Growing Family

Gossip in the Grain

Music moves me so deeply. You'd be hard pressed to play a violin, cello, or clarinet piece without me ending up in tears. I grew up in one of those houses where the music had to be Christian or classical and that ended up being a major battle between my parents and I.

I remember being 14, living in St. Petersburg, and lying on the floor of my room listening to U2's War and wondering how on earth my parents who devoted their lives to faith, justice, and care for others didn't get U2? In the wonderful twist that has marked our relationship with blessings, they now do.

When I made my own serious decision for faith, I committed to always listen to the lyrics of the music I had, and only listen to things that were uplifting. Twelve or thirteen odd years in, I feel differently.

I don't think that Christians are the only ones who feel and move with the Spirit of God. I think that we are all Spiritual people, regardless of a commitment of faith. Now I listen to music with an open spirit, listening to the words sometimes, but most often listening to the message that in unspoken. Hope in chords, lament, longing, contentment. What does the Spirit of God want to say to me?

If something is affecting my mind or my spirit in a negative way, I choose something else.

Hubby often gifts me with media. Last week he bought me Ray Lamontagne's Gossip in the Grain. Oh mama.

I'm not the kind to go all wobbly over musicians, but something in Lamontagne's breathy conviction gets me deep. I swoon. I cry. I laugh. Listening to Gossip in the Grain or Till the Sun Turns Black is like making love, encompassing all the variations of tenderness and braveness.

On the days when I need comfort, like today, I am bolstered by joy in You Are the Best Thing yet my struggle feels echoed in the reaching I Still Care for You. I like music that feels familiar to where I am, yet lifts me to recognize a stronger place.

I'm loving Gossip in the Grain. What is moving you today?

Rose Colored Glasses: Order me a Second Pair

I think I'm about to wear a hole through the ones I'm wearing.

It's common knowledge in the ex-pat community that six months is the first of several hurtles in adjusting to a new place. The newness begins to fade. The dust settles. The novel becomes routine; nostalgia kicks in.

Lately I've been just gushing in my mind about how much I love the South. Images of Nashville, Chattanooga, Asheville, Charleston, Atlanta, and Grayton Beach are all on constant rotation in my imagination. My favorite little eatings places, my favorite beach houses, the way the drives between the cities look in spring and fall. I am practically drooling over imagined biscuits and apple preserves, even though I never ate them back home!

Natchez Trace, as seen from the drive to my parent's house. The Loveless Cafe. The rare ice storms that sweep through Nashville, incapacitating it for days. Places from my childhood, first dates with The Captain, play-dates with my friends and their children.

We've made a deal, The Captain and I, that we won't discuss our future plans until we've been here for two years. We're prudent people, and we know that it will take that long for us to get a feel for what Sydney would mean for our family long-term. So, I'm not talking about it, but I am cheating. I am thinking about it. All.The.Time.

I'd buy a house in Belmont. I've got our choice of schools narrowed down to two. I'm decorating my imaginary house for the holidays.

I confessed to The Captain, my secret sneaky thoughts. I told him how I'm a Southern Girl, and I was just meant to live there and love it. He looked at me over his granola and said "oh, reminiscing over the war of northern aggression?" What a meanie, that husband of mine, to go and pollute my dreamings!

Rose colored glasses, though, really. There is so much we struggled with living in a small city in the south, raising our children, that has literally changed overnight since being here. That is totally true.

Just give me a couple more minutes with my fantasy. I'm eating Aspen fruit crepes at Le Peep, before hanging out in Centennial Park, and then going to Oktoberfest and our friend's after party. It's going to be a great day.

The Interview

I graduated from college in 2004 with a degree in Child Development and Family Studies. My degree spans psychology, child development, social work, and counseling and in preparation to graduate, we worked with individuals from early childhood to those in nursing home care.

When I went to school I was already married and focused (and home schooled, if that tells you anything about my degree of self-motivation), and really saw it as my opportunity to learn. We were paying our way through school ourselves, so I wasn't about to blow it off. I was in a completely different life space than most of my peers, and asked my guidance counselor if there was any way I could "test out of" undergrad to get right to grad school. Hopefully, if and when I decide to go to grad school, I'll find more camaraderie there.

We adopted Small Sun in 2005, so I only had a small window to work before I began staying home with him. In school I had some pretty interesting work experiences. I focused my internships on group play therapy for children who had experienced abuse, support for women and children escaping domestic violence, a lot of work in adoption, and work with the elderly in a nursing home that emphasized living. Really, women, children, and families in crisis, or needing some assistance is my "thing".

Before we adopted Small Sun, I was working in the worst job ever. I worked for the State as an investigator of ch*ld s*x abuse allegations. The work was SO difficult to begin with. The fact that we were over-cased, under-payed, over-worked, and consistently punished for not being able to complete our caseloads, while we were assigned more cases than any one person could accomplish...well that was the icing on the cake. 

When I think about that job I remember the stress. The stress of wondering "should I ask for a police escort to go on this case? They'll take so long to get here and I have X number more to get to today, but this situation looks potentially unsafe for me." Or the stress of going out on call, to a rough place, in the middle of the night. The stress of making decisions that result in a family staying together or being separated. The stress of missing a key piece, of leaving a child in danger. The stress of feeling a child was unsafe, but not having the evidence to justify a removal. The stress of hearing the most heart wrenching, horrendous stories, day in and day out, never able to talk to friends or family because of confidentiality.

This week I remembered something else. A good friend here is in the process of having her son tested for speech problems. She needed me to sit with him, and a tape recorder, and get him to talk to me for ten minutes. Could I manage? She asked. Could I manage? Piece of cake!

It was sitting on tiny plastic stools, with two picture books and his whispery voice that I remembered how much I loved that job.

What I did was called "legally defensible interviewing" which means that I had to interview children, on camera, in a specific way so that their answers to my questions could be admissible in court.  Within the  space of  a few minutes,  I  had to gain the child's trust, build rapport, and get them talking to me  about what was going on in their lives.  Every time was a little scary. What if they wouldn't talk to me? But somehow, they almost always did. I loved being a safe person available to hear their stories. Even as I choked on the things they told me, I loved that I was there, able to provide an ear to their experience and then become a voice for their wellbeing.

Nobody worked that job for the money, or the fame. We worked that job because we cared about what was happening to those kids and we were optimistic that we could break the cycle. Now I feel differently about what affects true change, but that job will forever remain a gift to me. Time and time again I saw that the adults in those children's lives were too busy, too absent, too unreceptive to pick up on the cues that something was wrong. They trusted people around their children that weren't trustworthy. And so many times, the parents were loving, caring parents, who were just stretched too far to be able to catch it all.

I got a little rush, sitting with my friend's child, right as I pressed PLAY RECORD, and launched in. "Can you tell me, is it wet or dry outside today? What did you see on the way to my house?" And we were off. Ten minutes flew by and I wished there was more.

We got It!

Forgive me for misinformation, the house is "Glen-Rosa" (I think). We move in less than two and a half weeks. Oi.

It's going to be a lot of work, and I can't say I'm thrilled about packing and unpacking...again. But, I can see us celebrating Christmas in that house, and I couldn't see it here. I can see all sorts of cookie making, and family warmth just oozing out of the rooms. So, the sooner we're in, the sooner I can really unpack. After all, we have a 12 month lease, so that should give me time to breathe.

And hey, y'all, the third bedroom is open. Don't let the downturn in the economy and the indecent flight fares keep you away!

Playing Catch Up

Sometimes you go so long between posts that every time you have something post-able you think "but I still haven't written about...". It's like the growing laundry pile. Clean on top of clean, none getting folded and none put away.

But here I am to spit out a quick something!

We put in an application for a house on Saturday. It is about two miles further from the city than where we are now, and it is not on the water like our current house is. Also, it does not have the same walkable convenience as this house. Those are the downsides.

The upsides are that it is a large stand-alone house (we are currently in a duplex with no neighbor), on a gorgeous family-friendly street. Three large sunny bedrooms with 12+ foot ceilings, lovely mature hardwoods, stain glass windows, character everywhere. The neighborhood it is in really reminds me of Sylvan Park and West End in Nashville. The house is titled (many older homes have names) "Bella Rosa" and the front steps are framed by two lovely fern palms. We walked in and said "we want to live here". On the budget we've lived on for the last few years, we've always had to look for potential. "What can we do with this to make it work for us?" We've never experienced that "this is it" feeling in reality to our budget. We should find out today if we got the house or not. We weren't the only ones who applied but I'm secretly hoping the other couple had a huge man-eating dog or bad credit or something... They didn't have any children with them...who needs a three bedroom house more, I ask you?

The Sprout went through an absolutely trying week recently. I finally concluded it was teething. She's been cutting her two year molars forever so I never thought it could be that. Regular application of Ora-gel seemed to bring her out of it. It being full days of hysterical crying, fits on the floor with kicking and crying, throwing toys, hitting, complete defiance, the absence of any table manners, and general disagreeableness. I just couldn't believe what was happening! She's such a cutie. Cheeky, but sweet. This was a whole other child, intent on exhausting me from morning till bedtime, when she would be unceremoniously scooped up from story time for beginning a tantrum, only to wail herself red in her crib until she dropped into a deep sleep minutes later. Poor thing. Those must be some crazy teeth.

This morning we had a wonderful moment together. She was sitting on my lap and pulling my "tail" (ponytail). I keep telling her that hurts me and asking her not to pull my hair. She then started to tease me, pointing to my nose and asking "tail?", and when I said no, we'd both laugh and giggle. She spent several minutes pointing all over my face asking "tail, tail, tail?" and we just tickled and giggled. I'm glad to have my sweety back.

Small Sun has just been the kindest, most helpful little guy. He is getting so big! I am amazed at how much he can help me these days. Yesterday he took a poopy diaper out the back door, outside, to put it into the garbage can. He has always been very thoughtful, but these days he just shocks me with it. I shake my head and think, "he's 3!" when he has compassion not all adults have.

Small Sun is completely infatuated with Barack Obama. He especially likes to say the name aloud, sing-song style. Ba-racK Ob-aMa! Over and over. Every time he sees his face on the computer, a book, or a magazine he exclaims, "oh, there's Barack Obama!" and I say, "yes, he is working hard to be the President of the United States, where we used to live." Small Sun always replies "why does he want that job?" and I stifle a chuckle. From the mouths of babes, people.

In transracial adoption we talk a lot about the importance of same-ethnicity role models for our children. I feel so fortunate that my son, only just now developing his ethnic self-awareness, can look at Barack Obama, who shares his same ethnic make-up (with a Kenyan parent instead of a African American birth parent). All politics aside, I can see Small Sun swelling up inside a little bit when he sees this important man everywhere, a man he can identify with.

The Sprout is talking A LOT. Right now she's reading herself Hop on Pop by Dr. Seuss. She's starting to put together two word combinations to get her point across. She relishes new words and says them over and over, gleefully. It's adorable.

Last but not least, I finally got a sewing machine! It has a one-step button hole feature, and 19 different stitch styles. It was reduced by $200, and we got a check from the government for having kids so I was able to get the machine and have a lot left over for whatever else comes up. The Sprout's 2nd birthday is coming up in less than a month and I'm thinking about making some doll clothes as my first project. All our dollies are naked here, and they draw enough attention out and about for being brown, let alone naked. I've got to get those babies covered!

So there you have it...now for the laundry!