It's meat and potatoes this week for us! After meatloaf and mash potatoes last night, I took our left over spuds and made Perkedel, crisp potato balls mixed with beef and onions, then fried. I had been wanting to try this recipe for awhile, stepping up a typical meal into something special, but the execution of the dish literally fell apart. My yummy mounds of potatoes dissolved into the oil at the slightest touch. So we did our best to eat crumbly potato balls with our spoons and made the most of a still delicious meal.
This summer I also set about tackling a task I'd been thinking about for some time: running a half marathon! The opportunity arose last spring to run as a fundraiser for clean water in Ethiopia through Team World Vision and Ethiopian Kids Community. I was given a 'recipe' for success in the form of training schedule and fundraising plan. The miles flew by and money started to trickle in, but then...things just fell apart on the execution.
See, the half marathon is a trail run. And I started training on the trails. Until I injured my achilles tendon, which led to tendonitis in my achilles and my knee, which takes about 6-8 weeks to heal with no running and physical therapy. Honestly, I was pretty devestated. I was so excited, ready to run, enjoying the process, and here I was stuck on the couch with the prospect of a chronic condition if I kept going. It took some reflecting for me to stop feeling sorry for myself and find a way to make the best of the situation.
I realized that I could still run, just not as far or over such rough terrain. This is not a option for young children in Ethiopia, often responsible for traveling several miles over rocky ground for the day's water.
I used my health insurance to visit the doctor, the orthopedic specialist, and the physical therapist for aide in my healing. This is not an option for many families without any medical resources or services, as they suffer from illness caused by unclean water.
I am not running the half marathon, but I AM running a 5K this with as much commitment in my heart as when I started. My goal is about bring awareness to others about an organization doing good work in the world, to those tireless women and children trudging to the well who can have an improved life.
As of now, I've raised enough money to bring clean water for life to 13 people in Ethiopia, a majestic country so special to our family. I hope to raise a little more. If you would like to contribute please check out my World Vision website to join in my effort to bring the life saving resources of water to this place I love and to people who so deserve it!
http://support.worldvision.org/site/TR/TeamWorldVision/General?px=1230591&pg=personal&fr_id=1780
Wednesday, September 19, 2012
Saturday, September 8, 2012
Toriniku to Sayaendo no Itame (Japan)
The last two weeks have brought big changes and milestones to the household, what with me going back to work and Ian starting Kindergarten, so as a family we have been working on shoring up the new routine for the school year. We have our morning schedule for getting ready and eating, pick-up and drop-off routines for daycare, and the nightly activities of packing lunches and ending the day. All of four of us thrive in this system of known rituals which will soon become well-oiled.
There is comfort in these knowns. There is sanity when exhaustion might otherwise rule, and for my children, who carry the scars of the traumatic unknowns from their early lives, there is the consistency of family.
This is especially so for our youngest, who often uses the routine to work through his anxieties. For Suki, he still needs daily reassurance that he is safe, loved, and home. The first sign that Suki is feeling anxious or upset are the questions. Are we putting on socks today? Brushing teeth? Having breakfast? Who is dropping him off? Picking him up? Where will Ian be? If answering the questions isn't enough, next comes sensory seeking behavior like walking on tip toes or jumping up and down. After that might com the tears, over tiny changes to the process. If Ian gets his socks first or if Dad wakes him up instead of Mom, we can see anything from the sniffles to full blown tantrums. The anxiety overwhelms and takes over.
Having a routine allows John and I the time to attend to Suki needs in a manageable way. When we don't have to think about what comes next or make decisions about the minutia of daily living, we can focus on providing that attention he needs. Now, we are not saints. A constant barrage of questions from a child, often ones that have been answered several times over tests the nerves. But often times a quiet word of assurance, a pat on the back or quick hug, can keep things in check. It has become as much a part of the routine as using the potty before eating breakfast.
Sometimes I hear little comments about our routine, mostly from others who don't understand the complexities of adoptive families. That it is typical for children to respond well to routines, that every child gets crabby or out-of-sorts when there is change. Yeah, but most children don't question their place in their family or wonder if they will still have a family by the end of the day.
When I made Toriniku to Sayaendo no Itame, chicken and snow peas, I thought about the security of my own childhood. My mom used to make stir fry with snow peas, a favorite for our family. I don't have memories of overwhelming anxiety from my formative years. I carry the memories of being loved and secure and happy, always. Those sweet peas tasted of love, even all these years later.
After almost 16 months home, things are improving for our little guy. The questions are far fewer, the tears are more sporadic. But imagining my little boy torn up on the inside over small inconsistencies is heartbreaking. So for now, I sing the wake up song, John pours the milk, Suki uses the potty first, and Ian packs his snack and water bottle into his backpack. Simple, but necessary, security in a complex family.
There is comfort in these knowns. There is sanity when exhaustion might otherwise rule, and for my children, who carry the scars of the traumatic unknowns from their early lives, there is the consistency of family.
This is especially so for our youngest, who often uses the routine to work through his anxieties. For Suki, he still needs daily reassurance that he is safe, loved, and home. The first sign that Suki is feeling anxious or upset are the questions. Are we putting on socks today? Brushing teeth? Having breakfast? Who is dropping him off? Picking him up? Where will Ian be? If answering the questions isn't enough, next comes sensory seeking behavior like walking on tip toes or jumping up and down. After that might com the tears, over tiny changes to the process. If Ian gets his socks first or if Dad wakes him up instead of Mom, we can see anything from the sniffles to full blown tantrums. The anxiety overwhelms and takes over.
Having a routine allows John and I the time to attend to Suki needs in a manageable way. When we don't have to think about what comes next or make decisions about the minutia of daily living, we can focus on providing that attention he needs. Now, we are not saints. A constant barrage of questions from a child, often ones that have been answered several times over tests the nerves. But often times a quiet word of assurance, a pat on the back or quick hug, can keep things in check. It has become as much a part of the routine as using the potty before eating breakfast.
Sometimes I hear little comments about our routine, mostly from others who don't understand the complexities of adoptive families. That it is typical for children to respond well to routines, that every child gets crabby or out-of-sorts when there is change. Yeah, but most children don't question their place in their family or wonder if they will still have a family by the end of the day.
When I made Toriniku to Sayaendo no Itame, chicken and snow peas, I thought about the security of my own childhood. My mom used to make stir fry with snow peas, a favorite for our family. I don't have memories of overwhelming anxiety from my formative years. I carry the memories of being loved and secure and happy, always. Those sweet peas tasted of love, even all these years later.
After almost 16 months home, things are improving for our little guy. The questions are far fewer, the tears are more sporadic. But imagining my little boy torn up on the inside over small inconsistencies is heartbreaking. So for now, I sing the wake up song, John pours the milk, Suki uses the potty first, and Ian packs his snack and water bottle into his backpack. Simple, but necessary, security in a complex family.
Monday, September 3, 2012
Jikuai Feng Tiao Liang Cai (China)
Today we were driving through the neighborhood when Ian remarked that he could tell that a woman on the corner was a runner. I asked him how he knew that. He replied, "She is wearing awesome shoes, and her shorts are super short, and her hair is in a pony." Indeed, once the light changed, the woman took off on the next leg of her run, while we turned toward home.
We learn at such a young age, in our infancy really, to begin making assumptions and judgements about the world around us, to understand, to keep us safe, to categorize, etc. Malcolm Gladwell wrote a fascinating book on this titled, Blink. These often split second impressions are ones we can carry for life, but also can be challenges we face as we meet new people or explore new cultures.
This week I had faced my own assumptions on Kindergarten Open House night. Yes, Ian started Kindergarten this week, and I prepared Jikuai Feng Tiao Liang Cai, a cold Chinese chicken noodle salad, for us all to eat at the school picnic. But first we visited his room and teachers.
As we entered Ian's classroom, my teacher eyes and my mom eyes were taking it all in. My teacher eyes noticed the bright decorations and furniture in primary colors. Cheerful without being busy or overwhelming, the space was organized and clean. Each student's name was on the door, written precisely on funky little owls in rainbow colors. The teacher had prepared a room that was both functional and fun. As we moved farther into the room, my mom's heart warmed as a young woman's face lit up as she spread her arms wide, exclaiming, "Ian!" This person was so excited to see him back after his Kindergarten camp experience this summer.
This delightfully exuberant woman was so, so young to my eyes. She was wearing a cute peasant blouse over leggings, and was so fresh faced I swept my eyes around looking for the lead teacher. The other woman in the room was older, maybe closer to my age, and wearing a dress and cardigan that was one apple decal away from a cliche. So of course I moved to her to introduce myself to her who had to be the one in charge. Wrong! The delightful young person chattering away to my son as I tripped over my own assumptions was indeed the teacher I sought. This rash assumption threw me, and I've been thinking about this experience all week.
I am so excited for my son to start school. His enthusiasm for learning is so fresh and full of wonder. And as I move through this educational adventure along side him, in a new role for me who is used to standing in front of the classroom, I can't wait to be challenged and educated myself. Even as I want him to soak up the world around him, I can be reminded that I still have things to learn, too.
We learn at such a young age, in our infancy really, to begin making assumptions and judgements about the world around us, to understand, to keep us safe, to categorize, etc. Malcolm Gladwell wrote a fascinating book on this titled, Blink. These often split second impressions are ones we can carry for life, but also can be challenges we face as we meet new people or explore new cultures.
This week I had faced my own assumptions on Kindergarten Open House night. Yes, Ian started Kindergarten this week, and I prepared Jikuai Feng Tiao Liang Cai, a cold Chinese chicken noodle salad, for us all to eat at the school picnic. But first we visited his room and teachers.
As we entered Ian's classroom, my teacher eyes and my mom eyes were taking it all in. My teacher eyes noticed the bright decorations and furniture in primary colors. Cheerful without being busy or overwhelming, the space was organized and clean. Each student's name was on the door, written precisely on funky little owls in rainbow colors. The teacher had prepared a room that was both functional and fun. As we moved farther into the room, my mom's heart warmed as a young woman's face lit up as she spread her arms wide, exclaiming, "Ian!" This person was so excited to see him back after his Kindergarten camp experience this summer.
This delightfully exuberant woman was so, so young to my eyes. She was wearing a cute peasant blouse over leggings, and was so fresh faced I swept my eyes around looking for the lead teacher. The other woman in the room was older, maybe closer to my age, and wearing a dress and cardigan that was one apple decal away from a cliche. So of course I moved to her to introduce myself to her who had to be the one in charge. Wrong! The delightful young person chattering away to my son as I tripped over my own assumptions was indeed the teacher I sought. This rash assumption threw me, and I've been thinking about this experience all week.
I am so excited for my son to start school. His enthusiasm for learning is so fresh and full of wonder. And as I move through this educational adventure along side him, in a new role for me who is used to standing in front of the classroom, I can't wait to be challenged and educated myself. Even as I want him to soak up the world around him, I can be reminded that I still have things to learn, too.
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