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!