I just told my four year old son that he has to sweep the floor to show our house he is sorry for treating it badly (cause he spit on the floor, but by the time his time out was done the dog has already licked his spit off the floor). How did it come to this? So, I am supervising Kai's ineffectual cleaning, while simultaneously playing with the girls. Amazingly enough, I am able to blog at the same time, because the only part the girls want me to play in their game is "daycare"... which means they drop their babies off, give them kisses and tell them they love them and go play. My only real participation is that when they come to pick them up I have to invent stories about their day like, "She had a great morning, however she did eat too much at lunch and got sick to her stomach. I told her you always remind her that she needs to listen to her body so she knows when she is full." I try to work in teachable moments so that I feel like it is good parenting.
I'm pretty sure I never pictured my life quite like this. To be fair, I also never envisioned things like yesterday. The kids reenacted The Wizard of Oz, complete with their own renditions of the songs. Then we were treated to a dramatic reading of Goldilocks and the Three Bears and several rousing choruses of "Mary had a Little Lamb" all MC'd by Meron using a hairbrush as a microphone. I mean, sure, it ended with them 'inventing' songs which sounded like Gregorian Chant only more... toneless... and us inventing a reason that all of the children needed to go upstairs and get pajamas on immediately, but I never would have been able to imagine how much fun is underneath the noise and chaos (which are also things I NEVER COULD HAVE IMAGINED!).
Sunday, March 24, 2013
Saturday, March 2, 2013
Comfort
What are your comfort foods? What are the foods that are the culinary equivalent of putting on your fuzzy jammies and curling up with a great book?
Mine used to be the things that my mom made a lot when I was young: hamburger gravy on boiled potatoes, Creole rice, grilled cheese sandwiches with tomato soup, and chili come to mind immediately. My grandma used to make me milk toast when I was sick, and sometimes I still make it for myself when I am feeling under appreciated. The foods I ate when I was a child bring memories with them. Sitting at the kitchen table and laughing. Feeling loved and cherished.
As the girls and I were ripping injera into little pieces to make fir fir for lunch after a particularly rough morning, a realization struck me. These flavors, the berbere, turmeric and onions, the squishy tang of the injera, used to be so exotic to me. The first time I ate Ethiopian food I wasn't sure whether or not I liked it. It shocked my palate in a way that seems funny now. We used to cook Ethiopian food occasionally because we thought it was important that Meron grew up with it, and began cooking it more often when Hani and Kai came home. It was comfort food for them, and so we tried to make it available. I started to like Ethiopian food a lot and sometimes crave it. But that day, as I looked at growing pile of injera pieces, I realized that Ethiopian food has become another comfort food for me. It makes me think of parties we have had, of birthdays we have celebrated, of days spent smelling the onions and spices cooking for hours while the kids waited with breathless impatience for the food that brought back memories of some of their happiest times in Ethiopia.
It is a pretty good metaphor for the best parts of adoption, don't you think? Our family now has a completely new culture made up of bits and pieces of all of our heritage: hamburger gravy and boiled potatoes from my family, chicken and dumplings from Nathan's family, and Mesir Wot and fir fir from our children's families. I think it is a beautiful thing... this coming together of worlds. None of us losing our essential heritage, but incorporating new things to make our family whole. It isn't anything I ever envisioned, but I love it. I love us.
Mine used to be the things that my mom made a lot when I was young: hamburger gravy on boiled potatoes, Creole rice, grilled cheese sandwiches with tomato soup, and chili come to mind immediately. My grandma used to make me milk toast when I was sick, and sometimes I still make it for myself when I am feeling under appreciated. The foods I ate when I was a child bring memories with them. Sitting at the kitchen table and laughing. Feeling loved and cherished.
As the girls and I were ripping injera into little pieces to make fir fir for lunch after a particularly rough morning, a realization struck me. These flavors, the berbere, turmeric and onions, the squishy tang of the injera, used to be so exotic to me. The first time I ate Ethiopian food I wasn't sure whether or not I liked it. It shocked my palate in a way that seems funny now. We used to cook Ethiopian food occasionally because we thought it was important that Meron grew up with it, and began cooking it more often when Hani and Kai came home. It was comfort food for them, and so we tried to make it available. I started to like Ethiopian food a lot and sometimes crave it. But that day, as I looked at growing pile of injera pieces, I realized that Ethiopian food has become another comfort food for me. It makes me think of parties we have had, of birthdays we have celebrated, of days spent smelling the onions and spices cooking for hours while the kids waited with breathless impatience for the food that brought back memories of some of their happiest times in Ethiopia.
It is a pretty good metaphor for the best parts of adoption, don't you think? Our family now has a completely new culture made up of bits and pieces of all of our heritage: hamburger gravy and boiled potatoes from my family, chicken and dumplings from Nathan's family, and Mesir Wot and fir fir from our children's families. I think it is a beautiful thing... this coming together of worlds. None of us losing our essential heritage, but incorporating new things to make our family whole. It isn't anything I ever envisioned, but I love it. I love us.
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