Rock To Wind A String Around

…or in Astrid’s case, 32 minutes. That’s the magic number of minutes we owned the new coffee table before there was blood-letting this morning. I had just asked Elliott to retrieve the uber-expensive and uber-ugly ‘Expandable Table Edge Bumper’ from the cellar steps, but Astrid is crafty and thought she should test the bounds of physical science before we installed it. I’m glad she discovered that water is wet, and air is breathable, but there was no need to investigate the sturdiness of wood, and let’s just exclude all experimentation with fire–I’ll be sure to tell her it’s hot the next time she’s interested.

The trip to Monterey was a rousing success. Astrid was a little disappointed to find that the sea cucumbers weren’t for her consumption, and Elliott definitely hoped for more sharks at the aquarium, but we were all mesmerized by the incredible sea jellies. The sea jelly displays are so tranquil and somewhat trippy–it felt a little like being at a Pink Floyd laser light show, minus the distinct musky smell, of course.

Our second day in the area led us to the Dennis the Menace park (so named, because it was orignally designed by the creator of the comic D the M). It was a great playground, and as an added bonus, we met Elliott’s doppelganger–another handsome 8 year old with a sunlit afro. They played together with a small band of kids making it easy for me to spot Elliott in the sea of tots–any time I saw a big mop of curls, I knew where to find my dude. We could have easily stayed all day. But, after several hours, we packed up and drove down to Big Sur–Albert’s coworker mentioned a favorite beach with rocks and cliffs and grottoes, so we were eager to explore. Driving the Pacific Coast Highway, we always forget that although the distance is relatively short, the road will wind quite a bit and so, will actually take a great deal longer than expected to drive to our destination. Because of this, we were a little under-prepared. We were all hungry, Astrid especially, and as we drove into the Big Sur area, were surprised to find few places eager to gouge, I mean feed us–very few places were open in the late afternoon, those that were–um, wow. 11.95 for a boca burger, fries not included. We decided to really emphasize the vacation-y aspect of our trip by eating ice cream for lunch. Astrid suffered with her spinach and brown rice, but the rest of us dined on waffle cones. Really, what else could we do?

The rest of the trip was fab. The beach–fab! Astrid eating sand on the beach–fab! Dipping Astrid’s feet in the frigid Pacific–fab! Watching Elliott cavort in a tide pool with other assorted youngsters–fab! Picking up sandwiches to eat in the car at the first place we saw on the way home–fab!

Spending 2 days enjoying each other–FAB!

Sand!  Fog!  Jackets on the beach in August!  It must be Monterey–or any N California Beach, it seems.  We’re off for two days of end-of-the-summer hi-jinks.  We’ve been planning a trip to the aquarium almost since we unloaded the Conestoga.  Elliott is eager to see sharks, Astrid, the sea cucumbers.  As for me–give me otters, river or sea–I’m not particular.  I think Albert’s just looking forward to a few days away–work has been pretty brutal lately and the hairy eyeball he faces when he arrives back across the bay probably doesn’t make things any easier.

Look for further tales of our adventures when we return. We’ll be at the aquarium, visiting the Dennis the Menace Park, and Astrid will make her debut as a bathing beauty.   We  also plan to search for the formidable pirate– Monterey Jack,  wish us luck!

I’ve been trying to cobble a post together for days about experiences with the Ethiopian community here in the East Bay, but it’s stilted and self-conscious, and my inability to write it keeps me from posting anything else. Or so it would seem…

Slowly, slowly, we’re building a life here in California. We’ve been going to the same park in Berkeley for the last several Mondays to meet a local homeschooling group, but each week has been a disappointment–there have been few or no homeschooling families at the park. The families we’ve met have been lovely, and they’ve promised that the group is much larger during the school year, but it was little comfort while I was so eager, nay, desperate to meet other people.

Today, was entirely different. We crested the hill of beautiful Corodonices, cardboard in hand, ready to do battle with the big stone slide once more, only to find a sea of blankets beneath the big tree. Many of the blankets were occupied by knitters, so I realized the homeschoolers had returned to Berkeley…Like Monarchs and Capistrano swallows, the Berkeley homeschoolers also travel in large swarms it seems. The sea opened to allow space for us as well. Astrid has gotten over her brief period of stranger anxiety and once we settled ourselves, was happy to crawl from blanket to blanket, as long as I was within sight. Elliott immediately plunged into the enormous group of 7-11 year old boys, confident that he would be accepted, and actually, within 45 minutes, he was in command and was suggesting a group game of ’sharks and minnows.’ He moves so easily among other kids, even as the new dude–it’s a pleasure to watch him in action.

As for me, I could feel my mood lighten as the minutes ticked by. I was sitting in the company of real, live adults! An extrovert who needs a fair bit of alone time, I’ve gotten more than my fair share since we’ve moved west. After 2 hours in the company of others, I was energized–I came home and tackled all sorts of things that require more mental energy than I have at the end of most afternoons. Not trigonometry, but all those little things that pile up–phone calls and emails and appointments to be scheduled–all while making dinner and! I remembered to switch the laundry from the washer to the dryer (a minor miracle in my life).

The last six months have been hard–so much harder that I ever thought they’d be, especially because adding the new baby wasn’t the challenging part of the equation. For every two steps, I often feel as if I take two back, and well today, it feels as if I just took the two steps forward. As each journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step, I think I’m making excellent progress…

Picture posts will be few and far between around here–I’m not entirely comfortable splashing my tots around the blog-O-sphere, but I do think a blog without pictures is a sad and lonely place.  Without further ado, a few pictures of my elegant two (and a rare glimpse of me on film)…

The first migraine I can remember? I was four and had spent the day playing in the sun, only to come home feeling dreadful.  The headache sensation wasn’t new, that much I recall, but the accompanying nausea and vomiting were definitely unfamiliar, and unwelcome.  My mother was sure I had a touch of heat exhaustion and  after, fretted every time I played for more than an hour in the summer sun, but as my heat exhaustion episodes continued into the autumn, it seemed unlikely that the sun was the only culprit.

As school began, my migraines spiked dramatically.  Days of fluorescent lighting coupled with chalk dust exacerbated the underlying issues.  My parents worried and ran through the list of ‘Physicians for Children with Migraines‘ so you know, I got some spiffy blue framed glasses, got more than one set of xrays to check my sinuses, and began to take Triaminic any time I felt a headache coming on:  which was pretty often.

As elementary school turned into junior high, my migraines continued, but I got better at managing them, because I started carrying a purse and in it, I could stash aspirin or tylenol or whatever I could find.  Once I started babysitting, I would use my sizable earnings to purchase Vanquish, a pain reliever with a lot of caffeine.    As an aside, the only time I got into trouble all through school was in 10th grade–a bottle of Vanquish fell out of my purse and I was sent to the office (and sentenced to two days of in school suspension) for carrying drugs in school.   When I wasn’t living the life of a pill-pushing geek (because believe me, I shared) I carried a full load:  honors classes, band, activities, and yes, a student government presidency (you can bow at my feet now).  When I think about how frenetic my life was, I want to cry.  Insanely busy, with an almost daily migraine–a fabulous combination.

  Once I got to college, my migraines eased a bit–my sleep schedule improved, I wasn’t trying to run the world, and I wasn’t trying to get into college any longer.  The respite was brief, but by the time things disintegrated again, I knew enough to seek more medical advice–Vanquish clearly didn’t cut it any longer.   As I joined forced with the medical profession, I found there were a lot of pharmaceuticals, both good and evil designed to treat and prevent the migraines that had now plagued me for more than 15 years.

By the time Albert & I married, the number of medications I was on to control and prevent migraines was ever-expanding.  I had also, as a matter of course, stopped drinking, given up caffeine, radically altered my diet, begun yoga, kept a sleep journal, kept a food journal, gone to cranial-sacral therapy, etc.  (just so youse don’t think I relied on modern science to do all the work for me).

As anti-depressants and blood-pressure medications became anti-seizure medications instead, my neurologist wanted assurance that we weren’t trying to get pregnant, that we had a reliable birth control method available.  Unwavering faith in God’s providence wasn’t enough for the neurologist (or so she told Albert, the atheist).  As we discussed our lack of options for birth control  (allergy to latex + bleeding disorder + migraines= unwavering faith in God’s providence as birth control plan) and the long term plan for seizure medications to be a keystone in the bridge to ‘migraine-free living,’ it became clear that something would have to give.  In this case, it would be my fertility.  

 So often when I meet another adoptive mother, or group of mothers, talk turns to fertility issues.  In every instance, I’ve felt a bit like a fraud.  Unable to produce a baby on my own, but never a part of the whole infertility ‘thing.’ It feels too complex to explain to people, our inability to fashion a baby from our own genetic codes.  It’s hard to tell someone who’s dealt with five years of infertility treatments that you decided to have your tubes tied at the neurologist’s office.  The hostility can be hard to deal with, especially when I have a headache…