Z is learning a ton and his English is really starting to blossom. Each day he seems to add words and even small phrases to his repertoire. Of course, they all sound absolutely precious with that infamous Ethiopian twist to them. Last night, we about died when he pointed to the fox on his book and said "Fock". You can use your imagination on that one ... but let's just say we're hoping we don't run across any foxes in public these days.
So ... as of recent, we have heard "Mommy, wut es dees"? "Mommy cum un" (Come on). This one is always combined with the traditional Ethiopian head nod and an American hand gesture to mean "come". "Mommy, can I"? This begins most all phrases of desire and is accompanied by a head nod that according to Z means "You should say "des". "Conyon base-uh-bole". Of course, you add in that head nod again and this one isn't actually a statement but rather a question that means "Hey, we going to watch Canyon play baseball? "Ee-taw-betty's" (strawberries), "Bikle" (bicycle), "Du-Ko-Tuh" - and please, make sure you stress each syllable and that becomes "Dakota" and well, Maliah is said as "My-yuh".
Those are things I can think of off the top of my head. And in reality, you could probably care less but I just wanted to be sure I wrote some of those down as I know as time progresses, Z will sound more American than Ethiopian ... a reality that leaves me a little sad.
The first 5 or 6 weeks I was definitely just living to survive each day. It seems in the past few weeks that I have gotten into a better rhythm. I did change a few ways I am doing things ... which for me means loss of sleep (of course). I am now awaking before the roosters crow so that I can get my shower for the day. Something about being clean changes ones entire perspective on life ...
5:35 am that alarm goes off. Now, if I could just squeeze out a workout, that would be really great. Not sure how I can muster that one in too though since wake up for the big kids school days are 6:10 am. Could someone loan me an hour?
I also subscribed to e-meals to help me plan out a few meals each week. I have actually been pretty impressed with most of the things I have cooked and find that most of the recipes are super easy. Here's a picture of my Stromboli I made the other night. Now, granted ... it isn't beautifully perfect ... but HELLO ... it was delicious and well ... a fully cooked meal made me feel like a modern day Super Woman. Hey peeps ... our goals are small these days!
Behavior with Z seems to come in waves. I have noticed in the past 2 weeks that he thinks he is part comedian - only he's the only one laughing. He does all sorts of silly things when I am asking him to do something. And no, don't give him the excuse of a language barrier as this kid is bright and knows EXACTLY what I am asking. I just think he got out of a lot of discipline at the TH by being "Cute" or "Funny". The problem is, this Momma isn't as easily amused. I try to give it some grace, but after the 10th time, I usually have to start deep breathing exercises so I don't loose it.
|Yes ... this silly kid. Comedian extraordinaire!|
I also see at some points in the day (it appears it is when he is more tired) that he will literally just go banannas. Not as in tantrums (well, that too), but as in running around, jumping on things, throwing things down and becoming completely out of control. This is a behavior we have coined recently as "spinning". And boy ... he can spin!
As for attachment progress. I don't know. I thought we were coming a long way until this past weekend. When we are home alone (he and I) during the day, he is affectionate, responsive and sweet. Life on those days feels - well - normal. But this past weekend, all of that was put to the real test and well - we failed! Canyon had a baseball tournament and I thought I'd go out for at least one of the games since the tournament was close. While we were there I noticed several behaviors that reminded me just how far we still have to go. *sigh*
When we are around others, he becomes belligerent and ugly towards me. It is as though he thinks that "these other Nanny's will give me something you don't". Either that, or he is full on testing me to see if I am the same everywhere. I. go.
After a few time ins (from sticking his tongue out at me, throwing rocks over and over when I had told him not to) and watching him seek others out for the basics in life (those things most 4 year old's would turn to Mommy or Daddy for) or work to manipulate his way into getting something he wanted from someone else, I realized that we needed to head home.
This. was. not. easy.
One of the hardest parts of this adoption for me has been the loss of time with my oldest kids. As I was packing up to leave, Canyon came out of the dugout (getting ready to begin the next game) and was so eager and excited to tell us that Coach was putting him on the mound (to pitch) for the next game. *sigh*! I would be missing it.
As I toted out my two youngest kids, thinking about missing out on my sweet boy and knowing the *work* that I *got* to do when I got home (baths and more) - again - I became so resentful. Resentful of my husband who got to stay and enjoy. Resentful of this life that I was now living. Resentful that I had to be the one to miss out. Resentful that others were having fun. Resentful that that even while I was there ... I was no less present than if I wasn't because I was so busy taking care of this kid *again*.
UGH ... there is that fleshly, nasty, heart of mine creeping in *again*.
I wept. I am pathetic.
The reality of adoption is that their is so many hard moments. I won't lie ... There is!
But, as I bathed my little boy and went into his room that night ... the Lord showed me ever so sweetly just what * everyone else * was missing out on that night and what I would be missing out on if I had chosen the easy road.
Z climbed up in that rocking chair he has come to love. Tapping on it's seat he said "Mommy, sit down". This, of course, his way of letting me know he wanted to be held and rocked. And as I did, that little boy of mine crawled up in my lap and positioned himself just like a newborn baby would. As I looked into his eyes, we began to sing together. One song after another ... the same we sing each and every time we crawl up in that chair together. And as we did, his voice began to taper off after some time. His eyes began to draw weary and close and there, in that dark room I realized one. more. time .... just what I would have MISSED if I had not been willing to live in the hard moments. These ones ... the ones where you look down at the face of a child once called an orphan, siting in a dark room and realize that the Lord who created Him thought enough of You to choose you. And no - KNOW, he doesn't make mistakes!
|This is my typical view these days as I make dinner. He watches me over the counter.|
|It's spring in Texas ... that means, you should eat outside when possible (according to two girls I know).|