Growing Family

Welcome, Winter

Today, June 1st, heralds the First Day of Winter Down Under. You might be drinking a cold beer in the shower after mowing the lawn, or cleaning off the barbeque for the season, or running out to buy sprinklers for the kids to play in, but we are doing very different things. 

We are drinking tea. Lots of tea.

Every Aussie home has a benchtop (countertop) electric kettle. I think they are standard issue when they stamp your visa at the airport. We keep the sugar bowl full, and milk at the ready. I go for a large mug of earl grey, but we have a whole cupboard of tea. 

Aussies take their tea seriously and there is a whole body of tea language. I take my tea sweet and white, if you must know. I once had a tradesman working at my house who sent the tea back two times before coming into the kitchen to sugar/milk it to his specific preferences. True story. 

We are pulling out the footy pjs, buying new flannels, and thermals and putting extra doonas (duvets) on the beds.

I've heard lots of Aussies talk about putting the flannel sheets on the bed, but we sleep European style - with a bottom sheet and a duvet on top, with a duvet cover, and no top sheet. I'm thinking about making some flannel duvet covers to get in on that cozy experience.

As soon as my oven is fixed (I could write a very negative post about a certain appliance repair company who has been "fixing" my broken oven for two months now...) we will be baking quick breads, muffins, casseroles, and roasts.

Currently we are enjoying adventures in slow cooker/crock pot cooking, and I am super excited about my Freecycle vintage crock pot! Some recipes have been more successful than others, but it is just so fantastic to come home from a really long and busy day where there is no time to cook, to a hot and hearty meal. Please send me your favorite crock pot recipes!

Creamy cauliflower soup tasted better than it looked...okay, maybe not. Strike that one off the list.

We're still enjoying afternoon highs around 20C (68F), but things are starting to cool down. We've got the heater on low downstairs to keep the place from getting really chilly (double brick and lots of glass can act like a giant cooler...which is good...in the summer). 

We're starting to layer up and in the evenings I'm pulling out my favorite vintage New Zealand wool blankets to cuddle up and watch tv, with my knock-off Ugg boots, and thermal underwear. 

What do you do when the weather turns cold? I want to celebrate the changes instead of moan about the chill. After all, I can look at pictures from my friends in Michigan's UP and that shuts me right up!

 

A Great Day

I am not on twitter or instagram, but I have gotten totally hooked on Pinterest (an online pin-board that provides hours of eye candy covering just about anything you could be interested in). I am the kind of girl who used to have 503 tabs open in my browser because I wanted to come back and look at something again. 

I love Pinterest because beauty makes me happy, and it instantly gets my creative juices flowing. Also, I read a few design blogs and am constantly noting things I want to revisit.

One problem, however, with my new found inspiration, is that it seems like MOST of the world is blogging/pinning/posting from the northern hemisphere (can I get a witness Down Under!?). 

Everyone is chattering about spring florals, and summer vegetable gardens, and the swimsuit for their summer holiday. The mommy bloggers are talking about summer vacation ideas for the kids, and the food bloggers are whisking up perfect warm-weather concoctions.

Here, in Sydney, we are layering up our clothes. We are raking fallen leaves in the garden. We are piling an extra quilt on top of the doona at night. We are pulling out the scraggly, ragged remains of the summer garden to prepare for the winter crop. We are getting chestnuts in our weekly veggie boxes, and cooking hearty soups served up with dense breads.

At the shift of the seasons, there tends to be a bit of a disconnect from the rest of the online world, and it is in full effect by the time we have winter opposite summer. 

No matter, today I had the best day.

Hours in the garden, tearing out shrivelled cucumber vines, and pruning all the fruit trees in my back garden were extremely satisfying. Three apples, two citrus, and two stone fruit. If you could see the size of my garden, you would be scratching your head as to how they all fit...they don't. Hopefully the hard pruning I gave them today will boost their health and keep their size in check. 

The Captain helped me out after spending some time sleeping on the trampoline (an ultimate weekend indulgence he earned by taking Small Sun to his 7:45 AFL game, 45 minutes away!). He climbed up into the stone fruit trees with lopper and a saw and took care of what I couldn't reach on my bright yellow two step stool (we really need a ladder).

We cleared all the cuttings out, raked the lawn, and dug out some other non-essentials. Now the back garden looks perfect for our autumn schemings: a fire pit for regular sausage and marshmallow sizzling. We may not be flitting into springtime, but we're having jolly good fun Down Under!

2012 First School Holidays

Thanks to each of you that went and voted for my blog. For reasons that involve politics I am not involved in (thank goodness), the Circle of Moms has cancelled the competition. Oh well. It was fun to be nominated, and to have people vote, and to see my blog traffic spike in a significant way, so thanks for that!

We are in the second week of Term 1 school holidays. I LOVE the holidays. In Australia the school year is broken up into four (roughly) 10 week terms, and between terms there are two and three week holidays, alternately. 

By the end of the term we were just dragging, especially with two extra kiddies in the house. Now we are sleeping in, watching movies, I am curling up in my bed during the day to read The Hunger Games for hours, it is delightful.

This last weekend we went up the coast to camp with friends at a gorgeous little holiday park where our tent opened up to a view of the water. The kids ran around playing in the dirt and trying to build fires while we read magazines from our camp chairs, sipping tea.

We are just letting it all. hang. out. It is so wonderful to have a break.

Here are some gems from our hols so far:

 Good Friday at Narrabeen

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 Apple Picking at Bilpin

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 Round the house goodness which included my 31st birthday

Camping at Soldier's Point 

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 Whatever you are doing this week, I hope you find the joy and beauty around you!

Here are your Boot Straps - Pull

At this point I am leaning towards the Ethiopia program, in thinking about what I would like to do adoption-wise. I am looking for like-minded blogging families who have been there and done that (all from the U.S., if you know any down under, let me know!).

On one hand I love reading their blogs, seeing them meet their children, and crying over the video montages. Really, that moment of becoming family is so powerful, and so intense, I rejoice in it most every time.

On the other hand I feel like picking up my keyboard and just chewing the keys and spitting them at my screen. (Really? Really.)

I see families grieve over a two month travel delay, or a paper that needs to be resubmitted. From their seat it feels so, so hard. From my seat, well, chewing the keyboard, because it all looks so much easier.

I have been doing the logical math of how long this is likely to take us. I don't think we will be able to even apply until I am a citizen, and that should happen (I hope!) by the end of this year. 

The process in NSW involves 11 steps Thinking About Adoption NSW. I think it is somewhat realistic to imagine child(ren) coming home to us when Finch is about 7 years old. He is 2.5 now. Four years (remember 2012 is mostly about gaining citizenship) seems wildly optimistic to some people, but perhaps a little long to others. I don't know if I am being naive or not.

It is one of those situations where I could feel defeated before we even start. I wanted to title this post "A Little Bit of Complaining", but then I remembered my personal effort to "do everything without complaining" and I am trying to pull myself up by my bootstraps instead.

What I know to be true, whether I feel it or not, is that things in my life have always been timed well, whether they fit with other people's (or my own) time-lines or not.

I will KNOW in retrospect, that whatever path we have chosen, and however long it has taken, it will all turn out just as it should. I have four children in my life that echo that truth to me daily, if I have the heart to receive it.

It will all work out as it should.

More About Foster Care

When I went to Melbourne for Together for Adoption, I went to a session on Foster Care. Paul Magno, speaking from the perspective of a foster parent said (paraphrased),

People tell me all the time 'I could never do what you do. I could never love a child and then let them go.' I tell them, 'if you have an interest in providing foster care and that is the only reason you're not doing it, get over it. There are so many children who desperately need a stable family, you need to get the skills to help you cope because that is really a self-focused perspective.

I mean, I don't think I would say it to people quite like that, but I agree with what he said. 

So here's what has been going on. When we were considering going to the States, our social worker encouraged us to go despite the fact that Baby could not come with us, and would have to stay with another foster-care family while we were gone. 

To me this seemed like just a low-down, awful thing to do. How many biographies have I read where adults described their childhoods in foster care, and their foster families driving off for a week at the beach and leaving them behind with some scary old lady. I always hated the foster family for doing that to the poor child. I never even considered that there might be another side to that story, I only saw the painful side presented to me.

Now I know both sides are difficult. Even had we been able to gain approval to take Baby with us, we never could have secured a passport in time. When we discussed it together and with our case worker we all decided that we still need to do things that are important for our family, even if that sometimes means it is less than ideal for Baby. I mean, as a once-in-awhile super important thing, like this trip was. But making that decision was so hard, and I felt so guilty.

Two days before leaving we received a call saying "while things are not 100%, it is looking very likely that we will transition Baby to his long term placement while you are in the U.S. We'll let you know when we know. But, to be safe, pack up his things and say goodbye as a family."

I got the call while I was feeding Baby, and Finch was asleep downstairs (the big kids were at school and preschool). I'll be totally honest. I threw back my head and howled like a hurt animal. Suddenly the pain was right there, and I couldn't bear it. I help baby close and he got a pretty good tear bath. Then I had to leave to pick up the big kids, and I tried to calm my puffy eyes and avoid other parents.

The stress of packing for the trip, and preparing Baby for his new carers went into the stratosphere as I had to gather and wash and organize all of his belongings, fill out his Life Story book, compile all the photos and videos, and wrap his Christmas presents, as well as trying to help the children have meaningful moments with him.

Friday we delivered him to the office, for his case worker to take him. We had a special goodbye beforehand, and then some more hugs and kisses in the parking lot. When it was time to drive away the kids were nearly hysterical, and crying so hard. 

Sprout said "I don't feel like I will ever be happy again. All I can think about is Baby!" and Small Sun wailed "I just want to stay in my bed all day, and not come out!" Finch was unfazed, but the other two were beside themselves. The plan was to deliver Small Sun to school late, and then Sprout to a friend's house so I could pack. By the time we reached school they had calmed into the quiet, sober sadness that hangs heavy in the air and presses against the car windows.

Small Sun wanted me to come in to explain to his teacher why he was late, and why he was sad. She has supported us on our journey and it was all I could choke out to tell her "we've just said goodbye to Baby" and she held the weight of the unspoken sorrow I couldn't utter with the strength  in her eyes.

When we reached our friend for Sprout's play date, I stumbled through the door, into the arms of my friend, who immediately sprung to support me, and sat me down with a cup of tea until I had the strength to leave. 

I packed. We left for America. We had a great time.

I missed Baby. I also felt relieved to have the distraction of the trip to get us through the hardest bit. I also flung myself headlong into the luxury of not having a baby to care for, and handing my own children over to my parents, while I spent full days with friends, and shopping.

Towards the end of the trip we still hadn't heard what had happened, but finally the news came back that we would be taking Baby back with us after all. It seems that people cannot commit to caring for a child whose health needs are unknown. I simultaneously loathe and understand that concern.

So Christmas Eve Baby came back with us. He was pounds heavier, and cute as ever. He really learned to eat solids while we were gone, and was really sleeping through the night.

In the first week back he had a bit of a rough time. Probably nothing other people would notice, but I could see he was unsettled. How could we drop him off and disappear? And then how could we casually drive up and snatch him away from another family that had learned to love him and cried at his departure?

Of course he was upset. He has every right to be.

And this is where I have to swear a little, because this is f*cked up. This Baby, this wonderful baby, should be in a home with a family that will love him forever and ever. I don't hate his parents. I don't hate the system. I hate the Evil in the world that tangles into our lives like seaweed rising from the sea floor. We are all doing the best we can for him, with the capacity that we have.

But things shouldn't be like this. He shouldn't be shifted around. He shouldn't have to attach and re-attach. He should just be home. I don't know where home is, but I want it for him so badly. Every minute he is with us, he is missing time with "his people", whoever they are. I want permanence for him, and I know that you can't rush that, but I also know you can't delay too long without lasting consequence.

I approached Paul Magno after the session to get some advice from him, and upon hearing of our placement he said "you're in your first placement and it has lasted six months? Wow, you got a challenge right up front!" We are qualified as "short term carers" in New South Wales, which can mean any period from a few weeks to 1.5/2 years. So technically, Baby could be here for quite awhile longer, but for his sake, I hope he finds "home" soon.

 

 

 

Between Christmas and New Years

The time between Christmas and New Years is a padded cacophony of joy. The kids are playing in boxes, and climbing on their father, who lounges on the couch for a grand total of 17.8 minutes a year.

Ever since we came home we've let them run riot.

Yes, we've been gone. First we went to Nashville to spend a glorious week and a half with all of my family. For the first time in about four years, we all gathered from our global corners (Canada, Tanzania, NYC, and Australia) to sip and sup and glow together. Despite my brother being sick, we had a great time and especially for the cousins, it was everything I wanted it to be. 

Then we drove up to Michigan to spend time with aunts, uncles, and my cousins. Again, the time was so fantastic, and I'm incredibly glad that we went.

We weren't planning on going this year, but when we discovered that the whole family was convening at my parent's house in Nashville, it was too good of an opportunity to miss.

We were amazed at the continued connection with our friends in Nashville. The relationships we had there took so long to build (Nashville has a high "flake factor"), but many of them seemed circumstantial and I expected that after we moved, over time, most of them would naturally dissolve. 

Both our core group of life-long friends, and our greater circle all rallied to embrace us. Some cancelled trips to spend time with us, others travelled from neighboring cities, and in general people went out of their way at the most busy time of the year to spend time with us. It impacted me and I am still processing what it all meant for me.

The trip to Michigan was also very special. My grandfather organized a special evening to celebrate us all coming to town. All my in-state relatives made repeated efforts to see us while we were there. Perhaps more than any other time. They were so generous and enthusiastic to see us. Like in Nashville, we felt celebrated and valued.

My grandmother has Alzheimers and is was so wonderful to see her interacting with my children, and getting to spend time just being near her, even if she doesn't know me anymore.

The trip was so worth the 40 hour door-to-door effort of getting there. The only shadow was having to leave baby with another foster family while we were gone. Now we are all reunited and shaking the walls with the happy exuberance of being in our own home, in our own routine. It is wonderful to go, and wonderful to come home again.

 

Together for Adoption

Mid November I will be leaving hubby and the kids behind, getting on a plane all by myself to go attend Together for Adoption. The U.S. based conference is coming to Australia for the first time, hosted by The Babes Project. 

Although I have travelled extensively, I haven't travelled alone since I don't-know-when. I might go into some kind of shock from being able to hear my own thoughts for a whole weekend! And sleep, uninterrupted sleep for three whole nights! I'm intoxicated jut thinking about it. Don't even get me started about getting to read my book, or hang out in Melbourne with The Captain's fantastic aunt and uncle and his amazing cousins. They are some of my favorite people in the whole world.

All those benefits aside, I am really excited to be going to this conference. I am hoping to go further in my understanding of how adoption works/doesn't work in Australia. I am going to some sessions covering political activism to encourage adoption. 

I am interested in seeing how they roll out a pro-adoption conference in a setting where adoption is just so, so hard (next to impossible, really) to do. 

I have read that it is not a "rainbows and fairy tales" kind of conference, and that it doesn't propose adoption as the only solution to the orphan crisis around the world. I've heard that they have an honest approach to handling the very real challenges present in adoption, as well as a number of suggestions as to how people can make a real difference for children.

Australia sits so far back from the table when it comes to adoption. I am so, so curious to see how this conference plays out here.

Will they talk about the risk of trafficking/black market adoptions/baby selling? Will they talk about transitioning a child from an orphanage to a family? What about helping a child heal from trauma? 

I guess I wonder if they can really get into the nitty-gritty real issues that can be present in adoption, in a setting where they will pretty much be sounding an awareness alert that there are so many children who need families. 

I think most people fall in love with the idea of adopting, and then the realities start to take shape after they've gotten pretty far into the process. 

Seven months from now I'll be able to apply for citizenship, which would make us eligible to apply for Australian adoption programs. I guess you could say I am getting my ducks in a row.

Anyone else going?

 

 

It's Happening Again

It's happening again. That squeezy feeling in my throat and the tendency to stand quietly a few steps further from life than normal. 

It's happening again, the flashes of memory from times past and far away.

It's happening again, the moments of confusion when writing the date (month/day/year or day/month/year?), and the fuzziness when someone talks about "spring" (when is spring again?).

It's happening again, feeling annoyed at my son who throws his knowledge of "America" around like a red cape in front of a bull. What does he mean when he says the air smells so American? What does that even mean?

Except I do know what he means. He walked outside and the air was crackling. The day was alluring to him with promise and adventure. To him that is America, and he is right.

I don't know if I love my country or if I hate my country, but I miss it.

It is such a miserable feeling to love the South so, so much, but to not feel that it would love my children the way I want them to be loved. Maybe I am a coward for leaving and not being the change. Maybe I am brave to call out what I saw and walk away.

I miss green fields. I miss the explosion of spring that makes you think the earth is on drugs and nothing could be greener than it is already. Even the light turns green in the tree tunnels going to my parent's house in the woods. 

I miss the houses. I miss wooden siding and wide front porches with hanging ferns and decks where you sit with friends and drink ice tea. 

I miss crepe myrtles electric pink on a hot summer's day, the bark smooth and cool under hand.  I miss hostas in the shade, and white picket fences holding back spills of cone flower, and black eyed susans. 

I miss the richness and ambience of the great estates, despite the injustices that occured in them. I can't help but love my hometown, my roots, my nest.

I miss the creative and eclectic self that existed there that I can't seem to find, despite having unpacked each box from the shipping container years ago. 

It is happening again. I am missing home.

 

Park Convo

We are slowly going mad enjoying our school holidays. Earlier this week I had one crazy day where Small Sun's kindy class, and Sprout's preschool class both arranged school holiday park play dates...at the same time...at two different parks. I did them both, with a newborn baby, and fresh baked cookies to share. (You may each award me a gold star now, thank you.)

Perhaps because of this extended jaunt into crazy over-extension, the baby became ill and we have been quarantined at home the entire rest of the week. I rue the day I decided to be supermom!

Anyway.

At park playdate #1 I had an interaction with a fellow preschool mom that left me a bit speachless.

I walked up, pushing the baby in the stroller, with Sprout and Finch walking with me. I had dropped Small Sun off with a friend from school, to go to the other park ahead of me. Immediately this mother (who I have had very little contact with, but know to be an expat from the U.K.), said "oh, you're the one with the foster baby!" I introduced myself and gave her my name. When she started asking about the baby, I asked her if she was interested in foster care. (This is one of my current strategies for re-directing personal questions about the baby's situation.)

"Oh no, I could never do that." She replied. "What I would really like to do is adopt."

"Oh?" I asked.

At this point she leaned in and said "I'll say this quietly because we're in a mixed cultural area (she looked around for emphasis): what I really want is to adopt a little Chinese baby."

I think I just blinked, but didn't really respond. We had only been at the park all of about 48 seconds.

"If they find out it is a girl, they just abort them! There are just tons of little Chinese babies that they don't even want. I used to live in Russia..."

"Oh did you?" I interjected, hoping to get to another topic we could relate on. "I lived in St. Petersburg, where did you live?"

"Moscow", she replied. "The Americans used to come to adopt the babies there, but they all have fetal alcohol syndrome, you know. "

My mind kind of boggled, processing so many different possible responses, and I just didn't respond. I got her talking about Russia, then preschool, and then we were safely away from the topic. 

This interaction made me realize several things. 

First, this sort of conversation used to happen in Nashville ALL THE TIME. I run into someone I don't know and have no relationship with and they tell me their opinion on foster care or adoption. Often they just haven't "done their homework" as my dad says. They don't really know much about the factors and dynamics at play, but that doesn't stop them from sharing their perspective with me. 

I suddenly became aware that I haven't had that kind of experience in a long time. I am out of practice with my reaction there as well, because I just haven't needed it. Most often here, people ask me questions about foster care and adoption and really listen to my answers. They don't seem to have a pre-set opinion. They're curious and interested. I like that. 

Second, I still just don't always know when it is appropriate to stop and attempt to broaden a person's perspective, and when to just let it go. I will jump neck-deep into that cold creek for a friend, because I can't maintain a friendship without honesty. For a random aquaintance...not so much.

I wonder if she would have felt differently about sharing, had she seen me with my brown son? With Small Sun at school, I "pass" as a mom of all white kids much of the time. I think people filter their comments somewhat differently when they see me in the adoptive-mother-of-a-brown-child role. There are so many ways for people to (mis)perceive me these days, with the Baby Ant looking passably like my child as well. 

Ah well, food for thought. I might need to brush up on my responses. Yet again, I feel blessed to be in Sydney where my day-to-day interactions are ones of respect and open-mindedness. 

Rusty

I feel like an old cowboy, trying to swing my leg up over the saddle and getting stuck half-way, in an awkward standing splits. After about three years out of the adoption/child welfare conversation, I've got some new things on my mind to work out here.

After adopting Small Sun, I went deep, deep into adoption-blog world, reading all three angles of the triad (First/Birth parent, Adoptee, and Adoptive Parents). I really took in so much from the first parent and adoptee perspectives (which are as varied as the number of people holding them). Ultimately, I gained a much higher appreciation for the first parent-child bond and the need to honor and maintain that whenever possible.

With that said, all my personal experience is in a positive open adoption that was a voluntary placement. While people have their fears, I can't imagine NOT having Small Sun's mom in our lives, separate though our lives are. She is amazing. I admire her. I like her. If we lived closer, I can imagine us spending so much more time together, and maybe even being friends outside of the bond we have over our son.

Enter our first experience with foster care. 

I am part of a team that works towards restoration first, before moving on to consider other options. I am expected to interact and eventually play a part in mentoring parents who are on the track to having their child restored. This was all very clear in the agency's materials. "Perfect!" I thought. "The agency is as committed to preserving the family as I am. We're a good match."

Hypothetically, I still maintain the sanctity and value of the first parent-child bond. 

Yet, the more hours I spend holding and nurturing this tiny life, the less I can comprehend the reasons he ended up with us. 

When other people say "I could never!" or "Can you even imagine a mother who could..." when discussing placing a child for adoption, abandoning a child, or even neglecting or abusing a child, I've kept it clear in my mind that no, from a position of privilege and resource, those choices don't make sense. From sound mental health and freedom from addiction, they don't make sense. However, most children don't leave one family and end up somewhere else in circumstances that can be described as "stable, wealthy, healthy, sober, full of choices and resource" etc. 

It takes drama and trauma for a parent to surrender their child, or lose their child against their will. 

I can find empathy if I know some context of struggle for the first parent.

At the moment, in this, our first foster care placement, I don't know that contextual information. I know why the baby was removed, and what DOCS is requiring of the parents to consider restoration. I don't know their history. I don't know what compels their choices. I only know the choices themselves, and let's face it, whatever choices that end up with the state taking your child away from you are some rotten choices. 

I'm wondering how I proceed from here? How do I proceed with empathy and respect and a truly helpful attitude? How do I suspend judgement?

Here I am, up all hours of the night, and putting in those lonnnnngggg newborn days. I am feeding, dressing, bathing, burping, changing, and LOVING this baby. I am giving him everything I've got, and I'm supposed to be completely neutral towards the people who were meant to do that and failed. Beyond neutral, I'm meant to be cheerful! supportive! and helpful!

This is a tough thing. If anyone knows of foster parent bloggers, or book recommendations, I need to get through this learning curve if I'm going to be any good at this.

Isn't it amazing how a little reality can throw such a spanner in our belief systems?