608

Ok, that title is a more polite way of describing this event. In my house full of rough and tumble boys, they tend to use the other, more graphic title: The Beheading of John the Baptist.

Sigh.
I guess in our modern era of shock tv and horror movies, even this grisly story seems tame.
What a shame. Maybe it should shock and make our stomach's flop and faces wince.
It does mine.
I used to (still do, really...sometimes) wonder why we had to have these gruesome stories in the bible, and even commemorate them. I mean, really? As they say, "Why can't we all just get along?" Why can't it be "nice?" Let's just look at the pretty stuff.....yes, Pollyanna....

But as we all know all too well, REAL life isn't always pretty. Real life has real hurt, real gore, real unexplainable happenings, that can't be explained away....except perhaps by the real existence of evil and our all too human nature to be seduced by it.
And this true story, that we remember especially today, is about evil, to be sure.
I mean, Salome asked for the head of John the Baptist on a platter...because her mother told her to ask as she danced. Her mother was so torqued at John for calling out Herod on his adultery (with her), that she pressed her daughter to ask for his death, and decapitation at that.
Talk about a vengeful woman...

Anyhow, this story is not only about that evil impulse and gory act. It's about John the Baptist being both a harbinger of Christ and His sacrifice to come, but also a man who stood up for Truth - no matter what.

Massimo Stanzione c. 1634.

Now, even in our modern days, holding onto truth can sure get hard. Especially when so much of the idea of truth has become a dull gray slide rule......there is not much black and white anymore; absolute truths or rights or wrongs. Or, so it seems in our popular modern culture. And yet, of course, there still is real truth, but it's not always popular or 'pc' or whatever. And while I haven't heard to too many folks getting beheaded for being 'non-pc' lately, there is still a pressure out there to just...not. Not get involved. Not care. Not worry about anyone else. Not call it like it is. Not get into anybody's business.

But really, it IS a fine line. I myself have more opinions than most, but I find the words "Judge not" ring in my ears. So, how to jive that all up? I don't know. I tend to do the best I can on the fly. Which is probably pretty poorly, most of the time. I'll either get too timid to speak up, or too tired, or I will speak up and stick my foot in it. Typically I just throw my opinions out there anyhow.

So, I can let my boys play with swords and be good guys and bad guys; acting out the scary hard ideas of good and evil, right and wrong. And this story can have a place in that sort of teaching, eventually. St. John the Baptist teaches us that we should not be afraid. That speaking the Truth is hard, possibly even dangerous. There is real danger in life, and sometimes it cannot be escaped. But, it is worth it.

And the caveat is: the Truth is Love. Love is Truth. And so....if you (ok, me) can try speak of Truth/Love, with courage....then you or I will live it as well.

Icon written by Constantine Youssis

Feast of St. Augustine!

Its the feast day of St. Augustine!
Ok, now this saint, from north Africa, is one of the biggies: a doctor of the church of course and one of the great writers throughout Church history. I like him for so many reasons, not the least of which is his connection with his mom and her devoted prayers for her son. You know, I will always have a soft spot for a mom and son....

His teachings are noted throughout Christendom for their lasting influence and, simply put, their beauty. Perhaps it was his years of living a life that was wild, utterly hedonistic, and dipped into all sorts of heresy and convoluted ideas of god.....but when he returned to the Faith, he did so in a big way, using his brilliant mind to convey the beauty of Truth to generations to come.
"Late have I loved you..." Indeed. And perhaps, that is part of his appeal to so many, so many of us (ok, me), have really felt that, lived that. Late, have I loved You. I missed so much, for so long. The "band width" of my life was so slim, and I didn't even know it. But I was fooled by the hedonistic life I lived into thinking it was so wide. I was arrogant enough to think I knew it all. Only, later, later when I finally "let go" of my grip on that did I finally come to realize how small it all was.
And then St. Augustine, once more, came through for me with one of his most famous prayers: "You have made us for yourself, oh God. And our hearts are restless, until they rest in you." Ah. I know, I'm paraphrasing that quote, but that's how it sticks in my head and heart. And that about sums it all up: St. Augustine, life in general, me in particular.

Happy feast day!
St. Augustine, pray for us!

Feast of St. Monica

Painting of St. Monica, by John Nava

Today is the feast of St. Monica!
Here is one of the premier examples of patience, especially for us moms.
Really, I should unofficially consider her a patron, because here is a mom who showed such patience and perseverance in prayer...and these are some of the traits (especially that whole patience thing) that I severely lack.

Painting of St. Monica, by Janet McKenzie

St. Monica, a saint from north Africa, prayed for the conversion (successfully) of her husband and his mother. But, most famously, she prayed and prayed faithfully for the conversion of her wild, wayward son, Augustine. Augustine was a son that would give any mom many sleepless nights and teary phone calls with girlfriends. And while Monica wasn't of the phone call era, I suspect she had many a night awake fretting over her boy. He was wild and ignored her pleas, getting into all sorts of revelry (can read more about him tomorrow on his feast day!).

But Monica persevered, because this was her son, she knew the truth and she had the faith that her prayers would be answered according to God's will....sooner or later. Well, it was something like 17 years later, but it happened. Not only did Augustine turn his life around and step back onto more solid ground, but he converted to the faith and was ordained by St. Ambrose himself.

I like to think it is in no small part due to the faithful lasting sure prayers of his mom, as well as her prayerful example and steadfast love, no matter what. She didn't shun him. She might well have corrected him, being his mom and all (whether or not he listened)..... {I know this is an old holy card image, but it makes me laugh.
It's St. Monica praying for St. Augustine,
but that's the same look my boys have when I'm giving them advice...
which is surely also a scene from the life of these two!}

....but she never stopped loving him. And that is what will turn even the hardest furthest of hearts back to the truth of Real Love. So I love St Monica, and she reminds me to never give up. Ever.

Happy feast day.
St. Monica, pray for us!

Happy Birthday Mom!

It's my mom's 75th birthday today!
Now, she may not be thrilled with that number, but I am!
I think it's a fantastic thing, 3/4 of a century, and she is still going strong...
healthy and busy and happy.
I wish so much I could be with her today and give her birthday hugs and wishes in person.

And while not everything has always been simple with mom, we clash on opinions and ideas sometimes, when it comes right down to it, it's the simplest thing in the world.
She's my mom.
I love her.

As you can see, I have her hair!
I have her hands.
I wish I had her skill with sewing and the patience that goes with it.
She is artistic and creative, always has been.
A terrific, dedicated tennis player (I wish I had that skill too!).
She taught me how to cook.
She taught me how to juggle lots of kids.
She probably passed on her love of reading to me too, as well as her love of crosswords and puzzles.
She loves to do water aerobics nowadays and always been a fiercely good loyal friend.
Even as a kid, brought home stray puppies and still loves nature, from bugs to ocean waves.
A grade school teacher before she was a mom, still a great teacher and nature lover.
She is so smart, but never really gave herself credit for it.

Over the years I have fussed at her and about her, for different things, big and small.
I was young and foolish, mostly, but didn't even know it.
As I too, age up a bit, I notice more and more that things I didn't understand before, now make more sense and I have more insight into the why's of them.
And they don't make me fuss anymore, they make me understand and accept.
I can only hope that my children will follow that same path, eventually.

And I hope that as I grow older I make it to my 75th, as healthy as she has.
And that while I have her hands, her hair and her feet, I hope I also have her capacity to love.
Because no matter what, when it comes down to it, if I or any of her kids really need her, she is there: caring, helping, biting her tongue if she needs to maybe {or not, ha! we gals in this family are nothing if not opinionated}, but loving all the same.

Happy 75th Birthday Mom!
I love you.

Tiptoes

So, we are tiptoeing around here. Ok, I am. And by that I mean that we are gingerly tiptoeing our way through the adjustment process, blundering here and there but making tiny steps forward.

Yes, I am mostly talking about me {duh, of course}, but really it does all apply to the whole family. Because make NO mistake, anytime you add a child the entire family has to morph and stretch and pull and squish over to make room. And I know, they tell you this in the books and so on. But really, it's just so much different living it and then again, living it adjusting to the push/pull, embrace/release, with an older child. {And I know that I've whinged on about this weird twilight zone time of transition already...and it's so different from last year's transition with Gabey as a toddler...but since we are still in the throes of it, well, you are too! Because that's what this blog is babeee...if it's on my mind, it's on blog. }

This transition time is something that can't be totally described with precise instructions and or diagrams...but wouldn't that be great if it could?!
Imagine: "Instructions: 7. Try to understand when new child retreats behind headphones or to bed early. It's probably just a small bout of overwhelmed and needing space."
Or, "12. When two teens try to share a bathroom, particularly if both are female, adjustments in timing will need to be made on all sides. This might take some preplanning and/or extra clocks, strategically placed. Consider investing in extra hair products and towels."

So, without said instructions, we are trying not to bruise too many shins or hearts or heads along the way, even as we clumsily tiptoe toward a new normal for our family.

Buddybug left for college again, which was a sad day and a sad weekend, especially for Marta and I (ok, a bunch of us). But it seems that just-about-daily phone calls help, especially if that call can be via Skype. And even though Marta is still not speaking much English at all, it is getting slightly less strange overall. I can ask for help in setting the table or taking this plate over to the baby and M understands and so somehow, it feels like we are communicating. School is the main event of the day for us all; for the kids who go out of the house to school and for the kids at home. This is allowing me to really work intensively with both Sbird and Marta and I think it's showing a benefit in both of them, at the very minimum they seem to do well with the extra mom time.

And I guess, really, that's the biggest change. Ssshhhhhh. I don't want to say it too loud. But then again, we Catholics don't believe in superstition, so that whole "jinx" it concept shouldn't apply.

But, I'll say it out loud (not shouting yet tho) I am moving into a new mom spot. One that is not having to scooch over so much for a "new kid" but is instead moving more into the reflex of "one of the kids." Soon?...I pray, for the fierce deep feeling (I know, it's not about the feelings, but I crave them)....."My girl." I am not totally there yet, we need oodles and oodles of time. But the one on one during the day is helping ease off some of the stiffness and strangeness for each of us. And for me, that is huge! Call me stiff, call me cold, you could and you'd be right. Mea culpa. And I hate learning that about myself (tho some might not be surprised, Nancy, I know).

Perhaps the biggest surprise and disappointment to me this go-round is that this is all taking unexpected time for me to feel normal and for the family to feel normal {Right, patience is obviously not one of my virtues}. Because we are not, not "normal" {Read: the old normal}, anymore. We need the time to make it through to the new normal.

And we are NOT there yet, but in a way, if I stretch my neck I think I might be able to see it on the horizon. And even being able to know it can maybe get there, helps my steps be more sure. And as my steps stop faltering, become more sure...as I smile and tease and trim hair and high five, then everyone else's steps also stop shuffling and stalling. I don't have to tiptoe around the pitfalls of presumptions and gaps and fear and otherness quite as much. And that makes everything better, for us all. I've never been one for toe shoes...too clumsy. So, I hope I'm done tiptoeing and can now just keep trying to walk forward, with the whole family, to a new normal that feels just right.

Perks

There are perks to having a teen son.
Yes, sometimes you have to put up with the "stone face," above.
But other times you get to take advantage of some of the perks...by which I mean, the friends.
Nice friends drop in, visit this teen boy, and hang around the house with him.

In this instance, I am specifically referring to a certain cute sweet girl, great friends with my Booboo. She has a kind and generous heart and has moved right to the top of my "You're awesome" list.
See, on Friday night, Booboo was persuaded to take his new sister Marta to the school's first official football game of the season. Coffeedoc was going too, but as team doc he had to be on the field. The Prima Diva, also known as Bananas, was all too busy being a social butterfly to watch the game.

So I knew we needed to pull in the big guns: the big brother. He agreed to take her to the game and sit with her and keep her company - Marta loves football {so far}.
What I didn't expect was that his girlfriend would gladly sit and visit with Marta, look at pictures on her Ipod, and help her find the way through the big school to the restroom even. When I thanked her today (as she visited the house), she said easily "It was my pleasure." Aw, gracious too.

Marta came home grinning from ear to ear, and talking in a rapid mix of Amharic and English about her "great brother" and his "konjo beautiful good nice friend, oh mom, she's good nice beautiful, happy happy, good night." So, now Marta thinks this girl hung the moon.
So do I.

That's one of the delightful unexpected bonuses of having teens in the house: the remarkable nice friends. {You're right Booboo: totally blogable.}

I'd say pretty, inside and out.

The Queen

Detail of painting by Van Eyck

Today we celebrate the Queenship of Mary.
This is a devotion that helps us remember Mary's special place in our hearts and the heart of her Son. Indeed, many might object: considering a mere girl a Queen, of all things! And Queen of Heaven, even! The idea of it! Hmmmm.....

But really, it is the idea of it that is so cool, and the reality of it is mindblowing. Here is a mere girl, ok, eventually an old woman (most all of us get there, even Mary) and she lived her life so tuned into God's call that she is an example for us all.

Even considered as Queen of Heaven, Mary still, always and eternally, points to her Son. "Do whatever He tells you." {John 2:4-6) It's not about her and her power trip, like a bad movie (like it would be for me, think of the control issues, ah!). It always, always, is about her son, Christ.

When we ask Mary to pray for us, turn to her for consolation and support, she understands and loves us enough to pray to her son on our behalf. Her love, as a perfect mom with perfect love, is unfailing for us as well. I can use a big dose of that...most every day! So, yeah, I dig this concept and I do think of her as Queen of Heaven in that her prayers are heard and we can ask for them. And what perfect Son doesn't listen to his mother?

Another way that I think of it is this: I am "queen" of my home. I am. But that means that I am the one who cares for, tends, serves, pays attention to, and helps all the members of my family...down to the smallest details. Or, well, I try to, on a good day. Mary is that for us, for me, too. That's the sort of "queen" that is real, instead of a mere poster queen or politically twisted definition.

And, especially now as I am learning to love and be mom to a whole new, older and different child in my home and family, I am leaning hard on my spiritual Queen, my Blessed Mother, to be an example to me on how to love better, harder, further...both in the big picture and the small details. And to pray for me and not quit, while I stumble through this awkward time. I believe she is.

Every night when I tuck Little Man into bed, we sing "Salve Regina" together (in english, not the latin). It's a favorite hymn. And every night he says, "Our voices sound just the same. We sound good." And I don't know if that is actually true, but it sure sounds true enough right then. And I like to think that the sweetness of that sung prayer is heard and understood by our Blessed Mother, and her Son, with a smile. Agnolo Gaddi, "Coronation of the Virgin," 1380

"Hail, holy Queen, Mother of Mercy!
Our life, our sweetness, and our hope!
To thee do we cry, poor banished
children of Eve, to thee do we send
up our sighs, mourning and weeping
in this valley, of tears.
Turn, then, most gracious advocate,
thine eyes of mercy toward us; and
after this our exile show unto us the
blessed fruit of thy womb Jesus;
O clement, O loving, O sweet virgin Mary.

Pray for us, O holy Mother of God

That we may be made worthy of the
promises of Christ.

Amen

Little letters, big progress

So, this is just a short notice on short words.
We have made a baby step of progress this week, our first real week of school for all the elementary students.
For this particular student, happily smiling above.....we have made little letters of progress.

But OH what big steps they are!
This sweet girl is starting to read!
our Marta can recognize most of her letters, and usually gets them right (tho occasionally needing to sing them to remember).
And she has read these words:
Fox
Box
Cat
Hat
Sun
Egg
Dog
woman
man
mom
dad
fish
sat
mat
sam
and
go
duck

Now, that may not mean much to most of you.
But around here it was cause for whooping and high fives....because this is beginning steps to decoding, in my book.
Cool!

And those are the words that she read and also can understand (tho, she forgets now and then) what they stand for, connecting the word with the actual meaning or object.
Even so, we have a long way to go...she will forget the letter names then remember them again...but it's a tough language.
Even so, I'm happy for any of these small steps.
Now "my book" isn't anything official, its just me and my opinions...one mom's ideas.
But this mom thinks that this can be the beginning of unlocking a strange new difficult code, aka: english!

So, yeah, it was a pretty exciting week.
I think those first words are exciting, no matter when they click!
And to see those eyes light up with pride and glee, it's always great, no matter what.

Happy Birthday Coffeedoc!

Happy Birthday to my sweet husband!
Yup, 48 years old today!
{Once again, older than me, dear.}

I wish you the best of birthdays and for all your birthday wishes to come true!
Your requested dinner of homemade tamales and german chocolate cake is in the works...and should be yummy for all.
Your present is a big secret for now, but we are pretty excited about it....especially one of your sons.

We are all so grateful for your birthday and all that it brings us: you.
Lover of music.
Extra great dad.
Terrific husband, rock for your wife.
Faithful; sincerely loving your faith and church.
Good eater, loves my cooking.
Patient, with a long fuse and a steady stance to withstand the many moods in this family.Kind of Crazy driver.
Fix-it guy - there is nothing that a cool tool or spreadsheet can't make better - somehow.
Always a little late, but trying, perpetually and earnestly, to change.
The smartest man I know.
Pack rat, never know when you might need that.
Tireless warrior, going up against all odds to advocate for our kids, no matter what.Night owl, striving to be an early bird against all odds.
Make me cry with your guitar and singing of Fire and Rain, Sweet Baby Jane.
Growing old gracefully, unlike your wife.
Plotter, always cooking up something new.
Intense, but calm.
A contradiction in many ways.
The blueprint for so much of the character and traits in my kids.Steady best friend, no matter what.
Picks me up when I am at rock bottom, gently.
Committed, come what may, to this family and each person in it.
Outstanding surgeon and doc.
Apologetics, church history walking encyclopedia.
Boat lover.
Cat tolerator for the kid's sake.
Dreamer, schemer.
Inveterate traveler, no such thing as ever too much travel, there's a whole world out there!Adventurer, in your heart even when you cannot be one in real life due to the world of responsibilities on your shoulders...that you carry without complaint.

You are greatly loved by many.
And we celebrate your birthday today with grins and cheers.

Happy Happy Bday honey, we love you!

Almost Wordless Wednesday

Everybody loves Dr. Seuss,

great for learning words, great for learning english.

Feast day of St. Jane Francis de Chantal

Today is the memorial of St. Jane Francis de Chantal.
Now, she is a fascinating saint to me because, for one thing, she was mother to seven children.
That's right!
Mom to seven kids, and STILL she made it to sainthood.

I'm tellin' ya, it gives me hope, it does.
If nothing else, here is a gal that I figure can understand me to a fair degree and I can hit up for prayers on my behalf.
We moms of big families stick together!

She was french, born into a noble family. She also married a nobleman. Which is cool in it's own way because, once again, we see that saints can come from any circumstances; it's the disposition of our hearts and the choices we make, not the situations we are born to that determine the outcome. I think that's fairly encouraging! St. Jane was widowed due to a hunting accident - her husband was shot. She struggled for many years to forgive the man who killed her husband; eventually she succeeded after much prayer and counsel.

Her closest counselor, friend, confident was none other than St. Francis de Sales (another top notch fav saint, and the author of this amazing book). So, here we have St. Jane showing us the importance of true friendship and how a holy friendship can lead to amazing things. Another reason I am keen on her. Her long friendship with St. Francis led her to eventually found the order Visitation nuns. Eventually she founded eighty-five convents.A woman who can be a mom to a bunch of kids, manage her household in a holy manner, forgive the hardest things and be a long and true friend, and still then manage to found an organization that does eternal good in the world.....now there is an example!
I have much to learn from a woman like St. Jane.
She is not of this era, but I daresay that Oprah and the modern reality tv micro-celebs could take a lesson from her too!

St. Jane de Chantal, pray for us!

First Day!

Today was Little Man's first day of Kindergarten. Wow. Already.
He was SO excited, of course. I was too. I knew he'd love it and he is just so ready.
At one point, just before we took the picture above, he was standing in the kitchen, ready to go. Excited, impatient. Then, his eyes kind of widened and his smile faded briefly....."I'm a little nervous," he said. I laughed and smiled and told him, "You're gonna do great!"

And he did.

He got into the car telling me of the important things he did today: met two new friends, the name he could remember was "Sam." The teacher told the kids to use their "inside voice." He played on the big playground: freeze tag, transformers, red rover, regular tag...the good stuff. Then we met Buddybug for a celebratory lunch out. Little Man ordered a cheeseburger and before taking even one bite, fell asleep in my lap in the booth.

A perfect first day at school.

The Assumption

Icon of the Assumption

Today is the Solemnity of the Assumption.

And solemnity doesn't mean, necessarily, somber and morose...rather it can mean big time, important. Meaning, it's a holy day of obligation, go to Mass. And while this is one of the "biggie" (Yes, I spent my summers in the seventies on the beach, we used that term, so what?) solemnities in the Catholic calendar, I don't have the energy to give you all the scholarly apologetics behind it all (go see the link above for a start).

As an aside, however, Coffeedoc pointed out that today was the feast of the Assumption to Marta - Ethiopian Orthodox celebrate this feast in a big way and it is called "Filsata Mariam" - and she jumped up and down with excitement. So it's a big deal even in the the other ancient Christian faith traditions.

Ethiopian Orthodox Marian icon.

Suffice it to say that this Solemnity is totally cool and has so many threads connecting it all that it blows my mind with a grin. And that, as so much of life is, it's one of the Mysteries. That's mystery with a capital "M;" theologically speaking. By which I mean, if I really could understand it through and through, well, I would be be both presumptuous AND wrong. Because some of the mysteries that make life and faith so rich, are not for my puny mind to dissect.

So, that all disclaimed, ahem, I give you my personal gloss on this feast day (My blog, massively opinionated, you knew it was coming.):
Mary was a mother who loved with perfect love (unlike myself). Her son was a perfect son, who also loved with a perfect love. Now, if I, with my very imperfect love can love my sons SO much that it can make me cry and mope when they leave for their very fun new exciting lives in college (Next week, I"m just saying.) once again......then how much more so did Mary ache to see her son leave this earth and his time with her in such a grisly unbearable event? And how much did she miss him, achingly miss him, all those years? And therefore, at the end of her life, when she was able to be reunited with her boy, her Son....just think of the joy, the unbridled radiating shimmery JOY, of that reunion! And in this feast, we believe that they were reunited in Heaven.

Frankly, I simply love everything about this. I mean, just having my boy come back home after a few months at college makes me want to whoop, jump for joy, run down the stairs and hug him tight, not let go, feed him pie and just look at him. It makes me ridiculously happy. So, this feast is a promise of that to me, that reunion, that that kind of love between mom and son (or, ok, kids, but hey, let me run this out), doesn't just die out...it is eternal. And that is the best promise of all and that is nothing but cool.

So, there, moms....that's something to smile about.
Happy Solemnity of the Assumption!

Detail of painting of Assumption, by Titian

Magnificat (Luke 1:36-55)

My soul proclaims the greatness of the Lord,

my spirit rejoices in God my Saviour;

he has looked with favour on his lowly servant.

From this day all generations will call me blessed;

the Almighty has done great things for me and holy is his name.

He has mercy on those who fear him,

from generation to generation.

He has shown strength with his arm

and has scattered the proud in their conceit,

Casting down the mighty from their thrones

and lifting up the lowly.

He has filled the hungry with good things

and sent the rich away empty.

He has come to the aid of his servant Israel,

to remember his promise of mercy,

The promise made to our ancestors,

to Abraham and his children for ever.

Amen.

Lodovico Caracci, The Assumption of the Virgin, about 1586-7

St. Max Rocks!

Today is the feast of St. Maximilian Kolbe!
He is my son Booboo's patron and one very awesome saint. He is a 'modern' saint, of the twentieth century, completely devoted to Mary and a Franciscan. But what St. Maximilan is known for is his sacrifice, his martrydom of charity. St. Maximilian was sent to Auschwitz Concentration camp, for being a Catholic and a priest. After ministering to his fellow prisoners during his time there, sick and hungry as the rest, Maximilian made the ultimate sacrifice: he stepped forward and volunteered to go to his death in order to spare a father of a family from this fate. St. Maximilian went to his death in a father's place; dying after two weeks of forced starvation and ultimately, an injection of carbolic acid (and forgiving the one who gave him that shot as he was injected). As such, not only is he a hero, among many other things, he is the patron of families.


We are big on family here around the coffeeblog. And we have been praying a novena to St. Maximilian on behalf of one special family who had a court date today. And, let me just say that I think St. Maximilian was listening and had pity and prayed for this family to be united. Because they passed court!!! And the prayers of a righteous man, a saint and patron of families, who knows from sacrificial living, are worth much. So, thank you St. Maximilian, for your patronage of my son, and for your prayers for this family!

Happy feast day Booboo!
St. Maximilian Kolbe, thank you for your prayers!

Back to School

Big changes are afoot in our house, due to our big changes this summer.
As you can see by the cute little kick-foot, above, this is an exciting new thing. Or, really, an exciting old thing.

Yup. The girls are going back to our parish elementary school! Fifth and eighth grade. And today is the first day of school! (Little Man begins Kindergarden on Monday, wow!).

So these girls are actually excited to begin a new school year, back at their old school, with old friends and new fun, nice teachers. We have been and still are homeschoolers too. Golly, at this point we have college, high school, elementary, homeschool and toddlers in the equation. I think this effectively covers all bases, no? But this is my take on school, for what it's worth: School is a per year, per kid, per situation decision. Period. This year, with one daughter and her ongoing special needs and one very new daughter with her own language/adjustment/learning needs....this mom needs to be able to focus and this is the best decision for us, for now. So, this mom is pretty darn happy too, as I know these three will thrive and it clears the way for me to work closely with the two who's needs are so much more intense.

A win-win, all the way around!

Ah, I love uniforms!
Happy back to school days!

Adoption Adjustment: Branches

Vincent Van Gogh, Almond Branches in Bloom, c 1890

So we have been home for almost a month now. And while I am sure it is no surprise to you all, it comes as some surprise to me that we are still adjusting, in a big way. We have adopted a teen but we are making toddler baby steps, forward and backward and sideways....occasionally falling flat on our backsides, occasionally grinning wide with surprise.

I can't process it all well enough to post coherently. I haven't come to any great or profound conclusions (as if I ever do, doh!). I am still very much in the "do the next thing" mode. But I am sustained by all your prayers and thoughts and unspeakably grateful for them and beg you, any or all of you, to not quit!

Anyhow, everyone keeps asking, "How it's going?" And, "Is it all settled in now?" and all those sorts of questions. Frankly, at this point in the process, if I think someone is about to ask me that sort of question, I tend to want to turn on my heel and skedaddle as fast as possible. Because I have no good or reliable sentry on my mouth. While I can be discreet for others and their private issues, I tend to just honestly answer anything that most anyone asks me.

This trait makes my husband, dear Coffeedoc, kind of nuts. He always points out that I don't have to answer EVERY question I am asked. And yet, I feel compelled to do so. (Yes, I am aware that some therapist could earn themselves a condo beachside w/ this...thank you.) Now, my lack of desire in answering this sort of question is not because it's too horrible to answer, but just because it's (the whole adjusting process to this new member of our family) still all murky. It's a mixed bag of good, hard, funny, frustrating, strange, and sweet. And that's hard to answer in a short polite social response. But then again, I would have loved to know or read some of this when we were in process, the first half of this process.

So, in no coherent order, here are some notes on the process:
The language thing is still in a ridiculously difficult spot.
I am speaking more Amharic to her (pidgeon amharic, simple poorly constructed baby talk level) than she is speaking english.
But I think her understanding of english is increasing.
She is doing better at Rosetta Stone.
I believe we are in the "silent phase."
But that phase has rapid fire machine gun bursts of amharic from her.
Which is confusing and frustrating for us both.
Marta loves to swim and boat, she has an adventurous spirit.
However she cannot swim at all and has to be watched closely so she doesn't splash and drown in her enthusiasm.
Which is mildly nerve-wracking.
She loves music.
By which I mean: loves loves loves music.
Marta sings along to her ipod just like Buddybug used to when we drove on road trips: meaning loudly and just slightly off key.
She has started piano lessons and is very happy about it, music is the universal language is it not?
I love our piano teacher for being a good sport.
Marta loves sports; like watching sports on tv, especially football and basketball.
This is going to make for a fun football season, go Irish!
Shooting hoops is pretty fun too!
Teen sisters will always have issues juggling a shower and sharing a bathroom.
Girls loves shoes.
Marta will always be a tiny person.
She is picking up knitting amazingly fast, which makes me feel a little guilty for being such a crummy inept knitter.
But it will be nice to have one competent crafter in the family.
Sweet potatoes are disgusting.
Salsa is dangerous.
Ice cream is nothing but wonderful.
Marta is not a night owl.
Neither is her mother.
Marta is an early bird.
So am I.
Marta, still, loves going to Mass.
It is probably her very favorite thing.
This humbles me.
She is learning the rosary.
This amazes me.
I am getting pretty fast with a language dictionary.
Marta is not.
Emergency dental surgery is scary and hard.
Doctor appointments are not fun, and a little scary too.
She is definitely a teen, with the requisite moods and drama.
We have finally made it to the point of feeling safe enough to cry frazzled tears.
We are glad to be there, but it is hard to watch and makes us worry too.
It all still feels a little, or a lot, strange.
We are hoping that ends soon.
I wish we could fast forward the clock many days, to a time many months from now, where we are all used to each other.
The best thing about Marta is her disposition: joy.
Coffeedoc and I think that is simply remarkable.

It's totally dopey, I know. But, it occurred to me today that this adoption process is all very much like a bunch of tied together branches. It's not your normal family tree....some branches are strong, some fragile and tender, some bending and trying not to break. We are branching toward each other, just barely beginning to sprout anew, still raw in places from the grafting. I pray our roots and the seasons will help grow us all together.

Feast of St. Dominic

Painting by El Greco, St. Dominic in Prayer, 1596-1590

It's the feast of St. Dominic today!
That is my favorite painting of him, above. We have a particular fondness for the Dominicans...mostly due to these wonderful sisters. They are the best things going around here and are some of the most joyful and compelling people I've met. Happily for us, they also teach our children (some of them) and we are lucky enough to be able to visit their motherhouse for Mass or vespers whenever we are in need of the sound of angels.
For another great link to online Dominican goodness, go here.

Now, for me, this is what St. Dominic stands for: the vocation to teach, sanctity, and the zeal for truth. And oh my, joy. Just clear joy (not simpleminded, but real, joy). And that is what I've seen embodied in so many Dominicans that I have met and know.

The irresistible combination of sanctity and complete dedication to Christ (Uhm, I know, DUH, they are vowed religious, but still...) somehow makes these Dominicans so compelling. You just want to be around them because they radiate. They really do.

Maybe it's that zeal for truth, a la their founder: St. Dominic. Because that zeal for truth is the zeal for Christ, who is Love and really uniting to that, that truth, that love....it brings joy. And that is why they draw me, and others. They really do just glow, radiate joy and happiness.

And I think we are all searching for that. I am. Always. And it's so hard to really hold onto....but St. Dominic is an example of how to find it. For real.

St. Dominic, pray for us, that we may radiate the joy of truth and Love.

Feast of the Transfiguration

Fra Angelico, fresco, Transfiguration of Christ, 1441

Today is the feast of the Transfiguration.

This feast is, once again, a timely juxtaposition with my mundane little life. I love how living the liturgical year through the Church brings us/me these connections and reminders of what's real and important...and helps me see beyond my own little self absorbed boundaries, even if only for a millisecond or two. It's cool. It's almost like it's planned to do that or something, I don't know... Doh!

This feast is the story from the gospel (Luke 9:28-36) that we meditate upon in the fourth mystery of the luminous rosary. Its when Jesus and his apostles, Peter, James, and John go up onto Mount Tabor with Christ. Then Christ appeared to them, not only as the man they knew but in all the blinding splendor of His Divine Nature, and what's more, with Elijah and Moses beside Him. Peter, one of my fav's, was so excited that he burst out and said, "Lord it is good to be here! Let's put up a tent!" (well, that's my paraphrase, anyhow). He was so thrilled that he just wanted to stay there, it was that cool! (He reminds me of my sweet Booboo here, ok often, but that is just what my son would say and do.)

Well, I just really love the visuals and imagery of this story. But I also love the whole concept of transfiguration. Even as I cringe at change in general, I beg to be transfigured myself as I need it so. And this passage promises that, for each one of us. Now, the caveat is that it promises it through the cross. It was just following this event that Christ went to His Passion, the Cross. He went to suffer. But the transfiguration was a promise to his disciples, his most beloved, that the suffering would not be the end. That there was more and it was Glorious, breathtaking. It was also a promise to us and a path: that our suffering is not for naught, that it too transforms us.

I know, I've written this before. I think about this a lot. Maybe because it's hard to wrap my puny brain and sensibilities around the whole concept. And now, especially, it's been a struggle, because this past month I've been in it. And you know, suffering, um, hurts. But even so, even in the weary of it, the core of me believes it does change you. It transforms you. And you come out on the other side different. Better, stronger. No, not faster, this is not a Six Million Dollar Man cheapie tv show..... but more. Transfigured. More the You that you were made to be. Whatever that is. But MORE. And that, to me, is glorious, and hopefully, for me personally, shinier (as I am nothing but smudgy of late).

I like Raphael's drawing, below. One, because I love drawings, but also because I love how this study is about the apostles. The actual imagery of the transfiguration of Christ is of course impossible to really know or guess; it is beyond our ken. But the apostles, this story is very much about them, and us, as well. And the wonder and the stunning awe that they must have felt, the joy, the fear, the gasp.....well, I keep finding my mind turning to that. So, today on this feast of the Transfiguration, I will try hard to remember and trust that even we regular Joes (And, erk, Janes) can be transfigured too. The promise is for us as well. And I will meditate on that in gratitude and wonder.

Raphael, study of heads of apostle's for Transfiguration painting.

Almost Wordless Wednesday

My favorite (and only) sister, Nancy.

My sister is just the best.
Especially when we can sit around and talk, cry, ponder, wonder, drink a martini and laugh.
Sisters are awesome.

Adoption: Adjustment and Laundry

** Warning. I'd love for all my posts to be "butterflies and rainbows" as a dear friend says...but during this time, they cannot be if I am to be honest to myself and anyone else. So, sometimes, they are just odd. You all know already this blog is a lot of stream of consciousness drivel. Fair warning.**

My laundry room.

Kidding.
Officially: laundry at "London Terrace Towers"....but a gal can dream....

I never knew I'd be so grateful for laundry.

No kidding.
Occasionally, this thought, this gratitude, has popped into my addled mind...this gratitude for laundry. But really, not so much. I have spent many a moment over my many years resenting the freakishly replenished piles (by which I mean: heaping mounds) of dirty laundry.

But especially of late, coming home and trying to tread water in the tsunami of adjustment involved in this adoption {And, I presume, older child adoption in general}..... I am grateful for laundry.
I am grateful for the normalcy of mountains of laundry needing to be gathered, sorted, washed, swapped, dried, hung, folded and sorted again.

We control freaks love having something that we can control, and that in a nutshell, is the beauty of laundry. I can stand in my little laundry room, folding, and hear the machine's old familiar churn and the dryer's whine, and things are normal.
I can sort and fluff and fold and create new clean order again and again.

And I know this might sound like I am hanging on by my fingernails, or failing and slipping and grasping at straws....pathetic....but to be frank, the laundry is, oddly enough, a comfort. Right now, laundry is less a burden than a signpost that life really does go on and returns to the particular habits of my family.

Laundry is a sort of comfort everlasting (in my house, at least). It is constant; a task that can be well done and appreciated (mostly). I can do it with mindless rote motion, or do it and stew or daydream as much as I choose. And, gloriously, I have time alone, for no one wants to join me in the laundry room.
And so it is even peaceful in it's own noisy way.

I know. This is as mundane as it gets. But that, that very thing, the utter mundanity of it, is exactly what makes me stop and think and smile. Because, we are taught, in my Catholic faith, that even small things, the most mundane routine mind-numbing or unpleasant chores, can have infinite value.

And so, with a smile, and a rueful nod, I can agree. Only once before, during a hospital health scare of my dearest, have I so searingly been aware and grateful for the rote routine of my laundry chores. I said a prayer of thanksgiving for it then, long ago. And now, during this odd uncomfortable time of adjustments, I whisper it again.

I am thankful for laundry: for the clothes to wash, the machines to wash them in, for the chore on every level and the comfort it brings to us all...but right now, especially to me, in those sharp raw and uncertain moments, I am simply grateful for the chore and the routine it implies. And when I don't know how to manage all this jaggedy new or to move through these big things, or the snaggy small things, if I am gripped with fear or fretting or exhaustion...I can literally stand and quietly do the laundry, and feel like me again, have our family feel normal and not only new. I know these motions, blindfolded, and they remain....and continue even while we find our new normal. It's comfort. It may well be silly, I know. But for those of you who wonder about this adjustment and how it's different...this is one unexpected reveal.

The machine churns and slogs along, the dryer whines and turns and turns. And obviously, I am reminded again and again, so must (and will) I.

Face Act: commentary, clarification

This is from MlLane Layton, to clarify some misconceptions, worth a look. Mclane is doing good work, important work, and her heart is in the right place and she is trying to help sway change. Needed change. Read. Think about it, help if you can.

And I just want to remind anyone who might forget in the jumble of the legalese and legistlative verbage, this is about our kids. Yours. Mine. Ours. And they have faces.....

Open Letter to the Adoption Community

July 31, 2009

As an adoptive Mother, the President and Founder of Equality for Adopted
Children, and a former senior legislative aide on Capitol Hill, I would
like to address some questions that have been raised about the newly
introduced Foreign Adopted Children Equality Act (FACE Act). These
questions have caused some to suggest the bill should not be supported.
This is unfortunate, because the FACE Act will bring significant
improvement to the adoption process and will, if signed into law,
provide equality for our internationally adopted children as well as
save adoptive parent's time, money and regulatory hurdles. I know
because I was deeply involved with its predecessor.

The FACE Act was introduced to amend and improve upon the Child
Citizenship Act of 2000 (CCA), a bill introduced by Senator Don Nickles
and Senator Mary Landrieu. At the time the CCA was introduced and
passed, I was Legislative Counsel to Senator Nickles and was responsible
for shepherding the CCA through Congress. The bill was conceived after
my husband and I adopted three siblings from Eastern Europe and I
discovered that despite the fact that my husband and I were both
American citizens, our citizenship did not transfer to our foreign
adopted children as it would have if they had been born to us abroad.
As a lawyer I found this disturbing because I knew that under adoption
law, once a child is adopted, that child is entitled to all the same
rights, duties and responsibilities as a biological child. The law says
they are to be treated as if they were the "natural issue" of
the adoptive parents. CCA was drafted to remove discrepancies between
the treatment of children born abroad versus children adopted abroad to
U.S. citizens. In short, to bring adoption practice into line with the
law and in the process ease a number of procedural burdens unnecessarily
borne by adoptive parents.

The CCA began the process of addressing a primary inequality: If an
American gives birth to a child overseas the child is considered a
citizen from birth and is given a U.S. passport and a Consular Report of
Birth (which acts as the child's birth certificate). The child is
allowed to enter the United States as a citizen with documentary proof
of citizenship. In other words, the child does not have to go through
an immigration process. Not so for an adopted child who must obtain an
immigrant visa, go through a very different (and more costly and
cumbersome) process even though they are every bit as much the son or
daughter of American citizens. Unfortunately, the United States is one
of the few developed countries that still treat internationally adopted
children of their citizens as immigrants and force adoptive families to
go through an immigration process to bring their children home.

U.S. Court decisions have established adoption laws that recognize that
adopted children are entitled to full equality of treatment as
biological children. Yet despite the passage of CCA, not all
inequalities have been addressed. The FACE Act would align U.S. adoption
laws with U.S. statutes by recognizing all children of U.S. citizens as
equal, whether biological or adopted. The FACE Act would rectify
inequities both past and present. Regrettably, as I know is often the
case with legislation, some have misunderstood the contents of the
legislation.

Protecting Safeguards and Meaningful Procedures

Some allege that by removing adopted children from the immigration
process the bill removes the safeguards that protect adopted children,
their biological families and their adoptive families. This is a
completely incorrect assertion. This bill absolutely upholds current
requirements in regard to approval of parents to adopt a foreign born
child, preserves current safeguards, and maintains current regulations
related to intercountry adoption. Here's how:

* Upholding Requirements and Procedures.

* The FACE Act continues to require that before citizenship attaches
to an internationally adopted child, adoptive parents must be approved
by the U.S. government as fit to adopt, just as under current law.
* Adoptive parents will still need to meet the same requirements
currently submitted for approval of an I-600A or I-800A including an
approved home study, criminal clearances and all other documents that
are now part of the approval process.
* Preservation and Maintenance of Safeguards and Investigations.

* The FACE Act continues to uphold and require all immigration
safeguards currently in place to ensure that a child has been adopted
legally without fraud or trafficking.
* Conditions required to fulfill an I-600 or I-800 form will continue
unchanged including an orphan investigation as mandated under current
law.
* The U.S. government will continue to affirmatively determine that a
child has been adopted appropriately and that the child meets the
adoption requirements of U.S. adoption law for international adoptions.
* A welcome change in the FACE act would be the elimination of the
paperwork, procedures and costs required to file for an immigration visa
after an adoption has been completed and the child has been approved by
the U.S. government as having complied with U.S. adoption law governing
international adoption.

Put simply, American adoptive parents abroad would take their
documentation of a legal and appropriate adoption and follow the same
process as American biological parents who gave birth abroad. The
entire process would be simplified and standardized for both sets of
parents and most importantly, would apply equal treatment to the
children as established in U.S. adoption law. Time and travel costs for
adoptive parents would be reduced lowering further the barriers to
international adoption.

The FACE Act makes no changes to current regulations related to
intercountry adoption. Current adoption law language does not detail
what must be done to approve a family to adopt or what paperwork must be
filed to get an immigration visa. Rather, the details are found in the
regulations implementing the law. This bill and subsequent regulations
would do the same. The FACE Act merely sets the parameters of how the
law would be implemented and the subsequent regulations would provide
the specifics of how it would be implemented.

Establishing Equality for All and Respecting Heritage

Another unfortunate misunderstanding of the FACE Act arises from a
section of the bill that amends Section 301 of the Immigration and
Nationality Act (INA), which defines who is a U.S. citizen at birth.
Currently, this section of law provides automatic U.S. citizenship to
children born to U.S. citizens abroad, but not to those adopted abroad
by U.S. citizens. The practical effect is that under the status of an
immigrant instead of a citizen at birth, the adopted child could never
be President of the United States even though a child born in the same
foreign country at the same time to American citizens could. Amending
this section of law to include our internationally adopted children as
citizens from birth will finally correct one of the major remaining
inequalities that our children suffer under federal law.

Some have erroneously concluded that this provision will strip adopted
children of their birth country's citizenship and erase their birth
history. In actuality, the FACE Act will help support adoptees who seek
to learn more of their original birth history and reconnect with their
country of origin. The FACE Act includes provisions that state:

* "It is the sense of Congress that the government of each
foreign country from which children are adopted by citizens of the
United States should provide documentation of the adopted children's
original birth history to the adoptive family in accordance with the
laws of such country."

* "Nothing in this Act, or in any amendment made by this Act, may
be construed to abrogate any citizenship rights provided to an adoptee
by the adoptee's country of origin, or nullify the facts of the
adoptee's birth history."

Granting of citizenship from birth cannot eliminate the fact of where a
child was born, or to whom that child was born, or deprive them of their
original citizenship rights any more than what occurs now when U.S.
citizenship is granted to them under the CCA.

To the extent a foreign country allows dual citizenship and the
privileges that accompany that citizenship, that child will always have
those privileges as a citizen of that country in the eyes of that
country. No legislation passed by the U. S. Congress can change
citizenship laws of other countries. If a country chooses to negate the
citizenship rights of a child born in that country because they become a
citizen of the United States, there is no law that the U.S. Congress can
pass to rectify that decision.

Further, although Congress cannot pass laws ordering other countries to
provide original birth documentation to adoptive families or to change
their citizenship laws, these provisions mark significant steps towards
establishing U.S. policy in these regards and would strongly encourage
countries from which children are adopted by American citizens to
provide such documentation and maintain such rights.

Protecting U.S. Citizenship and Preventing Family Separation

The FACE Act also improves the current citizenship process for
international adoptees with a provision that rectifies the damage that
is done when adoptive parents fail to take the necessary steps under
past and current law to acquire U.S. citizenship for their child. Prior
to the CCA, internationally adopted children had to go through a
naturalization process to attain citizenship. Many parents wrongly
assumed that their adopted child was a citizen because they themselves
were citizens. Unfortunately, this was not the case and there are many
adult adoptees who found out much later in life that they are not
citizens.

Even after the CCA was passed, the problem remains due to the way the
law is implemented. Currently, only adopted children who arrive on IR3
visas (where both parents, if married, saw the child during the adoption
process) receive automatic U.S. citizenship upon entry into the United
States. Adopted children who arrive on IR4 visas (where only one
parent, if married, saw the child during the adoption process) must be
readopted in their new home state (whether required by state law or not)
before citizenship attaches. If the child is not readopted prior to his
or her 18th birthday, they lose the right to automatic citizenship.

Over half the international adoptees enter this country on IR4 visas and
risk losing their citizenship rights if their parents fail to readopt
them. Many children do not find out they are not citizens until they
apply for a passport or for college scholarships. A number of adoptees
have been deported back to their country of origin due to minor crimes
they have committed because their parents failed to take the necessary
steps at the time to acquire citizenship status for their child. The
FACE Act rectifies this for all future international adoptees by
conferring citizenship upon completion of the adoption and the U.S.
determination that the child was adopted according to law. Citizenship
is conferred with no further action required of the adoptive parents.
This is a significant improvement over current law and will eliminate
the tragic stories of adoptees deported to their country of origin with
no knowledge of their original language, no support structure and no
ability to return to the United States.

For deported adoptees, The FACE Act allows these adoptees to file for
and receive U.S. citizenship if U.S. citizens adopted them under the age
of 18.

In summary, the changes made by the FACE Act are significant but easily
implemented. The FACE Act would:

* Remove internationally adopted children of American citizens from
the immigration process saving time, money and, for many, travel costs;
* Confer U.S. citizenship upon internationally adopted children
immediately upon completion of all the necessary steps without requiring
readoption within the U.S.;
* Improve upon the current system by encouraging foreign countries to
provide original birth documentation; and
* Provide the added benefit of making our internationally adopted
children eligible to run for President.

The sponsors of the FACE Act - Senator Mary Landrieu, Senator Jim Inhofe
(S.1359) and Representative Diane Watson and Representative John Boozman
(H.R. 3110) are great friends and supporters of the adoption community
and have crafted a bill that will provide equality under the law for our
internationally adopted children and allow them to benefit in all ways
from full American citizenship.

In closing, I recommend that all read the relatively short FACE Act bill
in its entirety. It can be found at:
http://thomas.loc.gov/cgi-bin/query/z?c111:S.1359:/
In addition, I
invite you to read a detailed section by section explanation of the bill
as well as answers to Frequently Asked Questions that can be found at
the following link:
http://www.equalityforadoptedchildren.org/legislation/face.html
.
Once you do so, I believe, like me, you will find this bill worthy of
your wholehearted support.

For the sake of our internationally adopted children,

McLane Layton

President, EACH

Call to Action

More from McLane Layton. Please, once again, call, write, visit. Let them know, these kids are our kids.

CALL TO ACTION: FOREIGN ADOPTED CHILDREN EQUALITY ACT

Since this petition was launched on June 30th it has received over 1600 signatures! Please take a moment and continue to support the FACE Act legislation (S.1359 and H.R. 3110) by calling your Senators and Representative on Tuesday (tomorrow), Wednesday and Thursday. It is imperative that they hear that this legislation is important to you, their constituents.

Read below for how to make your voice be heard.
FACE Act - Call to Action
On Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday call your three Members of Congress (two in the Senate and one in the House of Representatives).
You can find your Representative at http://www.house.gov/
You can find you Senators' at http://www.senate.gov/
Ask to speak with the Legislative Director or Chief of Staff
For maximum effect, we are asking you to make these calls within this 72-hour window!

What should you say or write to your Members of Congress?

This is an issue that is critical to our internationally adopted children, so speak from your heart. Tell them why internationally adopted children of American citizens need automatic U.S. citizenship from the time their adoption is final and why this is so important to you!

Ask your Senators and Representatives to become a Co-Sponsor of the FACE Act.
If you are speaking to a Senate office, provide them with the bill number S.1359.
If you are speaking to a House member, provide them with the bill number H.R. 3110.

Please feel free to use the following text as a guideline when speaking with your Members of Congress:

"As a constituent of we are requesting that you support the Foreign Adopted Children Equality Act (FACE Act) by becoming a Co-Sponsor of the legislation. For information on becoming a Co-Sponsor, please contact Senator Mary Landrieu, Senator James Inhofe, Representative Diane Watson or Representative John Boozman. Thank you for representing your constituents by becoming a Co-Sponsor of the FACE Act."

GET THE WORD OUT!

Hurdles

Hurdlers by misspiepie, flkr

Well, today we are at the official, two week home mark. And, oddly, enough, I think we are making some small baby steps of progress. On my part, I have gotten off schedule in my private personal schedule of weepy tension and/or fear meltdowns, missing a day off the every other informal pattern. Hoorah! Odd, you say, perhaps. I know, I didn't expect this myself - but there you have it. I'm marking this as a positive babystep forward however, into a new normal.

We have had to correct a behavior, just like we do with our other kids. What do ya know? Another kid in the house = parenting. What are the odds? Ha. It had created some upset and then we made clear the expected behavior and also got a true apology and forgave. Now, that's pretty SOP for our house: you get in trouble, parent or other kid gets upset, you apologize, are forgiven and the rules are made clear, then we all move on. And just going through that makes it feel a tiny bit more normal, oddly enough.

For now, and surely for some time to come, our biggest hurdle - Marta's biggest hurdle - is language.

And make no mistake, this is like an Olympic event for her and for us all. This is a difference, I think, between adopting a younger child and a much older one. A teen will make this speech swap slower than a much younger kid, especially if they have not had any language learning beforehand. This slower acquisition impacts, well, every bit of the adjustment process.

We have an ESL tutor on tap to come over about three times a week, starting in a week or so. We have Rosetta Stone for English (And let me just give a little quickie review: difficult program in a way if you don't already READ english and a little glitchy and a pain in the backside to get into the meat of the program - have to click through many screens before you start. And if you don't know the language that means someone else has to click for you, grrrr). And we have multiple copies of the best dictionary we've come across, Concise Amharic Dictionary (thanks Cami!). We also have a great site for word by word translating that is fast. We are watching movies together to jump start that language familiarity and I talk with her through the grocery store and as we drive around on errands, describing most of the things we are doing.

But speech, actual speaking, is the biggest hurdle. Marta is uncomfortable trying out her speech and really, wants to listen and then give us an amharic word or two to clarify. We have to push her, with a smile, to repeat the english version of the word: e.g. "desta" = "happy," say "happy," and so on. I think she is just very shy and unsure of herself with this. We understand that. But as I told her this morning on our walk, the more she talks, the easier it will be.

But oh, such a hurdle and I don't know how to help her much. Except to help her stretch out and try. And try again. And again. They say it will come. We all wait in great anticipation for it to start, trying to be patient, but just wanting to be able to really talk with her.

I want to hold conversations, that's my best way to really get to know anyone. One of the hard things about this adoption and the bonding is I can't really get to know her without talking, without this conversation. The silence is deafening in a way. We are both, all, trying to learn and use our other senses to make those connections, but as you probably have gathered by now....I am a ridiculously verbal gal. Yes, I talk a lot. I want the noisy yakking and small teasing and chatting of talking - even simple sentences and words. I know this is the "all about me me me" version; but I think that Marta yearns for talking together too. I think she's just too unsure of these strange new sounds to be confident enough to let fly.

So we are all bruising our shins a bit on the hurdles of language, but trying hard to push and help and clear them so we can run this race together.

Because a family is at the finish line.

It's Time to Limbo!

Yeah, I'm not talking about the Catholic "Limbo" here, that's a whole 'nother discussion.

I'm talking about "How low can you go?" And, of course, as usual, I'm talking about me.

You see, everybody keeps asking me "How is it going?" And I can honestly say that it's not what I expected, even as it is in so many ways what I expected. Confusing, no? Yes.
This is the most challenging thing I've ever done, but not actually because of Marta. Marta, so far (and I am fully aware of the whole "honeymoon" concept, no worries), has been nothing but amazingly sweet, nice, helpful, happy kid. Really, no big demands, no major meltdowns, a few small ones from being scared, nothing. She needs and craves love and affection and knowing she is secure in the family, but that is nothing but a time need. The lack of common language is, well, ridiculous, but that can only improve, right? No choice there.

No, this is the most challenging thing I've ever done, all because of me.

You see, this is my own personal limbo contest....just without the cute bikini. (Although I think often about adding the fun libations.....kidding. mostly). The limbo requires strength, balance, coordination, a brave spirit and sense of crazy fun. It also makes most folks fall right down on their fannies.

And, yup, I now get the fun game of seeing just 'how low can I go?' Problem is this "low" is not so fun and its a lot more than a simply pratfall from lack of strength and balance.....That is to say, my struggles are internal and honestly, in many ways they are a spiritual battle of my will versus, oh, anyone's, and my control freak type A nature. It is my falling into the icy grip of fear and a good imagination. To be precise, it is a lack of faith and trust. Period.

I know, I know, I have written on this before. But I want to shout, those posts were fine for then, but this is now. Totally different.
Right....{yes I am, it seems, a hypocrite}.
Those posts talked about this struggle and the grip of fear, love as an action not feeling, and the transformation in the struggle and the suffering. But you know, that's all fine and well AFTER the fact to think those things. It's another thing to embrace them in the midst of it all now isn't it? Because you know, struggle, change, even suffering (on any level, even the most minor)....it HURTS. Hence, the term: suffering. Right? And you know, we wimpy folks out there, by which I mean me, we don't really like to suffer, hurt and so on. I mean, it's one thing to say, I'm tough and I can take it. But really, when you step on that nail or heck, get that unexpected paper cut, you might just cuss and holler and whine, right? Ok, well, I might. Ok, maybe I do.

A good friend has pointed out that it's like a little Rumpelstiltskin tantrum. And she's right. Because it, my struggle these past few weeks, has been all about ME. I just really want things to be ok and normal again; my way, my timing, my ideas of what it should be like, my plan, MY FEELINGS. Me, me, me. My ideas are not playing out in the timing I would like, my body is being knocked back again and again with one variety of illness or migraine or something after another. The order I placed for a smooth transition: good health for all, full of overflowing feelings of bounty and joy, everything clicking into place.....oddly enough hasn't happened yet. Funny that.
And so I have been having a Rumplestiltskin time. {I am Rumpelstiltskin, old middle aged girl version, maybe I should change my screenname....} And it's hard and not a fun place.

But this week, I am also seeing something else. Not only have I seen a glimmer (and I don't even want to THINK about seeing further) about how low I can go....{ Shocking, I tell you. Utterly, heartbreakingly, humbling.}...
But I have seen what can happen when you get there. To your, ok my, lowest point. Because, oddly enough, even there, there is a beauty. And once again, that beauty is in the others. And that makes my heart be able to lift up again.

I have found myself laid flat by illness and fear, simply hitting my break point. And I have seen my husband and sons and friends (near and far) reach out to help lift me up. That's no easy task! But they have all reached out, grabbed me and helped me stand up again - literally and figuratively. And they are still here, helping me, holding on. And they let me see that despite my tantrum of wanting everything just so, on MY time and in MY way, it's not necessarily about that. And it's ok to wait for it to play out. And to try to trust.
Simple huh? Sure. But not so much, not for me.

So, if you ask how it's going I will still say this is one of the hardest things I've ever done.
But the gratitude I have for so many is some of my deepest.
So, I guess it's going just like it's supposed to.
It's hard, it hurts, I'm useless on my own.
It's great, she's sweet, the kids are amazing.
It's a huge change.
But I also have helpers.

And I'm grateful. Even as it's hard, challenging me on so many levels and putting a klieg light on my every failing...for what this brings....I'm grateful.
And I am looking forward to the luau without the limbo.....

Not Very Wordless Wednesday

More new stuff, every day.

This is what we did on Sunday afternoon, thanks to our dear friends Jean and Matt (aka Horsedoc and Horsemom). They have a new sweet pony and she was just the right size to see, then we lucked out and Matt came back from a ride and offered a leg up to us too.
Both Gabriel and Marta are adventurous, up for trying out new things.

Bananas is horse crazy, of course, like most thirteen year old girls....
As for me, it was a blast from the long distant past. Fun!