Not Too Shabby

Right, so it's time to do a little self-evaluation.  These were my resolutions for 2011:  (And in bold:  my yearly score, on a scale of 1 to 10.)

1. I will adopt this motto:  "There will be plenty of time for this later."  I will apply this motto to all housework.  You know what?  I ROCKED this one.  Never have my floors been grubbier, my bathrooms mankier, or my laundry heaped higher.  Well done, me.  10
2. I will delegate more.  I need to stop doing so much around the house, and start making my children work harder.  I know this sounds cruel and lazy, but honestly, my children are much too old for the way I treat them.  I still bustle around, cleaning and cooking, while my children lay on the couch reading books.  Time for the hammer to come down, folks.  And I will NOT go around and re-do their chores secretly because I want it done my way.  I'll have years to do it my way when they're grown and gone.  Time to focus on giving them the tools they'll need down the road.  Well, this one didn't go too badly.  I'm definitely much better along than I was a year ago, although I recognize that I still have a ways to go.  I'll admit it:  I'm still too easily swayed by my children's grumpiness, and although I insist that they do the chores, odds are fair that the next time it needs to be done, I'll do it myself.  Still.  I made big improvements, so I'll give myself a 6.
3. I will enjoy myself every day.  All work and no play makes Gwen a really dull, negative, unhappy girl.  I resolve to laugh a whole lot more, to let go of things that plague me, and to stop every now and then and gaze out the window.  I resolve to be free to do nothing at all.  I resolve to ignore the little voice that reminds me that I should really be doing something with my time.  Each day is a gift, and I'm finally going to start being grateful for it.  Holy guacamole.  This was super tough this year.  I could yammer on and on about how incredibly challenging 2011 was, but that would be boring and lame.  My score for 2011:  3
4. I will love every minute of running.  I'll increase those minutes if it starts to feel really good, but will definitely resist the urge to feel guilty about not increasing my minutes.  I feel great when I run, and there's no way on God's green earth that I'm going to spoil that with guilt.  Yikes.  I'm sure you saw this one coming.  We got the Great Visa Call on February 1, and that was the last time I went running.  Well, no -- actually, I went for one run in April, and two runs in July.  I was up to my ears dealing with trauma, grief and rage, and simply was NOT able to get away to run.  Mark my words:  2012 will be better.  Yes, it will.  But as far as 2011 went... yeah, I scored a 1.

Well, not too shabby, all things considered -- I'll consider 2011 a successful year!

Happy New Year, everyone!

Swimmingly

Remember I said I was going to learn the guitar?

I'm actually doing it, and no one is more surprised than me.

When Off in the Kitchen There Arose Nary a Shatter

In Christmases past, I have always guarded my treasured Czech porcelain carefully, insisting on washing it myself -- or letting Mr. Gwen wash it.  After all, I purchased this beautiful porcelain in the (then) brand new Czech Republic, and lugged the heavy box in and out of trains, buses and streetcars throughout the Czech Republic and Austria.  I had only just turned nineteen, and I was about to say goodbye to my sister and head south into Austria, enroute to a scary new job in Graz as an Au Pair.  It's been (gulp) seventeen years, and I still haven't broken a single piece.

This year, I decided that my older daughters are old enough to take on the job of washing up after Christmas dinner.

My sweet daughter Shiloh was more than willing to pitch in, and we spent a pleasant time in the kitchen together.  I had my back to her, packing away the leftovers and listening to her as she chatted to me.  After a while she uttered this memorable speech:

"Whew!  Well, I'm halfway done.  I think it's time to drain out some of this water because it's getting really full.  The porcelain is squeaky clean, that's for sure.  I'm washing them in SCALDING hot water, then I'm rinsing them in ICY COLD water to give them that extra sparkle."

And now, I'm going to go sit down quietly with a glass of brandy.  I'm almost finished breathing into my paper bag, though, so that's a bonus.

Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good night!

(note:  No, nothing got broken.  And the dishes were, indeed, extra sparkling clean.  Thanks, honey!)

Oh, By Gosh, By Golly

 Merry Christmas, to you and yours!

One of These Songs is Not Like the Other

Today after school, Zelakesh lay on her tummy in front of the Christmas tree, playing with a nativity puzzle that we bought at the Misrach Centre in Addis Ababa.  She was singing "I've found Jesus!  Woo-ooo-ooo!" over and over and over.  And over again.

I finally got so tired of it that I was ready to tear my hair out.  I called from the kitchen, "Zelakesh, could you sing something else now please?"

"Sure!" she chirped.

There was a long pause, and I heard the quiet sounds of the wooden nativity puzzle as she played.

Then she started belting out, "Lookin' for some hot stuff, baby, this evening!  I want some hot stuff, baby, tonight!"

*

Did I mention that we have another social worker visit coming up soon?

Whoopsie Daisy

The other night, my daughter Shiloh and I stopped in at the library after karate class.  We went separate directions at the door (I headed to Adult Fiction; she to Junior Fiction).  I was leaning down to read the spines when I heard her approaching, the noise of her Ugg knockoffs too loud in the quiet setting.

"Pick up your feet, for goodness' sake," I hissed.  "I can hear those huge clompers all over the library."

There was no response.

I looked up to see a well-dressed, middle aged woman glaring back at me.  (And yes, she was wearing Uggs -- though they probably weren't knockoffs.)

Why do I do these things?  Why can't I just be a normal, peaceful person?  Instead, I blunder through life telling families to take their children to nudist resorts, and telling strangers to quit clomping their boots in the library.

Nice.

Advent Calendars

Check out these great ideas for making your own Advent calendar!  I made ours, based on this Martha Stewart design, waaaay back in 2001.  Since it's made out of 24 little matchboxes, we can't really fit little chocolates inside, so I hide the chocolates around the house and put little clues in the drawers.  It's fun.

It's starting to look a little the worse for wear, though.  Last year the ribbon that goes around the outside came off, and I used a big nasty piece of Scotch tape to stick on another, randomly chosen one that totally doesn't work.  (I know, I know.  I was busy.)  The drawers are starting to look crooked, and some of the drawer fronts have torn from being opened too roughly.  And something tells me that this poor, abused calendar is just not going to survive two more extra-excited pairs of hands this year!

The only hard part will be choosing which new one to make...  hmmm....

Looking a bit shabby now, poor thing, and this photo was taken a ye

ar ago.

Conversation on the Way Home from School

Zelakesh: Mom, I'm making you something in kindergarten. I can't say. A secret thing.

Gwen: Ooh, that sounds exciting!

Zelakesh: I give hint. Starts with... what "card" start with?

Gwen: It starts with a C.

Zelakesh: Okay! Surprise starts with C. With a tree on the front. (pause) Mom, what "green" start with?

Gwen: "Green" starts with a G.

Zelakesh: Okay! The surprise starts with G.

Gwen: Well, that sounds great!

Zelakesh: Can you guess what it is?

Gwen: I have no idea. But I can't wait to find out!


note:  I posted this on Facebook yesterday, but it's so cute that I couldn't resist putting it here too!

A Little of This

...and a little of that.

Here's a glimpse into what we've been doing lately.

Our kitchen cabinets have arrived!
I'm super excited.
Work starts after Christmas,
when Mr. Gwen has a little extra time.

I'm really enjoying hair time nowadays!
I will admit to you right now that I still can't do a cornrow to save my life.
The two strand flat twists are fun and easy, and they last for a long time,
but they're still not proper cornrows.  I'm going to keep trying, though.

I love this style!  Unfortunately the puffs don't protect her hair
all that well, so this style doesn't stay in for more than four or five days
before I take it out or modify the puffs.  Super cute, though.

We're back to a winter wonderland!
The weather outside truly has been frightful lately.

A rare sighting of a happy sibling group.

My bathroom scale stopped being accurate about 8 years ago,
and got thrown away about 5 years ago.
I finally bought a new one last month, just like the one in this stock photo.
The number shown in the picture (above)
is a long way down from the number I'm seeing on my new scale.
I'm not 100% thrilled about it.
And that's all I'm going to say about that.

We finally managed to get some whole-family photos

Amaris

Shiloh

Eyoel

Zelakesh

Owned

A few weeks ago, Zelakesh spent the afternoon drawing pictures and giving them to various family members.  This is a big deal for her:  during her first six or seven months in Canada, she refused to draw anything at all.  She was frustrated at her inability to draw recognizable pictures, and (being quite the little perfectionist) would get very angry at herself when a picture didn't turn out the way she imagined it.

At the end of the summer, she began to draw little things.  Smiley suns, people (complete with brea$ts, nipp1es, ears and eyebrows), tukuls, trees.  She had never even held a pencil until she arrived in Addis Ababa, but after only a few months of practice, her drawing ability is skyrocketing.  It's so neat!  I love that she's finally feeling confident enough to draw her own pictures

So, right.  After an afternoon of drawing, Zelakesh presented me with a lovely picture of Mr Gwen, Zelakesh and me, all standing together next to a brown tukul.  She'd drawn some nice green grass (neatly mown into even spikes) and a lovely blue sky.  She was so proud.

But sadly that evening I made her angry.  (I said "No" to a second bowl of ice cream.  Unreasonable, I know.)  Her eyebrows drew together.  Her lips squeezed into a thin line.  Her chin  lowered mutinously.  She marched into the computer room.  She seized her blue Fiskars.  She stomped over to the fridge, seized the picture, and proceeded to show me exactly where we stood.

I don't have a good feeling about this.

And this, my friends, pretty much sums up
the emotional rollercoaster known as older child adoption!

Good to Know

Yesterday I spent the afternoon at my children's school, at the special classroom "Open House" for parents to admire their children's work.

Teacher:  Well, Mrs. Gwen, Eyoel has been working hard to learn his letters!  I'm very proud of him.
Eyoel:  I am happy!  I like learning letters.
Teacher (beaming):  Mrs. Gwen, he is so enthusiastic!  He is a pleasure to teach.
Eyoel:  I will learn letters so when I am adult man, I will have a good job with lots of money.
Teacher:  It's important to learn to read, isn't it?
Eyoel:  Yes. I will get a wife and many many childs when I am adult man, then I will be boss of them.
Teacher:  Oh, my.
Eyoel:  And if the children are rude, I will hit them with a big stick.
Gwen (loudly):  Well!  What lovely work you've done here.  Shall we move on to the kindergarten room?

A peaceful scene in Wolayta.