Big ouch!

The following events happened weeks ago, but it has taken till now for Dave and Emily to recover from the trauma to our eardrums and parental psyches and talk about it.

Vaccinations. Needles. Ouch.

The story begins with a visit to our family doctor that involves waiting in the sparse lobby for two hours with nary a toy for entertainment. The boys are slowly dissolving into panic as they realize that this little room with the chairs and magazines is in fact connected to a doctor's office. The wailing begins and is barely appeased with a couple of lollipops. Since the whole visit was just a first physical and did not involve any pokes or sharp things, the boys actually had a good time with the nice lady doctor.

A mere two days later, we load the boys in the car to "say bye-bye to the Christmas tree." Turns out that the recycling center is just around the corner from the Health Department and free vaccinations. So, we also happen to be popping in to another doctor's office. This time, we are prepared: magnetic doodle pads (thanks, Leslie!), snacks, crayons, and even a wrapped prize for after the event.

We should take a moment here to hop on our soap box for a moment and explain that Dave and Emily are totally PRO-immunization. We are both biologists, after all, and strongly believe in the necessity for vaccines to maintain public health. To be honest, the only reason that some folks can "safely" take the risk *not* to vaccinate is because the rest of us (and our kids) are already immune and don't give those nasty little measles/polio/whooping cough bugs a place to breed.

So it is with this self-righteous attitude about the public health benefits of vaccinations that we march with our deluded children into the Health Department. The poor kids have now been duped into believing that going to the doctor is just a peek in their ears and throat, a high-five and then sugary candy. So they trustingly gobble up their snacks and happily play with their toys while we wait.

And then.

The parental blunders begin.

Mistake #1: Tell the boys that there will be a "small ouch."

Mistake #2: Decide to get as many vaccines as possible in one day to "get it over with."

Mistake #3: Bring both boys into the same room so they can freak each other out.

Mistake #4: Forget to pack earplugs and a size 4T straight-jacket.

Amare is the first victim. The nurse arrives with the needles lined up on a tray like a firing squad (at least that wasn't *our* blunder). Mommy makes her best attempt to hold him down while syringes are stabbed into his thighs. Arms flail. Legs kick. Both boys scream non-stop. After what seems like half an hour, but is probably five minutes, the nurse leaves. Amare is howling in the middle of the room with his pants around his ankles and won't let anybody touch him. Mommy tries grabbing his torso, while Daddy tries to pull up the pants AND hold on to whimpering Zenebe. Spittle and snot are flying; the look of betrayal and anger in Amare's eyes stabs Mommy in the heart and *she* starts crying for having done this to her poor baby, especially after trying so hard to build up any trust whatsoever. Daddy shoots Mommy a glare that says "Don't you dare lose it on me right now," as he grapples with both shrieking boys. Mommy gets a grip (figuratively and literally) and somehow drags Amare into the hallway so he isn't present for the toture session of his brother. Amare has worked up quite a sweat with all his flailing and wailing, so Mommy tries to help him take off his sweatshirt. He still won't allow any touching, but rips off the sweatshirt and throws it down the hallway at that woman who held him down while they stuck needles in his legs!!! He then starts taking off his shirt and hobbling in the opposite direction with a sob and a look that say, "You can have this shirt back, too, because I'm leaving. It's over. I'm walking all the way back to Ethiopia right now...."

Somehow we all emerge back into the waiting room, where the other families give us wide-eyed looks of panic ("What did they do to those children to make them scream like that?!!?). We present the boys with their gifts (thank you, Ashley & Mike!) of 3-D viewers. And before long, we are all staring into the little devices trying to figure out what the heck that Barney-like hippo puppet is holding in his blue hands...

The resilience of children is amazing. Not that the day was without moping (see photo of Amare that evening -- note also the much-needed post-trauma bottle of beer on Dave's lap), but really, how can they not still hold it against us? Of course, we have absolutely no idea how we are ever going to get them back into the Health Department building for their subsequent boosters... suggestions, anyone? (Dave has already tried laying out the aforementioned arguments about the personal benefits of disease immunity and public health concerns, but we're not sure they got all of it...)

Portrait(s) of an Artist

Snowdwarf and monsters

The boys' first snowman! Okay, more accurately, snow-dwarf (It was too cold for the snow to pack, and mommy had a terrible cold and needed to go back inside).

A frequent topic of discussion when reading animal books, eating lunch on our animal placemats, or going to bed with our stuffed animals is whether or not a particular animal bites (hanya in Sidamigna). "Hanya tiger?" We have also declared that the monsters on their sheets and their towels are NICE monsters that don't bite. Instead they blow bubbles -- complete with goofy sound effects by Dave. The nice monsters do NOT bite, except they would bite an Embroma, the mythical hyena-like bogeyman that they boys seem to think live in the various sinkholes and caves in our local parks, if they ever were bold enough to come to our house! Just in case, Zenebe has taken it upon himself to become a monster to patrol the hallway...

The one "nice monster" that has occasionally been pushed to the point of biting, however is our poor dog Apollo. He hates the rolling cap game. And the rocket balloons. And the crashing towers of blocks. And kisses and petting when he is trying to nap. So sometimes he snaps those drooly jaws at the bouncing boys. Last night Amare excused himself from the dinner table by gingerly trying to sidestep Apollo, who was parked next to his chair awaiting morsels of mac-n-cheese to fall: "Hanya, hanya -- Apollo GRUMPY!"

Meanwhile, Dave is admonishing Zenebe for reaching over his water glass to eat his mac-n-cheese with his fingers. Dave gives a long explanation about using a fork and spoon, and the appropriate placement of water glass to avoid spilling (a frequent occurence), and using a napkin to wipe messy fingers..."Okay?" Zenebe looks up after the lengthy reprimand and asks: "Thank you?"

I love you...

One of the biggest worries in adopting kids is, naturally, will they bond with us, their new, strange parents? Our boys have virtually eliminated that worry from our minds, as they are full of hugs and kisses and love to snuggle. They also say "I love you, Mommy/Daddy," all the time. Of course, this is very sweet and endearing, especially when frequently accompanied by a hug and a slobbery kiss. However, we had noticed that the "I-love-you's" were a lot more frequent just before a request (like, "Big playground?") or just after an acquiescence ("Yes, we're riding in the car") or favorite food is served ("Banana?!?! I love you, mommy!"). And we wondered whether the actual meaning of the words are really understood, or simply their power to wrap your parents around your little finger.

The following examples suggest that perhaps the former is true much of the time:

We're feeding crickets to the geckos. Both boys are cheering on the geckos as they snap up the hopping insects. "Hanya [bite], gecko! Go!" As the geckos become satiated and their appetites and hunting behaviors wane, the boys are frustrated with the lack of carnivorous entertainment. Finally, Amare exclaims, in desperation to get the geckos to perform and chomp down on yet another unsuspecting cricket, "I love you, gecko!"

Amare has made an active past-time of rolling bottle caps on the floor. He spins and twirls the caps so that they backspin on the linoleum and roll right back to him. This naturally tortures the dogs, who are usually trying to take a nap in the best cap-rolling areas of the floor. We told ourselves three weeks ago that the novelty of the cap game would eventually wear off and he would choose to engage himself with any one of the gazillion more educational and interactive toys lying around the house. No such luck. The sound of rolling caps echos through the house morning, noon and night. Including this morning, when Zenebe had joined in the fun with his own juice bottle cap and they were rolling them to each other in the hallway. We are groggily getting dressed and overhear multiple exhortations to the bottle caps to backspin just right to return to their owners: "I love you....!"

Boy Story 1 & 2

Frog and toad

Wigwam

Linguistic hiccups

As you can probably imagine, the language barrier is the foundation of most of the familial conflict around here. To give you an idea of what our conversations sound like when we're all trying hard to hurdle that barrier, here's an approximate reproduction of our ride home from school via the bagel shop today:

Mommy: Zenebe, you have the hiccups!

Daddy: Drop me off here, I'll run in and buy the bagels and you can drive around the block and pick them up.

(Daddy exits stage right.)

Z: Hi-kaka.

M: Zene, do you have to go kaka?

Amare: 'Hicaca' [is] Sidamigna [for] 'blocks.'

Z: No kaka.

M: Oh good, because we have to drive to the house for you to kaka.

A: Amharic [for] 'blocks'….. ummmm…..'metaweha' - 'blocks'; 'hicaca.' Blocks, Mommy!

M: You want to play with the blocks at our house?

Z: No blocks.

M: 'Hicaca' sounds like 'hiccups' and you've got the hiccups.

(Mommy fakes an overly dramatic hiccup.)

A: Ah yes, 'hiko' [in] Sidamigna!

(Zenebe hiccups.)

M: Daddy hasn't come out with the bagels, so we'll drive around the block again.

Z: No, no blocks!!!!!

And here are some gratuitous photos of the boys wearing their new sunglasses (which they both were during this conversation) because they are 'veeEErrrrry' cool and they have only come off their heads (at our insistence) while sleeping, eating or bathing.

Magnets

At the orphanage in Addis Ababa, both boys would wake up early from their naps so that they could have first dibs on these cool magnetic tile building toys before the other kids crowded the playroom. In the first photo, Zenebe is proudly displaying his building to the nannies and all the other kids, from whom he violently defended his claim on the magna-tiles. His dear Aunt Kathryn just sent the boys their very own set of magna-tiles (so now they only have to wrench the prized squares from their brother's hands)! They have already had lots of nostalgic(?) fun and Amare made a duplicate church building (one of his favorite things to do around town is point out all of the churches, crosses and American flags he can see -- ha!). Zenebe's favorite creations are jet planes. Pretty much if he can get a set of wings on something, it's a plane and it will fly.