A little too much time on my hands

I meant to post this picture a while ago. Ella's best buddy donated her long locks to Pantene to make a wig for a child with cancer. Her new haircut was adorable, and very short. Ella immediately wanted the same cut. Unfortunately, my daughter is a sweaty little thing. It would seem (to the unexperienced) that short hair in the summer is a GOOD thing, but you would be wrong. Short hair gets stuck on sweaty foreheads, and forms little sweat encased ringlets that turn into teeny weeny snarls. I know because we have done the short-hair-during-the-summer thing. It started getting cooler and one afternoon everyone was busy but me. So I slyly asked Ella if she wanted a haircut. We went upstairs and I got busy. Not 10 minutes later this is what emerged...

The next picture is a perfect example of taking a craft too far. We just finished studying "Vikings" and made papermache helmets. I won't go into the details of this, because I would seem like a crazy homeschool mom, but suffice it to say, these helmets took some time. After all of the work the kids decided to "play Vikings" and I asked them to pose (because these helmets, even though they were a lot of work, may not last too long and we need a picture for posterity). Everett belongs on broadway, he has a flair for all things dramatic. Here is the "Viking pose" and following is his lesson to Ella on being a Viking dog (because her "Viking pose" did not suit his tastes).

Now we are off into the world of knights and castles...that should bring some interesting photo opportunities!

Surfing the Web

I received an email this morning from a friend of mine detailing some kids who need families. Like me, she's a mom to a child with limb differences. Unlike me, she's on several forums and listings for moms to kids with limb differences. Occasionally, she gets news of kids who need homes. She usually sends them to me and I sit staring at photos for most of the morning, feeling torn apart at the plight of these kids. This particular email was from a site dedicated to finding homes for special needs kids from all over the world. The site also has a blog associated with it--this is a great example of families who travelled and saw the needs of these "forgotten children." Regular, everyday, normal people like you and I making an impact on eternity.

If you have some free time or know someone who might be interested in adopting a child with special needs--please pass the address on.

On a lighter note-a family adopting through America World posted this website today. It looks like a fantastic way to incorporate Amharic and Ethiopian culture into our children's lives. I've been on the lookout for something like this--thanks, Davids!

Dying Cats and other Expensive Endeavors

Seth went out of town this weekend for work. We had planned to go with him, because-why not? Then I remembered that we couldn't go with him. Because of my cat. I have to force feed her every two hours. Because...well, I am not really sure. Either she wants to die by starvation or wants to live but doesn't feel like eating. Either way its a long story and I have some time on my hands (seeing as I'm not in the Big City visiting my husband) so I'll start with the most logical beginning--the day my microwave broke.


One morning my microwave started making a weird noise. When I opened the door it sort of growled at me. Strange as it was for the microwave to growl, I decided I'd put my cold coffee in anyway (maybe it growled because I was waking it up early, maybe I needed to drink some coffee so I wouldn't be imagining a growling microwave--either way it seemed a good idea to me). When I turned on the microwave it started buzzing and growling. Even in my early-morning-drinking-cold-coffee-state I recognized that this could be hazardous. So I unplugged the microwave. Then waited and when Seth came home I tried it out with him. He immediately clutched his chest and started wailing, jokester--he had me going for a millisecond. So we threw the microwave in the trashcan. We priced microwaves but thought that we should probably put the money into our adoption account. Then...

The next week we went on vacation (which explains how we got along without the microwave for so long). See previous posts on Moby and ditching our "old" van in Alabama to get the picture on that ridiculous story. We incurred a car loan and bills from nights in a hotel, eating out, and buying a new van but saved money by dumping the old van instead of fixing it. Then...


The week after we got home Seth had a dental appointment. He had to have some dental work done. This is never good news, especially to Seth because he's only ever had one cavity. They didn't have to use novicane on that one little cavity. They had to use novicane this time, and it didn't work. He was in pain and the bill was high. Then...


Ella has speech therapy twice a week. It's a good deal, but our insurance doesn't cover a tiddle of it. We get billed by semester and the next week I got the bill. Was expecting it sometime, but the timing....well, not so good. Now, I get to the cat...

The next week I noticed our cat was acting strange. She's a peppy 3-year-old, but was lethargic and seemed to be skinnier. So I called the vet and brought her in. Not good news, she had lost four pounds (she was quite a big cat, but not that big) and they would need to keep her overnight to figure out what was happening. Four days later, and by my estimates not any better, the vet told me the prognosis was not good. They were force feeding her, had run tests on her and couldn't figure it out. But basically, she was dying. So would I like to have an ultrasound done, because they may be able to see something wrong with her gall bladder and perhaps perform surgery to remedy this? I asked them what our expenses were this far. And you won't believe what they said. Make a guess...I'll give you a second, because this will really blow your socks off...$713 for four nights, an IV, and some bloodwork.

And my cat was still sick and they had no idea why. So I said I'd be there to pick her up. But in the 15 minutes that it took for me to get there; I somehow accrued another $80 of debt and the scorn of everyone working there--since I was essentially taking the cat to die. I tried to redeem myself by explaining that I worked at a vet's office for years in high school and college (when the prices were evidently MUCH lower and ethic standards higher). My cat looked horrible, and I had to sit in my kitchen floor and just cry. Partly because the cat was dying and partly because I just shelled out $800 for them to tell me that.

Then I dried my tears and asked myself what God was trying to teach us from this. Within a few weeks we had paid out over $1000 dollars in bizarro expenses. It clicked for me right then that we are now in a position to completely trust God for our money. We had been in a "trusting" place--trusting the excess of Seth's salary (along with being thrifty) and a few "gifts from God" to give us the $25,000+ that we would need. I finally saw that we weren't really trusting Him as much as we should have. We are better off financially now than we were 3 years ago when we adopted Ella. We had yard sales, got second jobs, and sold fundraiser cookbooks to scrape together the money. It would NOT have been possible to have made it without God's blessing. And the people we met, the story we told...it was amazing. One couple who heard our adoption story and the financial aspects of it, came to us after we spoke at church and said, "We've always wanted to adopt but thought we never could. We just don't make enough money." Now there is a baby in Alabama with a family because they saw our faith and decided that they could step out in faith too.

How much faith does it take to watch that paycheck roll in every month? And what kind of amazing story of provision will we tell? "God gave Seth a good job, we saved our money." I'm thankful for that, but what does that do for the people who have good jobs, but don't have that little bit extra to tuck away? It isn't very encouraging for them, but now we have joined their ranks. How excited I am to see God work this out and then to share the story. I'm not expecting our savings account to miraculously show deposits, but I am praying that God will bless our efforts. Does this mean pancake breakfasts and selling crafty things? I don't know, but I do expect that there will be a double blessing--we get to share the wonder of adoption with people as we work to build up our adoption fund.

And all of that because of a broken microwave and sick cat. Speaking of, I think it's about time to feed her--she's overcoming the odds and still alive, by the way.

Referrals, Referrals and more Referrals--not ours though!

Yesterday five more familes got calls from America World. It was exciting to read posts this morning. I was a smidgen sad though, because I'm still waiting. You may notice the ticker (that I hate and should remove because it mocks me) says that we have been waiting just shy of five months. I'm happy for the families (10 in all) that got referrals this month, but just barely a smidge sad because the reality is finally hitting home. These are the families with whom we paperchased, watched dossiers fly to Ethiopia, and waited. They are planning for their children and we are waiting.

We will be waiting for a while.

There I typed it...even as I clicked the period I had a thought of "What do I know, we could get a call in a month--why am I typing that? But then we could still be waiting until March." So maybe I should write:

Will we be waiting for a while?

I'm going to drive myself bonkers! Well, at least I'll be blissfully bonkers as I watch my internet-America World-Ethiopian adoption buddies getting courts dates and travelling. Congratulations to all of those who got referrals! You can watch them too here and here.

Shameless Plug for My Sister...

My dear baby sister is an not-so-starving artist. A wonderfully gifted, but lacking work, artist. She recently joined a crew of ladies who get together to encourage each other to use their artist talents. She was prompted to make herself available to people far and wide via...the internet, of course. My question is, What took you so stinkin' long?

So, ever the fabulous, encouraging, big sis I decided to link her blog and portraits right here to give her a little boost. Go visit her sites and tell her how fantastic she is and order something from her (then tell her that she needs to charge more and give me a percentage of sales for my marketing skills).

I'm not all self-less though, she NEEDS to do a portrait of Ella for me (if you are reading this Danica that would be a hint).

This is an oil painting she did for me years ago for Christmas. Such a cutie!

Last Night

Before my kids drift off to visit the Land of Nod; we pray. When they were really little, their prayers consisted of a list of "Thank Yous" rattled off to God. Listening to their prayers is an incredibly sweet way for me to end my day. Now that they are older, I get a glimpse of what is troubling them and what they are excited about. Last night Eli's prayer was so startlingly simple I had to swallow back tears as I kissed him goodnight.

He prayed, "God, I really want to meet my baby brother before Christmas. Amen."

I saw what I saw

This video is on just about any Ethiopian adoption blog I've visited recently, so I didn't feel like I needed to post it here. Then I thought about all of you guys (are you out there?) who don't bounce from one blog to another checking into the lives of other adoptive families--in a nutshell my family and friends.

I first encountered Sara Groves after stumbling onto her cd at the library. I enjoyed it, but alas, she was what we were listening to before we abandoned our old van in Alabama. I remember asking Seth (as we furiously chucked things from old van to new van) if he got the cd out of the player. He assured me that he had put it into a bag somewhere. Now, weeks later, with a heavy library fine, I've come to terms with the fact that the Sara cd is in an auctionhouse in the boonies. Maybe she'll be a blessing to the guy who scrubs the interior of the van after he buys it.

I hope this song is an eye-opener. Since we decided to adopt from Ethiopia, I've been realistic about how this trip will affect us. I'm approaching our travel with trepidation, afraid that what we see and who we meet will change our lives forever.

When it rains, it pours...

Our agency had a busy week. Our family has been visiting my parents and grandparents (Happy 80th Birthday, Grandpa!) so I just found out last night about all the referrals that have been given. Before we left, I knew about the Carpenters and the Davids. The Carpenter's news was extra-thrilling because they requested two children. Though they have been waiting for a while, it is encouraging to see them finally get a referral and know that "our line" is moving too. Then I found out about 3 more families that have news of their children. All of these families have every reason to expect to travel before Christmas to get their little ones--which is very exciting. Congratulations to everyone--praying that you get news of court soon and that the referrals continue to come!

I know...

I know that I have been through this adoption waiting thing before. I know that I had an amazing experience in trusting God. I know that I should be able to trust Him this time too. But, I'm starting to falter.

We haven't been waiting for an extraordinarily long time, merely 4 months. But, I had it all laid out before we even turned in our paperwork. In my plan we were going to have pictures of our kids by this point and planning a trip to Ethiopia in the next few months to bring them home. That is the problem, it's MY plan. When I get bent out of shape because of the wait, I meet someone who has been waiting longer. A gal at swimming lessons is adopting from China, I won't even tell you how long she's been waiting (because then I'd seem really petty). I will say that she started her paperwork over 2 YEARS ago. That was a reality check.

When we wrote our child request, Seth and I were pretty specific, but didn't intend for America World to follow our request in detail. We meant it as a guidline for them, thinking that if they found two children under 3, they would be ours (not worrying about gender or specific ages). We had been wondering if America World knew that we didn't really care if the younger child was a boy or the older a girl. So I called our family coordinator to make sure. I talked to her last week and hung up the phone in a bit of a funk. This is our status: several families are ahead of us in line for siblings. If we would like we could change our request to just one child and move to a different line (a faster line, and be up higher in the line) or keep our request the same and wait...and wait. And possibly wait so long that our paperwork begins to expire. WHAT?! I about fell out when she told me that. Stuff might expire? As in, waiting until next spring, expire? I hung up the phone and just sat there stunned.

Then I went about my motherly duties in a fog. I had a moment to briefly relay the conversation to Seth that evening before he headed out for a class. And, still in a funky fog, I did what all girls do when they need an ear and a bit of advice--called my mom. I told her my options and she did what all good moms would do, smacked me around a bit.

Mom begins, "Apryl, do you remember how God timed it just right for you to get Ella?" Pitiful me, "Mm, hmm."

She continues, "Do you remember WHY you want to have two more children?" Pitiful me, "Yeah..."

And continues to batter me, "What are you going to do if you only get one child?" Sorrowful me, "Probably be racked with guilt when we get to Ethiopia and start paperwork for a second child soon after getting home."

She chastens, "And, Apryl, do you really thinking waiting 4 or 5 more months is going to make a difference in the long run?" Chastised me, "No, not really, but Mom..."

And she puts the last nail in the coffin, "Sounds like you know what you should do Apryl, wait on God."

Ugh, why does she have to be so right?

I should make a disclaimer here, this isn't our agency's fault. They are doing a wonderful job, they told us what the wait times would be, and their main concern is getting the children into homes. So they are unwilling to make an infant wait so that the family requesting an infant and toddler (us) could be referred both. They find the infant a home (with a family requesting only an infant) and the family requesting two kids continues to wait until two children (or siblings) are available at the same time. So, I'm waiting and I'm not being very graceful about it. I'm trying hard to learn from wise people around me and from past experience. I am, evidently, a very slow learner.

Parking the Mammoth

Even in a small car I have a hard time parking. So one of my concerns in buying this hulking beast of a van was that I may not be able to park it. My fears were realized at Ella's speech therapy appointment yesterday. The parking situation is unreal at the University--small spaces, loads of cars cruising for spots, students racing to class... In my rush to make it on time I forgot about trying to park The Van and nearly freaked out when I got to the parking lot. I managed to find a spot on my *good* side (the left) and only took three tries to negotiate the space. We piled out, inspected my parking job, and all were pleased to see that, though I was crooked, I was well within the yellow lines. Racing off to therapy I forgot about having to pull the whale OUT of the cramped space.

A hour later I load the kids into Moby and put it in reverse. Immediately I see a man in a MINI-van behind me. I wave him on, knowing that I'm going to take forever to back out. He refuses to move because he wants my spot. Behind him a line of cars is growing. I throw the van into reverse and lightly tap the gas. We inch back as far as I dare go, then I put it into drive and turn the steering wheel. Tap the gas, move a few inches. Reverse, spin the wheel, tap the gas, move an inch. Drive, turn the wheel, tap the gas, move an inch. I'm making some progress but the line of cars is growing, this incessant wheel turning is causing my...forearms...to....burn...and panic is starting to set in. Will I ever get out, will I have to call someone with big rig experience to help me remove this thing from the tiny space I have put it into? I'm the comic relief in the middle of a so-so movie.

Back and forth we go, I really just want to ram the car behind me to give myself some space. Finally, I spin one last time and, with beads of perspiration breaking out across my forehead, I creep forward chanting, "Please, please, please..." hoping not to bump the car next to me. And we are FREE! The kids all chorus and whoop from the rear of the van and I'm elated. Until I remember that Ella has therapy twice a week and we will have to do this again in a few days. I vow to pull the kids to therapy in the wagon until it snows, then I will pull them in a sled, then when I have five children I will strap babies to my body, pull the sled, and still never park that hog at the University again.

Introducing Moby

Sometimes, things just hit you when you least expect it. As we left the beach I was planning what to do when we arrived home, wondering if I had nursery duty the next night at church, all pretty mundane things. Then, two hours into the trip, our van died. Before you picture me in a rusted out 30 year old VW (though that may have brought me home safely), let me say that our van is only 3 years old, so this was unexpected. Thankfully, my sister was caravaning with us for the first three hours of the trip, so she was there to offer much needed wheels and help. The entire scenario was outrageous--we had been in the back country of Alabama, just pulling into a small town (which is a metropolis for the area), just passing an auto parts store when the van stopped working. Seth coasted into a parking space at the store and opened the hood. Immediately the kind man running the store saw we were in need of major assistance and came out to offer his help. His face was pretty grim when he said the awful, hateful, words, "Gotta be yawr transmission."

I was completely flabbergasted, are you kidding me, this van is practically NEW (compared to what we have driven in the past), it shouldn't be breaking down this early, its nuts! Then I was struck by how amazing it is that we were in a town, that we were in front of an auto parts store, and not in the middle of the interstate or (possibly worse) on the side of a two lane country road. In a seemingly bad situation, still a place to thank God for his mercy and watchcare.

Then I looked at Seth and said, "So I guess God has something for us to learn here in Andalusia, Alabama." He smirked and called a tow truck.

With Seth on the cell phone, Crystal and I immediately loaded all 5 kids (her 2 and my 3) off to the McD's conveniently located across the street (did I mention this was a metropolis?). Thankfully there was a playplace outside, unfortunately, it smelled like a recent visitor had lost their happy meal on the slide. But desperate times call for desperate measures. And boy were we desperate--the kids had to use the facilities for business beyond *number 1* and they timed it perfectly so that either Crystal or I were "taking care of business" in the restrooms the whole time we were there. We finally abandoned the McD's for a park a bit down the road. We should have stayed at McD's a bit longer, it was one of those mornings--several of the kids had to christen the park (because, of course, who puts potties around a playground where small children who can't hold it may come to play for hours?).

On the main stretch of road, next door to Taco Bell and McDonald's, we got the LAST room available at the Best Western. Oddly enough, there was some kind of high school rodeo championship in town, and the only hotel in town was booked, except for one lowly smoking double. My parents made a stop for lunch on their way north, and that afternoon everyone took off for home. Leaving us feeling very alone and strange about being stranded in Alabama without a plan for ever getting home.

Saturday night we took a LONG walk to explore the prospect of attending a local church Sunday morning. This turned into serious drama because (little known fact) love-bugs are in season in the South and Ella has a serious bug phobia. I don't use the word "phobia" lightly. She's down-right terrified of anything that closely resembles a bee. All flying insects are bees, she's never been stung by a bee, doesn't know what it feels like, but her imagination has gone into overdrive with this and she expects it to kill her, possibly. I can't figure out an explanation for her frantic screaming whena bug comes near her. We caught these bugs and showed her, killed them and let her touch them, didn't make any difference. As we walked along the sidewalk if anything flying came near us she started shrieking, moaning, wailing, anything aside from swishing her hand in front of her face and saying, "Shoo" as we had instructed her to do. Complete insanity. So we walked down the road, our peace interrupted every few SECONDS by shrill wails of insanity. We found a sign for a church, and Seth scouted out how far it was from the main road so we decided we'd make a visit to them the next day.

That turned out to be the best thing we could have done. Sunday when we showed up at this little building, the 30 or so people there greeted us with warm kindness and...curiousity? When they heard our, "Breaking down in the center of town" story they were concerned for us and continued asking if they could do anything at all. We walked out of church holding keys to the building, a promise of a ride back that evening and phone numbers in case we needed other help. These people were beyond a blessing to us. When we got back that night they gave us snacks, gift cards (since we were living on fast food, the only thing within walking distance), and more phone numbers. They were truly acting as the body of Christ, and when we got back to the hotel that evening I was on the verge of tears because of the love I felt from these people we hardly knew.

Beyond the church body, the pastor was incredible. This church had recently experienced hard times, and were searching for a new pastor. Seth and I were both amazed by the way God was using this young evangelist in a tiny country church. He was an eloquent, intelligent teacher. We had walked into the situation not expecting very much and God put us in our place immediately. I still don't know why we landed in Andalusia. Maybe our family needed some "forced fun" spending time together in close quarters. Maybe we needed to see this little church, or maybe someone there needed to meet us. We may never figure it out, but we saw that the detours in life can be blessings, if we let them.

Back to the title of this LONG story...Moby. Monday morning the town awoke and we rented a car (from the one rental agency in town that just opened a few weeks before our arrival) and called the dealership that had our van. It was going to require about $1500 of repairs and they had two transmission jobs ahead of us. It was probably going to be well over a week before we could pick it up. After much deliberation, possibly some coercing on the part of the dealership owner, we decided to trade our van in on this hulking masterpiece that we have lovingly dubbed "Moby" (Everett wants us to call it Crazy Big Van but we vetoed that one).

But wait! Before I show you a picture, understand that we were thinking about getting something bigger. And as cool as a 9 passenger SUV would be, the 20k more on the price tag wasn't worth the cool factor to me. Practical hubby that he is, Seth wanted one of these from the beginning of our "we may need a bigger car" discussions. See our last vacation post for details on this. But in all honestly, I think Seth bought this van because he thinks it's funny to see me driving it. And to see 3 kids tumble out of a TWELVE passenger van...yep, we bought a 12 Passenger van for the five of us. So here's the newest addition to our family:

And just so you can giggle like Seth does...

On the road again

Last week my family travelled south again. My parents are celebrating their 50th birthdays this year, and my mom surprised my dad with a week at the beach. And then she invited all of the kids to join them. My mom didn’t tell him that we were coming in an effort to keep him from cornering us to extract the details. Too bad that didn’t work--keeping a secret from him is nearly impossible. A few weeks ago he and Seth were outside together talking. After about an hour Seth came rushing into the kitchen yelping, “He’s pumping me for information, I can’t take it!”

He’s stoic and difficult to read, so we may never know whether he figured the whole thing out or not. My mom told a few *white lies* and we think he was surprised to see us (and hopefully happy). We had a fantastic time together. Here’s the week in pictures…


Here’s a picture of our whole family. Yes, my parents have four daughters. I don't know if my dad was a patient man before children, but spending 20 years with five females certainly made him patient. Take notice of all the grandchildren that are boys, it seems the only way we can add girls to our family is by adoption. I guess God is rewarding my dad for his patience by giving him so many rowdy grandsons.



I wish I could write that our trip ended as we expected, leaving Florida and heading back home. It didn’t though, and I’ll leave that for my next post. Ba ba ba bahm, ahhh, a good cliffhanger.

Addendum

Seth read my post and said, "That picture of Everett makes him look like MacGyver. I guess he could maybe be..."

Or maybe not. So as to keep from leading you astray--these are the other (non-Macgyver) faces of Everett...

As a pirate...

As a goofball...

As a big brother...

Everett's SEVEN!

Happy Birthday to Everett! I think I may blink and find him heading off to college! It seems like it was just yesterday when he and I were living the carefree life-- me and a chubby baby lazing our days away. How things change!

Most people have heard the story of the surprise that Everett was to Seth and I. But I'll tell it again, because it's appropriate (and funny for those of you who haven't heard it). When Seth and I were married neither of us wanted kids...ever. Six months into our marriage we went to our Sunday school Christmas party. We were the only childless couple out of the 15 there. Imagine the noise, the squalling, the chaos. Through the din we embarked on a horrid white elephant exchange (in which Seth received a used calender). We were finally relieved to politely excuse ourselves from the torture. I vividly recall walking to the car in the dark and saying, "I am so thankful that we don't have any kids, that was horrible."

I was already expecting our first baby.

I can only imagine the roaring laughter from heaven when those words came out of my mouth! Isn't God grand? I'm beyond thankful that He saw fit to bless us with a wonderful baby boy (who incidentally slept through the night at 3 weeks). Everett has such a unique character, I'm anxious to see the plans God has for him!

And because I couldn't possibly post about Everett without including a picture:

This picture warrants a little explanation. Everett has been asking for a pocket knife for years. I guess when he first asked, seven sounded a long way off. When his seventh birthday approached he reminded us that two years ago we told him that he could have a pocket knife. Seth (recalling his favorite childhood memories) went to the store and bought survival gear for a seven year old and a handy dandy knapsack. Though I'm sure it's called something else. For two days Everett has wanted to do nothing but carry the bag around and "fiddle" with his knife (we finally told him that you don't "fiddle" you "whittle").

His big birthday request was granted, and birthday bliss culminated in taking a hike with his dad. The rest of us sort of tagged along. Eli stated that we must bring along a ladder so that Everett could cut down a tree with his new knife. I snapped many pictures including this one, titled: Embarassing little sister discovers a spider is in her hair.

Later, when I was looking at the pictures, I found this little gem preceding the "spider in the hair one". Should I title it "Big brother sabotaging Mom's photo shoot by placing spider in sister's hair?"


I never get a straight answer on that one, but the photo looks pretty incriminating! Nevertheless, Happy Birthday Everett!

I made it

In keeping with family traditions, I took photos of my kids on their first day of school. Unfortunately it has been raining for two days, so the pictures are kind of soggy. But here they are in all their glory (and totally thrilled with holding the umbrella).

When Everett came downstairs for breakfast this is what he was wearing, complete with the nametag from vacation Bible school. I didn't say anything, but he later informed me that this is his school "uniform" and I need to wash it every night. Yeah, I'll get right on that. To further comment, he's paired a seersucker jacket with plain gray t-shirt and jeans. Quite the fashionista, takes after his dad.

I wouldn't say the day went beautifully, but it...went. And, we are all excited to do it again tomorrow. Everett's statement before bed was, "The second day of school is even better than the first." Let's hope so. I've got to tweak some things, but I really need to focus on these three and just get us into a routine. Then I can deal with adding babies to the crowd in a few months. I kept looking around thinking, "How am I going to manage? What in the world will we do?" Not a good first day attitude. Since it's overwhelming enough. It's hard to step back and realize that I'm homeschooling because we felt like God was calling us to do it. So I know that God is going to take care of us, BUT I don't remember that when I'm up to my knees in questions, pleads, and squabbles. Deep breath.

Honestly, we had a very rewarding day. Ella was fabulous (I was most worried about her), she patiently listened to me, worked hard, and kept herself entertained with quiet activities. We had a great moment during our math lesson (very basic right now), when she was so proud of herself for answering correctly. The problem kid turned out to be Eli, he wanted to "work, work, work" and that doesn't happen with kindergarden. Since he couldn't work, work, work, he bugged, bugged, bugged me. We sat down later and planned out things that he could do ALONE for tomorrow.

One hour....

before school starts. I feel incredibly silly because I only have three students, and they are my kids. AND they are so excited about starting school that Eli said he's going to cry today because of happiness. Could I ask for anything more?

But I'm nervous because this year I have three kids to teach. I feel like if this day and this month don't go well I will have a nervous breakdown wondering if I can manage five children, homeschooling three of them.

Did I mention that my palms are sweating right now?

I feel even sillier because I'm in my robe sipping coffee, have oatmeal baking in the oven (with white chocolate chips in it) waiting for my kids to wake up. I'm the picture of peace--my books are laid out, supplies are purchased and organized. Our school area is pristine (though this only happened last night) and inviting. But I feel so much pressure because I don't know if I can do it. When people ask how I'm going to manage five young children my answer is, "I don't know." I don't know HOW I will do it because I've never done it. And so I've put myself into this place thinking if today goes beautifully, then I'm one step closer to managing my family in 6 months when I add two babies to the clan. It sort of makes sense, right? Or am I completely out of my mind--yeah, yeah, don't answer that.

The more I type the more butterflies I feel, so I better stop now and just promise that I'll post later (if all goes well and the wild children don't tie me up in the basement because school didn't live up to their expectations).

Touring the Eastern Shore

I failed to mention 3 weeks ago that my kids and I were boarding the minivan for an extended trip along the East Coast. For everyone who has emailed or called wondering if we dropped into oblivion--nope, still here. For the rest of you who knew we were gone, but have emailed or called wondering if we have heard anything about our adoption--nope, still haven't. Thankfully, life on the highway passes by fast and from the look of my annoying ticker at the top of the page we've been waiting 3 months. Since I'm recovering from vacation and planning to start school in 4 days, my brain is fried. Here's a look at our past three weeks.

Day 1- We meet our first obstacle, fitting all of this into the van.

Day2-8 No photos because my camera battery stopped charging after the previous photo.

Day 8 Reinforcements meet me at the beach. My sweet hubby gives me a memory card for the video camera, so I can bug everyone by taking photos. Unfortunately, the video ability is null because the humidity messes with the (brand new) camera and it malfunctions everytime I try to video.

Day 12 Ella loses her tooth while in the pool wearing a snorkel mask. I thought she vomited, but thankfully (since we have been down the vomit-in-the-pool road before) it was just a bloody tooth. Double thankfulness that I didn't have to pull it, because it was in that nasty hanging by a thread stage.

Day 14 Cool beach boys.

Day 19-On our way home we drove through the town of Everett, PA (or VA, or WVA, or even MD not sure, we were passing through states pretty quickly). We pulled off for a quick photo which turned into half an hour looking for the town and finally determining that Everett doesn't exist. Seth griped about the photo seeming quaint if he hadn't been involved. We finally just decide to turn around and take a picture next to the exit sign. Good enough!
Still driving, the natives are incredibly restless. At one point I turn around to see Eli playing with a bag of dirty clothes. Naturally, I take a picture.


Nearing the end of the voyage, Seth and I determine that with five children we will no longer fit into our van. Well, WE will fit but our luggage will not. I think we were pretty burned out because we never figured out a solution to that problem. Perhaps Seth thought that this would be the last of our family vacations. I'm thinking we need a 9 seater monster SUV. Unfortunately, he's more the cargo van kind of guy.

Lessons from my five-year-old

Since we brought Ella home I've been praying that God would "restore the years" to her (Joel 2:25). For three years I've been blaming the time that Ella was in an orphanage for all of the "stuff" we deal with. Every pediatrician, therapist, or specialist has to hear my liturgy on what this little girl has dealt with, "Eastern European kids who are institutionalized suffer from…" While I was waiting to see the speech therapist to discuss a recent evaluation, I was watching the kids around me and realized that most of these kids are completely "normal". Ella will probably be one of few (if any) adopted kids that this therapist will see. It finally dawned on me that even if Ella had been born to me, nurtured by me from birth, and given every opportunity possible for the first three years of her life, just maybe, she'd still be having a hard time talking, learning, and understanding. Whoa.

Even though I tell the kids who ask about Ella's limb differences that God made her special for a reason, I don't think I've applied that to all of her. I can accept that he made her physically different from most children, but I haven't thought about giving Him credit for her mind. I've been so busy worrying about "fixing" what the first years have done, that I haven't taken the time to look at ALL of her as God's special creation. Even if she's years behind in language, she's perfectly what He wanted. I can't begin to understand why some children are born with more struggles than others. I do know that God made her with a special purpose, and me trying to "fix" her or make her like everyone else means I'm denying God's sovereignty. I'm making MY plan and my purpose better than His.

Romans 12:2 says…That ye may prove what is that good, and acceptable, and perfect, will of God.

Clearly God's perfect plan for my child is better than my plan. His will is good, acceptable—I can't even see past the next few hours regarding my will for my daughter! How can I possibly deny that His creation of Ella doesn't fit into his perfect plan for her? He made her with all the idiosyncrasies that we enjoy and the ones we'd like to toss out. I finally got it—she's who she is because God's doing something with her that requires this—He's got a perfect place for her and it requires that she go through certain fires to come out just right.

I'm feeling this new sense of peace. I feel okay that we have passed the time allotted for her to 'catch up' and that she's still fighting these battles. These battles were given to her by God, not inherited from an institution in Ukraine. I can't see the purpose in these battles, but years from now maybe we will get a glimpse at what God has accomplished through our trials. Maybe we will never see the fruit of these delays beyond the changes they cause in our own lives.

One night I came directly from showering to kiss Ella goodnight. After I kissed her, she said, "Nice hair mommy." Then laughed. I laughed too and we shared a moment. That was the first time that she verbally expressed a thought that wasn't related to her needs. She put three words together! It was astounding. It was also just last year. I'm becoming a better mother because of my little girl. She's teaching me to celebrate the accomplishments that would seem ordinary to another mom. Now I feel like I can embrace my kid with a different attitude—encouraging her to do the best she can, but accepting all of her just the way God made her.

NPR's adoption series

Seth works an hour away from our home and generally puts his time in the car to good use. He's dedicated himself to catching up on all the classics that he was supposed to read in high school, but sometimes he's had enough of Poe, Hemingway, and Steinbeck so he turns on the radio. On Monday he caught the beginning of this series on NPR. Initially I was excited, but it seems (to both of us) that they are doing the nasty media thing and putting a spin on adoption that may seem discouraging. They have a short clip about transracial adoption and some tips on raising kids from an adoptive mom.

Sly as a fox

Today I had a wonderful day! I've had a lot weighing on my mind and managed to forget nearly all of it for this day. It's a momentous day in our house because I finally reached the age that I'm no longer a princess on July 20, but a queen. I turned 30.

I suppose I should talk about the sobs I woke up with? The gray hairs I counted? My obvious laugh lines? I'll have none of it, because I have had a blast turning thirty. I can only hope that the rest of the decade is half as good! What made my day so delightful? Seth surprised me by taking the day off, bringing me coffee with a side of pancakes in bed, flowers, and a day of pampering (by my standards). The cutie cards the kids made me yesterday were great—I interrupted them while Ella was supposed to be the lookout and instead ended up screaming at me "Happy Birthday to you, Mommy!" Then she told me not to go into the dining room because they were making cards. Whoops.

We went to the park and I enjoyed a fantastic run, met Seth and the kids to go "hiking". Unfortunately, while I was running Eli discovered a yellow jacket nest and was stung three times before he got to Seth. The little trooper was determined to go hiking and on we went. On the way home, we stumbled upon a neighborhood garage sale and I acquired a double toaster (needed for a large family), a pizza stone (w/holder), and almost got a kitchenaid mixer (alas, the ole gal wouldn't budge on her price). I'll have to post about the kid's purchases later. We went to our favorite Mexican restaurant for lunch and were on our way to go canoeing when we pulled into a furniture boutique going out of business. I started talking to the woman who owns the place and she ended up loading my van with free furniture! Two loads of furniture! The second time we pulled back into our driveway all three kids screamed, "Why are we back at home again?!" As if they didn't notice that we had stuff shoved into every crevice. We did finally make it canoeing and had a blast. My partner was determined to help, but her paddling skills were found lacking. I'm ashamed to admit that we did a few unintended circles in the river.

Each time we do something special, I think about how it will be when we have two more children. Can we fit another in the canoe? Will it be years before we can go? I let myself revel in the thought of our children being with us next year on my birthday. I said a prayer for our kids separated from us on this special day, and tried to draw myself back to the little one working so hard to keep us moving.

I needed this day. I needed a break from exhausting myself. As sad as it is, I spend everyday with my family, but feel like my mind has been so far away (sometimes in Ethiopia, sometimes elsewhere). My day has ended with bliss: I've got three dreaming kids, a belly full of "happy birthday" donuts, and a beautiful evening yet to enjoy! Here's a picture of me with my donut (okay, this probably warrants explanation: Seth made a sticky note of things to do today. We completed all on his list, except the last item "kids make mom a cake". Since I'm always the cake baker, this was harder to do than he expected. He managed to keep the flowers, the gifts, the itinerary, and his day off all a secret. He didn't want to blow it with a cake, so he and Eli stopped at the store and bought doughnuts. Still scrumptious and the first time I've ever blown candles out on a donut!)