Beti is going to Kindergarten!!! I never thought I would say this but I’m proud of her. I mean, I’ve always thought it was kind of weird when parents were so proud of their kids, as if theirs were the only bright, smart, funny, entertaining or witty kids on the block. And besides, the kids do what they do, it’s not exactly like the parents own the accomplishment. Well, maybe they do to some extent, with the right nurturing etc. But of course we have a different story to write… at the moment, what is coming out of Beti and Bamu is truly what’s in their heart and soul, and we have little to nothing to do with it other than providing them with the experience to begin with. And pride is a difficult sentiment for a German.

But here I am, telling my kindergardener how proud I am of her for having made it through the first day unscathed (plus a whole other week at the time of this writing), and apparently happy. She was all bubbly when she returned, and has learned to say “No, thank you”. I am also proud of her sister, whom she was ostensibly never separated from, for having made it through the day without any drama, and even going to sleep for her nap next to Beti’s empty bed without asking for her once. We’ve had lots of snuggle and quiet time now that Beti is not dominating at home, although when I return from Beach School with Bamu in the mornings, I do tend to feel a little forlorn until we get on with our day.

It’s odd to be involved in the school system. We got a stack of papers the day before as if we were buying a house. Then it was onto lunch and snack discussions, and what if there were “issues” that arose or if for some reason we were late for the pickup or there were an emergency (God knows the roads from Hillsboro are easily congested). It’s looking like I won’t get by without a cell phone too much longer. I feel like I am being “baptized” into my American existence a second time, this time for real. It’s like I’ve lived in a bubble, and now I am finally part of the fabric of this society for real – not necessarily just for the better, mind you.

It seems crazy, just barely 6 weeks after returning from Ethiopia, and the beginning of Beti’s and Bamu’s new life on North Omaha. But on the other hand, it’s just another new experience for them, and I would venture to say that we were probably the least anxious parents in that classroom last Friday. Then again, I had tears in my eyes as the kids were lining up – overcome by emotion. It is still so fresh, so amazing, so unbelievable to me. We have reached a state of normalcy in so many ways, but this milestone made me remember anew what an incredible thing this is, to be nurturing these two little souls, so precious, who, less than 2 months ago, were part of a gaggle of kids all waiting to be “picked up”.

The intervals between writings apparently double each time – probably a good thing, depending on how much you really want to know about our personal discoveries, Maria-style. But it’s all good – delight returned (more likely it never left, but after all “it’s ok not to feel the magic every moment”), and with it a tremendous sense of peace and things being in place. A fellow adoptive mum told us “they relax more each week”. That may be true but I have to say it’s also the parents who relax more –the night-time disruptions are killing us (although that’s getting better too) but otherwise it does get easier day by day. There are plenty of challenges, and opportunities for second-guessing ourselves, but somehow it doesn’t have the same emotional rawness any more. For one, we are getting better at re-directing, with or without the language. Of course, these are all still short-term questions. The bigger issues have yet to arise, no doubt.

Six weeks also means the apex of my time off; the rate at which the remaining time declines will be rapidly accelerating. Already I am starting to debate how to lay out schedules for when I need to return to gainful employment. I don’t think there is a way yet to optimize the mornings – the daily spectacle of getting two kids washed, clothed, fed and out the door on time is one that many parents dread, I’m sure. And the evenings continue to be crammed with making lunches, doing laundry, catching up on email, and paying bills. Our search for a pre-school for Bamu that can match Beti’s hours (withough paying through the nose) so far has been unsuccessful. But – I’ve had my first Latte the other day in what seems forever, and have been thrilled to return to my other love, choir, with a solid 4 hour kick-off last week-end. The “cloistered” phase is definitely over.

We’ve had more golden summer afternoons (although the weather has started to turn now), and lately quiet mornings with classical music that make for incredible memories. Up until recently, we’ve gone out a lot on the “cycle” (with Beti being the driver, Bamu is not really into it yet although has learned to put on her helmet and loves to be in her seat on mommy’s bike) only to stop immediately next door to visit “Baby Oliver”. Some days it’s mostly Oliver’s toys that are attractive, but lately Bamu and Beti both have led him by the hand, running with him, consoling him when he falls down etc. It’s gorgeous to watch, just as the reverse when my girl-friend’s 5 year-old son takes Bamu by the hand and wanders all over the playground with her, or they sit arm in arm to listen to music.

Bamu is the queen of role play – the other day she took one of those puzzle pieces that have a tab to pull out and pretended she was on the phone (large refrigerator magnets do the trick too). She not only called her dad at the office and had a full-blown conversation with him, but also her sister Beti at school. She then held the “phone” up to her baby doll’s ear so the little one could be part of these important phone calls, too. When mommy took her first day-time shower the other day, Baby took a shower too, including applying moisturizer afterwards. And we’ve had quite a few nights when both mom and dad as well as Baby got band-aids in the crease of their elbows to work out the drama of having to repeatedly draw blood at the doctor’s office and the hospital.

We’ve ventured out of the house for food a couple times – somewhat counter-intuitive, the girls seem to be eating better in company. We’ll see how long that lasts! Of course these adventures have a tendency to screw up the carefully guarded schedule – which, frankly, is due for an overhaul now anyway. It’s a constant balancing act between the structure and consistency so very much needed, especially for these children, and the demands of integrating with the outside world. As for the food itself, we continue to try new things – while Broccoli remains a favorite (!), Bamu is now hooked on Avocado, and most days we manage a small serving of fruit. It’s astonishing – we’re using a whole different set of dishes, the fridge is always full, and I’m addicted to the dishwasher (funny maybe only to those who know me well).

Unfortunately dad is working long hours, often missing dinner, so bath and bed time becomes even more of a play routine than it already was. This makes it harder for the girls to calm down – although we’ve recently switched to showers at their request (where do they get this stuff!) and are buying some time back. Beti is not only a total clown but so quick on the uptake it’s scary – she already makes fun of mum who is trying to keep things calm while dad simply can’t control his own inner child! She also tells me to tell dad about the adventures of the day – I continue to be amazed how well we communicate with a few words and gestures. I love every bit of it and wish I could record it all, the linguist in me is just fascinated.

Otherwise, I have very quickly become the victim of my own parenting methods. We have a rule that the girls need to try at least one spoonfull or small morsel of anything that’s on their plate, and Beti is now using this to her advantage, indiscriminately! Whether she is bargaining for another round on her “cycle”, extra time before taking her bath, or getting carried around on her mum or dad’s back, it’s always “One” with a pleading voice. Better yet, “one, ple-e-e-e-e-a-s-se”. How can you resist that! And when Bamu stands there with her hands on her hips, telling Beti or Baby “No, No”, I get a sense for what people meant when they say kids will make you look at yourself. Bamu even cries “No, No” in her sleep these days!

Things are changing every day. We love the small bits of understanding that seem to come here and there. For a long time, Beti kept pointing at airplanes, saying “America”. We got the distinct sense that she had no idea that’s where she actually was. Now, she points to “here” when hearing the word – and even picks it out on the radio (as in “produced by American Public Media”, for example). When an Ethiopian lady in church today asked where they’re from, and she heard the name of her home town, it prompted her to tell us over dinner that her mother’s name is Mary (name changed). She also told us her father’s name, and that Bamu was a baby when they were there. On the other hand, she’s been saying “Beti, Bamu, Mama, Baba – Family” on many occasions. The journey continues…