No sooner did I send out the last update that I felt compelled to start on the next chapter. We had our first swim lesson and with it another host of emotions… This time it was not pride but a sense of being incredibly moved at watching another step in Beti’s and Bamu’s journey towards a new set of skills to master, towards becoming “normal kids”. It reminded me of the days when we provided respite care for a couple of foster kids. I am conflicted about this expression (“normal”) as I don’t want to create divisiveness or draw boundaries… whole books have been written about the correct language to use around adoption. I suppose it reflects my heightened sensitivities, my keen interest to get to know and understand these children and what is going through their little minds and hearts, and my intense desire for them to be happy. After 4 weeks of swimming they are like fish in the water and cracking up the life guards by dunking each other and jumping in like crazy.

At home, there is a lot of processing going on, at least with Beti. She routinely talks about her home town now, often featuring her mother and almost always Bamu (“when Bamu was a baby”) – whether it’s having hurt her finger, eaten fish, gotten attacked by a dog or a tiger… at one point she was describing the sleeping arrangements in the house which was “closed, no”. In the beginning we took this stuff literally, eagerly soaking up the information to get as complete a picture as possible. Now it appears there is a desire to give the past the same significance as the current events and surroundings, so things that happen here have invariably already happened there, even if the objects involved are unlikely candidates for a traditional Ethiopian dwelling. She sometimes corrects herself – Bischoftu (name changed) mama, no, this mama… I asked her about her father tonight, and the answer was a shake of the head, indicating absence, then “working”. Baba, here, is always working too, so the parallel makes sense.

I can’t stop being amazed at how they store and regurgitate their impressions and memories, how they put the world around them in order, how they manage to communicate with so little. For example, it’s been weeks that we’ve been to the zoo where there was a Lion Dance that scared Beti to tears while Bamu was wandering close. She keeps telling me about it, imitating Beti’s crying, somewhat mockingly. Similarly, we still hear about the spitting dinosaur that we saw even earlier, probably 3 weeks after coming home. We have whole conversations in English now, with a few key phrases like “come on”, “let’s go”, “show me”, “it’s ok” that can serve both as statements as well as questions, and Beti continues to bring home new words and phrases such as the now famous “I think I can” from “The Little Engine That Could” that mom finally got figured out. Her latest addition is “cute” that gets applied indiscriminately to everything from food to certain bodily functions, to faces she makes, to more traditional things like her clothes. Bamu blew us away the other day by using the phrase “so far” – correctly.

The two of them talk to each other like this too and seem to get by just fine. Could it possibly be that they’re already forgetting their mother tongue? As much as I’m looking forward to them being able to participate in the world around them more fully once they master English, a sense of regret comes over me at the notion that this invariably comes at the expense of their own language. Even the infamous “Ethiopian shoulder shrug” (a rather distinct and “lovable” expression of defiance) and the raised eyebrows for “yes” have all but disappeared. We have tried to expose them to other Amharic and Oromo speakers after the initial response to interpreters was negative, but the strong emotional reaction from Beti in particular makes us suspect that this is more than a linguistic issue. Yet it is true that we will need to “normalize” these relations over time, Ethiopia is always going to be their past whether they themselves are emotionally ready to acknowledge it or not. No doubt Beti’s recent “acting out” is part of this process too.

Contrary to what I had expected, I don’t have the least sense of awkwardness at being in public with them. I completely forget that we are likely to draw attention as a mixed race family, I am way too busy just doing whatever it is we’re doing, whether it’s pulling them along if we’re running late to school, or wiping tears off their face for a sorrow that we can’t explain away that moment. Other adoptive families had told me that the black community tends to react very favorably, and I can confirm this impression – we get lots of smiles and interest about their origins from Black Americans, less so from others. I see no harm in the question “where are they from”, and am not ready to answer “by the book” (Portland); it’s too obvious. They themselves are definitely not color-blind; Beti declared two little black girls on a flyer that came home from school recently her “cousins”, and I note a distinct interest in other black kids on the school yard.

As for us, I’ve heard people say that having kids makes you more efficient – I find the opposite to be true. I am more disorganized now than ever, can never remember where I set something down, and am not adept enough at keeping track of where the kids leave their stuff! A friend recently told me that she, too, felt that “somehow we sink into complete chaos overnight” – and re-assured me that all these struggles are temporary and transitional. They say women are better multi-taskers but I am still having a hard time focusing when two kids and a husband all simultaneously want something over dinner… I’ve lately taken to “first-in, first-out” but that doesn’t always seem to work either – all three parties are very adept at making their problem sound more urgent than the previous ones!

Ted has taken to calling me Tiger Mum... A friend gave us a book to read entitled “Battle Hymn of the Tiger Mother”. It’s the story of an American Chinese woman who describes how her kids made it to Carnegie Hall, by sheer force of will it seems. “Tigers are passionate and rash, blinding themselves to danger. But they draw on experience, gaining new energies and great strength.” That sounds to me more like Ted! But neither of us has read the book anyway, and he’s really just alluding to me vociferously defending the girl’s best interests, whatever I deem them to be at the moment. And of course half the time I have no idea what they really are. Meanwhile, both of us are trying to figure out the “behavior management” game, and definitely finding that we’re coming up short on tools… every other mum I talk to tells me it’s different for each child and there are no silver bullets – story of our life now!

Yes, I’ve decided I’m officially “into my kids” now. It’s one of those things I’ve always bemoaned in the past when my friends started their families… hopefully they will forgive me. But it is such an all-engulfing job, such an overwhelming responsibility, that it really has a way of drowning out everything else – at least for a while. And on the other hand, how can you not continuously marvel at the miracle of discovery that they are, at their development, at the stuff that comes out of their mouths or how they put things together in their head. Besides, what a window into the pure mind of a child, the innocence, the infinite logic and simplicity of the world, as it should be… my theory on this is that we just want to re-live it all, all the things we’ve lost.

In this context, I love the fact that our circle of friends has been expanding, not shrinking, with the arrival of the kids (guess what I expected J). I’m not talking about the new community of “school parents” that we will undoubtedly belong to over time, linked by common interests and mutual dependency. Rather, it is the people who have genuinely taken an interest in the process we’ve gone through, and are as delighted with the girls as we are; celebrating with us, sharing in the joy, and creating beautiful memories. Maybe this is my motherhood love overflowing but I am so enjoying making and nurturing these connections. I love watching the interactions, the playfulness, the slowing down to the girls’ pace. I pray that I will never lose the ability to delight in these moments of utter simplicity, pure joy and the strong current of love they create, no matter how busy or stressed I may be down the road.

They happen in private, too: the other day we visited the Buddha… a small little niche outside a complex of stores and offices that we discovered by accident, nestled into an area of maybe 15 square feet surrounded by concrete walls, a window of open sky above us. Someone took the time and quiet attention to set this up with bamboo, creepers, a little fountain and rocks, and nature did its own work to enhance it, with the fallen leaves floating gently in the water. Bamu fell in love with it and wanted to keep going back. Mom could think of nothing better to do than linger and soak up the stillness of the moment. I could only tease her away by promising we would go see the Buddha in our own back yard too, all in hushed tones. We’ve been visiting him daily ever since, by her request, and it was her idea to place flowers in his lap! Seeing and perceiving with the eyes of a child has been the most wonderful gift of these last few months, and Bamu’s gentle nature has played well into my own sense of listening to the heart.

We just passed the 10 week mark – home almost 3 months. The whole thing is still inconceivable to me – we are consumed by the daily task of their care, physical and emotional (never mind pedagogical or organizational!) and by the relentlessness of it, but when I step back I still can hardly believe this is all true. It seems like every night when I lift Bamu out of her bed to go to the bathroom, and watch over her after she’s back down with a few softly whispered “Come on, Mama” taps on the pillow next to her, I fall in love with her more. Every time Beti jumps up and kisses us rather than demanding “Let’s go, food” at 7 o’clock in the morning, we melt anew. A few weeks ago, when we put them to sleep, the rain was quietly falling on the roof and dripping off the eaves. Bamu’s soft lips were pressed against the heel of my hand, while Beti’s curled fingers were touching my knuckles. Peace reigned supreme... These are the moments we live for!

Bamu started pre-school today. It was probably one of the hardest things I’ve ever done, to leave her there while she was crying. Much different from the excitement of seeing Beti in a crowd of students at the beginning of the school year 5 weeks ago. I was almost ready to change my mind at this point, to try and figure out a way to be a stay-at-home mom after all. At the same time I know I’ve been living in a bubble… the luxury of time to follow their rhythm, riding this wave of joy without any regard for what comes after, cannot and will not last, no matter what I do. And given I’m already overwhelmed with Beti’s homework because I’d really rather be (and have been!) playing, I can certainly use the exposure to professional child development staff to help them advance “academically”! Not to mention that starting work will force me to get organized… even if I will be feeling rather lost with both of them gone for the day. These 3 months were a big chapter in our lives, but now the reality of double responsibilities will catch up with me quickly, no doubt. Somehow we will roll with it – and hopefully still find time to tell you about it.