I want to share so many of our amazing experiences, yet I have struggled for a way to share without cheapening the experience. Sometimes, my lack of writing skills as well as linguistic knowledge leave me writing posts that barely reflect my hearts desire. It is a challenge for me, but when I look back, I am always happy to have shared the moment, rather than worried about the syntax. So, in that regard, I will continue to share some of our unique experiences so that others may enjoy them and we might remember them in years to come!
On our way home from Ethiopia with Tirfe, we flew first to Karthoum and then to Amsterdam before heading across the big lake towards home. We left Ethiopia in the late evening, I think around 10pm or so. I was already enjoying some cocktails. I'm not sure if I've mentioned this before, but I have a wee (enormous) fear/challenge of/with flying. I am working on it. I continue to do it. I really don't like it. Maybe one day I will, but for now cocktails help with the preflight anxiety. Sooo.... we flew into Amsterdam 8 or 9 hours after leaving Addis, the trip was smooth, I slept through the landing in Sudan (imagine that, cocktails plus jet lag plus sheer exhaustion and you can sleep through a landing- I just might be on to something!!) We had a four hour layover in Amsterdam before boarding our next flight. We say goodbye to the last of our travel group as they catch their planes to their homes in States.
We waited to board our flight for a while. I have no idea what time it was in Addis/Amsterdam/River Falls during any of this time. Doesn't matter anyways, we know we are tired, we know we are experiencing a tiny minutia of what our baby girl is experiencing. Peanuts in reality to her experiences in the last 8 months of her life. She is beauty. She is peace and calm. She is snuggles and thumb sucking. She is helping me to find my center, to face my (irrational) fear more resolutely.
Point of this post, in line waiting for our things to be scanned or something to be checked or something or whatever (remember I have a mind numbing fear of flying) we have an interesting exchange with a "stranger". This man, in line in front of us, looks at Tirfe and says, "She is from my tribe." with a smile. We are all grins, walking with him toward the plane. Really? we say? He says, "Yes, definitely. She is Tembarissa." Wow. We ask where he is from. He is from Mudula, the town of Tirfe's birth. We make some more small talk as we board the plane, acutely aware of what a small world it is. Amazed by the chance to meet this man, this Ethiopian man, from Tirfe's hometown, who gives her blessings and kisses. Meeting him, in Amsterdam, in line, boarding our plane, seemed so serendipitous. We didn't see him until we were in MPLS again. We said our goodbyes and headed on our way.
His name was Solomon. He was a soldier in Iraq, headed home on leave. His home was in Canada. I loved the way his eyes sparkled at Tirfe as he talked about Mudula. I loved that he embraced her just because he knew they shared these bonds.
Weeks after we were home and settled, we met a family from our travel group at our favorite Ethiopian restaurant in the cities. After lunch, we headed to the Ethiopian Market to buy some injera and some spices. We paused and chatted. We took pictures and began to hug goodbye, when Andy waved to someone across the street. It took me a minute to realize what was going on. It took Andy a minute to realize who he was waving to, even though he knew he knew him. It was Solomon. Our friend from the Amsterdam airport. He was on vacation, from Canada, in Minneapolis with his family. He had just finished eating at the restaurant we were eating at. He recognized us because he remembered Tirfe. He remembered her because she was from his tribe, his people.
How does that happen. I think it happens for a reason, and we are meant to take from it what we will. But I don't think it is the last time Solomon and his family will be in our lives.
Friday, December 11, 2009
Friday, December 4, 2009
All in a days time
Days fire past me in rapid pace, sometimes I feel like I, alone, am working in slow motion, while life around me bolts along at neck-breaking speeds. I regularly imagine myself walking through molasses, working really hard...just not getting there as fast as I should. Such is life.
Recap of the day, Arlo slept in our bed, requiring me to take him to school this morning (which is usually Andy's job, since he drives right past it at exactly the right time on his way to work....). The boy needs me so fiercely.
Since I was heading out, 25 minutes after rousing, thought it would be a fantastic idea to gather the other two (wake, change, debooger, comb, etc. oh and feed...) and head to the early class at the YMCA this morning. Might as well get my workout in early, imagine how productive I could be after that (SUPERmom-- who never seems to materialize.....)!!
In disbelief that I didn't get a dirty diaper call until I was in the locker room naked, I gleefully dressed half-arsedly and picked up my (stinky-Tirfe, woeful-Aesa) kiddies. Headed to lunch at a bagel shop before our next outing.
Dragging uber-tired Tirfe along in a very tight and nearly abusive snowsuit, we joined Arlo at school (as promised in the wee hours of the morning when I was trying to weasle a couple more minutes of sleep out of him) for recess. It was really, really, really cold. Holy smokes, I am so not ready for whipping winds and cold. WHY do I do this to myself. I imagine it has to do with being insane. Has to. And if it does, I might as well own it and act proud of my nordic roots. Yargh. It was cold. Arlo had a hard time with the older boys who wouldn't share shovels. It's really hard to be the little guy sometimes. Lessons aplenty, but some tough knocks for a dude with only 5 years of experience.
Frozen, we head home after recess to atempt naps. No body bites. Rascals.
Back to get Arlo at 3pm, we head to Nana's to lay Tirfe down for a nap while Aesa plays and Arlo and I run some errands. Errands turn into dinner out together. Super chill, really relaxing. We are in one of our favorite restaraunts, seated right in front of the chef. The entire kitchen is open, Arlo is mesmerized. He tells the the chef is cool. He wants to work there, washing dishes for now, until he is old enough to cook with fire. He follows the chef into the bathroom and manages to order more pasta for himself while he is in there. They revel in their shared love of Bob Marley. Arlo wants to be a chef when he grows up. Hopefully the partner of the chef who served us tonight.
We head to Nana's to pick up the wee-est ones and spend a bit of play time. Aesa is a tired mess. Arlo is coming unraveled. Balloons are blown up and we manage to piece together a decent amount of fun time. Until Aesa bites it trying to run for a balloon and spits his chin on the coffee table. Poor dude.
I start loading kids (Andy is at sweat all night on Fridays...and has Tai Chi on Thursdays until late, so we are pretty frazzeled at the end of the week) littlest to biggest. Arlo bucks departure, as sometimes happens. He is not the master of transitions, not yet. After a couple extra chances to jump off the steps and show off his moves, he still protests leaving, and of course I trudge on, explaining why. He is upset, mad, defiant. He wants a new mom. Not a new Dad though. I can marry someone else, live with them and have new kids. He's staying put with Dad. This boy, who needs me so fiercely, my emotional, passonite little man- pushes me farthest when he needs me the most. His behavior towards me reflects very accurately his personal struggles, right now mostly from school. It's hard to learn how to fend for yourself and to hold all those feelings inside when you want to yell that no one is sharing. It is hard for a passonite, emotional child to balance the desire to fit in with the desire to be heard. I told him his new mom might make him eat vegetables, but he's pretty sure she won't. Hopefully tomorrow will be more 'Don't Worry 'bout a thing' and less of the rest. We'll see. Parenting this boy is such a blessing. I just hope that his teen years won't equate to his preschool years to the tenth power. please?
Oh, in the action at some point Arlo did moon me and Aesa. Really. Mooned us, appropriately (not to say it is appropriate, but his timing and execution were precise!!). He says he learned it on a cartoon. Really? Sometimes you just have to laugh, when your children are not looking... Uff da.
Recap of the day, Arlo slept in our bed, requiring me to take him to school this morning (which is usually Andy's job, since he drives right past it at exactly the right time on his way to work....). The boy needs me so fiercely.
Since I was heading out, 25 minutes after rousing, thought it would be a fantastic idea to gather the other two (wake, change, debooger, comb, etc. oh and feed...) and head to the early class at the YMCA this morning. Might as well get my workout in early, imagine how productive I could be after that (SUPERmom-- who never seems to materialize.....)!!
In disbelief that I didn't get a dirty diaper call until I was in the locker room naked, I gleefully dressed half-arsedly and picked up my (stinky-Tirfe, woeful-Aesa) kiddies. Headed to lunch at a bagel shop before our next outing.
Dragging uber-tired Tirfe along in a very tight and nearly abusive snowsuit, we joined Arlo at school (as promised in the wee hours of the morning when I was trying to weasle a couple more minutes of sleep out of him) for recess. It was really, really, really cold. Holy smokes, I am so not ready for whipping winds and cold. WHY do I do this to myself. I imagine it has to do with being insane. Has to. And if it does, I might as well own it and act proud of my nordic roots. Yargh. It was cold. Arlo had a hard time with the older boys who wouldn't share shovels. It's really hard to be the little guy sometimes. Lessons aplenty, but some tough knocks for a dude with only 5 years of experience.
Frozen, we head home after recess to atempt naps. No body bites. Rascals.
Back to get Arlo at 3pm, we head to Nana's to lay Tirfe down for a nap while Aesa plays and Arlo and I run some errands. Errands turn into dinner out together. Super chill, really relaxing. We are in one of our favorite restaraunts, seated right in front of the chef. The entire kitchen is open, Arlo is mesmerized. He tells the the chef is cool. He wants to work there, washing dishes for now, until he is old enough to cook with fire. He follows the chef into the bathroom and manages to order more pasta for himself while he is in there. They revel in their shared love of Bob Marley. Arlo wants to be a chef when he grows up. Hopefully the partner of the chef who served us tonight.
We head to Nana's to pick up the wee-est ones and spend a bit of play time. Aesa is a tired mess. Arlo is coming unraveled. Balloons are blown up and we manage to piece together a decent amount of fun time. Until Aesa bites it trying to run for a balloon and spits his chin on the coffee table. Poor dude.
I start loading kids (Andy is at sweat all night on Fridays...and has Tai Chi on Thursdays until late, so we are pretty frazzeled at the end of the week) littlest to biggest. Arlo bucks departure, as sometimes happens. He is not the master of transitions, not yet. After a couple extra chances to jump off the steps and show off his moves, he still protests leaving, and of course I trudge on, explaining why. He is upset, mad, defiant. He wants a new mom. Not a new Dad though. I can marry someone else, live with them and have new kids. He's staying put with Dad. This boy, who needs me so fiercely, my emotional, passonite little man- pushes me farthest when he needs me the most. His behavior towards me reflects very accurately his personal struggles, right now mostly from school. It's hard to learn how to fend for yourself and to hold all those feelings inside when you want to yell that no one is sharing. It is hard for a passonite, emotional child to balance the desire to fit in with the desire to be heard. I told him his new mom might make him eat vegetables, but he's pretty sure she won't. Hopefully tomorrow will be more 'Don't Worry 'bout a thing' and less of the rest. We'll see. Parenting this boy is such a blessing. I just hope that his teen years won't equate to his preschool years to the tenth power. please?
Oh, in the action at some point Arlo did moon me and Aesa. Really. Mooned us, appropriately (not to say it is appropriate, but his timing and execution were precise!!). He says he learned it on a cartoon. Really? Sometimes you just have to laugh, when your children are not looking... Uff da.
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