Yup. Pretty scary.
Thursday, January 8, 2009
Melkin Yelidet Beaal
Merry Christmas! January 7th is Christmas according to the Ge'ez calendar that they use in Ethiopia. We celebrated by cooking a huge Ethiopian dinner, and a few fun people came to help us make it seem like Christmas. We had a wonderful time, as did Meron. I decided I had to include some pictures of the less popular moods of Meron, since I keep hearing that she is always so sweet and happy. Well, 98% of the time she is, but she is pretty darn cute even when she is crying, annoyed or mad. As you can see from the pictures above! My favorite is the mad face. I'm beginning to fear her wrath.
It took us about 5 hours to cook 5 Ethiopian dishes. We had doro wat, alicha sega wot (my favorite) lentils, shiro and collard greens. For the first 4 recipes we needed to cut up 10 onions. Our house will not be popular for a while... Everything turned out pretty well, and I was excited. It really wasn't as hard as I thought it would be. It was so fun to watch everyone try to eat it! Everyone was a good sport and tried to eat with their fingers first, although a few did eventually cheat. We did allow silverware for delicious pecan pie for dessert (thanks Mary). We weren't sure that was the traditional way to end the meal, but I think it might need to become part of our new tradition! I hope everyone had a Merry Christmas... even if you didn't know it was Christmas!
It took us about 5 hours to cook 5 Ethiopian dishes. We had doro wat, alicha sega wot (my favorite) lentils, shiro and collard greens. For the first 4 recipes we needed to cut up 10 onions. Our house will not be popular for a while... Everything turned out pretty well, and I was excited. It really wasn't as hard as I thought it would be. It was so fun to watch everyone try to eat it! Everyone was a good sport and tried to eat with their fingers first, although a few did eventually cheat. We did allow silverware for delicious pecan pie for dessert (thanks Mary). We weren't sure that was the traditional way to end the meal, but I think it might need to become part of our new tradition! I hope everyone had a Merry Christmas... even if you didn't know it was Christmas!Saturday, January 3, 2009
Mother of the Year....
Okay, I promised I would relay the sad tale of how I failed in my attempt to be considered for the coveted title of Mother of the Year. I give you fair warning, it is a little disgusting. Really, there are more ways than I can count that I am sure I have screwed up Meron. I mean, every time I do or fail to so something major I add a little money to her "either therapy or college account" so I feel it might slip under the radar. This incident, though, bars me from the contest for the year... and maybe for life. It all started with a little thing that we like to call "Prapple Juice" that led to what we call (with no little horror) a "Poop-splosion."
It is a fine balance getting the exact right amount of juice into Meron. Too much leads to disgusting things, too little leads to a lot of pain and tears and a little incident that keeps Nathan in the running for "Father of the Year" (ooo, will there ever be gloating from him if he succeeds in his bid after I failed so miserably), but also has caused some flashbacks and nightmares. The right amount seems to be one 6 ounce juice cup in the morning- mostly apple juice with a little splash of prune juice to give it a deadly brown color. Thus, prapple juice became part of Meron's daily diet.
Unfortunately, one fateful day, we were almost out of apple juice. The prapple juice I was to make wouldn't have the proper 4/5 apple 1/5 prune ratio. It would have to be Prunple juice... 4/5ths prune and 1/5 apple. This was my first failing of the day. I should have gone out to buy apple juice. Instead, I lazily let the child drink mostly prune juice, reasoning that she was hungry for breakfast and would not take kindly to being parted from her fuzzy jammies so early in the morning. The day went well. We played on the floor for a long time (me not knowing that the title I was working for was already slipping through my grasp). Then, Mer gave the universal signal for a diaper change (a funny face followed by a paint-peeling odor wafting throughout the room). Being the good mama that I am, I went to change her immediately, not noticing that we only had a few wipes left in the container.
I began the task at hand, and almost immediately panicked. It was a poop-splosion to end all poop-splosions in Mer's cute little cloth diapers. These diapers have a rice paper liner that you use (they look a little like about three sheets of toilet paper in the bottom of the diaper), so that you don't need to rinse solid waste off of the diapers. We usually just flush it and go on about our day. This poop-splosion mocked the very idea of liners. There was poo everywhere: on both sides of the liner, front to back of the diaper, on the diaper cover and coming out the legs. I was horrified, but set to work. Soon, due to my sweetly cooing and wriggling baby, I had poo all over the back of one hand and on two of the fingers of the other hand. It was then I realized that we were out of the cloth wipes that we usually use, and I had to open up a pack of disposable wipes. I got poo all over both wipes containers and the changing table (since I had to let go of Mer's legs so I could use both hands). I was attempting to block Meron's roving hands with my elbow, and thought I had been doing a good job. I was actually secretly congratulating myself on my multitasking abilities as I triumphantly pulled out a few new wipes and returned my full attention to the baby. I looked down just in time to see her hand, which my horrified mind insisted must be covered with peanut butter, go directly into her mouth. That's right, the baby ate poop. Being a curious soul, she had been attempting to do so for quite some time but had been unsuccessful until my lapse of good parenting. Judging by the look on her face, it wasn't really as good as she had always imagined. But, the deed was done. My once pure baby was now tainted, and I was left trying to figure out what to do. Did I spray her mouth with disinfectant? Did I get her to rinse out her mouth? Her cup was still full of prunple juice, and goodness knows she didn't need any more of that. Should I brush her gums and tongue with a tooth brush? I almost decided on that, but then decided we'd need to burn her tooth brush. So really, I mostly just tried to get her to rinse out her mouth with water and then secretly avoided her mouth for a few days. And that is how I lost my hope of being entered in the contest for Mother of the Year. If you have any stories about how you lost your titles, I'd love to hear them. It might make me feel a little better, although it won't make me forget...
It is a fine balance getting the exact right amount of juice into Meron. Too much leads to disgusting things, too little leads to a lot of pain and tears and a little incident that keeps Nathan in the running for "Father of the Year" (ooo, will there ever be gloating from him if he succeeds in his bid after I failed so miserably), but also has caused some flashbacks and nightmares. The right amount seems to be one 6 ounce juice cup in the morning- mostly apple juice with a little splash of prune juice to give it a deadly brown color. Thus, prapple juice became part of Meron's daily diet.
Unfortunately, one fateful day, we were almost out of apple juice. The prapple juice I was to make wouldn't have the proper 4/5 apple 1/5 prune ratio. It would have to be Prunple juice... 4/5ths prune and 1/5 apple. This was my first failing of the day. I should have gone out to buy apple juice. Instead, I lazily let the child drink mostly prune juice, reasoning that she was hungry for breakfast and would not take kindly to being parted from her fuzzy jammies so early in the morning. The day went well. We played on the floor for a long time (me not knowing that the title I was working for was already slipping through my grasp). Then, Mer gave the universal signal for a diaper change (a funny face followed by a paint-peeling odor wafting throughout the room). Being the good mama that I am, I went to change her immediately, not noticing that we only had a few wipes left in the container.
I began the task at hand, and almost immediately panicked. It was a poop-splosion to end all poop-splosions in Mer's cute little cloth diapers. These diapers have a rice paper liner that you use (they look a little like about three sheets of toilet paper in the bottom of the diaper), so that you don't need to rinse solid waste off of the diapers. We usually just flush it and go on about our day. This poop-splosion mocked the very idea of liners. There was poo everywhere: on both sides of the liner, front to back of the diaper, on the diaper cover and coming out the legs. I was horrified, but set to work. Soon, due to my sweetly cooing and wriggling baby, I had poo all over the back of one hand and on two of the fingers of the other hand. It was then I realized that we were out of the cloth wipes that we usually use, and I had to open up a pack of disposable wipes. I got poo all over both wipes containers and the changing table (since I had to let go of Mer's legs so I could use both hands). I was attempting to block Meron's roving hands with my elbow, and thought I had been doing a good job. I was actually secretly congratulating myself on my multitasking abilities as I triumphantly pulled out a few new wipes and returned my full attention to the baby. I looked down just in time to see her hand, which my horrified mind insisted must be covered with peanut butter, go directly into her mouth. That's right, the baby ate poop. Being a curious soul, she had been attempting to do so for quite some time but had been unsuccessful until my lapse of good parenting. Judging by the look on her face, it wasn't really as good as she had always imagined. But, the deed was done. My once pure baby was now tainted, and I was left trying to figure out what to do. Did I spray her mouth with disinfectant? Did I get her to rinse out her mouth? Her cup was still full of prunple juice, and goodness knows she didn't need any more of that. Should I brush her gums and tongue with a tooth brush? I almost decided on that, but then decided we'd need to burn her tooth brush. So really, I mostly just tried to get her to rinse out her mouth with water and then secretly avoided her mouth for a few days. And that is how I lost my hope of being entered in the contest for Mother of the Year. If you have any stories about how you lost your titles, I'd love to hear them. It might make me feel a little better, although it won't make me forget...
Thursday, January 1, 2009
Happy New Year!
And what better way is there to start a new year? Mer and I finger painted for the first time today. She was interested, but I should have done it right after she finished eating, because she kept trying to eat the paint. It must not have tasted as good as it looked, judging by the face she makes at the end of the video.
I can't help but think about Meron's mom in Ethiopia at this time of year. It is almost Christmas there (in Ethiopia Christmas is January 7), and while we were celebrating our first Christmas as a family, Tewabech's mom will be having her first Christmas without her daughter. I didn't think, when we started this process, that I would think about her mom as much as I do. I guess I always assumed that our daughter would have been abandoned or have parents who had died. Once I realized it doesn't always happen that way, I secretly wished that it would... as awful as that sounds. I just thought it would be so much easier to explain to myself and to Meron. I mean, how unfair is it that we get to have this bright shining light of a girl in our lives, just because we have a little money and her mom didn't. Now, though, I am so glad that I met her mom. I can tell her the story of how she was born and how she was named. I can tell her where she comes from and the name of her grandpa.
Someone asked me a while ago if it made me sad that she looks like her other mom and not me. I actually thought it would, but it doesn't. I get to see her every day. I am the one who gets to see her walk and finger paint and laugh and pout and crawl backwards. I get to cuddle with her, and it is me she reaches for when she needs help or reassurance. Her not looking like me is such a small thing in comparison to what I get, and it is such a wonderful connection to her other mom. I can tell her that her eyebrows and her shy smile are the same as her mom's. I can tell her that when she sucks on her bottom lip she looks just like Messeret. I think that is a great thing.
So, here is Messeret's and my daughter. The video was taken after we finger painted, and I would like to have some words with whoever labeled these paints as being easily washed off with soap and water.
I can't help but think about Meron's mom in Ethiopia at this time of year. It is almost Christmas there (in Ethiopia Christmas is January 7), and while we were celebrating our first Christmas as a family, Tewabech's mom will be having her first Christmas without her daughter. I didn't think, when we started this process, that I would think about her mom as much as I do. I guess I always assumed that our daughter would have been abandoned or have parents who had died. Once I realized it doesn't always happen that way, I secretly wished that it would... as awful as that sounds. I just thought it would be so much easier to explain to myself and to Meron. I mean, how unfair is it that we get to have this bright shining light of a girl in our lives, just because we have a little money and her mom didn't. Now, though, I am so glad that I met her mom. I can tell her the story of how she was born and how she was named. I can tell her where she comes from and the name of her grandpa.
Someone asked me a while ago if it made me sad that she looks like her other mom and not me. I actually thought it would, but it doesn't. I get to see her every day. I am the one who gets to see her walk and finger paint and laugh and pout and crawl backwards. I get to cuddle with her, and it is me she reaches for when she needs help or reassurance. Her not looking like me is such a small thing in comparison to what I get, and it is such a wonderful connection to her other mom. I can tell her that her eyebrows and her shy smile are the same as her mom's. I can tell her that when she sucks on her bottom lip she looks just like Messeret. I think that is a great thing.
So, here is Messeret's and my daughter. The video was taken after we finger painted, and I would like to have some words with whoever labeled these paints as being easily washed off with soap and water.
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