...and that's when I started to cry.

I didn't think it was getting to me.

You know, not having my kids all here this Christmas.

I mean, there was never a chance they'd be home by today...

so I shouldn't have it in my head that it was ever a possibility.

Right?

But then this morning,

our two littlest girls were laying on the couch with Daddy,

talking about the new names for their brothers and sisters.

Daddy says,

"You know... Mommy is going to Ethiopia soon to meet your brothers and sisters!"

#5 says:

"Mommy's going to bring them home now!!?"

Daddy says:

"No, not this time..."

I'm in the kitchen getting ready for brunch with family

and listening to this conversation,

and trying to maintain my Christmas spirit.

Then,

she says

"Oh, that's so sad, Daddy! 

They has no Mommy or Daddy in Ethiopia... that's sad."

Yeah...

...and that's when I started to cry.

That's what it is...

mindlessly putting up 14 stockings and being

lovingly reminded by my husband,

"let's just put up stockings for the kids who are here this year, okay?"

...and that's when I started to cry.

Crap, this is hard.

Being here, them there...

not wanting to be apart from either bunch of kids...

Christmas is about family.

It's about love.

It's about warm-fuzzies and

crazy relatives and

husbands cooking strange things and

egg nog in Santa mugs and

cookie baking with the kids getting sprinkles all over the place.

It's about squeals of happiness,

hymns in church,

and softly glowing trees visible through windows.

It's NOT supposed to be about having nearly half your children across the ocean.

I leave in 12 days.

And I'm spending Genna in Ethiopia with my babies.

That's Ethiopian Christmas!

I'm not totally missing it...

and I know they don't know they are missing being here.

But I know.

And it hurts.

Merry Christmas, sweet babies.

Next year.

Next year there will be cookie baking,

and candy canes in hot cocoa,

and 14 stockings by the fireplace.

And I will tuck you in,

and whisper "Merry Christmas, sweet baby."

And OH how sweet it will be!

attacked.

I read a lot of adoption stories.
A lot of them.
It intrigues me what motivates other families to bring children into their homes, what their process looks like, how they meld together once home, the struggles and successes of their journeys and their similarities or differences to ours.

I have been asked quite a few times lately about adoption in general, about getting started, and about what to think about ahead of time.

My biggest warning isn't about birth order, agencies, country programs, fear of social workers, or even attachment.

My biggest warning has been the spiritual attacks that inevitably come.

Honestly, friends... I think the other issues are workable. You can ask friends what agency they used. You can read review websites, discern which country program is best for your family, read tons of books on attachment, and scrub your baseboards before your social worker visits (or, not...).

But there is no amount of preparation or planning that can effectively ready your heart for a spiritual attack.

Know why?
Because the Enemy strikes at your heart.

He knows your fears... he put them there.
("For GOD has not given us a spirit of FEAR, but of power and love and a sound mind." 2 Tim 1:7)

He knows your weaknesses and exploits with half-truths.
("Did God really say, 'You must not eat from any tree in the garden'?" Ge 3:1)

He wants you down, depressed, sad and deflated.
(The enemy pursues me, he crushes me to the ground; he makes me dwell in darkness like those long dead. Ps 143:3)

He wants you dead.
(Be self-controlled and alert. Your enemy the devil prowls around like a roaring lion looking for someone to devour. 1Pet.5:8)

In adoption, there is loss and redemption.
There is pain and there is joy.

I am not discounting the difficulties along the way, or negating the grief that our children deal with. Those things are very real.
What I AM saying is that orphans are close to God's heart.
He cares for them.
He cares for the lost, the lonely, the desolate, the depressed, the unworthy and the unloved.
God has a plan for their lives just like He does for my life and for yours.
You may be part of that plan- or a part of the plan of those who are making them their children.

I have said it before, but when you step out in obedience to God, you engage the Enemy.

He comes to steal, kill and destroy.
He is the father of lies.
He is sly and he is charming.
His lies look like truths that came from your own thoughts.
He steals trust, faith and belief.

Step out in obedience to God in an adoption...
you might as well set off a flare letting him know where you live.

He does NOT want children in Jesus-loving families.
He wants them to feel unloved and to believe that they are unworthy.
He wants them to be angry at God for making promises such as "I will not leave you as orphans... I will come to you".
He wants them to stay waiting in an orphanage somewhere with no hope.

So what does this look like?
How can you begin to prepare?

Be ready and expecting the attack.

Appliances will go out,
cars will suddenly need expensive repairs,
you will get a bill you weren't expecting.
He attacks your finances because it affects your trust that God will provide the needed money to bring your children home.

Be in prayer.

You and your spouse will suddenly be irritated by every little thing the other one does.
The kids will forget all their manners and maybe even get in trouble at school.
Your friends will leave or betray you and your family will seem distant.
He attacks those around you to make you doubt that you can handle the changes coming your way. He wants you down and depressed so you can make big decisions in that frame of mind.

Ask friends and family to pray for you too.
You won't catch every flaming arrow shot your direction. 

Some will be direct hits when you weren't expecting it.
A phone call that brings you to your knees...
Sudden changes or bad news from your agency...
A job crisis or financial hit.

Pray for strength, wisdom and fierce resolve.
In the middle of the storm threatening your family, your marriage, your children...
do not be afraid to get ANGRY.
YOU. CAN. NOT. HAVE. MY. FAMILY!!
The Bible is clear that we have the power within us to resist Satan.
("So place yourselves under God's authority. Resist the devil, and he will run away from you." James 4:7)

Be strong and courageous, identify it for what it is, and be encouraged that if you weren't on the right track, you wouldn't be drawing any attention from those who would thwart those plans.
("Have I not commanded you? Be strong and courageous. Do not be terrified; do not be discouraged, for the LORD your God will be with you wherever you go." Josh 1:9)

And make sure you journal your experiences.
Someday you will look back on this and see a very clear picture of God's divine protection and providence in your life!


*Edited to say: 
Here's what we have been facing at the Injera and Chocolate Gravy household, within the past 2 weeks:

• Blown Air Conditioner Compressor on the big van
• Power Steering went out on the other van
• Door to the house from the garage that needs to be taken off and repaired because if "shifted" somehow
• Shower leaking onto the kitchen table
• Washing Machine leaking... still trying to figure out that repair
• Oldest child with a concussion from a skateboard accident
• #5 to the radiologist for a hurt foot that looked broken
• Arguing spouses
• Defiant children
• Friendships tested
• Schools not working with us on placement

Therefore, we must be doing something right. 

Blessings to everyone who has shared this post, shared their hearts through email and comments, supported and encouraged others with these thoughts... 

"Now to him who is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine, according to his power that is at work within us, to him be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus throughout all generations, for ever and ever! Amen." (Eph 3:20: )

525,600 minutes

That's the amount of time since we got home from Ethiopia with our babies!

Well... approximately.

That's one full year.

Can you believe it?

I know it seems like yesterday to me sometimes...

like today.

Meeting their new sister!!

Waltz down memory lane by going up to my Most Popular Posts tab and reading our travel journal,

Or... you can just skip to the photos!

September 2009....

March 2010...

August 2010...

And Summer 2011....

playing dress-up with her sisters!

Then there's #6...

September 2009---

March 2010....

August 2010....

<---ignore super tired Mommy

And Summer 2011....

And then there's the baby boy!

September 2009

March 2010...

August 2010....

<---such a cheese ball!

Summer 2011...

Oh, my babies... 

I am just so happy you are OURS!!

Happy Family Day!!

I love you super big!

Love,

Mommy

Ethiopian adoptions

This is one of those rambling posts that's meant for someone out there reading it...
and I don't know who...
so humor me.
;)

Have you heard this?

"There's no way I would adopt from Ethiopia right now. It's too scary." 
Yeah, *I* said it.

And you know what else I said?

"I would not adopt from Ethiopia again because I could never trust my agency, the process, or the ethics surrounding my child's relinquishment."

But here's the problem with these statements.

There are still children there who need families.
There are still good agencies out there who advocate for the children FIRST.
There are still many, many children out there who are truly orphaned, and who truly have no other hope than international adoption.

How can you tell one from the other?

Well, here's where it gets sticky.
I believe with my whole entire heart that if you pray fervently about this decision, you will NOT be led astray. I just believe it.

But then,
I am a Jesus-follower.
     I believe He is who He says He is.
           I believe that He guides our steps and lights our paths if we seek Him.
I also believe it doesn't always look the way we think it will.
I also believe there are plenty of families out there who are also Jesus-followers who have had HORRIBLE experiences in their lives, with their adoptions, with their families, with whatever.
We aren't God's quarterbacks... we get tackled by the world's crap all the time.

But...
Here's what I do know.
If you feel the Lord calling your heart to Africa,
and you know your family qualifies for Ethiopia,
and you would adopt from there "if ____ was different",
and you are letting fear drive your heart...
then you aren't listening to the still small voice within you, guiding you, and gently prodding your heart to just
Let Go.
Trust.
Breathe.
Have Faith.
Fall back into the arms of safety.
Believe.
Know.

For those of you caught up in the junk right now - closures, transfers, paperwork messes, deception and worse...
I pray that you are able to feel some peace today.
Know that the powers at work over that type of chaos are NOT the powers that control this world.
I've seen it before and I KNOW that I know that I know that anything is possible.
And sometimes you get disappointed.
But He is still very, very good.

So, please... make an informed, educated decision... don't allow fear to control your life.
Be wise, use your God-given intelligence to make a good decision, but sometimes where He points you makes NO sense to the rest of the world.
And that's okay too.

I know they wonder what's up.

So, we were at the pool yesterday...
(don't all my stories start like that lately? Eh, whatever... it's summer!)
and I was sitting in the shallow part with #5 and baby boy.
They were "swimming" all around, jumping on my back, generally having fun.

My mom calls me a "kid magnet" so I generally don't notice when some random small person begins to invade my space.

Well, this really cute little bug in a pale green and white paisley swimsuit with long blonde hair and GIANT goggles comes over to hang out near us... then she says...

"Is THAT your DAUGHTER?"
and points to #5 - who is face down in the water, flailing and unwittingly freaking the lifeguards out.
"Yes, she is!" I replied.

Eyebrows raised, looking confused, she accuses...
"But... she's BLACK!!" 

(at this point... I was too surprised to be offended, besides she was like 5 years old and probably unfamiliar with any non-white people.)

"Yep...she is! Isn't it cool??", I replied.

She mumbled something under her giant goggles and hung out nearby while I acknowledged several "dives", "floats" and "hey mom, watch!" shouts.

Then she says "Are you sure? She looks like she belongs with THEM over THERE..." and points at a black family nearby.

Seriously. She did! I know! Me too! I was like, ooooh girl...

Then baby boy jumps on my back and says "Mommy! Watch!"


(insert completely mind-blown small child here.)

"Is THAT your SON??" she accuses. Again.

"Yes... he is my son! Isn't he cute?" I replied. Getting slightly amused with myself at this point.

"But..." 
I cut her off by telling baby boy to stop drinking salt water.
It's a good colon cleanser, in case you are wondering... but that's not awesome at the pool.

Then... my favorite part...
#4 swims over... he's slightly tanned from 2 months of outdoor play... but nowhere near the espresso shade of the littles.
"Hey mom! Watch me do a flip under the water!"


Her poor little brain couldn't take it!
She tilted her head, looked confused...
and swam away.

I, of course, started laughing...

So, what do you think?
Did I handle it well?
I didn't feel like segregating my children into "adopted" vs "non-adopted", or whatever... for the sake of her learning process. I didn't think getting into the reasons why my children look like they do would be good for them to overhear, even if it might make her a less-offensive little girl in the future. We just wanted to swim and play and do flips and puke salt water  have fun... but not launch into an adoption education spiel with a very young, obviously un-diversified little girl.

And the rest of the pool evening was uneventful!

Say WHAT?

I have good news and bad news.

The good news is... more children are being adopted who wouldn't otherwise have a family, and more communities are becoming diversified when families bring their children home!

The bad news is... strangers are still allowed to speak since we haven't created a "people remote" with a "mute" button yet.

Why is this blog-worthy, you ask?

Well, none of us wants to be the one to ask the lady when she's due... only to find out she's not pregnant.
None of us wants to say to the lady next to us at the playground "Sheesh... doesn't that kid have parents?!" only to find out that lady is the mom.

We don't WANT to offend people unnecessarily, at least MOST of us don't go around trying to tick people off.

Thus, I give to you...

Chrissy's Average Person's Guide to Positive Adoption Lingo! 

Or CAPGPAL, for short... ha ha!

My only question-asking rule:

If you don't know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that your statement will not offend, hurt or otherwise harm the other person... make sure you ask permission to ask the question, 

and make sure the kids are NO WHERE around. 

I can handle just about any crass comments thrown my way...

but I don't want you saying them in front of ANY of my children.

Now... for the real stuff.

Instead of:

"Hey... did you get those kids from Africa?"

Try this:

"Gorgeous kiddos! Are you an adoptive family?"

(Why? "get those kids" implies we took a vacation and brought home souvenirs. It demoralizes my children, the adoption process, and assumes all black children are from Africa. Many are from your own county, you know. They could have been adopted from Foster Care, they may be neighbor kids, they may be Haitian. You just don't know.)

Instead of:

"Do you have any REAL children?"

Try:

"Is this your whole family?"

Why? Because you may get some smarty pants like me who would probably say, 

"No, just these 7 imaginary ones."

(Caveat: This is SUPER touchy. I wouldn't just blurt out to a stranger anything about "real kids" or "kids of your own". What if they struggled with infertility for a decade first? What if their first child died? What if they have 4 homemade kids at home and your question is overheard by a struggling adopted child who already feels different and strange and like a mis-fit. It may just be the dagger to their heart they didn't need today.)

Instead of:

"Woah... you guys must be RICH! You adopted THREE kids??"

Try:

Shutting up.

Seriously. Use duct tape if you must.

Adoption IS expensive, but we feel that the Lord provided the funds when we needed it through yard sales, t-shirt sales, family and friends donations, and grants I spent hours and hours preparing.

AND... unless you want me to ask you what your net worth is... 

just don't ask.

Instead of:

"Those kids are SO lucky you SAVED them!"

Try:

"What a lucky mom you are to have so many children!"

or

"I bet they are such a huge blessing to YOU!"
(because it's true. They aren't the lucky ones. Their part in the adoption process was built through loss and grief. OUR role in the process was the lucky part. The kids lost their first family, their home, their language, their culture, their favorite foods, their familiar sounds and smells... 

WE gained three wonderful children. WE are the lucky ones.)

Instead of:

"When did you get them?"

Try:

"How long have you been a family?"

Why? They aren't a disease, or a purchase. We didn't GET them. This is also why I don't like the term "gotcha day" that the majority of adoptive families use for the day they took custody. It's parent-focused instead of child-focused. A child may call it "the-day-I-finally-lost-everything-I-knew" which, to ME, doesn't seem like something I would want to celebrate. 

We will celebrate our Family Day on August 3rd. 

We took custody July 26th. It will likely pass without notice. 

Instead of:

"What happened to their real parents?"

Try:

Yeah, there's no reason anyone outside of a child's inner circle should need to know this.

If you are curious as to what makes children orphans, go go0gle some humanitarian aid non-profits in Africa. Try Compassion International, or World Relief...

Just research it on your own.

FYI... in order for a child to be internationally adopted into the USA, they must have either lost both parents or one parent and the other can not possibly provide for them. That's the legality of it.

Instead of:

"Why would her parents give her away?"

Try:

(see above)

Children aren't GIVEN AWAY. Their parents sacrificed first, no matter the country the child is from, to give their child hope and a future. Parents in the worst possible conditions who fear for their child's life, or when both parents die, they have no other options. It's not like they just wanted to go party every night and the kid was cramping their style. 

Instead of:

"Yeah, I heard of this one lady who adopted this boy and he wound up killing their dog and then..."

Try:

For real??

Why don't you go tell bother someone else.

Go tell a pregnant woman some labor horror stories, 

or tell the nearest 4 year old there's no Santa.

Sheesh. NO ONE wants to hear your horror stories. 

Besides, we know more horror stories than you do.

We could scare the crap out of you with our friends' stories, if you like.

Instead of:

"What if they want to go back to their real parents when they are older?"

Try:

(not that it's any of your business...)

"Have you made plans for a birth parent search when they are older?"

Why? Ultimately, it's up to them when they get old enough if they want to contact any relatives.

We will have that information available for them when they are mature enough to handle it.

Don't worry.

Instead of:

"These are Chrissy's adopted children..."

Try:

These are Chrissy's children.

Why? Anyone with functioning eyeballs can see that my kids are different colors. 

However, I don't go around introducing which ones were unplanned, which ones are below-average readers, or any other type of qualifier. How would you like to be introduced as 

"This is my constantly-complaining-about-her-husband friend, so and so."

Qualifiers. They stink. Don't talk about people with qualifiers.

Instead of:

"...is/are adopted..."

Try:

"...was adopted..."

Why? My kids WERE adopted, but now they are just my kids. 

They don't have a disease called "adopted".

It's not who they are, it's merely how they entered our family.

See? That wasn't so hard, was it?

It just requires a mental turn-around from the prior way people thought about

adoption and children in general, to a more compassionate, child-focused way 

to discuss them and their status in our family.

Try harder.

Or just keep your thoughts and questions to yourself.

And start a blog so you can talk out loud to yourself. 

Chocolate dipped unicorns rolled in sprinkles.

That's how I think my life comes across sometimes.
Sunshine, roses...
lollipops...
galavanting through meadows of wildflowers...
rainbows and glitter.

Let me reassure you if you are out there nodding your head and saying, "yep...she's Little Suzie Sunshine on steroids!"
I'm not.

I don't blog about the bad stuff much...
but I have hard days just like everyone else.
Today was just such an occasion.
Actually, yesterday was too.
I blame July 4th festivities, fireworks for 5 days straight, and that anniversary thing I blogged about yesterday.

What does such a day look like, you ask?
Well...
it typically starts pre-dawn with either a small girl whispering something about being awake,
or...
a small boy flinging my bedroom door open so that it whacks into the wall creating a small sonic boom.
Thus, I sit STRAIGHT up from a dead sleep with an adrenaline rush which would allow me superpowers, if I weren't still half asleep.

After mumbling something about "go downstairs... I'm coming" and "no... it's not time for bela (eating) yet."
I roll out of bed and pout about how many other kids (and my first 4) would sleep till at least 7am every day.

If I was pro-active and made coffee the night before, I silently thank my forethought and planning, call myself a mothering genius, and crisis is sometimes avoided at this point.
If not...
I make coffee, with or without forgetting how many scoops I've already added to the filter, or prematurely dumping one half INTO the filter, half out of the coffeemaker and all over the counter. This does not improve my morning.

I try to convince the littles to play in the playroom, but instead they want to play "try to bug the crap out of mom first thing in the morning by opening and slamming the french doors".
I hate that game.
I try to drink the first cup of coffee with the news, but then recoil in grouchiness as I give in to Little Einsteins ("Little SkySize"). They clap along. I refill.

Breakfast on a bad day typically consists of me scanning the fridge and pantry for something fast, something they will eat and stay full for more than half an hour, and something I feel like preparing... while the baby boy is fussing, crying, whining and otherwise expressing his desire to eat. Now.
"Bela!!! BEEEELAAAAA!! Mommy, too unry (hungry), Mommy ees bela teyime?"
Well then, cereal it is.
"Cheerials" as they are known... poured, milked and served.

I snag the tv back to the news and try to enjoy a tiny slice of silence(ish).

On a bad day, funny stuff isn't funny.
On a bad day, cute kids aren't adorable.
On a bad day, kids laughing means trouble and all my parenting skills are all tested by each and every tiny tattle.

I look at the clock... crap. How can it be only 9am?!?!?
Check the phone. Yep. Crap. 9am. Still.

Someone starts screaming...
now another one too.
Perfect... let's see...
I'll take "someone didn't want to share, so someone took a toy and the other one hit back?" for $1000, Alex?

Idle threats, banishment back to the playroom, ignore slammed french doors, drink more coffee.

Bigger kids wake up, normally one or two at a time...
and ask what was for breakfast.
"Don't we have any OTHER cereal?"
"What ELSE is there?"
"What did the littles eat?"
"I'm not hungry..."

So I warn:
"The kitchen is closed from 9:30-11:30. Do not think of making food during that time. Breakfast now or wait till lunch."
quickly followed by.. "NO! I DON'T know what's for lunch yet!?!"

Send majority of children outside...
revolving door phenomenon... they are back inside.
"We're THIRSTY!"
"It's HOTTT!"
"I NEED a poss-sickle."

Oh. My. Gracious.
It's only 9:25.

Somehow, by the grace of God... I make it to Lunchtime which is the conjoined twin of Naptime.
Hallelujah!

Littles down for a nap...
Middles and Biggles threatened to find something or someone to play with or face Mt. Unfoldedlaundry, so not kidding.
Try to reset.
Computer, blog, facebook, email, chick flick, bath, more coffee, gardening, SOMETHING please pull me out of my funk!!

and then someone tip toes down stairs, faking a recently-awakened sleepy look.
(whispers...)
"Mom... I'm awake."

Round Two.

Perhaps a kid show for a bit during the hottest part of the day...
perhaps I will brave the community pool...
perhaps I will do someone's hair...
who knows.

Things I KNOW I will say:
"In OR out, guys!!"
"Shut the door!"
"No, no more snack! It's almost dinner time!"
"Didn't I just give you water?"
"No, no more poss-sickles."
"Tell him 'we don't hit."
"Go say 'I'm sorry'."
"You guys better clean that up..."

Dinner time...
various taxi duties...
pajamas, teeth, potty, prayers....
BED.

but on a bad day...
Bed time might take hours.
Crying, fussing, you name it...
hours.

And of course I handle it all with kindness, grace, gentleness, dignity, calm, patience, love, joy, peace...
or I'm human and I slump into a heap onto the couch after a day like that and feel
EVERY
SINGLE
ONE
of my shortcomings,
failures,
impatience,
grumpiness,
sarcasm...
and I let myself get down.
Like REALLY down.

I think, "Wow. Mom of the year strikes again! You should start a therapy fund for these kids like NOW!"
And I feel bad...
and I put myself down a bit...
and I think of all the different ways I want to be...
the better ways to respond...
the things I can do to cut it off before it gets started down that path...
the missed opportunities to just love my kids...
and I feel worse.

Then I eat ice cream.

Then I remember...
I'm just as sinful as the kids.
and His mercies are new every morning.
Or every 5 minutes, as the case may be.

An anniversary is coming

We are coming up on our one-year anniversary!
I can't believe this time last year I was obsessing over what to wear to court in Ethiopia!

One year later... it's just life with 7 kids! It's our normal!

One-year later... and my heart is still broken for children around the world with no families to call their own.
I watch our little girls climb all over their daddy, yelling "MY daddy!" "no... MY DADDY!" and I think... somewhere not far away, there are little girls wondering if they will ever have a "MY Daddy".
Our littlest baby boy LOVES to watch Daddy play softball with the guys from church. "I get big, I play game?" He wants to be just like his Daddy. And he can do that, because he has a Daddy to be like.

One year later... I can finally do bedtime for the littles in under 30 minutes! Teeth, potty, pajamas, prayers, kisses, questions, answers, more kisses, lights out, "Love you!", "Love you, too!"

One year later... a mommy and a daddy, big brothers, big sisters, fluffy dog, grandparents, uncles, aunts, cousins, friends. It was all new, now it's all normal.

One year later... I think I finally know how many pancakes to make on Saturday morning!

One year later... and I'm mentally rearranging bedrooms and spaces and totally believing we have room for more kiddos.
Because I'm a Mommy.
And I know this great guy...who is a really great Daddy.
I can do a longer bedtime routine.
I have more kisses.
And I can always make more pancakes.

You say potato...

Growing up in the south, there are a LOT of phrases and words people say that you just don't hear elsewhere.

Well, bless his little ol' pea pickin' heart!!

(That's my Granny's phrase...)

So buck toothed he could eat corn-on-the-cob through a key hole.

Nervous as a long-tailed cat in a room full o' rocking chairs.

As scarce as hen's teeth.

Plumb tuckered out.

Run round back real quick and turn on the hose pipe.

I think you get it...!

There's things you say just out of habit too.

Someone sneezes... "Bless you!"

How are you? "Fine... how are you?"

But I have to tell you...

because I know that you may be reading this blog as a non-adoptive parent...

I had someone actually SCARE my child the other day

and she meant NOTHING by it (other than maybe a compliment).

We were at the pool and this lady said how beautiful my children are. (why thank you, I think so too!)

She then turns to my baby boy who was a little closer to her than to me and touches his head and says:

"You are so cute! You wanna come home with me? I bet you'd love to come to my house!"

I've heard it countless times...

from friends...

from strangers...

with my first four kids...

whatever.

It's just something people say.

Maybe it's just in the south...

but I've heard it forever.

But this day...

he looked up at her and said "No..."

and then turned to me and the look on his face spoke volumes.

"Would she take me?"

"Would you LET her?"

"Am I really staying with you forever?"

"Can someone show up with a better offer?"

Oh, my baby boy.

Whew.

Ripped my heart out.

I grabbed his hand and pulled him into my lap and gave him a big hug and kiss... and told him he would ONLY EVER stay with mommy. 

And then I said I silent prayer of thanks that he had said "No" instead of "yes" at her offer. 

Plenty of adopted kids would have said yes.

They think it's actually an option.

So, please...

I know we live in a WAY over-politically corrected society.

This isn't politically correctness gone awry.

This is... 

just another one of those things that makes our situation different.

You just can't always say or do things with children with traumatic pasts the way you always would with any other child. It just doesn't work the same way.

I know you don't want to upset any child by saying something like that...

which is why I am telling you this.

My children -all 7 of them- are MY children and there is no offer on the table for them to go live anywhere else. 

And at least 3 of them don't know you are kidding. 

So, just tell them how gorgeous they are and what a lucky mommy I am. 

Because that's the honest to goodness truth.

Oh, for the love.

Borrowing one my mom's favorite phrases for this title...it seems fitting.


It has come to my attention that my Travel blog, day 4 -Durame post has been viewed many, many, many times lately. Only one of the "viewers" has been brave enough to comment.


Here is the controversial blog post: Durame trip


And here is what "Bishir" said in response:

"Ethiopians eat for sustenance, not just for pleasure." - Who doesn't?

"They are also so heavily spiced so that they can cover up 

the taste of the gamey-ness and old-tasting meats" Completely untrue! 

Exactly WHERE in Ethiopia were you? And does this make you an 

expert to make these unfounded conclusions for ALL of Ethiopia? 

As an Ethiopian-American, I'm appalled and these generalizations are unfair. 

It’s one thing to adopt children from a country and another 

thing to be condescending towards that country without any knowledge.

I’m outraged!

I strongly suggest you review this post and include facts instead of prejudice.

Well, allrightythen.

Bishir...

This is a personal family BLOG. I am simply a mom who adopted three children from Ethiopia, spent 2 weeks there and wrote about my personal experiences. I also happen to be married to an awesome chef who is very familiar with many different areas of ethnic food, food preparation, etc, etc, etc and I mentioned in my post that the comments you were unhappy with were based on HIS observation. I just know for ME... I'm not eating a raw egg in the middle of my pizza in Durame OR Chicago.

This isn't Wikipedia's article on Ethiopian cuisine.

If you happen to have dropped by my blog in hopes of learning about authentic Ethiopian food... sorry. I'm not Ethiopian. 

I have 3 Ethiopian children who I do cook Ethiopian food for on occasion. Is it authentic? As authentic as it can be purchasing ingredients at the Merkato here that specializes in Ethiopian food products... purchased injera, and a blend of berbere that isn't quite as spicy as we had there,  but it works. 

Again...much of our experience in Durame was clouded by the emotionally-charged day we had just experienced. Did you even READ that part of the post or did you just read me injecting my "prejudice" upon Ethiopian food?

And... you commented:

"Ethiopians eat for sustenance, not just for pleasure." - Who doesn't?"

Uhm... most of the developed countries in the world eat mostly for pleasure.

Example...google "obesity rates in developed countries" and tell me the rest of the world isn't eating mostly for pleasure!

I can eat a bowl of rice for sustenance, much of the world does.

OR I can eat pan-seared Wild Alaskan salmon with a nice beurre blanc and roasted asparagus... and fill the belly as well as eat for pleasure. 

There IS a difference. 

No one eats that third slice of cheesecake for sustenance.

Besides... an actual Ethiopian-Ethiopian told me while we were there that the pleasure in their meal time comes mostly from the fellowship around the big basket of injera, not from the actual food itself- a lesson that many American families should learn.

Furthermore, my attitude was far from condescending. 

We adore Ethiopia. 

We were "ferengi" on a super-emotional-roller-coaster-trip and we were staying in one of the poorer areas of rural Ethiopia in a sketchy hotel. 

Forgive me if I came across as "condescending". Perhaps read the entire travel journal if you truly desire to see my heart for Ethiopia and my beautiful children. 

And in answer to another comment, I do enjoy Ethiopian food! I really, really liked the injera and tibs, shiro and a beef and pepper thing I forget the name of... but unfortunately- I can't eat American-ET food. It's all made with white/wheat flour and I didn't realize this when I took the littles out to eat and got very, very sick. So...now I try to just make it at home.

I resent the fact that someone who knows nothing about me other than what is found in ONE POST got "outraged" and is judging me based on such little information. 

As an Ethiopian-American adoptive mom, I'm appalled and these generalizations are unfair.  (sound familiar?)

Dreaming of Ethio-topia

We were in the middle of a full-on, injera-and-shiro-craving, Ethiopia-is-full-of-rainbows-and-unicorns-dipped-in-chocolate-and-covered-in-sprinkles kind of day week.

It was NOT fun for this Mommy.

It had been a looooong 3 days of:

"We want to go to Ethiopia"

and

"We go see Sister and she will give us cookies"

and on and on and on.

It gets hard to take.

Hard to hear and hard to respond in a therapeutic-parenting kind of way.

I may have at one point offered to allow them to drink from a puddle instead of from the sink...

you know, just like in Ethiopia.

I'm not proud of it...

but day 4 of Ethiopia-is-awesome-like-disney-minus-the-crowds-long-lines-and-overpriced-soda...

and I couldn't take it anymore.

They wanted to watch their Ethiopia video we received while we were there.

It's short... a quick video of the farewell ceremony at the care center.

So, FINE. We watched their video.

That's when it happened.

I saw it.

#5 was asked to sing a song for the group and as we watched the video sitting in my 

not-nearly-as-awesome-as-Ethiopia-was living room,

I looked at that screen and I saw a VERY scared, 

VERY freaked out little girl

singing the wrong song.

The song she sang?

It's her comfort song.

It's the song the girls still sing.

It's a song her first family taught her and it's about Jesus.

And seeing that face...

seeing her so scared...

hearing the nannies trying to get her to sing the song they wanted her to sing...

watching her glance from person to person...

clearly wanting to escape...

Well, yeah. It made me cry.

I knew it at the time...

We all knew the kids were falling apart at returning to the care center for one last hurrah after being gone for several days.

We couldn't get out of there fast enough.

We were ALL uncomfortable.

But her calm, content expression...

I didn't read the extreme level of fear that day.

And now?

I took one look at that video and saw right past the facial expression into the heart of my baby girl.

Her whole world was being ripped apart and they wanted her to sing.

It makes me sick to think about it now.

And, it brought me right back to the place where my heart needs to live on days like that...

the place where I choose to put on my big-girl-panties ...

the place where I remember I am parenting children who have great fears of abandonment and change...

the place where I drop a large portion of my sarcasm at the door and hug my babies, 

point to their video and tell them:

"Do you remember this day? 

Sister Martha said 'you take your babies 

and go to America and stay there together.' 

You are my baby. 

You will ALWAYS be my baby. 

We live in America. 

Everyone in Ethiopia knows where you are and they know 

Mommy and Daddy are taking care of you now. 

Mommy loves you very, VERY much 

and I will always take care of you."

And, suddenly...
No more Ethio-topia talk.

MY babies were back.

And the battle was won for today.

Then who?

I don't know what it is.

I don't know why, or rather... why me.

But over the past 2 years of my life, the Lord has broken my heart for His children all over the world.
They need a mommy. They need hugs and kisses and bandaids on barely-scratched owies. They need to play in bubble baths and tease their daddy and "can't-like-it-cantelope" but "love-it-pretzels!" They need to jump on the trampoline with the sprinkler spraying in their faces in the heat of July and take 15 minutes to get bundled up to go out in the snow for 5 minutes. Oh, my heart can't take it. It's just not okay with me that there are so many children out there waiting for what we have. I think about it and I get this pain in the pit of my chest like someone just punched me and knocked the air out of my lungs. It's just NOT okay.

And then I get scared and I say...
"Uhm... Lord? Hi. Yeah, remember last year when we brought home these adorable babies? That made 7 in our house. And, by the way... we don't exactly have unlimited space within these walls."

And he says...
"Whose children are they? Who gave you that house? Who gave you the heart that beats within your chest?"

And I say...
"I know. YOU did. It's all yours anyway...But..."

And He says...
"But? Really?  Child, I put that heart inside YOU because I know YOU will live a life chasing after MY heart. I don't make mistakes."

And I...
I have nothing to say.

Because what can I say??

If the Lord put in my heart to be a mommy to kids who don't have anyone to tuck them in at night...
who am I to say "no thanks."?

What about our house? We don't have any more room! Well... I'm sure we could squeeze another bunk bed in here somewhere if we really wanted to.

What about finances? We probably won't ever be able to take big family vacations...buy cars for their 16th birthdays ... or pay for their full college tuitions... or have big elaborate East-Coast weddings... but imagine Thanksgiving at OUR house! I would trade every family vacation from here until forever if it meant we could be open to bringing more children into our family who need parents!

I don't know, dear bloggy friends...maybe I am insane.

Maybe I am misreading all of this and the whispers into my heart aren't saying "bring them home" as much as "help someone else figure it all out".

Maybe I'm wrong. I've been told that perhaps the calling I am hearing is to "JUST advocate for orphans."
But I doubt it. I will gladly shout from the rooftops about the immense need for families for children, gladly help walk anyone through the process to adopt a child, but I don't think that's the full extent of this "whisper" in my heart.

Or maybe, maybe, just MAYBE... Jesus calls crazy people because He knows that crazy stuff sounds normal to them!

6 month visit DONE!

Wow! What a morning!
Someone pass the kleenex!
The radio should be playing "Friends are Friends Forever...."
and there should be lots of girls wearing horrible dresses and bad attempts at make-up application!

No, wait... that was 8th grade graduation.

My FINAL, official post-placement visit is DONE!

I just can't believe it!
Something is just so... FINAL about it!
Not that our kiddos weren't FINAL before...
but up till this point there has always been that looming "next visit" from our social worker
(who is really more like a friend you meet for coffee
but who only wants to talk about YOU and YOUR family!).

We talked for two hours about the babies!
We talked about the fun stuff, the whap-your-head-on-the-wall stuff (5:15am wake up call, anyone?),
and the normal, developmental stuff.
The kiddos just ran around and played...
they argued over not getting a turn on the roller coaster,
cried about not getting the right sippy cup,
and my baby boy wanted to be held every 5 seconds...
but they were good!

We talked about how normal our family is to us,
about how I actually get offended whenever someone says "wow, your house must be CRAZY!" because it's not and it shouldn't be anyway!

Then...
as she was leaving...she said:
"this is normally where I tell the family how nice it's been visiting all these times...
but I know I will see you all again soon!"

Hee hee hee....

6 months home! Wow!

Feb. 3rd - we have been home for 6 months!

I'm not normally good with dates and remembering anniversaries (or birthdays... but that's another post),
but this one has been marked on the calendar since we got home on August 3rd!

In adoption circles the 6-month-home mark is somewhat of a landmark in that (typically) by this point you have found your "new normal". It's not a hard deadline, just one that many families look forward to and say "well, let's see how this is going once we hit 6 months". It's not a sink-or-swim, fish-or-cut bait, poop-or-get-off-the-potty deadline... just a milestone for checking in and assessing what is going on, what is better, what is worse, and what changes should or could be made.

And with that... here is our 6 month update!

The family: We are doing really well! hubby and I were just talking the other day about how "normal" everyone is together. The kids all fight... they all blame the younger kids... they play together...and they laugh together. There is no division between the kids, no "us vs. them" mentality, and everyone just seems... normal!

The parents: We still miss our old mornings together, but Paul's job takes him out of town quite often and that has at least as much to do with our lack of couple-time than the little three. We can't imagine our lives without the littles, and we are constantly amazed at how cohesive our family seems!

Food: When we first got home, the little three would eat literally anything I put in front of them. Not so much anymore. Their favorite things are fasta (pasta), cheerials (cheerio/cereal), PB&J, and anything chocolate! Tonight #5 refused rice... she used to love rice. Tonight "I don't like rice, Mommy." Uh huh. THAT didn't take long.

Sleep: I don't like to talk about it. But I will for you, bloggy friends... because I know you can handle the truth. Truth is... these children are the lightest sleepers I have EVER met. They are still going to bed at a decent hour (normally in bed by 7-7:30) but the girls wake up (on average) around 5:30am. Uh huh. In the dark, on weekends, if they stay up later or go to bed earlier... like some kind of alarm goes off inside their brains. I have never known a child to wake up in the dark, and assume it is morning. I hear it takes like 21 days for something to become a habit... we are well past that, and this waking-up-in-the-dark thing... no. It's still not a habit. I still don't like it, but I have decided that this is just who they are. I hesitate to even say it... Morning People. *shudder*

Language: It took our littles a while longer to learn English than most other single-child adoptions that I have followed. Probably because they could speak Wolaytinga to one another and had no real need to speak much English... at first anyway. Somewhere around the 4th month I realized that I was hearing more English than anything else. Around 5 months, I realized they were playing games together and speaking only English. This month, I was quizzing them on some Amharic and Wolaytinga words we learned during our transition... and they mostly didn't remember them. I am SO incredibly saddened by this! I thought it would last longer! I thought I would get a few more months of some cute little foreign-sounding words in our house! Our last hold out is that they still sing all the songs they learned in Ethiopia! I love, love, love hearing them sing in Wolaytinga! It makes my heart smile!

Hair/Skin: I gotta tell ya. If you were reading my blog before we traveled, you know I was NERVOUS about doing hair, keeping skin hydrated, and feeling very inadequate in my abilities to even de-tangle the first kids' hair... much less how to handle the mystery of my African babies' hair!! Well, I think I am doing a good job! Yes, we have bad hair days.. mostly when I have waited a day or two too long to re-style. Yes, we still have dry skin days... but in my defense, no one wants to stand still for much oiling down when its so stinking COLD in the house! The skin/hair butter I make keeps them hydrated for 24+ hours at a time, but ... sometimes I don't do it even that often. I'm a mom of 7, what can I say! I forget stuff! Overall though, I think I am doing good!

Medicals: Giardia and ringworm are (hopefully) history. We have to turn in some more "samples" to test and see how we are doing on the parasites... but I am SO hoping we are done with scooping poo into tiny vials.
Everyone has gained weight and grown a little in the 6 months... I don't have the specifics in front of me, but I know #6 has gained the most weight out of all three. She's our "healthy" girl for sure!

Other: Well, we did the bone age scans on all three to verify birth dates. Since there is no documentation to speak of in the area our children were born, their birthdays are estimates. Since we got home, we have had some questions as to whether their dates were accurate. Results were basically that #5 is right on - almost perfect birthday/bone age match. #6 was off by a few months, which puts her right around 9-10 months younger than her bigger sister. The biggest difference was our baby boy. We knew right away when we got to Ethiopia that there was NO way this child was turning 3 in a month. The more time we had together, the more toddlers I am around... the more we became convinced there was NO way this child was three years old. Turns out, we were right. His bone scan puts him at just turning TWO in October -  not three in August. That's a big difference! So, yes... we are going to legally change his birthday. We still have to pick a date in early October/late September.

What's next??
Well... we have to re-adopt in our state... then the adoption part of our journey is done!
I gotta say, a couple of years ago I never would have imagined that we would be sitting here today - finishing up our last post-placement visit, feeling so "normal"!

Of course we have our days... of course we have our bad moments...
but, I love my sweet family and I am so happy that God allows me to be
Mommy/Mom/Momma to all seven of them!

(and along with forgetting to oil up the babies frequently, I still don't have a new family photo to share!! I was hoping to stick it right here... so just use your imaginations and I will try to get one soon!)

Ambassador Barbie

Did you play with Barbies growing up?

I had some.

At some point in my growing-up-years

I inherited my mom's "vintage" Barbie dolls.

There was one I remember...

you pushed a button on her back to make her hair grow.

It didn't work anymore, but it was cool nonetheless.

Nowadays, Barbie has many, many hats to wear.

Other than just growing really long hair,

there's Mani-Pedi Barbie:

What-kind-of-news-story-IS-she-covering, 

News Anchor Barbie:

From the "huh?" category...

Computer Engineer Barbie:

Just because you have a laptop, does not a "computer engineer" make.
I am living proof of this fact.

I know I always dress like this when we go camping...

And then, there's Barbie as a Veterinarian:

Yeah, because if my vet looked like that, 

my husband would NEVER be the one to drop off 

or pick up any of our animals. 

I have decided I need a Barbie version of me.

It will be called...

Adoption Ambassador Barbie!

Yes, Ma'am it will!

It will have more normal proportions, and longer skirts... 

probably jeans with holes in the knees...

and some stains on her long sleeve thermal t-shirt...

but she will be SUPER awesome anyway!

Maybe I am finding my own version of Living Radically.

I can't adopt every child without a family.

I can't kiss them all goodnight or bandage all the owies in the whole world...

but I can be a voice for them!

I can show their cute little faces and be their advocate, 

their ambassador...

and pray for their families to find them!

So... in that spirit...

Please, join me in praying for this sibling group.

These sweet kiddos need a Mommy to listen to their funny little made-up songs and stories

and a Daddy to teach them how to ride a bike, 

how to scare Mommy half to death and what love looks like.

I swear if I had the legal-capacity in our house...

but alas.

Click here to see sweet faces, or search on your own at AdoptUSKids.org