In keeping with the rest of the blogosphere, we felt our initial flurry of posts merited a long, uninterrupted break. But on the verge of the new year, we feel it's time to treat everyone to additional minutiae of adoptive parenting as a sort of parting shot for 2009.

The highlight of the holidays certainly must be the Christmas tree. We had high hopes for the tree harvesting excursion; surely a couple of kids raised in the African lowlands must cherish fond memories of bracing against the December cold in pursuit of the perfect Scotch Pine or Douglas Fir. Nonetheless, despite our repeated application of the word "tree" and animated gesticulation, the boys didn't seem nearly as enthusiastic as we about a Christmas tree.

We headed out the week before Christmas, arriving long after every other family had made off with the prized trees. The folks working at the farm greeted us with a quizzical look that clearly stated, "This late? Really?"

Really.

We homed in on the section reserved for the wonderfully fragrant, albeit rather prickly, blue spruce. Last year's tree had cost a fortune but smelled so wonderful that we decided a scaled down version would provide all the best holiday odors in a kid-friendly, pint-sized package. But again, our enthusiasm failed to rub off on the boys. Our repeated queries about which tree they liked best were met by absolute indifference, as if it somehow didn't matter which tree we arbitrarily selected to symbolize our family unity and the spirit of the holidays. As if!

After picking a suitable tree and convincing ourselves that the boys approved, we headed back to the shop to pay for our tree and sample the warm cider (not a hit with the kids) and hot cocoa (ditto). Approximately three milliseconds after entering the shop, Zenebe identified a suitable heinous decorative ceramic tree and promptly assisted it to the floor. The nice lady working the register was kind enough to halve the $8 price tag of the broken "decoration," but the difference probably still won't cover the lead containment costs associated with its final disposal.

Our long and indifferent tree hunting experience finally concluded, we returned home and set it in the living room, only to discover that a four foot blue spruce is remarkably less fragrant than its six foot counterpart. The boys quickly shed any pretense of interest in the whole tree affair and returned to their blocks. A pictorial comparison only seems fair...

The craptacular ceramic christmas tchotchke:

Zene's subsequent effort with the blocks:

Some small part of me wishes such coordination had been in evidence while tree shopping. But a larger part of me is the proud new owner of a ceramic holiday turd.

Xmas fun

Once we covered the tree is sparkling energy-sucking light-bulbs (since we can't ever remember to buy the LED lights in October, before they sell out of everything but the heinous blue ones), the boys warmed right up to our prickly "membrato" tree. They even helped hang ornaments, made cinnamon stars (with only one meltdown about who got to use the rolling pin first), cut out paper snowflakes, and even threaded popcorn-cranberry chains. The best part of that experience for the boys was the all-you-can-eat fistfuls of popcorn, and the best part for Emily was the look on Z's face when he tried the same all-you-can-eat tactic with fresh cranberries (after mommy's suggestion that they were not so yummy). Zing! Of course, all of that tree decorating and Christmas cheer was just a ruse to get them to refine their severely under-developed fine motor skills.

Christmas Day eventually came, not that the boys knew much difference from any other day of crazy new rituals and constant additions to the their growing stash of toys. Though the train tracks running around the glittery tree did attract quite a bit of attention. So did the fact that they were allowed to play in their pajamas, before breakfast. Dave's first Christmas turkey was a huge hit: "More - biwd - pleez!" Though much to her surpise (and secret delight), Emily's candied sweet potatoes were rejected outright, especially the gooey white things on top: "No yummy - Mommy eatee."

Today, we had our first big family outing to Indianapolis for the boys' appointment at the international adoption clinic at Riley Hospital. Emily kicked things off with some fun temporary tattoos, explaining we'd start with 2 tattoos per boy in the morning, then get another tattoo after the visit with the clinic. Emily was kinda banking on the marginally dishonest tactic of using the English word "doctor," thereby providing complete but encrypted information about the itinerary. Care to guess one of the few words the boys picked up at the orphanage? The tattoos weren't met with the sort of enthusiasm one might hope for, but at least they provided some light at the end of the tunnel.

We stopped at our favorite Ethiopian restaurant in Indianapolis on the drive in. Dave and Em typically order 2 combo platters when we're oh-my-god-pull-over-i'll-just-eat-roadkill hungry. Since it was shortly after breakfast, 2 platters would surely be enough for everyone, so we ordered 3, guaranteeing leftovers for home. We then proceeded to cram lentils, collards, cabbage, potatoes, and injera down our gullets, obliterating any hopes for leftovers along with any notion of moderation.

Our arrival at the clinic was actually rather drama-free. An Amharic interpreter worked with us during the visit, and the pediatrician was 100% awesome. Explaining to the boys all the steps in the exam, and often demonstrating procedures on herself before moving on to the boys, she extracted nothing but smiles from the kids the whole time. The only real bummer was reserved for Dave: the fresh (though certainly ripe) stool samples this new father proudly collected immediately prior to departure were barely too ripe and would require recollection for prompt processing at a lab in Bloomington. Fortunately, an official "sampling kit" soon arrived, washing away any and all disappointment. This was no ad hoc saran wrap sampling effort of yore. Its clinically professional appearance stated loud and clear, "I'm the real deal. I sample poo." Christmas came early for daddy.

On to the phlebotomy lab. Riley Hospital for Children may call it a "blood draw lab," and other children may be deceived; our boys understood right away that something would be "otomy"-ed, and this was no happy occasion. Though clearly uncomfortable, Amare held his own, sitting stoically in Dave's lap while the nurse coaxed five vials of the goods from his arm. Over in Emily's corner, Zenebe managed not to flinch, instead investing all his energy in a full-throated wail readily identified here. Soon enough, all the samples were complete, and both boys selected yo-yos from the consolation toy bin in the blood lab. We were a bit concerned that the the boys might have mistaken the hamburger-shaped yo-yos for actual hamburgers, but so far they have seen use only as toys. If anything changes, Dave will update the blog with details of the subsequent "sample collection."

Today the boys had their first taste of preschool. We visited their classroom early this morning, and the boys were drawn like semi-conductor magnets to the train-track table covered with, of course, MAKINAS. There are more toys in the ECP (Early Childhood Program) room than these guys have ever seen in their lives, but they only had eyes for the cars, trucks and trains. They good-naturedly endured introductions to the teachers and other kids, but did not let their eyes leave all those sets of wheels. All seemed to be fine, as they were very cooperative about putting back all the makinas before we left and saying goodbye to Daddy as he left to try and work (ha!). We came home, spoke on the phone for the first time to our friend Tomas from the orphanage, and had a pleasant bath time with the rubber duckies.

And then.

Amare whacked Zenebe on the head in the tub. Amare was thus banished from the bathroom. So the crying began, and endured the rest of the morning. Okay, there was a fifteen minute break in there when Zenebe's enthusiasm for our home-made, raspberry-scented play-dough won Amare over and he smooshed away at his big red blob. Until Zenebe's blob looked somehow better/bigger/blobbier and the whimpering resumed. Nothing like two hours of sobbing to make you want to (A) throw every adoption parenting book you've ever read out the window, (B) throw yourself out the window, or (C) throw the sobber out the window.

Fortunately, we all made it through the morning and Dave came home just in time for lunch and then "naptime." Emily made a quick escape to the grocery store once the boys were in bed, only for Dave to experience the first episode of Naptime Mania. Our theory is that with all this extra protein and vitamins in their diet, these boys just don't need to sleep as much, right? It has nothing to do with them trying to figure out what they can/cannot get away with. Or with being completely overwhelmed by change and new stuff. Yeah. Right.

By evening, Dave and Emily were at a complete loss as to what to do with these two emotionally fragile bundles of energy. Emily suggested some music, so Dave pulled up the Hokey Pokey on iTunes and we dragged the kids into the living room for some forced Family Dancing. Also known as the Dave & Emily song-and-dance routine: we hokey-pokeyed around the living room desperately trying to look like we are having the best time EVER while the boys just stared at the computer screen. Sorry to all our readers that we were too busy putting our right hands in and shaking them all about to take a photo of that scene! Eventually, Dave managed to skip forward to the recordings of Amharic children's songs lent to us by the lovely nannies at the orphanage. Pretty soon we were ALL jumping around like maniacs and laughing hysterically at mommy and daddy dancing like white people and trying to sing in Amharic. As a result, neither Dave or Emily can now twist or arch their backs ever again, but it was worth it for those fifteen minutes of smiles (and an uncontested bedtime an hour later).

We are really trying to introduce the boys to new things slowly without overwhelming them. This can be a little tricky, because we don't even notice some of the things that they are completely taken by. Like the ceiling fans (see photos of boys at the breakfast table watching the blades spin). And the fact that we have shoes just for indoors. Not to mention socks. And the shedded dog-furballs all over our floors. And the roaring vacuum cleaner that hunts down those furballs. And the toilet flushing. And the buttons that beep on the microwave. And the three different kinds of doorknobs in our house. And our bird feeders that look like tiny houses. And our shelf of bird books. And our frame of goofy photos from our wedding. And the idea of mittens. Not to mention the idea of pants that you wear *over* both your pants and your underpants (snowpants).

Needless to say, our lives and home are clearly quite exciting and stimulating for the boys. Emily and Dave, on the other hand, fight viciously over who gets to run the errands and leave the house during naptime! And try to get the other to read "Where the Wild Things Are" for the eighth time in twenty minutes. We have, however, figured out a system for introducing new foods so that we are not all plain pasta for the rest of our lives. We eat whatever the strange, mystery food is for lunch (i.e. lasagna), "reluctantly" share a few bites, and then at dinner suddenly it has transformed into a delicious, desirable dish covered in red sauce and full of chewy chunks of veggies. Seems like a great plan, right? Except that today Zenebe flat-out rejected the same chocolate mint Luna bar that he DEVOURED like a starving man at the orphanage (see photo). He is, after all, a preschooler!

They boys are completely fascinated by the evolutionary tree of the animal kingdom that hangs in our kitchen. (To be fair, so are we and most of our biologically nerdy friends.) They love to try and identify the animals, especially the extinct ones. Dave invented a game today that involved pointing at the most bizarre creatures and calling them our names. So Mommy was a kangaroo, and Amare a whale and Zenebe a nautilus. Of course, Dave combined these new identities with the appropriate movements for each animal, and the boys found it absolutely HYSTERICAL to watch Dave act out Zenebe-as-nautilus. Pretty soon, Zenebe was crawling around on the floor trying to be Daddy-the-lizard. And who says you need a common language to share a good joke?!

Oh, the makinas.

Our first major (and recurring) meltdown with Amare revolves around the magical makinas, i.e. cars, of which he took possession after arriving stateside. Personal property is a kinda new and high-priority concept to these guys, and Amare was somewhat ambivalent when the second car added to his inventory didn't hold the same appeal as the car given to Zenebe. Little brother was kind enough to trade during playtime, but Amare became rather mopey at the thought of possessing the inferior model (a Hummer -- does it get any better?) once play ceased and the cars returned to their respective owners. Mom and dad decided it might be best to eliminate the source of conflict altogether until things have settled down a bit; we still stand by this decision, and the cars will remain in their new, top-secret location for the foreseeable future. Amare holds a dissenting opinion, one he repeatedly articulated for approximately an hour yesterday morning: "Makina. Makina. Ma. Ki. Na." Mom and dad explored every possible avenue of distraction, but Amare redoubled his efforts with enhanced pouting and muscle failure tactics. "Maaakiiiinaaaa." Sadly for Amare, this experience with our bereft jello-child has only solidified our stance, as rewarding the protest with the goods seems rather unwise. But we're at least glad to have a story to hold over him when he grows older.

A couple of days back, we got a visit from "Crazy, Hella Pregnant Kelli™," occasioning the introduction of the identical (bless you, Kelli) toys she gave us at the shower a couple of weeks earlier. The toy itself is a little tricky to describe -- imagine one of those stiff leashes meant to simulate an invisible dog, then stick a little dude on a Segway at the end of it. Except it's a manual Segway that you pedal (you're welcome, Flintstones fan fiction authors). Whatever it is, the kids absolutely love the thing, and we've since had several requests to play with the "bicycles" (a fine simplification, even if it drives Dave crazy to equate such a contraption with the greatest machine ever invented).

This morning we paid our first visit to Harmony School, where the boys will eventually spend their days in the Early Childhood Program. We figured a quiet introduction on the weekend would provide a better, more gradual transition than immersing them in the full-on chaos of a school day. The school was a big hit; we explored the playground, rolled around on a giant ball in the gym, and emphasized during our first experience with a piano that it is without a doubt a percussion instrument. Zenebe has already repeatedly asked to return to school, and we're hoping against hope that we won't encounter any major breakdowns when it's time to start going to school for real.

December 8, 2009

Honestly, the past two days have been a bit of a blur thanks to jet-lag and getting used to having two energetic monsters (we mean that in the adorable muppet kind of monster way) tearing around the house. Slowly but surely every single boundary is being tested, and we are trying our best not to laugh out loud each time they do something hilarious yet unacceptable. Dave is much better at this than Emily, who collapsed laughing at the breakfast table when the boys turned their placemats into a demolition derby arena. Dave was not amused. Amare and Zenebe, of course, were. Add to the confusion that we must communicate everything simply with tone of voice, since our mutual vocabulary is still limited to essentials like: poop, pee, snack, come, let go, dog, and good job!

Then there is the issue of food in general. Zene meticulously picked every kernel of corn out of his rice at dinner. We tried to convince him to eat by telling him there are starving children in Africa, but, well, that argument didn't get us very far. Peanut butter, thankfully, has been approved as an acceptable source of protein in their rigid diets. Too bad it means there is already a veneer of PB on every surface at child-height between the breakfast table and sink. Happily, it has not been difficult to master cooking the orphanage fare -- simply cook any version of starch (macaroni/rice/potato), add a little red berbere spice and butter and -- voila! -- palatable food. Slip in a candy-flavored multi-vitamin on the side and we all feel better about nutrition!

December 7, 2009
Our first day at home!!! This day was filled with so many firsts for the boys:
petting dogs
SNOW!!!
Grandma's cookies (for breakfast!)
washing machine spin cycle
stepstools
squirrels!
rainboots
squash soup - yum!
zinger tea - yuck!
electrical outlets
garbage truck
kitchen cabinet doors
Fortunately (for us, anyway) the overnight snow/ice slick forced Grandma and Grandpa Sprowls to spend the morning with us. We played in the snow and the boys got to display their true charms. It also meant that sleep-deprived mommy and still-sick daddy got to ease into our day in a house that Em's mom had left cleaner than ever, stashed with groceries and frozen meals, and important little things like duck bath towels and booster seats (thank you Darlene!!!).

December 5-6, 2009

Despite the agony and disappointment of the night before, Amare awoke as his usual grinning self. We spent the day just handing out and playing at the orphanage, trying to tire out the boys for the long flights ahead without exhausting Dave and his cold. We got to meet a new set of adoptive families arriving for the next week, and we all got a chance to say a heartfelt "Ciao!" to all the dear nannies. One gave both boys little wooden cross necklaces -- so sweet!

Our flight left Addis at almost midnight, so the boys were already up hours past their bedtime as we loaded up the van with our luggage. However, the excitement of riding through the city, then the enormity and bustle of the airport, riding on the luggage cart, and the sight off all the "jets, mommy!!!"certainly kept them awake till we boarded the plane. And then there were the little TV sets in the seats, and the seatbelts, and the magazines, and the headphones, and the flight attendant call buttons (certainly no parent of a toddler moved the location of those buttons from the ceiling to the armrest!!!) to keep everybody up, up, up!!! Eventually, exhaustion set in and there were a few hours of sleep before we had to find ways to keep them from climbing over the seat behind them, shouting at Finding Nemo on the TV, slamming the tray table, etc., etc. Food arrived and we discovered how the limited orphanage diet has turned Zenebe into quite a picky eater. Neither boy would even look twice at chocolate ice cream!!! That was the first flight to Amsterdam. The second flight to Detroit went pretty much the same way, but with a new set of toys and puzzles and fortunately nobody seated in the seats directly in front of their little kicking legs. The boys were incredibly patient during the long wait at immigration upon arrival in Detroit, especially since there were very tempting luggage carts just beyond the end of the line. Our layover was tight, so there wasn't much time to wheel around on the carts before we zipped upstairs, frantically changed clothes/used the bathroom and dashed (using, of course, the thrilling moving walkways) to our gate.

Twenty-four hours after we departed from Addis, we landed in Indianapolis with two fast asleep little boys. So they were complete zombies upon meeting their ecstatic grandparents and our friend Cecile. Nevertheless, Grandma was not daunted by their sleepy eyes and glassy stares, and donned two adorable winter hats on their heads and pressed awesome crank flashlights into their hands. The joy from these gifts was not evident until after almost 12 hours of sleep for all -- but boy were those flashlights fun when jet-lag had us all up at 4:00 am the next morning!

December 4, 2009

Today was the last day here in Ethiopia for everyone in our "travel group" except us. Things started off fairly low key after a much appreciated solid night's sleep, thanks especially to the amoxicillin that has already greatly reduced the frequency of Zenebe's coughing fits. After breakfast, Dave and Emily headed out with another couple to visit an orphanage for HIV-positive kids in Addis called AHOPE to donate the heaps of supplies generously donated by our friends and family. We received an unexpected, impromptu tour of the children's home, finding it simultaneously heartbreaking to see so many afflicted children but also wonderful to see how much AHOPE does to brighten the lives (and futures!) of these kids.

Our guide (the assistant director?) explained that all the children living at the home are full orphans with no remaining relatives able or willing to look after them, and that they currently receive referrals for more children than they can care for -- currently just under 100 children. They have placed 43 kids for adoption, a wonderful gift to these kids, but currently only an option for parents in Spain and (as of fairly recently) the United States. AHOPE has made such a difference that, for the

first time, they are now contending with ways to help young adults who grow old enough to leave their care and transition back into the community. Despite the obvious good they do, AHOPE receives no assistance from the government, nor any discounts from hospitals, and we'd certainly encourage folks to check out their US fundraising efforts (they have stuff you can buy or kids you can sponsor).

We then drove around Addis for a little while on a fruitless search for Ethiopian soccer jerseys and croc-like sandals . Actually, we found some adult track jacets for $60 (which was a bit out of our budget and size range), and we did get to drive around the old Italian neighborhood of Addis for the first time. Instead we bought some shoes at a stall next to the orphanage so that we don't wind up taking our kids home barefoot.

After lunch and nap-time (during which Dave started trying to pack up all our souvenirs) was the much-anticipated coffee ceremony. The kids had been practicing songs all week. Somehow, we managed to arrive five minutes before the starting time and still be late! But Amare jumped right into the singing circle and even led a few songs himself. He was full of grins, and after a little adjusting, even Zenebe got into the dancing. Then the director spoke about the various humanitarian programs run by Wide Horizons for all the kids that don't get adopted. Meanwhile, the coffee beans were being roasted and the smoke filled the air in the guest house. After all the children were then officially presented, along with their paperwork, to their parents, we were served little cups of the darkest, richest coffee known to humanity, along with popcorn, which the kids stuffed their faces full of.

Finally came the good-bye songs and the hugs with the nannies. This was so incredibly sad, especially for the older kids. Zenebe was completely hopped up on popcorn and coffee fumes, as well as oblivious to the meaning of the day. Amare, on the other hand, fully understood his farewell to the nannies and cried quietly. Big fat silent tears running down his cheeks. To make matters worse, he will see all those nannies tomorrow and have to say goodbye again. So, once we were all wet-eyed and puffy-faced we had our big group photo. I'm sure our whole family will look just fabulous. It was definitely a sad event.

We came back to our room and the older kids' home while the rest of the families packed up and got ready for the airport. We just played with the kids, vainly trying to keep Zenebe from running around and inciting another coughing fit. We were trying to get everybody to chill out a bit in our room when the driver and one of the other kids burst in to make sure our bags were packed and tell the boys they needed to hurry and eat dinner. Somehow, nobody (including, most importantly, Amare) knew that we were leaving on a different flight tomorrow. When this was explained to Amare, he was heart-broken that all his friends were leaving and he was left behind. More giant tears just rolling down his cheeks. The sweet nanny explained to him that he was leaving with us tomorrow, but that didn't help one bit. The best we can figure is that he assumed that all of the families and his friends from the orphanage were going to "America" together, and that we'd all still live together in a big compound with soccer balls, building blocks and bubbles. The little boy that had been so excited to sing his heart out at the coffee ceremony was now completely just so so sad. We had to leave for dinner, and when we came back both boys were already tucked into a bunkbed in the kids' room. Zenebe greeted us with his now-usual enthusiam, but Amare was completely despondent. Amare obligingly followed us back to our room and climbed into bed, but just lay down and shed a few more silent tears while we read their bedtime story. While we are distressed that he feels so betrayed, we also realize that there was no way for such a little boy to fully comprehend the drastic life-change that is happening to him, and we're thankful that the nannies are around to try and help him understand. We can only hope that by tomorrow things will seem a little better for our little guy. Sigh.

November 27, 2009

Today certainly changed our lives forever. We ate breakfast at our hotel, which turned out to be full of adoptive families using a different adoption agency. Suddenly this whole crazy process seemed a bit more normal as we watched American moms and dads pantomime their way through breakfast with wide-eyed Ethiopian kids, and everybody seemed to be doing okay and maybe even having fun. Before we knew it, a driver from our agency was there to pick us up and take us to the orphanage along with another family from a different hotel.

We drove through Addis, passed a remarkable number of small goat herds on the busy, dusty streets and lots of festive Muslims because today was the holiday of Ararat(?). Soon enough we were pulling through a gate squeezed between two storefronts and found ourselves in a courtyard full of the delicious smell of drying spices for berbere. The next thing we knew, we were following the other family down the driveway and three little boys were being ushered out of a room. All three boys at first headed towards white family #1, until it became clear that family number #1 was all hugging the biggest boy and ignoring the others. We were still a ways down the driveway, so the two small figures just sort of stood there for a bit before Amare recognized Dave's hair and broke into a huge grin!

The next few moments were a bit of a blur of happy hugging and photographing. And then the awkward silence began. All four of us just sort of looked at each other like, now what do we do, family? Thankfully, the nannies then started singing songs with all the other kids, and we all crammed into the little playroom to sing along. After a few rounds led by the older kids and nannies, Amare's hand shot in the air and he led a few songs himself! This kid is not shy about being the center of attention!

Once the singing ended and the other family headed to the other compound to settle in, 25 bubbly kids descended on the two new people on hand (us), sharing English words they learned for all the parts of the room, showing us various toys, playing with Emily's hair tie, and marveling at Dave's funny red hair. In all honesty, it was absolutely heart-wrenching to have all these little kids crawling into our laps, kissing us, motioning to be held, and just desperate for our attention and affection. Any lingering ambivalence about adopting children from abroad evaporated in an instant -- these kids need families more than anything, wherever those families may be. Kids were practically fighting for space on our laps. Those that didn't go in for the fray just snuggled our feet while they played on the periphery. Zenebe and Amare, however, are pretty independent dudes. They were both happy to build with blocks without any interference from us.

We got the sense it was time to wrap up toy time when the nannies sent us out to get a ball to test the boys' soccer skills, by which point the other family had returned and busted out some sidewalk chalk. So we all went with the chalk, though Amare and Zenebe seemed more absorbed in the other family's game of hopscotch than in our unintelligible encouragement to draw something or other.

Shortly thereafter, it was lunch time. According to routine, we washed up and joined the rest of the kids in the playroom, where we were greeted by the most remarkable transformation -- complete and utter silence. It's simply amazing how quickly the managed chaos of play time switches over to quiet meal time as all the kids wait patiently to say grace and then dig in. Most exciting for us was the food -- pasta with berbere. We even got to sample a bit, and as soon as we tasted the spice, we knew these boys could handle some heat!

After lunch it was nap time, so I washed some clothes and we walked to the neighboring compound where the main guest house and infant orphanage are. We ate lunch there and chugged some tea and coffee to stave off the jetlag. Then we came back to our little walled compound, where kids were just starting to wake up from their naps and wander into the play room to build with blocks and zoom toy cars around. Zenebe was intent on a set of magnetic stackers and creating a giant wall of Duplo blocks. Amare kept reassembling different garage and bridge-like structures. We just sat on the floor and snuggled the kids desparate for affection while we watched our boys play.

After a bit, Amare left and came back with the photo albums we had sent the boys. We all read through them and Amare identified all of us in English, including Luna and Apollo. Still not a peep from Zenebe, just lots of big eyes and intense focus. Then it was snack time and Amare led grace, the little show-off ;) He then proceeded to give us half of his biscuit.

The rest of the afternoon we spent out in the courtyard. Thankfully the intense, intense sunshine had crossed to the other side of the compound. The sun, the elevation and the dryness are wreaking havoc on our mucous membranes and fair skin! First, we played with the sidewalk chalk again and created body outlines of our entire family on the pavement -- fun! Then Amare wrote out (and sang) the entire English alphabet (OK, with a little help, but still)! Zenebe just squatted on the driveway and focused on his purple chalk masterpiece (abstract human figures, we believe). The afternoon ended with a rousing game of soccer. Actually multiple rousing games. Amare, another older boy, the guard and Dave with one ball, and Zenebe and Emily through the middle with a small ball. Zenebe really smiled (with teeth!) as he chased the ball around the garden, and Amare took on the big kid and adults. Clearly, we need to sign these boys up for soccer teams (which will make Emily a soccer mom?!?).

We hung out on the sidelines during the dinner-washing-potty-pajamas routine (a well oiled machine of 25 little tiny people lined up for the bathroom and rotating through in shifts, with older kids giving the kids in line their strips of toilet paper, nannies wiping rows of bottoms, and other nannies putting on PJ's). We got to tuck in Zenebe and say good night to Amare before we had to leave for dinner.

So, there's our first day as a family! A total whirlwind, and we can only imagine what it must have felt like to our boys. Regardless, we are totally in love with these two tiny little people and can't wait to play with them all day tomorrow. And we're exhausted!

November 26, 2009

Day two of the new family and here's what we've learned about our sons so far:

Zenebe is highly susceptible to the TICKLE MONSTER!!!

Amare is not.

Zenebe loves soft fluffy things, especially his toy doggie.

Amare can count to ten in Sidami and English.

Zenebe likes to put plastic bags over his head (don't worry, we're working on breaking that habit).

Amare is a ladies' man with the nannies.

Zenebe likes to put things away, shut doors, sort cards.

Amare loves to be the "goose" as long as he can when playing the Amharic version of duck-duck-goose.

Zenebe has a runny nose.

Amare has chapped lips.

Zenebe loves to draw circles and spirals.

Amare will copy anything Dave draws. Even bacteria.

Zenebe runs like a duck to keep his pants and shoes in place.

Amare has the longest eyelashes ever.

Zenebe likes to play with Daddy's hair.

Amare loves to give kisses.

Both are strong enough to twist open our water bottle.

Both are wearing pants that are too long.

After a morning of play in our room, it was back to the play room for lunch and then a nap. Afterwards, Zenebe really started to open up, chatting with and yelling at (and perhaps occasionally pushing) the other kids, very much unlike the little quiet boy we saw the first day. As most of the remaining families arrived to meet their children for the first time, we whisked the boys back to our room to cut back on the chaos, where the boys had a blast with a bag of baloons and the greatest hit of all -- our only flashlight. Our quickly broken only flashlight (did we mention the power is a bit flaky?). We moved from breaking the flashlight to breaking balloons, and then both boys encountered a mirror for the first time -- another big (if initially confusing) hit. Formerly quiet, reserved Zenebe was suddenly running out into the hall hiding from Dave, and once we returned outside, continued laughingly running away, turning on the faucet he wasn't supposed to touch, and generally raising hell. Shy, withdrawn, silent little Zenebe.

Tomorrow is our long yet rushed trip to the South to meet the boys' birth family in Arbegona. Breakfast at 5:30, on the road by 6:00, a long drive, a family meeting, and another ridiculously early wake-up the next morning so we can make our embassy appointment the following afternoon. Sounds, er, fun?

November 29, 2009

We hit the road at 6:00 am, after a lovely light breakfast. None of us ate much, not knowing this was to be the only full meal of the day. Then the long but beautiful drive south to the capital of the Sidama region, Awassa. From there we kept driving to Arbegona, a long bumpy ride through the hills. Upon arriving in Arbegona around 3:00 pm, the social worker informed us that Amare and Zenebe's relatives lived another 30 km away, but our driver informed us that he would drive no further! Emily had a bit of a meltdown upon hearing this news, since she hadn't had any coffee that day, her lunch was a Luna bar and her brain had been rattled into Jello by the dirt road. Thankfully, half an hour later one of the social workers showed up with a huge bus to take us the rest of the way!

So in we hopped to drive another half hour to meet the family waiting on the side of the road. They had hiked half way already! We all then stood in a field with the social worker/translators and started giving them the photo albums we made of Amare, Zenebe, us and our house. Meanwhile, people just started appearing out of nowhere to watch these strange proceedings. Thankfully, the kind family that was stuck travelling with us started photographing the bystanders and suddenly all the kids formed a choir and started singing!!! This allowed us to have a more private and tearful meeting with the boys' family members, the details of which we shall save to share first with the boys. It will be their story to tell if they choose. As we were being told the meanings of the boys' names (Amare=beautiful and Zenebe=rain), there was thunder in the distance and a rainbow appeared! It also made the new driver nervous and we were herded back into the bus before the road turned to mud. So there remain some unanswered questions for another time…

Next we drove back through the gorgeous green hills to Arbegona to meet the relatives of the other family's adopted son. Again, throngs of bystanders assembled, so I distracted them by running around taking photos of their gorgeous faces and adorable children. Since we were obviously famished, the very nice social workers took us to a little restaurant for us to try the traditional Sidama food of false-banana tuber that is ground up, fermented and cooked with dried goat meat. Dave liked it well enough. Emily had to hide her gagging on the goat gristle by chugging a Coke. Finally, we drove two and half hours back to Awassa in the dark. Apparently we encountered a hyena on the way, but we missed it due to our exhaustion and Dramamine-induced stupors.

We might have missed the hyena, but we did see a lot of cool other things on the long drives, including:

herds of camels

an ostrich!

huge haystacks of teff grain

donkeys hauling water

horses hauling water

kids hauling water

women hauling water

men hauling water

storks with gigantic wingspans

vultures devouring a roadkill cow(?)

volcanic mountain ridges

crater lakes

termite mounds

onion farmers

potato gleaners

enormous shade-houses for roses

fussbol tables and players in every town

goats everywhere, including on the highway and on front porches

roaming packs of dogs

mosques next to churches

fragrant groves of eucalyptus

a thousand brilliant smiles of waving children

November 30, 2009

Today started with a 5:00 am breakfast of take-out goatburger and fries(?) kindly provided by the hotel, then five hours of driving back to Addis Ababa (no bathroom break). Then the driver got confused on a crazy highway interchange and we drove every possible permutation of the overpasses till we wound up pointing in the right direction. We figured something was wrong when he started banging his hand on his forehead. We emerged from the maze of off-ramps only to get stuck in gridlock traffic due to construction. Our clever driver veered off the crowded main road to drive along the nely dug roadbed/sewer line, only to find that we were cut off from all the side streets by a three-foot-high dirt wall. So using words in Amharic that were definitely not in our kid-friendly dictionary, the driver detoured his way around to finally get us back to the orphanage. We were frantic because we were told to be back by 10:00 am for our embassy appointments.

The kids were all out playing with bubbles when we arrived, and we were then told that we were meeting for our embassy appointments at 12:30. We were ready a bit early and started walking, only to run into the head nurse who informed us that there was an error in the time for our appointment and we were supposed to be at the embassy three hours prior! While Dave grabbed our bag of documents, I went to get the boys and discovered a room full of naked children and nannies frantically trying to get all of them dressed and out the door. Kids were trying to help each other by putting their shoes on the wrong feet, etc. Eventually we all made it out the door (with only one kid wearing his pants backwards) and onto the bus with all the other families.

The embassy appointment was pretty uneventful, just a bit of waiting in a lobby, answering some questions and signing some documents, and waiting in another lobby (fully equipped with an Americanized play area for the kids: TV blaring and Barbie dolls). The highlight for the boys, really, was the bus ride, and they both fought off their impending naps in order to stare out the windows at the city going by.

Emily and Dave thought they would be extra sneaky after the embassy appointment and simply slink off to the Hilton for some internet access while the kids stayed behind. After all, the kids had a big day and were half-asleep on the ride home from the visa interview, so surely they could use a break, right? Right?

So we quietly left our room, locked the door, and opened the front door at the exact moment that Zenebe was heading into the guest house with Amare close on his heels. No joke. The little guys foiled our plans to evade them, and we ended up playing with stuffed dogs, balloons, and (of course) the ever-popular flashlight, ultimately holding up the other folks who were waiting for a ride to the Hilton. But it was totally their fault -- honest.

After a dismal (and rather expensive) internet endeavor (pro tip: don't bother logging on in the late afternoon along with everyone else at the Addis Hilton, as the connection is too slow to do much of anything online), we came back to see the boys off to bed. Then all the parents headed out for an evening of authentic Ethiopian food and a professional dance exhibition. The food was predictably wonderful, but the dancing was unexpectedly amazing. Dave is still trying to break down a killer staccato chest-bump move, and a very Irish, very red-headed woman in our group ended up holding her own in a dance-off with one of the professional Ethiopian dancers at the end of the night.

December 1, 2009

Today was pretty much non-stop playtime fun, with a quick field trip for Mommy and Daddy to the natural history museum over lunchtime. Pretty much a perfect day as far as we are concerned: snuggling, soccer and science! This morning Emily led the boys and some friends in a little kiddie yoga/calisthenics. Hilarious! Em and the kids also spent a lot of time blowing bubbles, while Dave tried to sleep off an ominous sore throat. There is a LOT of snot and coughing around here, so it was bound to happen at some point.

We forgot to mention that Zenebe said his first English word while waiting for our visa appointment at the embassy yesterday: BOOK! We were such proud parents, quickly correlating this achievement with his future propensity for academics. (Nevermind that he simply repepated after Emily.) Today, however, was his first unprompted word and it was, of course: TELEVISION. Ha! We should also mention, that he did say THANK YOU when we gave him his first toy truck (from Jacob and Luke Williams!).

Play time today involved lying around on the floor running cars around table and chair legs, kicking a soccer ball, make-believe with the toy doggies (of course, we have no idea what we were pretending to do/be, since the boys were speaking to each other in Sidamic), shining the flashlight into each other's throats, and tracing our feet (so we can buy them some shoes).

Our day together ended with little Zenebe leading grace for the entire orphanage! And to think he wasn't even making noises just a few days ago. We are feeling so lucky to have such charming, smart little boys. (Of course, pretty much all the kids here are completely adorable and well-behaved, but still.)

December 2, 2009

Today started pretty smoothly with some play time both at the familiar big kids' home and an excursion to the main guest house at the infant home, where there was much excitement over play-dough, hardwood floors for racing cars, and, most popular of all, a balcony. After bringing the boys back over for lunch and their nap, we headed into the city with another family for an excellent shopping trip. We didn't actually visit the famous Mercato, an ancient market equally famous for its size and for its foreigner-friendly pickpockets. Instead, we drove through the Mercado to witness the chaos on our way to other, more subdued locations to do some shopping. Haggling was remarkably good-natured, and even though we certainly got fleeced, we had fun doing it.

On returning from our day on the town, the reality of parenting started to sink in. A vigorous game of soccer with Amare turned into a prolonged coughing fit (possibly an asthma attack?) that left him really wiped out for the first time since we got here. It was definitely a bit scary, but a bit of quiet time lying down in our bedroom seemed to do the trick, and after heading back out for snack time, he was his usual beaming, approval-seeking self. The remaining play time was remarkably uneventful considering that several families returned from birth family visits and descended on the play area to catch up with their kids.

We figured things were pretty much wrapped up at the kids' dinner time, but we lingered a bit longer to see the kids off to bed since we had a few more minutes until dinner at the guest house. But once Amare heard Mommy and Daddy were saying good night, he teared up at not getting to stay in our room. So of course we melted, and soon we had the boys in our room changing into their pajamas. No big deal, we figured, since we could just trade off on going over for dinner. Then came Zenebe's coughing fit, accompanied shortly thereafer by his dinner. In retrospect, giving the boys Tums as a little post-dinner calcium supplement may not have been the best strategy. We managed to get a little dinner in after cleaning up a bit, and the coughing seemed to subside once the boys fell asleep. It's certainly starting to feel a little more like the real deal, especially considering the 5 am wake-up call built into the little guys' schedule...

December 3, 2009

At least we don't have to feel bad about the Tums; Zenebe was up much of the night coughing and puking. If there's any silver lining to the whole orphanage experience, it has immunized Amare against noise, and he slept like a log. Not so for the new parents, and Dave was particularly worse for wear since he's had a head cold for the past couple of days. After some extra nap time for dad, Zenebe saw the doctor at lunch. Our usually passive little guy turned into a real terror when the tongue depressor came out, so doctor visits back home should be a real blast. He's got an infection in a lung and an ear, and we're just hoping the newly prescribed antibiotics work some magic before the flight back on Saturday...