Some days...

A little beach therapy is in order.  

They're beautiful, aren't they?

Every cell...

June is kicking my ass. It is a pretty common experience in adoptive families that certain times of year are always difficult. I called my mom, despairing about my sweet, wonderful children suddenly turning into, well, lets just say they have been displaying some really hard behaviors that go along with really big feelings in our house. It isn't all screams and tantrums, but the ratio of screaminess to fun is getting seriously out of whack. My mom, because she is awesome like this, said, "It's June." Apparently, every June I call her and complain about this same problem. And every June she reminds me what month it is. And then I want to cry.

 Adoption can be a way to salvage a life for a child, but it is invariably born of horrible pain and trauma.   For all three of my children, around the anniversary of the worst of their trauma it is as though every cell of their bodies remember, even if they can't consciously express it... and all three of my children had the worst of their traumas in June. Their scars are deep, and they all have them.. some much more healed than others.  We have been having lots of deep discussions in our house. Lots of questions that people have been brooding about.  I have had to explain government corruption, unequal distribution of wealth, unequal distribution of medical care, death, what comes after death and burial, the nature of adoption, and the differences between not having enough money in America and not having enough money in Ethiopia.

 All that? That my friends is some very heavy shit for some very little people. And how do you explain the unfairness of it all? It isn't fair that people can't get medicines they need because of where they were born. It isn't fair that illnesses that should be treatable lead to deaths of much beloved family members. It isn't fair that people who don't have enough money have to choose between keeping their children and watching them waste away.  I don't know how to answer the questions they are asking. I don't know how to give them a sense of peace.

All I can do is to be there, and handle the feelings that they can't handle for themselves. It is so hard. So hard to take a step back and see what they are feeling and what they are dealing with instead of what they are doing.  To address the underlying problem instead of the topic at hand.. because we can make the behavior stop, but if we don't deal with the underlying problems then it keeps coming back.
So... here's to June. You may be kicking my ass, but you're also leading to important discussions, opportunities to build trust, opportunities to remember that behavior always has a reason, and ample opportunity to find out which strategies work (well, really we mostly find out which strategies DON'T work so that they can be crossed off the list.... process of elimination my friends, eventually we'll figure out what works).  Plus, my arms are getting one hell of a workout.

For my Dad

A man with incredible integrity, honor, humor and warmth. A man who is pretty much incapable of saying "It's not my problem." A man who is continually trying to save the world with his own two hands. A man who I one day hope I will be as much of a grown up as. A man who, apparently, loves to say "Cha Cha Cha" I love you, Daddy. Edit to add that although Malakai looks like he is in the depths of despair, really he is just completely mesmerized by the moving van across the street.