Gaping, Wagging Mouths and Tongues

My 42nd Street tap number went splendidly well last weekend and the above title was exactly the audience's response to my spotlighted performance. Ha ha. So I goofed a few times and almost tripped on a floor crack, but I was still a Star. Just ask my husband. I would go on about how great I was, but then again, my dance teacher may actually read this post and have a few words with me about humbleness and honesty. :) No really, these feet can tap!

I have been a slacker blogger, but you knew it would take awhile for the groove to return after Ethiopia. We have new people in our lives: Elmo, Arthur, and Charlie Brown. Really, the music in Charlie Brown is great all alone, but nothing like a sad kid to make me feel seasonal. It's been cold. Sometimes. I'm done with cold climates. It doesn't mix well with little ones. We go to the zoo, we go to the parks, we go to the library, we keep going because we get cranky at home and my neurons can only fire so many times.

My new hates include counter tops and drawers (the only "toys" Tsega attaches to). I am tired of telling little hands to stop grabbing and pulling on stuff. If I were to do it again, I would elect to have no furniture except floor cushions and rugs.

The library still scares me, by the way. Why is it that I imagine every mom there is caught up in thoughts about what a freak I am? Story toddler time at the library still gives me a sick feeling and it will be awhile before I attempt that again. Did I ever tell you how I once sat in a minivan crying and hoped just a little that by doing so I would guilt trip three boys into better, more socially acceptable behavior? True story. If it wasn't for the nice lady who sternly told Tsega to sit down in the wagon so mama can chase down two other boys. . . I don't want to relive it.

You know though, this triplet thing is good for socialization and sharing. I see other 2 year olds claiming toys and chairs during public play; mine, mine, everything is mine. But my kids keep smiling big in reply as if to say, OK, yours, I get it, your turn, that's OK, me wait, me next, you nice. It's so funny watching little kids interact; I mean little kids who don't know each other. I'll see one of my boys get real close to another or climb up a ladder with a strange little girl, and the other kid will get real quiet and look at him like, what is this baby doing, get away baby. To my kids its just yet another kid. Nothing to get weird about. They never play alone so no difference. I think this is also why Tsega, Bereket, and Sira all seem to prefer older kids, like ages 4 and up. They're never not around other 2 year olds. Who needs a fourth 2 year old around?


Another example. My kids at the library's play area. They shove themselves into a corner nook where the play kitchen is situated. Kids ages 4-6 are already playing in this cramped space. Suddenly I hear squeals: ewww, there are babies in here! Mom, get these babies outa here. I wouldn't go in there if I were you, there are babies in there! It's not like their diapers stank. And there are my three innocents: wide eyes, big smiles, sunny faces. You nice, you funny, me like you.

Those eyes of Sira's and Bereket's. Really, get their faces next to other 2 year olds and their big beautiful round eyes eat up the other kids'. And Tsega's big beautiful head does the same.


BTW, I realize Tsega's First Haircut is past due. I'm currently working on mustering up the courage and we are really going to do it, we really are . . . although I'm keeping it long. I am also thinking of giving Bereket (because his hair is longer than matching Sira's) an Ethiopian style haircut: nearly shaved sides, a wide tall mohawk on top, but ending before reaching down the back of his head. What do you think? I think he would look appropriately wild.

Holiday Picks

And you thought I was going to publish a list of my favorite ultra expensive, European hand-made, all wooden toys for Santa to read. HA. For the holidays, other than twinkly white lights, good food, and good booze (never buy cheap beer, only cheap wine), here is my list of Top Three Holiday Must-Haves. Wouldn't be The Season in our house without them.

1. Charlie Brown (music and DVDs from Halloween thru Christmas). If you do not own Charlie Brown's Christmas music CD, then you are missing out. Good grief. Great jazz, start playing it now, 'tis the season.

2. This American Life: Pilgrim's Progress. Click HERE to link (click on the word HERE, dad--no, the previous HERE, the one in blue), then look to your left and click on Full Episode to listen. Pilgrim's Progress is in Act I, about 5.5 minutes in (listen for the whiny female voice). I love it when she says: we're all black sheep in my family. My favorite saying about me and my family since I was a teenager (hey, consider it a good thing my beautiful family--my parents and brother rock, BTW--I love them to death). Talk about familial bonds and spiritual unity.

3. This American Life (and NPR's Morning Edition): David Sedaris's Santaland Diaries. Click HERE to listen. The actual episode is in Act II after the Toys R Us story. Who doesn't love a sad gay elf? Or an angry one at that (Hi Jerry--OK, private joke, sorry). My favorite part is Sedaris's accurate and poignant impression of Miss Billy Holiday.

Happy Holidays. Grab a vodka and cranberry, flip on Charlie Brown's Christmas, and warm those toes by the fire with your lovelies. I'll be back tomorrow to post way too many cute baby photos, so stay tuned . . .

Those Dancing Feet

The above pictures are from another’s camera taken last summer (thanks to the amazing MA). I think Sira’s gaping-mouthed examination of the tree is the same way he will sum me up, when--oh Jah, there goes my heart a fluttering again and my knees have gone week and my keyboard is getting damp with sweat—I take the stage for a showcase at the Community Theater next Saturday. For a whopping 5 weeks—not near long enough!—we’ve been learning the opening act of 42nd Street: The Audition. It is a fast, and I mean fast tap number; it’s faster from your own tapping feet’s perspective than from a flaccid audience member’s. Too fast to think and fast enough to slip and fall. The part where we waddle in place from foot to foot, penguin-like, and flap our arms furiously (watch for it) . . . kills; I gasp for air. I’ve got the feet, slower anyhow, but not so much the stamina or the memory. Help me! Oh, I mean, “Yes I Can!” (Had to get that in—you rock America!)

Hey, and the Great Miss Vickie, if you happen to read this, cast me in the 42nd Street chorus next June!

Minus the wings (phew!), THIS is what I will be doing over and over next week until at least Saturday and hopefully it ain’t over yet (no, this isn’t our class, silly!).

Fifteen Minutes of Love (I'm back!)

It's me! I'm back from Ethiopia and doing great. Mom and I had a blast in Ethiopia (mom is actually still there for a couple more days). Blast is such a poor word! It was out of this world! And yes, the boys and I are loving our reunion and man did it make the heart grow fonder. Wow, it's like honeymoon these days. Thank you Jerry's mom for your mega helping hands! And thanks papa for whipping those boys into really good behavior (not literally, of course!). Nothing like scary dad power while scary mom's away.

I hate writing so much so I made a whopper of a travel montage for your viewing and listening pleasure. So very sparingly will I quickly jot down here a few travel tidbits and perhaps a tip or two. But then darn it, please watch my video, all 15 minutes of it . Yes, pull up a chair, it's a doozy! You'll love it.

Village Ethiopia, the Ethiopia-based travel agency we used, is phenomenal. I mean really truly amazing. They stole my heart.

Bilen Lodge near Awash National Park, in the heart of Afari tribe and camel country, was our favorite part. Bring your binoculars and Eastern African bird books. During our last trip to Ethiopia (the Bale Mountains) Jerry and I saw wart hogs, dik dik, vervet monkeys, & olive baboons; during this trip add all that plus oryx, gazelle, gernuk and a whole lot of bird species (carmine bee eaters, corey and little brown bustards, and ground hornbills, among my favorites . . . as well as flamingoes en route to Harar). No lions, no lion roars, and no crocs sadly enough, although I searched and stayed awake in the hopes of one itty bitty lion roar (just the sad aahh-wooo of hyenas instead). A bit of warning, though; this part of the country is hot, dry, still, quiet, volcanic, and minimal. Not for the city-only lovers. It was perfect.

Harar was insane. Crowded, busy, and over-stimulated. One lady threw chat at me when she thought I was taking her picture, but she did so with a pretty smile and a pretty gold tooth shining at me. Chat, chat, chat, even the goats are enjoying it off the streets. Men use mortar and pestle after teeth have rotted out to grind their morsels of chat where their teeth cannot (it's bad for teeth). I tried it, but didn't really feel anything. I think I needed more . . . judge if you must, the people seemed happy and it is widely exported and bringing home cash. Muslims consume it as well as Christians.

Harari people are Muslim like the Afari, and populate behind the walls of Harar. Indeed, there are some 82 mosques. Christians and Oromo largely populate outside the walls. Despite the global hatred between these two religions, Harar won the 2004 UNESCO Cities for Peace Award. I also think it's funny that at heart, it's a party town of sorts and they have a thriving brewery (which we toured). I recommend Harar Beer during your trip to Ethiopia.

Harar was nutso, yet I think it was Harar and the journey east in which we felt most immersed into the culture and sustained mega doses of culture shock. It was amazing and after my sting of shock, I look back now and am so glad we experienced the ancient city. It wouldn't have been complete without the sensations and color of Harar. We stayed inside the old walls in a traditional Harari (Adari) house of which I have pictures of in my Ethiopia books at home. I remember our last morning there the prayers started at 4 a.m. and went on for four more hours. Oh, and yes, I fed hyenas!

Lalibela was miraculous. Eleven rock-hewn churches built in the 12th century by who knows who, not to mention the even older Yemrehanna Kristos cave church. A wonder historical place indeed, heavily Christian. Amhara country. Unofficial 8th wonder of the world, no doubt needs to be official. You won't believe your eyes. Surrounded by the Lasta Mountains, I didn't know Lalibela would be so beautiful. Did you know Bill and Chelsea Clinton were just there? Our guide had the pleasure of leading them around. Old mom had a hell of a time walking the rocky paved churches, but what a trooper. (I was fine in flip flops.) If you are desiring a quick jaunt up north during your time in Ethiopia, you can fly early from Addis and get to Lalibela in the morning. This is enough time to see all the churches in one day. We very smartly flew out at 4:30 late afternoon the next day which left us enough time to get to and tour Yemrehanna Kristos (a must see). But remember to bring plenty of spare birr on your hike to the cave. Blind beggars line the way and it would be a sin to deny them money.

Addis Ababa, well, still crazy and hectic, but entertainment abounds. Don't miss Entoto mountain and visit the woman's former wood carrier's weaving shop at the base of the hill for a lovely hand woven scarf or basket. Of course there is the Mercado, largest open-air African Market (not really for the weak like me, but you must at least drive through). Also, stop by a city book store if you can. I found a few good children's books in English with Ethiopian characters and a child's Amharic music CD. Not a lot, but inexpensive.

The Hilton is fun with a nice large compound, swanky people, good food, and a pool. But staying there behind the compound walls you would never know you are actually in Ethiopia and I felt uncomfortable leaving on foot outside the gate (I mean, where am I?). I recommend whole heartily the Damu Hotel near the airport. There is a great cozy quality about the place and surrounded by bars and restaurants including one of each within the hotel. The bell boy even remembered me (and I him) from our last visit 2 years ago! Incidentally, after scratching my head about it, it finally dawned on me that our airport shuttler was the same man Jerry and I hired on our first day in Addis two years ago. He was thrilled to remember us and I him.

Did I tell you we visited the hospital where my sons were born? I am going to leave it at that, but I will say that it is nice to know that the birth date on my sons' adoption paperwork is indeed accurate. Now I know birth weights and times of baby #1-3.

Didn't I say something about not writing so much? Gads, I can't go on. Watch the video.

Photo and video editing at www.OneTrueMedia.com

Signing off

See you again sometime after mid October. Ethiopia, mom and I are nearly on our way! But oh, what am I forgetting? And what will Sarah Palin (and Tina Fey) say while I am gone? Here's to the economy, let's hope we still have one upon my return . . . scary times all around. Ugh, my boys, my heart, ouch, I can't think of it, can't say good bye, ohhhh . . .

*Kisses*

Extreme Triplet Soccer

During our first several months home with the boys we often heard, as part of the general triplet exclamations from the public, You got your own basketball team! Three boys, sure, we have a team. Come on, they are black, so of course they will be good at basketball. Yeah, sure. I used to laugh and say to Jerry, they'll stop saying it if Sira and Bereket don't grow. Well, they are growing, just not much. I know Tsega looks big and bulked he is, but he is smack in the middle average for height. So maybe NBA is not in our future.

I never aspired to be a soccer mom, although watching your kids kick around a ball is pretty exhilarating (although I still hope they will all grow up to be excellent tap dancers too). I mean, I even curled my lip up at a particular used minivan we browsed mainly because of the soccer mom decal on it.

Anyway, watch the triplets play their version of extreme soccer, complete with spirited happy dances at the end. (That's Sira in the overall shorts.) Maybe being a soccer mom is not so bad. Did I just say that . . . ?

Make photo slide shows at www.OneTrueMedia.com

Three Tree Huggers

Like parents like sons, my kiddos are aspiring naturalists (or mama hopes, anyway). Hug those trees boys (and hug them they do), kiss the sky, see the usually unseen in Nature's underbelly. My dear Tsega takes in the flowers, birds, and trees with delight as he places both hands on my face and forces my head to turn at whatever spectacular miracle he sees. Don't worry Tsegs, mama sees the bird.

You scared me!

We're in the house, it's just after nap. Sira and Bereket are awake, snacking and playing, while Tsega sleeps on. Suddenly from the corner of perception my senses begin to form an image in my brain of an extra figure entering the living room. It's Tsega, groggy, he has woken and let himself out of the nursery. But since my conscious mind only registered two players in our scene at that time, I am startled. An instant reflex of frightened unknowns threw my flight or fight senses into a frenzy. I scream. No small scream either (I have very powerful lungs--no triplet can match me in volume). A LOUD shocking blood curdling scream. What am I thinking, it's just my third child, who else would it be? Poor Tsega, my scream waves through his body visibly, he jumps, and his face produces that adorable turned down quivering mouth as his cries mute out the echoes of my scream. Of course by now we are all hugs and consoling apologies but I cannot stop cracking up. Hilarious, mama.

I guess because I am still not used to free comings and goings, it's still weird for me to see a child enter a room from doors that I closed. Come on brain, catch up. We're growing up. Two of my three can even put their own shoes on now--velcro secured and all.

Guess where I'm going?

I can't keep it to myself any longer. Barring no bad luck to stop us (knock on wood), I am returning to Ethiopia and traveling with my mom for two weeks come October--2 weeks from today! Flights are fixed, travel arrangements are made. Just mom and me, no kids coming or going this time around. Day 2 in Ethiopia we travel by car eastward to Awash National Park and staying on at the Bilen Lodge among the Afar peoples for a couple of nights (just one lion roar to reach my ears is all I ask for).

We then continue east onto Harar for a couple of more nights, where I will be sure to feed the local wild hyenas.

We fly back to Addis from Dire Dawa and get back on a plane the next early morning and head north for a whirldwind's night stay in historical Lalibela.

Holiest of places we will be, one among Muslims (Harar--the fourth holiest Muslim site), one among Christians (Lalibela--the unofficial 8th Wonder of the world).

I ran across these amazing photos of Ethiopia, many of Harar and the Northern Historical Route, by one adventuresome blogger (within the old city we're staying at the traditional Adare (Harari) house the blogger describes).

My only disappointment is that I will not be camel trekking around Bilen. Apparently two of the camels are lost.

Why am I going? Why not!? Mom is staying for 2 weeks beyond my stay for volunteer work around Addis Ababa with a group of Canadians. What else would a cool, retired mama hungry for the world opt to do with her time off?

Excited? You bet!

Please send Jerry your arms, your child care providers, your prepared meals for my time away. He will really, really, really need the help (before you think me selfish, his truly wonderful mother will help while I'm away). And I will really miss three little babies but I can't think of that right now . . . ouch my heart (oh my they will be missing on me and I doubly don't want to think about that . . .).

Melkam Adis Amet

Happy New Year! May your 2001, the precise New Millennium (in Ethiopia), be joyous! Yes, we are all 7 years younger in the land of 13 Months of Sunshine. In honor, those of us with roots in the Ethiopian gene pool gathered on the prairie; the first such gathering to ever hit the innards of rural Kansas. Thank you thoughtful hosts and kind patrons! A bow to the cooks and your very impressive Ethiopian menu. May your tongue be hardy and the berbere sauce I made for you tantalize your lips and sit well in your stomachs (Kansans are not known for their spice). By the way, in case you read this, to the family with the 2 girls with roots in Tennessee (and not Ethiopia, my mistake!): I absolutely adore your girls! Tell them their three "cousins", as one of them put it, would love to see them again.



September 12th also marked a special day for us as we celebrated the 2nd anniversary of our referral. Well, celebrate is a loose term. We played outside after many hours of beautiful but stifling rain. The stifling part being house bound with nap rebellions and an overly cranky (sleepless) fitful mama (remember when I said I thought we were conquering the crib farewells? Well I take it all back--help!). We thanked Mama Earth for a better mood for mama, a cool end of summer, much rain, and fewest bug bites I ever remember in Kansas; we sat in mud puddles, baked wet dirt, and walked the dog (Louie that is; true to her coon hound blood, Clementine is a dog that runs and searches, never to be walked).











We also marked a stark decline in parenting energy and skills. I hate to say this aloud and can it really be true? Yes, we have turned to videos for parenting moments. Let the TV baby sit as we steal a few moments of house duty, shower, or rest. Yikes, has it really come to this? And I never thought my boys would sit still for TV. Seems Sesame Street: Old School, Volume I possesses magic soothing powers (it works on me too). My favorite parts are the thick grainy videos with soft folksy music playing in background: kids in funny 70s style following each other; cows getting milked; or orangutans yawning in the zoo. Really floats the soul. Ohhh, how I love the big hair in the Old School Sesame St black community. Maybe my kids will finally learn to talk watching Bert and Ernie? Still very little words bellowing forth from three rosebud lips; but plenty else bellowing.

Really, speaking of words, I'm starting to get a little embarrassed as other, younger, 2 year olds tell their moms in clear voices, mom, I lost my shoe, while my trio babble on in baby squawks. We're still in child/infant development and I see general, overall improvements, but it's hard for us sensitive mamas not to worry. Yet there is a sweetness, an utter cuteness, an extra special uniqueness to my boys; star quality. They are hard to take one's eyes off of. And man can they play. They are now at the age where they lose themselves into a crowd of children so naturally, so easily, that one begins to wonder, whose children are these? Those babies are all mine, baby.