Happy Halloween

Happy Halloween from our little punkin' to you!

The Grief of Remembering

Last Thursday Anna was fine in the morning, but in the afternoon she was inconsolable. At naptime she cried and cried for no discernible reason. She didn't need anything, and I wasn't trying to make her do anything (like sleep) that she would resist--in fact, she was clinging onto me for dear life, in contrast to her anxious behavior yesterday (more on that in another post).

She just seemed . . . sad. Grieving.

I do believe infants grieve, and our precious child has experienced much loss in her short life. Perhaps it catches up to her unexpectedly, at seemingly peaceful times, as grief does to all of us.

What's a mother to do?

I did all I could do, all any of us can do for each other. I held her tight as she buried her face in my neck and squeezed fistfulls of my shirt and lifted her face and howled to the heavens and pressed against me again as if to climb inside. I told her over and over that I loved her and that I was with her. That it was okay to be sad, that I'm sad too that she's sad and that she can't know her mother in Ethiopia. That I wished we could have met her but I know, I just know like a mom knows, she misses you too. That I'm sorry she had to leave everything she knew but that I would do my best as her mama, that I would always be here, always be her mommy, always love her.

Isshy, isshy, Yegetanesh. Isshy. Okay.

In time her sobbing stopped, her breathing calmed, her body grew heavy and relaxed into deep sleep. She slept in peace and woke in peace, and our broken hearts carried us on through the day, but they remember what was lost. I promise to remember.

My Cup Runneth Over and Maketh a Big Mess

Warning: Transparency Alert.

Disclaimer: I'm not out of hope and I don't dislike motherhood. In fact overall I'm surprisingly fond of it, but that's a story for another day. This is about these latter days and how they've taken their toll.*

We were joined in church yesterday by the missionaries to Cambodia who our church supports and whose grandmother goes to our church. Jeremy preached and besides telling stories that made me want to go back to Ethiopia, he used an example of a pitcher of water pouring into a cup sitting on a saucer sitting on a plate. The pitcher is God; he's always pouring and pouring his grace. We're the cup; God pours into us and it overflows into our family/loved ones/the things we hold most dear (the saucer) and then into the larger world, the people and places we touch in ministry/life (the plate). But if you put the saucer or plate over the cup, nothing gets into the cup. It stays empty or drys up.

Hmmm.

I'd say I am feeling dry, except it's more like drowning. There's grace all around me and most days I can even see it, but sometimes it feels like instead of drinking it in, I'm just flailing around and making a mess.

These days I am giving a lot to Anna, and that's a good thing. It's worthwhile and usually it's enjoyable. Sometimes it's downright fun. But it never, ever stops. It's just so constant, this mothering thing.

That might be okay if everything else weren't constant too. But it is, and over the last couple weeks all the demands of life, mine and ours and everyone else's, have been engulfing and overwhelming me. Sometimes I feel like I work thirteen hours a day and accomplish nothing. Too many to-do's and not enough done. Too many bills and not enough money. Too much conflict and not enough communication. Too many needs and not enough helpers. Too much work and not enough play and one dull boy and girl crashed vacantly on the couch with no energy for either.

Another day, another dollar. Two steps forward, three steps back.

Days and weeks like these can leave us feeling perplexed. What are we doing wrong? Why did God bring us to this spot? Am I doing enough? Am I doing too much? What if the money runs out? Is it my fault? Will it ever get easier?

Some of those questions I know the answer to; I just need to remind myself or hear the truth again. Some of them we'll never know the answers to. And for some of them we just have to play our hand out as best we can.

It's not like I haven't been here before, and knowing me, I'm sure I'll come back again. I'm thankful God gives more than enough grace to smooth over my ups and downs. Deep down I trust His work is not done in me and around me. I want to be a Psalm 27 girl:

I am still confident of this:
I will see the goodness of the LORD
in the land of the living.

Wait for the LORD;
be strong and take heart
and wait for the LORD.

(verses 13-14)

But let's get real: My confidence falters sometimes, with so much riding on it. I try to be strong and I just take on too much. My plate gets full and my cup gets blocked and runneth over and maketh a big mess. (And then leaves that mess in the kitchen for several days hoping it will clean itself.)

So yeah, I'm a Psalm 27 girl, deep down. But some days, in all honesty, it comes a little more naturally for me to be a Matchbox 20 girl: I really, really just wish the real world would stop hassling me. And you.

Please don't change
Please don't break
The only thing that seems to work at all is you . . .
I wish the real world would just stop hassling me and you

*Mmm, what I really need right now is some Good Dog Bad Dog for these latter days. All I need is everything. Will there ever be a time in my life when I can't come back to these lyrics? I submit that there will not.

Muhammed Duck-li

Ridiculously cute.

Seriously cute.

Seriously ridiculous.

Baptism in Pictures

For those of you craving more detail (for some strange reason), here are more pictures from Anna's baptism day, with helpful captions and witty commentary.

First, Pastor J says some stuff. We taught Anna to look interested.

Next, we hand her off so he can show his skills
at juggling a baby and a small pitcher of water while praying.
He holds a doctorate in this.

Water is applied to baby's forehead in thoughtfully small amounts,
despite to a certain reverend's reputation to the contrary.
Baby's father shows signs of needing to go get a glass of water himself.(When said father starts to cry during a movie, he suddenly thirsts and goes to the kitchen to get a glass of water as a coverup. However, since he once revealed this to the whole church in a sermon, now everyone knows what a big crybaby he is, especially when adoption-pregnant. I mean, come on--A Night at the Museum? That's not a tearjerker.)


Pastor says, "Ta-daaaaa!"
Or is it "Whaaaat? Did you think I was going to dump this whole thing on her?"
(Um, why do you think there are twelve towels on hand?)


We hold up all of coffee mingle to pose for the paparazzi parishioners.
In case you didn't know, "coffee mingle" is not half regular, half decaf.
It is Presbyterian for "fellowshiping," which passes as a word only
in the Baptist dialect, roughly translated "hanging out over food."


It was a lovely cake. Even butterflies were drawn to it.


On your baptism day you are allowed to stick your fist into your cake.
You don't want to know what I'm doing in the above picture.
I edited it out to spare my mother. But I bet some of you could guess.


Mmm, mmm, sacramentally good!

The Truest Thing About Her

This year’s Young Life leadership camp speaker reminded us of a great truth: What is the truest thing about you? Your name. Who you are. Who God made you to be—his child whom he calls by name. You belong to God—in Amharic, Yegetanesh.

Yesterday at church, in the presence of friends and a great cloud of witnesses, Anna Jubilee Yegetanesh joined our church family through a simple affirmation of God’s covenant with us through baptism:

Aaron and Wendy, do you desire for Anna to be baptized?
We do.

Relying on God’s grace, do you promise to live the Christian faith and to teach that faith to your child?
We do.

Do you, congregation, as members of the church of Jesus Christ, promise to guide and nurture Anna, by word and deed, with love and prayer, encouraging her to know and follow Christ and be a faithful member of his church?
We do.

And so with joy we dedicated to God that which is already his yet ours to watch over. We cling to the covenant promise that as he calls her by name, he whispers to her soul the truest thing about her: Yegetanesh—you belong to God.

Let the people sing:

I have a Maker
He formed my heart
Before even time began
My life was in his hands

He knows my name
He knows my every thought,
He sees each tear that falls
And hears me when I call

I have a Father,
He calls me his own
He’ll never leave me,
No matter where I go

He knows my name
He knows my every thought
He sees each tear that falls
And hears me when I call

Tommy Walker, "He Knows My Name (I Have a Maker)"

Baptism This Sunday

Anna will be baptized this Sunday. Everyone wants to know what she is wearing (I think they all want to buy her something) and I'm happy to report that she fits in the traditional Ethiopian dress we bought in Addis and so will be able to wear that.

Please join us if you'd like--10:30 a.m., CPC in Smallport.

Favorites at 9 Months

Here's an update on what Anna is up to and into now that she's over the 9 month mark.

Size: She has grown so much! She's almost 18 pounds and 27 inches. She's out of some of her cute small clothes and into her cute bigger clothes (no fashion shortage here) and #3 diapers.

Words: Ear-piercing happy screams, vowels, and dadadadadadadada (may or may not be directed at Dad, dog, chair, wall, etc.)

Transportation: Rolling, rotating, scooting on her stomach - now getting up on her knees and rocking - look out!

Foods: Formula, cereal with veggies or fruit, paper

Favorite toys: Paper, books, stuffed cow, Daddy, the dog's bone, whatever she's not supposed to have

Favorite hobbies/games: Dancing, shrieking, giggling, eating, bouncing on the big bed, clapping, chasing doggie, human lint brush

Favorite books: The Very Hungry Caterpilar, Time for Bed (to read); the phone book (to eat)

Favorite music: Hey Ya (acoustic mommy version); You and Me by Lifehouse; Eternal Flame by The Bangles. Likes oldies, '80s, church music, and anything with a good beat you can dance to. Undecided on NPR and The Killers (she's got soul, but she's not a soldier).

Ahh, kids today - growin' up so fast!

They Have Everything There

Earlier this week I received an email with a strange subject line:

Amazon.com recommends Jesus and more

I was surprised but thought that was nice of them, since I recommend him myself.

Then I saw this ad, and I thought, Now they've gone too far:

• Children: Try eBay

  Looking for Children? Find exactly what you want today.

  www.eBay.com

And to think we went and wasted all that money on adoption.

Beauty and the BS

To follow up on my earlier post about being highly visible and the praise that constantly gushes over our daughter, let me say again that I do take these comments as compliments (we have yet to receive a negative remark--though I know we will someday). We are and will continue to be as proud as imaginable of our daughter not just for her beauty but for all the other qualities emerging in her as well. I do appreciate the nice things people say.

I'm just not always sure what to say in return.

When someone says, "She's such a beautiful baby!" or "That's the most adorable baby I've ever seen!" what am I supposed to say?

I usually go with a simple "Thank you," although sometimes it feels like taking credit for something we had nothing to do with. We neither made nor chose her.

I've occasionally said something joking like "Yes, no thanks to us," but I don't really want to emphasize that as she grows up.

Sometimes I say, "Yes, we certainly think so." This is true, but does admitting my bias imply I don't think it's true? I mean, sometimes I think people are laying it on a little thick, but I don't mind them agreeing with my assessment that she's the most beautiful baby ever.

Sometimes I think I can see my baby's ego causing her entire head to swell up to the 99th percentile and a belief that beauty matters most rising up to devour the seeds of her preteen self-esteem, so I deflect with a comment about something she's doing rather than how she looks. I want her to hear, and know, and trust, as she grows older, that her beauty is enhanced and made complete by her brains, her heart, her purpose, her character.

She's beautiful, yes. But it's nothing compared to the beauty inside.

That's my answer. If only you, and she, could see how true it is.



Note: This may seem silly at her age and when the comments are compliments, but consider the hair comments which are surely in our future: http://www.antiracistparent.com/2007/09/21/good-hair-and-bad-hair-the-silent-messages-our-children-receive/#more-295

Also recommended:
"A Girl Like Me" at http://www.mediathatmattersfest.org/6/index.php?id=2#
http://transracial.adoptionblogs.com/

Cutest Baby EVER in the WORLD?

As I already shared, a couple weeks ago we took Anna with us to Wildhorse Canyon for Young Life leadership training camp, and she was a great traveler and made lots of friends. This phenomenon was an interesting experiment, in fact.

The first night she was being chatty so I took her outside to the "baby zone" where a dad was trying to jiggle his little guy to sleep too, but of course Anna saw that she could soak up attention from everyone standing there and immediately enjoyed making big eyes at people and smiling so they could tell her how she's the cutest, most adorable baby ever in the whole wide world with the biggest eyes and oh so sweet. Which is true, of course. Still . . .

She was like a freaking celebrity with all the attention she got. Everyone was always watching her and saying hi and asking her name and (occasional grr) touching her head. This happened quite a bit in the store this week too. I know people like babies and especially cute, alert babies . . . but at first Control Group Baby was right there and it was Anna that got all the oohs and ahhs. And I know she really is cute and adorable and alert and with big eyes and oh so sweet. And we her parents do find her to be the most beautiful thing in the whole wide world. But twice total strangers have said, "She is the cutest [or most beautiful] baby I've ever seen in my life." In your life? Really? You don't have children or grandchildren or neices or friends' children whom you've seen for more than ten seconds and whom your affection for might give them a bump up to the top of the list? I mean, these were older women. They had to have seen a lot of babies in their life. But it's official, and we're making a plaque for the house: Cutest Baby EVER Slept Here.

Young Life leaders are awesome people so all the attention was positive and we had some nice conversations with people about adoption and babies/parenting, so I didn't really mind. Actually it was a lot of fun having her there and we are proud to have adopted her and be her parents (and prideful in a selfish way to be seen with celebrity baby). I know a lot of the attention she gets is because she is black in places most are white, and she doesn't "match" us either. She just plain stands out in a crowd, and the consensus does seem to be that she's exceptionally cute, and even we are amazed at her beauty. So I don't blame people for watching her--I would and I do! That's an illustration of differences in racial privilege, but I don't take offense as long as people are positive, not offensive, and it's not making her or us uncomfortable (at this point).

Still, it's a little strange to know that a lot of that attention is because in our white world, she's got a novelty factor as well. And I wonder sometimes about how much of the praise for her beauty is a kind of surprise. When people seem amazed that she could be so cute, or have such fine features, or whatever, is that a slightly different kind of response to her race? Did you not think she could or would be cute? (Then again, maybe just not that cute, because she's even more beautiful than even I imagined. But I see with mommy eyes.)

I don't want to read too much into people's comments, but it's interesting to observe the patterns. Seems like maybe white people overcompensate: they get caught staring and so feel they have to give a compliment so we know they approve. Or tell us about someone else they know who adopted. People do this a lot in general; when we told people we were adopting, we almost always got told about someone else's adopted kids in response, and often about how cute (and/or maybe how small or curly-haired or whatever) so-and-so's little girl from wherever is.

It's human nature to try to make that connection, maybe. To show your support with examples of others you support. But I wonder if there isn't a bit more to it with adoption and especially transracial adoption. (To show you're not racist by talking about your personal Stephen Colbert's Black Friend Alan?) We don't need these people's assurance, but maybe they do.

Or, then again, maybe she just really is the world's most beautiful baby.

Time, Travels

I'm not sure what's wrong with me--why I haven't been writing. I have had a couple days between work projects to get caught up on my to-do lists and I've been only somewhat successful. Trouble getting motivated at the right time, when the little girl is napping, I guess. Then before you know it she's up, she's eating (she's always eating!), and the day's gone. All you experienced mothers are thinking, Duh, newbie.

I mentioned in passing that a couple weeks ago we had our post-placement visit from an agency social worker. This means someone comes to your house for an hour, talks to you, and writes a short report, and you pay for the privilege.

Next we get to pay for Anna's re-adoption in Oregon, which is necessary to get her a U.S. birth certificate and get her name and birthdate all straightened out. I also have to get her Social Security card before we need it for tax purposes. The adoption paper fun never stops.

We took Anna on her first big trip, aside from that whole Ethiopia-to-USA thing, of course. She went with us to Wildhorse Canyon for Young Life leadership training camp. 'Cuz she's already sure she wants to be a Young Life leader. Wildhorse is the most amazing camp and I personally always like to go in the fall (when it's not 110 degrees) and be with the leaders. The only problem is that it's six hours away. After four hours Anna definitely wanted to be out of that car seat. But other than that and her repeated prank of peeing every time her dad had her diaper off (hee hee), she did fantastic. We finally made some good use of our stroller, which I love love love for its rear-facing seat, and she stayed in almost all the big "Club" meetings and workshops with us. She was so exhausted by making new friends everywhere she went--more on this tomorrow--that by Saturday night she slept through every raucous gathering her irresponsible parents selfishly dragged her to. Because hey, we couldn't miss anything involving raw foods and something called a Man-O-Meter for something as petty as sleep.

Camp can be very, very tiring.

Attachment and Going Back to (Volunteer) Work

With apologies for the length, here are my thoughts on attachment and schedules at this point in our adoption/parenting adventure. I tried to spice it up with some links for those of you who may, say, be considering Ethiopian adoption but be too shy to email me yet (ahem).

Because of various conversations and our post-placement review, I have been thinking a lot over the last week about attachment, attachment parenting, when to leave Anna in others’ care, and what that means for all the things I am/used to be involved in outside the house.

Attachment is not our warm-fuzzy feeling of being “bonded” to our child but our child’s trusting relationship to her parents. As one article puts it, attachment is “the quality of the relationship a child feels toward a particular person (parent, grandparent, caregiver, etc.).” Strong attachment is formed through building, over time, the child’s sense of security and comfort that their caregiver will respond to their needs—physical and emotional.

Children who are securely attached are more confident in learning and exploring, interact more positively with other kids, are more emotionally stable and able to manage feelings, and are more able to handle stress and help others handle stress. Children who do not have strong attachment, well, they are more likely to lack confidence, have difficultly with social interactions, express and manage feelings, and act out in unhealthy ways. The extreme is the dreaded Reactive Attachment Disorder (RAD). Most people don’t know this name but it’s what they mean when they warn you that if you adopt, your child might be “messed up” and hate you as a teenager. I can actually see signs of abandonment/attachment issues in some of the teenagers we know--not adopted--and it's not pretty.

Helping Anna form strong attachment to us is absolutely the most important thing we can do for her and our family. It’s number one. This is why we’ve been careful to be Anna’s only true caregivers—the only ones to change her diaper, feed her a bottle, put her to sleep, comfort her when she cries. (Even my mother didn’t get to do these things when she visited, and kudos to her for not trying, because you know she was just dying to get her hands on that baby for so long.) It’s why we lean more toward “attachment parenting”—responding to baby’s cries, having her sleep near us, carrying her in a sling rather than always parking her in a stroller or seat. And it’s why we haven’t left her with anyone else, despite myriad babysitting offers.

Sure, kids usually easily come to trust their parents to take care of them. But for an adopted child, it’s not so simple. We are Anna’s fifth set of caregivers. In her first six months of life, four times she thought the person caring for her would always be there. Can we really expect her to be one hundred percent confident that we the fifth will be different? She is now 8 ½ months yet our relationship is only 2 months old. Emotionally, with us, she’s 2 months old, not 8 ½. Sometimes it seems like she’s been here a long time, but two months really isn’t very long. One guideline for attachment is to expect it to take as long as the child is old when they come to you. Anna was six months when we met, so plan to focus on attachment for at least six months.

This brings us to the present predicament of everything that revolves around the school year starting up and I, well, I’m not sure where I’m supposed to fit in. In the past I would run the PowerPoint at church and serve on a committee. We have a small group at our house and sometimes I make food. And most of all I’ve been sort of a (left-handed) right-hand-woman for Aaron in church youth group, I’ve given rides and hung out with kids, and I’ve helped plan and prepare for and lead Young Life Club.

• Category 1 is done. No more church worship stuff.
• Category 2 is fine for now. We meet at our house and Anna is fairly content to hang out with us.
• Category 3 . . . may have to go. Or be altered so as to be nearly unrecognizable. I’m not sure. I just know a lot of these activities aren’t conducive to hauling a baby along. (I also have to stay home and work sometimes, because man do I suck at getting work done during the day now.)

What about leaving her with someone? I think both of us realized last week in talking that we’re not ready—and/or we don’t think Anna is ready. Sure, she seems to love everyone and is getting to know some people she sees consistently. Maybe she’d be fine. Or maybe she’d seem fine but the hesitation to attach would be stirred. Or maybe she’d regress—remember the football game incident? And the week of not napping? She seemed to regress that week. I say this because when she first came home, she would scream bloody murder for her bottle. I mean zero to shaking with violent sobs in sixty seconds. After a few weeks it got better; putting a bib on her no longer meant you were trying to torture her but might actually mean you would indeed feed her soon. But that week after the overstimulation meltdown and frustrated mommy putting her in a new playpen and leaving her crying longer than ever—she went back to the violent sobs sometimes. It was like she was saying, “I don’t trust you anymore. You stopped being responsive to me so I’d better make my demands completely clear” (and really loud).

I don’t want to see that again. And certainly not continuing for long.

I'm sure plenty of people might think we're paranoid. That we need to be away from her (both at the same time). That we'll spoil her by responding too much. That because she's a baby she'll just naturally be fine. I find it ironic that it seems the same people who would warn about "messed-up adopted kids" (attachment disorders) would turn around and minimize efforts to prevent that. But I digress. The point is, it's too important not to err on the side of caution. With all she's been through already, she deserves our all in parenting, especially at this completely dependent stage.

Our solution for now is to bring her along when I can and sit some things out for now. She has warmed up to sporting events and had a rockin’ good (though exhausting) time at Wildhorse Canyon for Young Life leadership camp. She did okay at youth group as long as she could suck on a grape, so I will probably try to be there most weeks and maybe ease into letting someone else watch her in the nursery nearby after a while or something. But Young Life Club? At any given moment it might involve yelling, loud music, strobe lights, inflatable or food-based projectiles, and people setting a very bad example as to what foods/nonfoods should be eaten together (see: lettuce/live goldfish), all in one room with nowhere to escape to.

And so it was that as we headed to leadership camp to talk about how we will serve kids together, I harbored the knowledge that there is no “me” in “we” right now, at least when it comes to doing Club. I’m still helping with planning and still can do “contact work” which in theory is the most important part of Young Life . . . but it’s strange to think I won’t be at Club with the kids and leaders.

I’ll feel a little left out two Mondays from now, I think, but I also think it’s the right thing for right now. You can’t all do all of the stuff all of the time, and our little girl needs me more than those bigger girls and guys right now. I have to trust our team, and I have to trust our family, and I have to trust our God.

Cutest PJs Girl Ever

We are headed out of town for the weekend, and since I didn't get a longer post I started finished, here are some photos to tide you over.

Sweet PJs Girl

Sweet Feet

Visitors and Future Arrivals

September 9 was a momentous day, seeing as it was not only opening day of football season but also the day we were graced with a visit from an old friend (and our new friend her new fiance)! Yep, 500 bonus points to Amber "Klumpie" for being the first Michigan friend (non-relative) to come out and meet Anna! She her studly ice-carver (is there a cooler job title anywhere?) man were forced to watch football at our house while Anna napped before we went out and played on the coast. Starfish were elusive, but I daresay a good time was had by all. Anna was rockin' it in her sunglasses and my new better-fitting sling and all of us enjoyed the extra warm weather.













Klumpie (Rhymes with Bumpy) is one awesome young woman, and not just because she still addresses me at all times by my little-known full and legal name WendyWetzelRhymesWithPretzel, she loves pink even more than Anna, I can't eat broccoli without hearing her say in my mind what it does to you, and now that she's all grown up and volunteering in youth ministry herself she recently uttered the sweet words, "We [girls who used to be in your small group] got together and we all agreed that we pretty much treated you like crap." Ah, if only we could convince a local restaurant that they need ice carvings so we could keep these two here instead of in Bend.

But wait, there's more excitement!

Later in the week came the news so shocking my mother wasn't sure she dared believe it: my Too-Smart Brother Guru and Brilliant Sister-in-Law Piscis are expecting a baby! In March I will finally get to be an aunt. It's just not right on some level that I became a mom first, but it is nice to know I have last bats at revenge if Guru starts giving Anna all the obnoxiously noisy toys he's threated. Be aware, my brother, and choose wisely. They will be great parents and Anna is excited to have a cousin with whom to share the spoiling and her grown-out-of stuff (yes, yes you are, Anna).

This week we have our post-placement review visit with our agency's social worker. Considering how overblown the preparations for the actual home study proved to be, I was considering not even bothering to sweep the kitchen, until I realized he might think the flying hairballs are additional pets. Since Anna keep scootching onto the wood, I may just wrap her in double-sided tape. Baby Lint Brush, patent pending.

Happy New Millennium!

Welcome to the new millennium--in Ethiopia! According to the unique Ethiopian calendar, yesterday was the last day of 1999. They partied accordingly, with decorations and concerts and a marathon run taking place over the next few weeks. You can read some articles and see photos at Google News. Preparations were evident when we were in Addis: billboards, flags, souvenirs, runners training in Meskel square. Here we are standing in front of it.


Here it is at party time. Looks like fun, but I can't imagine being there with all those people. I think the Addis traffic was crazy enough on a normal day, thank you.


Anna has been napping well again, thanks to an improved earlier and more consistent schedule. Now all we have to do is stop staying up late after she's in bed catching up on episodes of Heroes, our new addiction. I thought it would be good; I didn't know it would be so scary sometimes. You just can't stop at one episode with Peter Petrelli left in that position, that's all I'm saying.

We went to the school volleyball games last night and Anna apparently prefers girls' sports. After she warmed up to the echoey gym noises, she was having a good ol' time hanging out on my lap and sucking on things. She's definitely teething, but the crankiness has been manageable so far.

Coming soon: photos from a visit from an old friend and big news from relatives!

Baby Breakdowns and Mommy Meltdowns

Last Friday we were excited to take Anna to her first football game, here at our very own Smallport High School. We love football season, and it was a perfect still-summer evening for small town sports.

Total disaster.

Complete baby breakdown.

Walking in, she was fascinated. Sitting down, she was fine. Meeting a new teacher friend, okay...nope, crying. Being back with us helped some, but the sun was in her eyes and what's that sudden clapping noise and is that the voice of an angry duck god crackling down upon us?! I took her for a walk in the sling and she calmed down. I eased back into the stands gradually so she could get more used to the noise and lights. For a bit she was fine on my lap and looking at friends around us. But then she got upset again and I took her out again, and this time she wasn't going to let me even think about taking her back in there. Soon she was reaching total overstimulation meltdown and we had to bail out. She shrieked as if under pain of death all the way home--thankfully only a mile--and cried all the way through being changed into pjs until we gave her a bottle.

I sat there watching Aaron hold her and wanted to cry myself. What have I done? There goes all the attachment, all the efforts and goodwill and trust undone by the betrayal of a mommy who made her stay in that horrible place until after halftime.

She had been so upset before her bottle, she threw it up all over Aaron and herself. Bad, like Frankfurt-airport bad. (That story coming soon.) He hit the shower and I gave her a bath.

Voila! She was all smiles and giggles. Oh, life is so grand and Mommy and Daddy are so funny! That is, when they're not trying to kill me via the cruel and unusual torture of watching your team lose by 40 points.

This would be the happy ending to the story except that it marked the beginning of a long week of baby breakdowns and mommy meltdowns triggered by a sudden onset of Refusal to Nap Syndrome. RNS is common in homes where one parent works at home during the day, usually intensifying dramatically as the parent's tight nonnegotiable deadline approaches.

I'd gotten a slow start on my work project--trying to get my brain re-engaged and familiar with style rules and all--and desperately needed some nice chunks of quiet concentration time. Ehhhnt, sorry, Dream Baby's not here right now; she's been replaced by Nap Nightmare Baby, who likes to be paid attention to all day and might fake falling asleep after 20 minutes of holding but will cry immediately upon contact with any form of bedding.

Mommy Meltdown #1 came Tuesday afternoon. I was going insane because I couldn't concentrate to work, I couldn't make noise doing anything around the house, I couldn't even take a much-needed nap myself. And as deadline panic approached I didn't have the time/patience to hold her all day or listen to her fuss or monkey around with letting her cry, checking in at increasing intervals, and all that--plus I'm not willing to let my new child bawl her eyes out in a playpen alone anyway, for attachment reasons. Especially after Friday night's debacle.

Tuesday Aaron came home early to save me and got her conked out downstairs somehow. Maybe there was liquor involved; I don't want to know. Wednesday was just as bad--she napped 30 minutes total, until just before our Bible study, which is not really the optimal time. Of course she was an angel for the audience. Thursday I got an hour nap out of her and just let her be awake near me. At least then she was quiet.

Now, happy ending time: With a little sleep-deprivation of my own, I got my work done on time. Today she took two naps again. Tonight she was content in my sling until well into the second quarter. And she even smiled, because we were only down by 8.

Operation Sweet Potato

I think she likes the sweet potatoes. That or she axe-murdered The Great Pumpkin.


Operation Stuff the Child with Solids is going into full force today due to the failure of Operation Create a Budget That Can Withstand Five Cans of Formula Per Month. We will introduce new foods in order of frugality. What is the cheapest vegetable known to man?

Also, I'm back to work. A little. The time budget needs some help too. A nice firm deadline will do wonders, I'm sure. For those of you who are new around here, I am a freelance editor, so I work at home, and not very hard (just kidding, blog-stalking clients. Hey, aren't you reading this at work?).

I do still intend to blog about our Ethiopia trip. It's just . . . hard to find the words to start, and I can't explain why. As much as I want to share it, I think part of me wants to just keep it for myself because it's so inexpressible and I know you won't fully understand. I know some of you know what I mean. Still, stories are for telling, so I will.

After the work. Always the work!

Happy August

Know what I did yesterday? I mean, besides refuse to take my malaria pill and wax poetic about it.

I took down my Easter decorations.

Because August seemed like a good time for that. Although I considered holding out for a direct swap to Christmas.

Refills

Today I took my last malaria pill, signifying that we have been home from Ethiopia for one month.

Actually, to be honest, I haven’t taken it yet, only looked at it, because to do so makes me a little sad. Going to Africa was a dream I held for many years—maybe my whole life—and my feeling when the plane landed was We did it. We’re in Africa. Along with the half-joking thought I can die now. (I had the same "check it off the list of things to do before I die" feeling to a lesser degree at my first U2 concert. I hope to go back there too.)

I can’t believe that my time in Africa is gone.

I refuse believe I have no refills left.