Mommy

Adi packed up an old canvas sack with some of her favorite family photos and has been carrying it around with her. Every few hours we open up the sack and talk about each photo. There are a lot of pictures from Africa in there, as those seem to be her favorite.

We went out for mexican tonight and on the way home in the car we opened the sack, again, and looked at them all. When we got to a photo of Belay with his birth mom, or African mommy as we say, Belay asked to hold it.  While it seemed he first cared more about the cool blue socks he was wearing in the picture, he eventually began staring at the faces. I pointed to his African mommy, said her name, then said "mommy".  At that moment his eyes were fixated on her face as he pointed repeating mama mama. 

It kinda shook me up.  I can't say if it was good or bad, but it did feel important and strong.
Watching my son stare into the eyes of the beautiful woman who gave him birth. The woman who loved him so much she gave him to us.  The woman he was supposed to call mommy. 

I know these moments will get more clear and more frequent as he grows and his speech and cognition grow too.  These moments and talks are only beginning, but this was defiantly our first.

a number of questions

Does anyone out there have a 3 year old daughter (or son) who regularly stops women on the street, in the mall, at restaurants, to tell them that they look fabulous? Or that they just love their shoes, or how great their skirt is? Because, no joke, this is what my 3 year old daughter does.

I began noticing her quietly comment on how beautiful these women we'd see out were. I guess she couldn't keep it in anymore, and she began approaching them. 

While in Florida last week for spring break she fell in love with a fabulous white flowy dress and then she saw the shoes. A simple Turquoise beaded wedge. Thats what broke her. She squealed and shouted "I love your dress and those SHOES" to a woman who was older than her grammas (not that thats very old:) She may have made that womans day.
The same thing happen a day later only we chased a women into the bathroom to tell her how beautiful she looked. Where did this girl come from? She never tells me my shoes are great.

Next question, did anyone see the results to the Boston Marathon? The male winner ran 26.2 miles in 2:03 min! The fastest marathon ever. How does one get there body to do that? I'd like to know.  The woman winner did it in 2:22 min. Not too shabby. 8 out of top 10 male finishers were from Ethiopia or Kenya (and 6 out of top 10 women were also).  I can't help but feel a bit of pride when I read that. Maybe because one of my kids is Ethiopian and the other's middle namesake is Kenya, as in the country? Maybe it only means something to me because I've been running for 20 years and I would do anything to run like some of those those guys.

Either way, I am in awe.


My last question. Will I even run in the Boston Marathon? (or any marathon for that matter)

Florida thus far

trains and fedoras

hiding from Appa

kids table

flower coconut soup

with just a touch of rocks

looking through the glass

moves

more moves

a sad goodbye

I've been fighting it. I've been pretending that we don't have a problem. I sneak off to different parts of town hoping we won't be recognized. I can't seem to just give it up.  I'm in denial. 

We have no choice but to stop going back all together. I hope there will be a time again in the future when we can reconnect. But for now, we just have to say no.

There cannot be library trips with Belay in tow for a long long time. And lest I forgot, while we have 2 furry members of the family.

It all started when we madethe grave mistake of leaving a library book on the coffee table and the dogs locked in another room, and left for the day.  Only to return to nothing but shreds of a hard back novel costing  $24.  After coming up with different ways of trying to tape the book back together I had no choice but to hang my head in shame and admit that my dog ate the book.

The next trip back to the library, on a snowy winter day after my kids had been cooped up for weeks inside, we were asked to leave.  Well actually Adi was asked to take her brother and leave. Yes, a librarian approached my not quite  2 and not quite 3 yr old and asked them to leave because they were running laps around the bookshelves (did I mention we had been snowed in for a while?) What still perplexes me is why on earth that woman didn't come to ME and ask ME to take my kids outside. Yes, my kids show not have been running inside and yes I turned my head away for a moment to look for a book without pictures.  So we left, shamed again.

Well as you can imagine our string of library luck only got worse. Another book got eaten and until I pay the $20 fee, which I just can't bring myself to do, we don't get to bring any home. Yet I go back for more. Each time we are there I am asked to take Belay and leave for various reasons. Sometimes its because he is jumping off the tables or dive bombing the chairs other times its because I suggest he lowers his inside voice just a touch and his response ends in, well, it ends in us leaving.

In the midst of all the book eating dogs and wild screaming boy, Adi just sits reading as quick as she can.  See she know now that  1. we aren't allowed to bring books home anymore  and 2. We may and will be asked to leave at any moment.

What's a mom to do? One child who wants nothing more than to read books and be in a library and the other who banned from the entire county library system.

I think we have to say goodbye for a while.  My deepest condolences Adi, one day we will return again.