Swing Therapy

I've always joked that being a parent involves being a therapist, but with the advent of Biruk, it's no laughing matter. Wait...actually it is, because it turns out that being playful with a child who's attaching is an important part of the process. I'm still working on that one, because it turns out that being controlling and being playful are not that compatible. But hey - enough about me! (Suffice it to say that adopting Biruk has been the catalyst for a lot of internal examination and personal growth for me.) But about Biruk...

When Biruk first came home to us, he was literally a perpetual motion machine. There's lots of theories why: moving is his way of coping with stress and fear, he's trying to re-create the chaos of the orphanage environment, he's never been alone or had to self-entertain, he's highly energetic, et cetera, et cetera. But the bottom line is: how do you connect with someone running past you at 100 mph?

The first clue was the car. The only thing Biruk seemed to want more than to run wild, was to be strapped in his car seat, go for a ride in the car, and totally zone out. That was his one safe place to relax and let down the defenses. So, I started looking for scenarios where Biruk was similarly calmed, but I wasn't responsible for keeping us out of on-coming traffic. Then I noticed the swings at our elementary school. Swinging had the same calming effect on Biruk. So rather than push him from behind, I started pushing him from the front, where I could make eye contact and talk softly to him at the same time.

That really worked! We spent hours on the playground this fall, both having fun and establishing that I'm ok to be in this quiet place with him. As a result of that trust and comfort-level we were building, I started seeing more quiet moments in other scenarios. And, now that I was looking for those moments, I knew to drop whatever I was doing when Biruk was in a calm state, and take the opportunity to connect. The next thing you know, we're not just doing swing therapy, but book therapy, snuggle therapy, gymnastics therapy, and of course, Hot Wheels therapy.

I'm celebrating all this with a photo of Biruk quietly playing with his cars, carefully lining them up just so. But, what I can't take a picture of is all the heart connections that are forming between Biruk and the rest of us, that help us know that we really belong to each other now, and that it's...good.

We're Back!

You know those safety straps on grocery carts that you can cinch down to keep your little one in their seat? Biruk managed to turn himself around, stand up in the seat, and then flip himself upside down into the back of the cart, all while still strapped in. In this photo, I am having him recreate the scene for posterity.

We're doing great! We seem to have hit a major milestone with the bonding stuff, and we see lots of signs that Biruk is much more attached to us now. And us to him, too!

The last six weeks have been a doozy, from some serious burn out from ol' attachment process to the H1N1 virus hitting the entire family. Definitely lots of material for good blog posts, which I hope to get out in small chunks. But a major change for me (Christine) is that I am being utterly broken of my night owl tendencies, and just can't go to bed early enough these days. It's so weird. It's almost as if having three kids ages 2 to 7 is just too much for this 40-something body. I'll try not to let it interfere with blogging anymore, but if I don't write at 10pm, when am I going to do it?!?

Just Like the Big Kids

I just had to post this photo. Is that a happy kid or what?

We've had this old Razor scooter someone left in our dumpster a couple of years ago, and Celie and Joey had been taking turns using it. Then Joey got his own scooter as a gift over Labor Day weekend. Now scooters have become the means of transportation of choice to school in the morning, it being a downhill ride the whole way. Poor Biruk has been left with boring ol' Mom in the boring ol' wagon, trailing the big kids as best we can down the hill.

Biruk would watch Celie and Joey on their scooters with such longing! Whenever he could get away with it - usually after they were in school and so didn't know better - he'd put on their helmets and wheel their scooters around. He couldn't actually balance on them, so he would settle for walking along side one of them, or dragging the scooter on its side over the rough pavement. It made our walks home from school a v e r y long process, since he would insist on going as far as he could before getting exhausted.

In the interest of family peace, Biruk's motor development, and my desire to go faster than 0.5 mph on the way home from school, I got Biruk a three-wheeled scooter. The good news is that he can stand on it. The bad news is that he doesn't get the idea of pushing off with one foot yet, and so we're still walking it at 0.5 mph. I have confidence that will come with time. In the meantime, I'm enjoying his enthusiasm, and practicing my living-in-the-slow-lane skills.

Skin Deep is Not So Deep

I had a funny experience last week that has changed how I view skin color. Biruk managed to skin the back of his hand. As it healed, he kept picking the scab off so that one could see the new layers of skin forming. As you may see from the photo on the left, the first layers of new skin that formed were exactly the same shade as my skin! I'm not saying that he gouged a big divot out of his wrist and that this is what color he is deep down inside. He only shaved a few layers off the top, and there he is, just like me.

I'm not sure how I perceived his brownness before. Did I think that he was brown through and through? Did I think that his brown skin imbued the rest of his body with otherness? Was I simply thinking that of my three children, one of them looks (and thus is) very different from the rest of us?

As I spent a few days contemplating this white patch of skin, bordered by an edge of brown so thin I could barely perceive it, the significance - or maybe even the existance - of that brown skin just shrank and dwindled. Of all the things that make up Biruk, his skin cells account for an exceedingly small percentage of him.

There was a very interesting article in Newsweek last week about race. It discussed some studies that explored how children perceive race. It turns out that the children most likely to have racist views were those whose parents never discussed race or skin color with them. Those parents were often white liberals who, in their desire to not be racist, essentially denied that there was any difference between white and black people, when their children could plainly see that there IS a difference, but that apparently it's not ok to talk about it. (If you're interesting in reading it, the link is:
http://www.newsweek.com/id/214989.)

One of the exceptions to the findings above were families where parents had adopted children of different race. That would be us -- we have to talk about it, all the time! Ironically, all our conversations up to now have been about acknowledging the differences between us. But at this moment, I'm so much aware that almost all of my body and almost all of Biruk's body -- with the exception of this thin layer of skin cells, among other things -- is exactly the same. So for the time being, if you ask me a question about what it's like to have such a different looking person in our family, I will look at you in wonder, and say "What do you mean? He looks just like me!"

Reconnecting

This week I've been thinking about reconnecting with Biruk after an absence. It struck me as odd a few days ago that he cries bitterly if I leave him, but when I come back he gives me the most casual greeting and keeps on with whatever he is doing.

At first I had interpreted this behavior as the standard toddler fake out, of which Joey was the master: cry desperately for Mommy if she tries to leave, but if she does, take about 90 seconds to recover, knowing full well that she'll eventually return. But this week I began to suspect that something else was going on. First of all, Biruk doesn't know I will return. In less than two years, he has lived in one family plus four orphanages. How many care givers is that? Secondly, he could be taking my departure as a rejection. And thirdly, he might be protecting his heart against the pain of being abandoned yet again by pretending that he really doesn't care if I come back.

So this week I have been making a point of deliberately reconnecting with Biruk after each separation. I immediately go to him, I look him in the eye, I share my joy at seeing him again with a big hug, etc. It may be coincidence, but I think I'm seeing a big payoff! We're reaching new levels of cuddliness, not to mention calm and contented sitting in my lap. When you're trying to parent a perpetual motion machine, you can't believe how precious those moments are!

Happy Birthday, Biruki!

Saturday, September 5, is Biruk's birthday - he will be two years old! Don't tell him, but we are giving him a tricycle. He loves putting on a bike helmet and getting pushed around on our littlest bike - a thing with 12" wheels and training wheels - but his feet can only touch the pedals in the up position, plus it kills our backs to bend over like that. I fully expect Biruk to revel in the ability to propel himself forward at even greater speeds than he currently runs, much to the detriment of his knees and elbows.

I've been working on a blog post in my head called "The Gory Details of Bonding". I promised as much way back when we were still in Ethiopia, but we've been way too busy doing it to write about it. However, I am happy to report that we seemed to have turned an important corner this week. Biruk has been showing a level of calmness that hasn't been there before. It is as if before this week he only had one speed: fast forward. This week he has contentedly sat in my lap (never happened before), he has sat and played by himself (also never happened before), and sibling fights are way down (no comment on this one - wouldn't want to get my hopes up!)

As Biruk gets more comfortable and secure in our home, and reflects that in his behavior, it gives me greater insight into what's going on in his head. Looking back on our week in Ethiopia with Biruk, it's clear now that the poor little guy was freaked out. Now that he's more relaxed, I can start separating some of what has been his temperament versus the tension he has been under since we brought him home.

The birthday celebration will be pretty low key - just cake with the immediate family and some dear relatives from Idaho who will be meeting Biruk for the first time this weekend. And not only will we celebrate Biruk and our coming together as a family, but all the people who gave him life and cared for him so well along the way here. And the tricycle - we're really going to celebrate that. But the quiet moments?...I'm celebrating already!

Can't Touch This

Please enjoy my version of the MC Hammer song, "Can't Touch This", which describes a certain percentage of my interactions with Biruk...

Can't touch this (Bah da da dum, da DUM, da DUM....)
Can't touch this
Can't touch this
Can't touch this

My, my, my,
My Biruki...is so darn cute
Makes me say "Oh my Lord"
Thank you! for blessing me
With a boy so fine and a smile so sweet
It feels good, to live in a home
Plenty to eat and room to roam
Lots to see and lots to do
But this is a thing...uh!...you can't touch.

I told you, baby boy ...Can't touch this
Yeah, that's how we living and you know ...Can't touch this
Look at my eyes, sweetie ...Can't touch this
Yo, let me bust that chotchka ...Can't touch this!

Possession? What's yours is mine!
Other kids' toys look mighty fine.
In someone's house, inside a store
There's just so much I need to explore.
Random cars in the parking lot
Let's try all the doors...hey, why not?
Screw caps, buttons, light switches, too
There must be something that they all do
I think I've said this way too much but
This is a thing...uh!...you can't touch.

Yo, I told you ...Can't touch this
Why you standing there, honey ...Can't touch this
Yo, sound the bell, school is in, my son ...Can't touch this!

Give me a toy, something in my hand
That gadget of yours looks like it's grand.
Sitting quietly in deep thought
Is not my thing, I'm like a shot
Out of a cannon! into your home
Just got to move and go, go, go!
Don't know your rules, or your words, and
Boundaries are so hard to learn
I'm almost two, it's so legit...
I see that stuff and I just can't quit.

That's word, 'cause you know ...Can't touch this
Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh ...Can't touch this
Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh ...Break it down!
(Music breaks down, as well as the object in hand)
Stop! Corner time!

Etcetera, etcetera...the song goes on from there, as does our little dance!

Sorry for the lack of posts lately. We've been in a holding pattern, just waiting, waiting, waiting for school to start. It's probably more accurate to say that I, Christine, have been waiting, because school gives us all a structure and routine to our days, not to mention stuff to do. Three bored kids with lots of energy and a mom who just wants some time on the computer by herself is always a recipe for disaster!

To cope, we've been keeping out of the house with trips to the park, the zoo, the pool..you name it. Housework and communication with the rest of you has suffered as a result. Please accept our apologies, and know that you'll probably have to wait, wait, wait for the start of school, too!

The Better Thing

Alan and I have always been interested in how to alleviate the suffering of children in the world. Before adopting, our main way to exercise this concern had been to sponsor children overseas. I always thought this was pathetically inadequate and typically American - for the cost of one dinner out a month, I could supply one child with a month's tuition for school, a couple of good meals a day, basic medical care, and hope for a better future for that child, the child's family and the child's community. Small sacrifice on our part, guilt assuaged, and the world a better place.

Adopting a child, on the other hand - making that child a member of our family and committing to that child for the rest of his or her life - requires lots and lots of sacrifice, financially, emotionally and physically. Despite that, many people who adopt from Ethiopia see the great need there, and find themselves compelled to make room in their family for more and more, until the next thing they know, their family car is a 16-seater van. This sacrifice is recognized by others and rewarded with kudos and encouragement, along of course with the occasional "Are you crazy?"

So which of these things - adopting or sponsoring - is the better thing? And, now that we've been to Ethiopia and seen the need, is there a mini-bus in our future? Well, two experiences in Ethiopia have really shaped my thinking on this.

The first was meeting a really great guy named Yosef, who was a driver for Biruk's orphanage in Addis Ababa. I spent the morning with Yosef on a whirl-wind souvenir shopping expedition. While driving through the crowded Addis streets - which apparently have traffic rules of some sort, but not the kind that you or I would recognize - Yosef looked straight into my eyes...via the rear-view mirror...and told me about his childhood as a street kid in a family that was falling apart, and how he had been saved and given a future by being sponsored by an American family through some organization. He had a message that he really, really wanted me, and also any of you who sponsor children, to hear: THANK YOU.

Yosef and his wife have a ministry working with street kids in Addis to get them off the street - particularly girls, who are so vulnerable in obvious ways. So whoever sponsored Yosef in the first place not only blessed that one child, but now that child has become a blessing to others. Is that awesome or what?

The second experience was hearing first-hand about the meeting between the father who had relinquished his rights to his two lovely daughters, ages 5 and 7, and the adoptive parents who were bringing them home the same week as us. This man clearly loved his children, and had not made his decision easily or selfishly. Most of us have seen poverty to one degree or another, but it's hard to imagine a life that requires you to work so hard it's killing you, and yet your efforts are still not enough to keep alive the people you love. The grief of the father and his daughters in saying goodbye to each other, and the grief of the adoptive parents knowing that they are providing a good solution to a terrible problem that no parent should ever have to face, will stay with me a long time.

So, no - I don't think we'll adopt more children. I think that's a noble calling, but the Brockett family now feels complete. The idea that has grabbed me is that those sponsorships that I previously thought so little of are, in fact, so meaningful! The trick is to not just sponsor one child or three and think I'm done - that was the part that was inadequate.

Rather, Alan and I should put the same level of commitment and sacrifice that adoption requires into sponsoring children and helping families through a trustworthy and effective organization like Compassion International. (Well, ok - maybe a little less. I'm not sure we could keep this pace up.) But seriously, for just the cost of our airfare to Ethiopia and back, we could sponsor 15 children for a year, or one 3-year old child all the way through high school. And you know us - we love efficiency! (Whether we could keep up a letter correspondence with 15 children is a completely different matter. Based on our past performance, the answer is definitely no.)

This post, of course, sets up a simplistic choice. There are so many ways to slice and dice the issues of poverty and child welfare. Suffice it to say, we're so glad to have Biruk in our family, and we're also so glad to have a clearer vision of how we personally want to focus on these issues going forward.

The picture above is of Biruk's uncle the day he left Biruk at an orphanage.

Da-DEE vs. Da-DAY

The first thing you should know about Biruk is that shoes are very important to him. I brought little soft-soled leather slippers to Ethiopia for him, because I didn't know if he had been wearing shoes up to that point. As it turns out, he was wearing these baby flip-flops with a strap around the back of the ankle when we picked him up at the orphanage, and it was very important to him to keep those shoes on all day. However, when I gave him the new slippers that night at our guest house, he then insisted on wearing only those shoes plus socks from then on. I didn't think too much of this at the time, because it was the rainy season in Addis Ababa and somewhat chilly, so I wanted socks and shoes on all the time, too.

But once we got home, Biruk still insisted on wearing both socks and leather slippers all day every day, even though it was hot outside, nobody else in the family was wearing shoes, and we had the wading pool set up on the back deck. Finally, I got a pair of Crocs and convinced Biruk to make the switch. He will still insist on a pair of socks with the Crocs, if he sees any lying around.

The second thing you should know about Biruk is that he is picking up English pretty fast. And even though he is clearly bonding with me (Christine) the most, he frequently calls for Alan, especially when Alan is gone at work. Biruk walks around saying Da-DAY, Da-DAY, Da-DAY. We thought this was very sweet, as well as significant. My feelings were only ever so slightly twinged as yet, once again, I am the primary caregiver, and still my child's first word is da-da and not ma-ma.

So this weekend, Alan, Celie and Joey were gone on a Father-Kid camping trip, and I was home for 24 hours or so with just myself and Biruk. Biruk was wandering around the house saying Da-DAY, Da-DAY, Da-DAY... and picking up shoes. Suddenly it clicked for me. "Da-day" means "shoe" for Biruk.

How funny! This whole time we thought Biruk was calling for Alan, saying "Daddy", but really he was just talking about shoes. Not only that, but this whole time Biruk is probably wondering why we insist on calling Alan "shoe". What have we been saying to him? Maybe "This guy is the Big Shoe in the family," or "Sorry, the rest of us like to go barefoot, but this guy insists that you wear your shoes every day."

Every now and then I imagine that Biruk gives me a look that says something like "You people are just crazy." Maybe it's not my imagination?

Finding the New Normal

We're in the middle of the second week home, and wonderfully, it feels nothing like the first week home. And, that's a good thing!

A lot of things have sorted themselves out. Biruk is mostly sleeping through the night, and we've over the jet lag. Biruk actually didn't want Alan to leave for work this morning, and kept clinging to him, which was sweet.

We're getting more vocabulary words down. Apparently someone taught him how to count to at least 1 in English, because if I start counting, he'll hold one finger up and clearly say "ONE!". It gets a little fuzzy after that.

Celie and Joey have a sports camp this week, which has given us a very welcome sense of structure and schedule to our days. I'm scrambling to figure out how we can keep this up until school starts!

The relationship between Celie and Biruk is developing nicely, but it seems much harder for Joey. It's not easy losing your place as the baby in the family, no matter how it comes about.

It's the little things that I notice these days about Biruk that reflect the huge journey he has been on. For example, by 22 months, every kid knows that the first thing you do when Mom unbuckles the car seat is you pull your arms in toward your chest and out of the straps. Biruk, on the other hand, will try to fling himself out of the seat with his arms still hooked in the straps, and then squirm around in frustration as neither he nor I can then get him out.

Biruk has also taken to walking around with my car keys. You might think that he associates the keys with me driving the car. But actually, he thinks the fob on the key chain that remotely locks, unlocks, opens and closes the doors of the van is a cell phone. He keeps holding it up to his ear and saying 'allo!, 'allo! He loves nothing more than going for a car ride, but when I put him in the car seat, he gets mad that I want the car keys back from him. I'd show him that it's putting the keys in the car and turning them that makes the car go, but given how smart he is, I don't think I want him to know that just yet.

All in all, the bonding/adoption-related stuff is going well. Now, it's the work of adjusting back to life with an energetic and inquisitive toddler that lies ahead!

Ca-ca

Yes, you read that correctly: "ca-ca". It turns out that of all the words I know, and of all the words Biruk knows, that is the single word where our vocabularies overlap. Fortunately, ca-ca is a very useful word. For us, it can mean garbage, messy, yucky and, um..., ca-ca.

It turns out that not being able to communicate with a person you now live with is very tricky. Fortunately for us, Biruk is a smart boy. So far, he has exhibited more ability to pick up English than we were able to pick up Amharic. (And, fortunately for us, it turned out he didn't speak Amharic, but some other regional language - so we caught a break there and don't look quite the loser adoptive parents who made no effort to learn their child's language.)

After one week in the U.S., and almost two weeks with us total, he can call me "A-ma-ma" and Alan "Daddy". He says "wa-wa" for water and "woo-woo" for the sound of a dog, or any other four-legged creature. And just today he started clearly nodding yes and no in answer to basic questions. The human brain is amazing! But, without going into...details, let's just say that that "ca-ca" word is turning out to be both handy and frequent.

Today - perhaps I lost my mind - but today we ventured out to the Denver Zoo, just me and the three kids. It actually went ok. We had to leave in a bit of a hurry as Biruk got a little too hungry and then cranky, but otherwise it was fun to get out of the house. The above photo was taken on the train at the zoo. Celie and Joey wore their stuffed animals in slings, just as I was mostly wearing Biruk in a pack.

Day by Day

When someone describes a store or restaurant as a "hole in the wall", do you ever wonder what that means exactly? I always took that saying for granted without thinking about its origins. But then in Addis Ababa, we saw so many businesses being run out of - literally - a hole in a wall. My first impulse was to think how different things were there, but then the fact that we have this phrase in our language made me think this way of doing things must be part of our history, too.

Things are going well in the Brockett household. By "well", I mean we're continuing to adjust as a new family in a positive direction. By "well" I don't mean "easy" or even "comfortable". Biruk is accepting Alan as someone he can be with...mostly for having fun, but also sometimes for comfort. This is making life much easier for Christine. Also, Biruk's temper tantrums are getting fewer, and of less duration. Plus, we're getting our strategies down for how to deal with them.

We seem to be moving into a new phase of figuring out how to establish boundaries in the midst of bonding. For example, hitting seemed a pretty regular part of play at the orphanage. How do you explain to a 2 year old, who doesn't speak your language, that suddenly that's not ok anymore?

Every night and every day goes differently for us, so there's few routines to fall back on. But Alan was able to go into his office yesterday for a few hours. Christine and the kids joined some other moms on an outing to Boulder Reservoir for the morning, which went ok. So we're getting a few tastes of "normal" life, which we're happy for.

If I were really clever, I'd make a tie between a hole in a wall and our lives, bringing out some rich metaphorical truth. But as it is, I'm not - I'm just grateful for a quiet minute to get something written!

Two Steps Backwards

I should have known better than to write about the progress we were making in getting ourselves on a schedule. Last night was the worst night!

Biruk woke up at 11:30pm and at 4:30am just screaming and crying and rejecting any comfort from us. Then both times, once he stopped crying, he just wanted to stay up and play - in particular, play with Mommy, who desperately needed sleep. In the morning, Biruk had two massive, stinky bowel movements, which supports the theory that in addition to being jet-lagged, he's having some stomach issues.

It sure would be great if he could tell us what's wrong, or what he wants. But in addition to only being 22 months old, Biruk has had language switched on him two times - the first time when he was moved from his orphanage in the south (where they speak Wolaita) to one in Addis (Amharic), and the second time from Amharic to English. Actually, he was in two different orphanages in Addis -- how's that for a less-than-firm foundation for a little guy's life? It seems likely that we'll be seeing some language delays because of that. Among other things, we resolved last night to get going with the sign language in the meantime!

Photo: a building in Addis Ababa under construction...just like our family!

No Time to Shower

Hi, friends! It was either shower for the first time since Thursday, or update the blog. This bonding stuff is very labor intensive! But Biruk just went down for a nap, and Alan, Celie and Joey are out, so I thought I'd get something up for you.

Now that we're home, things are going very much like we expected from our training classes. Biruk is very mommy-focused. (He calls me 'amama'.) He wants to do everything with me, to sit in my lap and to be held in my arms. That's a good thing! -- but hence the lack of time for a shower so far.

Celie and Joey are mostly enjoying playing with Biruk, but the novelty is wearing off a little, and they are noticing how he dominates my time. So I'm being very intentional about giving them as much attention as I can squeeze in. Celie and I had a fun little mother-daughter outing yesterday for an hour. That was a sweet time (and another reason not to shower.)

It's been fun introducing Biruk to our home. Above are some photos of the last 24 hours: being a goof-ball at dinner, first time in the wading pool, and the traditional pulling-out-of-pots-from-the-cabinets, as all children must do. Alan is out right now getting child-proofing locks for select cabinets so that Biruk's curiosity doesn't get the best of him, or drive us crazy saying "No, no!" all the time.

On top of the adjustments to our relationships, and how we spend our time, there's still some jet-lag to deal with. Friday night, Biruk was up from 2:30 to 4:30am. Last night, Saturday, he was up from 3:30 to 5:30am. It would be so great if we could skip getting up at 4:30am tonight, and just make it through the night. Biruk has had a pretty bad cold since we got him, and I've been fighting it off only partially successfully, so those middle of the night wakings are a serious bummer!

When we first got Biruk, if he woke up in the middle of the night, all he wanted was a bottle of water to curl up around. It seems that might be how he was comforted in the orphanage. Now the water holds no attraction, and he only wants to curl up against my chest. The week we were in Addis, Biruk got no naps due to all our scheduled appointments, which made him a maniac. Yesterday, it took an hour and much crying for Biruk to understand that he could lie down in the crib, or sit in the rocking chair with me, but he WAS going to take a nap. Today, it took 10 minutes to get him down for his nap. Woohoo! It's so good to see progress. Now if I can only get that shower in....

Sorry for the uninspired blog-post...there's so much to tell you about our time in Ethiopia, and lots of photos, and of course the gory details of bonding, so stay tuned.

Back in the USA!!!

Just got off the phone with Alan and at the time of this post, they were in the parking garage at DIA! Yeaaaaa! He said it was a lonnnnnng way back, 27 hours in fact. Biruk slept for about 8 of those and was a mix of fussy, confused, board, and tired for the rest. After a cold beverage and a long nap they said they would get busy and update the blog.

Home Stretch...

I think we're gonna make it! This morning (Thursday morning), Christine went out to do a little shopping, and Biruk and I hung out outside, kicking balls around and getting into whatever we could find. We're getting to be buds.

Watching some of the other littler kids, we're beginning to realize that
the meltdowns are "normal" for this stage in the process. There's another little boy a year older, and he reacts just about the same way to "no". Our guess is that while the kids have had a lot of structure to their days, they haven't had much in the way of boundaries. The nanny-to-kid ratio at the orphanage seems like 1 to 20 or so, so the kids haven't heard the N word much, nor have they had an adult intervening when they fight. With Biruk, the meltdowns are already less frequent (at least today) and much lower in intensity.

Yesterday was a final doctor checkup and sweet farewell party at the
orphanage, where the kids sang songs to us, and gave us gifts, and Abdissa (our in-country representative) gave a powerful message about how adoption is bringing life and hope to these kids and this is the "pure religion" that the Bible talks about in the book of James.

The doctor pronounced Biruk just fine overall. He has a common cold
that's been getting worse, and the stuffy nose might make the flight pretty painful. But other than that, and a little bit of scalp fungus, he's in great shape.

Afterward was a fabulous banquet at what must have been one of the nicest restaurants in Addis, with a band and dancers, and the best hot sauce I've had in a long time. It's amazing, I've seen 5-year old kids here eating food that would be pretty spicy even for me.

Today was such a relief! All the other days, we've been shuttled from place to place, and then sat waiting endlessly as each family went through some part of the process. And it always seemed to happen during nap time, so the kids have been on the ragged edge.

In an hour, we have a traditional Ethiopian coffee ceremony, where they literally roast the beans and grind them to make the coffee. I'm sure that will be a highlight for me :) Then we pack up and head for the airport. I'm not thinking it will be the funnest flight ever, but feeling confident that Biruk trusts us enough by now that the trip won't be much more of a nightmare than it would have been with Joey or Celie at that age.

More soon!

We're thinking the honeymoon is over...

We're thinking the honeymoon is over :) Biruk cried most of the morning, and the rest of the day was meltdown after meltdown. The kicking on the floor screaming kind. Might have been some milk we gave him at breakfast, but maybe just being almost 2 years old and maybe that's been his way of coping in his tough life so far.

We did learn kind of a cool good cop bad cop trick. He starts melting down, Christine gives him to me for a couple minutes, he goes berzerk, then I offer him back to Christine and he's only too glad and settles right down in her arms, still crying but not thrashing. That will probably come in handy on the plane ride back!

There is an upside though, and that is he's clearly attached to Christine as mommy, to the exclusion of all others. We're very thankful for the bonding - that will pay dividends down the road.

And if it was too easy, that would be suspicious. Crying or happy, he is still a sweet, wonderful boy and we're crazy in love with him. We can't wait for you all to meet him!

This might be our last entry until we enter the fabulous, broadband-saturated airspace of the USA.

Pictures!

Pictures from Monday and Tuesday

"Christine and Biruk and the flowers [and me... in the second picture] are moments after we met him..."

"...later that day in the interminable wait for paperwork processing."

"A view of the City"

An email from Alan and Christine

Well, Internet access is proving to be as difficult as John and Susan said it would be.  Finally tonight (Tuesday night), we abandoned trying at our guesthouse and went to another one that has a more or less working connection.What follows is a digest of Monday's and Tuesday's events, a little on the short side since other folks are waiting ...

Monday morning we went to the Thomas Center to pick up Biruk.  All our fears that he would be afraid of us or reject us were unfounded.  He took a liking to us almost instantly.  He's a sweet boy, placid and happy except when something doesn't go his way but the meltdowns are infrequent.  And usually explainable by hunger or tiredness. He's already leading us around by the hand and crying when Mommy leaves the room.  He seems healthy and bright, very curious and good with a ball, great sense of humor.

He's an amazing sleeper.   When we say it's time for bed, he lies quietly until he falls asleep, and then sleeps soundly for 11 hours.  Or at least that was the first nite.  Doh!  Now I've probably jinxed it. He's also a fabulous eater, not "choosy" like some other kids I know :)

We're going through the process with 5 other families, and a total of 10or 11 kids.  Most of Monday was spent waiting at Abdissa (the lawyer)'soffice while he walked each family through a bunch of paperwork.  Thankfully, they have Coca-Cola here! Not cold, but no complaints.

Tuesday we played with the kids all morning at the guest house, went back to Abdissa's for lunch, then piled into the mini-buses for a trip to the U.S. Embassy.  This is sort of the final gateway, where U.S. officials review the case folders for each child, ask questions about why they're being adopted, and if all goes well, entry visas to the U.S. are granted. After some heart-stopping moments with one family, whose girls were suspected of having tuberculosis (or at least that was my best understanding), all of us got our kid visas.

Tomorrow supposedly we go shopping and to the national museum, and then there is a big sort of farewell party in the evening.  Thursday we're pretty much on our own until we have to be at the airport at 7pm.

"...so today, we picked up Biruk in the morning"

Hi All:

Alan called me from Ethiopia at about noon today (Monday) but I was unable to take the call so it went to voicemail. The quality is really bad but I was able to get that they "picked up Biruk today ...this morning" !

Now, lets see... its like 9 hours later there... so at the time of the message, it was 9 at night today....so they must have picked him up Monday morning...... which would be our yesterday about midnight .....  ????

Anyway, they don't have internet access so we'll have to do it this way.

I recorded the voice mail, ran it through a sound analysis program to try and clean it up and this is the best I can do...

"Hey there bud... from Ethiopia... its ????? I wanted to give you some updates....because we could not get internet access... so this might be a little ...... so hopefully you will .....

so today we picked up Biruk in the morning..."

The rest is a mess.... but important part is crystal clear!  Wahoooo!  Wish I could understand more of the message.  If you want to try and cypher more, here is a link to the mp3 file....

Let us know if you are able to figure out any more ....

The good news, is that they made it there ok and they have Biruk.... stay tuned!

Jeff

Leaving On An (Ethiopian) Jet Plane ...

We're off!  Boarding in 10 minutes for a  15-hour tour of the Atlantic at 35,000 feet.  Hopefully get a chance to take a picture of Djibouti from the air for bonus points :)

If getting an internet connection in Addis Ababa is anywhere near as hard as getting one in the Washington Dulles airport, we're in for a tough time, but we'll find a way to get the mail through.

Hard Going

It's 9:45am and we're at Denver International Airport waiting for our flight to DC. We've had four weeks - or eighteen months, depending on how you look at it - to get ready for this day, and yet we found ourselves up until 1am last night, still packing. Then up at 6am. Ouch! That's probably the first of many "ouches" to come.

Saying goodbye to Celie and Joey has also been hard the last couple of days. About Thursday they stopped focusing on their excitement of having a week of sleepovers and play dates with friends, and started contemplating life without Mommy and Daddy. It was sad for all of us this morning.

On the plus side, Alan and I will have the next 36 to 40 hours child-free, which will be a record for us. We'll be spending that time - among other things - having uninterrupted conversations, putting our own physical comfort ahead of others, and just chilling out and doing nothing, if that's what we feel like doing. What luxury!

Where's the pics?

What's a blog without pictures? "A boring blog", you may reply. We know that, but here's the scoop. When we entered the adoption process, we signed documents saying that we will not post or e-mail any pictures of Biruk until he is legally our son. The purpose of this is to make sure images of children are not used for unsavory purposes. Adoptions have fallen through because the Ethiopian government discovered that adopting parents had published photos, using them for fund raising or whatever. So, even though Biruk is now our son, we feel reluctant to put his pictures on a public blog until we actually have him.

But here's a funny story. We have been receiving pictures of Biruk since he was about 3 months old. And in every single picture, he has had the exact same expression...until last week. We received a batch of photos of Biruk last week, and my initial reaction was "That's not my child!" Biruk is called Biruk at the orphanage, but his legal name is Bereket, and there is more than one Bereket there, so I'm occasionally haunted by the fear that we'll accidentally get the wrong child.

The reason this new batch of photos didn't look like him to us is because he is smiling!...smiling and goofing around, and just having a great time, with hand and mouth and shirt sticky with some just-consumed treat. The smile totally transforms his face. And, the smile makes me realize that I really don't know who Biruk is yet. (This is where you think: "Hello, Christine! Of course you don't.")

I had built an image in my mind of this child based on photos and DVDs that we've received: quiet, serious, and somewhat tentative. He's someone who needs a mom to just hold him and snuggle with him. Fortunately, I'm realizing this week - not a moment too soon! - that I can't possibly know him from pictures alone. He may not even like snuggling, or at least not all the time, as my imaginary child does. So, in addition to the packing and organizing and last minute running around, I'm busy this week making room in my heart and mind for Biruk to be exactly the person he is. I can't wait to meet him!

We will start posting pictures to the blog either next Monday (July 6) or when the technology allows. In the meantime, pictures of the smiling Biruk can be seen now on Christine's Facebook page, which you can access if you belong to Facebook and are my "friend":

http://www.facebook.com/christine.brockett

The Countdown Begins

We're leaving in six days - on Saturday, July 4 - and the surreal "are we really going?" feeling is being replaced with a more urgent "we ARE going and we're not packed!" feeling. Helping with the mental shift, we set up Biruk's crib in our room, and now it's starkly obvious that someone is missing from our house.

In the past week, we got a lot of the big pieces in place: we have airline tickets, we know where we're staying, we know where Celie and Joey are staying, and we've determined definitively that small appliances like blow dryers and hair irons will not be part of the travel plan.

Now we're down to the less critical details, plus packing. After much research, we're downgrading our expectations, from being the most electronically wired couple in Addis Ababa, to thinking about taking along a few actual made-of-paper books.

But never fear, friends - we have a plan! The one thing that does work in Ethiopia (at least most of the time) is cell phones. So although we do have Plans A, B, C and D for sending e-mails and posting to the blog, Plan E is to have a ghost writer stateside and to "phone it in!"

What's In A Name

So, what's with the name "Go For Biruk"?

Well, for one thing, it's literally the story of going to get Biruk, an amazing little orphan boy of 21 months from Ethiopia, who is bravely coming to join our American family. This blog is the story of his epic journey.

But it also kind of sounds like "Go For Broke" --- "to wager everything" or, as I think of it, "no turning back", "damn the torpedos, full speed ahead!" That's a fitting allusion.

Thanks to consummate name-meister Dan for the name. I owe you 5 cents.