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!