People.
I have a 7 year old and an 11 year old.
What...??!!!? How...??!!?!
I know. I'm still struggling to wrap my mind around it. Doesn't seem possible. Read as: I can't possibly be 2 years away from having a teenager!!! (Where's my panic button??)
When we made the trip to Ethiopia to add these two to our family over four years ago, I was consumed with them. Just them.
How do I help them adjust? How do I help them learn English? How do I help them understand that this family is forever? How do I help them remember to flush the toilet? Heck, how do I get them to remember to actually go IN the toilet?? How do I get Sam to stop screaming for "dabo"? (That's bread, by the way and he's over it now.) How do I get Charlie to stop pushing every button he sees? How do I get Sam to take a nap? How do I get Charlie to think I'm hilarious and stop staring at me like I'm crazy...?
And how, oh how, do I ensure they keep their ridiculously cute Ethiopian accents??
We failed at the whole accent thing, but every once in a while I'll pick up on a little redneck mixed with Amharic.
And that makes me smile.
Because I was so focused on survival in the beginning, I overlooked a huge piece of the puzzle that made our family who it currently is. But more often lately, I think about our Ethiopia Mommy and wish I knew more about her. I know March 11th probably wasn't the day that she gave birth to the two that have been woven into the fabric of our family, but on that day, I have to wonder what she had planned for her sons, what she felt their future held, what she hoped they would grow up to be...
Although this woman has no name or face, she is a hero to me. She holds a special place in my heart although it's likely our paths will never cross. And although a huge deal, our sole common thread is motherhood to two handsome boys who are quickly growing into the young men I hope she would be proud of...
Happy Birthday, Charlie & Sam!!
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