7×7 Link Awards

An old RVA acquaintance who has turned out to be a kind of similar soul–we share a favorite book and that is what I’m basing this on (check out her own 7×7 link award post to find out which book)–has put me up to this. She very generously linked Omo Diaries to her own blog as one of her favorite blogs to read and so I’m continuing the chain. As I understand it, no bad luck is involved if I happen to break the chain–remember chain letters?! I was so convinced those truly contained some sort of mystical luck properties–but I like the post and I like Ashley. So here we go…

1. Thank the person who nominated you!

Thank you, Ashley! I have loved reading Ashley’s blog–knowing her in one context (as fellow teenagers attending Rift Valley Academy in Kijabe, Kenya) and then discovering who she is as a truly incredible person through her writings is just simply fun. I love being surprised by people, and connecting with Ashley through the blogging world has been such a nice surprise.

2. Share 7 things about yourself:

In case the blog isn’t self-centered enough, here we go:

1. I seem to have a thing for young adult fiction that may or may not be all that well-written–I devoured the Twilight series and the Hunger Games trilogy in a period of time that made me forget I was the mother of three small children.

2. I like to eat brownie batter way more than the actual brownies.

3. I haven’t named a single one of my children. I lost on every single one. (But I do love their names).

4. I can’t resist the movies off the street in Addis. They rarely work and Caleb always gets mad at me for wasting the $1.10, but I just can’t walk by them.

5. I still think I’m blonde. In my mind, I’m blonde. In the mirror, not so much.

6. I don’t like any of those interactive, questiony-type games. Like Apples to Apples or that Conversation Cube. If I’m going to play a game, it’s going to be Scrabble.

7. I’ve got three sick, tired kids right now and I’m two days from home. The downside of this life I live.

3. Share 7 of your blog posts that fit into the following categories:

Most Beautiful: The picture quality is terrible. But the moment was truly beautiful.

Most Helpful: Helpful to you as readers? Oh man I don’t know. So instead, a post still helpful to me–the reminder that raising these children of mine is messy and lovely and hard and wonderful. All at once. And that is okay.

Most Popular: I think you all liked the one about us getting our work permit renewed. Given that this was a total of 8 words, I’m not sure this speaks volumes about the quality of my writing in general.

Most Controversial: Do I do controversy? I don’t think I do. And if I do, then I don’t think anyone actually cares enough to post a comment.

Most Surprisingly Successful: I had no idea my aunt and my grandmother and a whole lot of other people I deeply love and respect would like this post so much.

Most Underrated: This was funny stuff, people! Whatever.

Most Pride-worthy: I feel like everything I wrote on this page is real and true and all me. Every word, I still feel it. And that makes me feel proud.

4. Nominate 7 other bloggers:

I have to confess. I only know 7 other blogs. But they are great ones. And if I had better internet capabilities and could peruse blogs to my heart’s content, I’d still love these 7 blogs.

beckshmeck

beatysinindia

benjaminandkelly

paulandbecca

ourjourney

ashleyintheapple

smithsinethiopia

So I’ve reached the end of this exercise and realized it was kind of like one of those chain emails where you fill out like 76 different questions on everything from whether or not you like chocolate or vanilla and what song you are listening to RIGHT THEN. And I think at the end I’m supposed to throw out some props to Google Reader, which I hear is great but I’ve not taken the time to set up for myself. But I will, okay? (Is that a good enough endorsement?) All in all, though, Ashley, thanks for the boost. Having the word ‘award’ in one of my blog titles really feeds my vanity.

Daisy (She’s Two)

You should see her. Her hair has decided to make an appearance and it almost always resembles a rat’s nest. She’s tiny, barely tipping the scales at 20 lbs. She wears a bracelet of Daasanech beads that Elsa made her for her birthday.

You should hear her talk. It’s been a long time coming, but she can pretty much say whatever she wants to now. As long as it is only one or two words. And if you want to understand her, you’ll need a good foundation of “Daisy-ese.” For example, ‘bunany’ is a banana. ‘Rura’ is brother. (Or Ezra, we’re not really sure. I guess since they can be one and the same, it doesn’t really matter.) ‘Selsa’ is Elsa. ‘Tack’ is snack or truck, you’ll be able to decode it from the context. ‘Mook’ is milk. ‘Wee-wee’ is movie. And there you also have her favorite things: bananas, her brother, Elsa, snacks, trucks, milk and movies.

You should see her swim. About a month ago she decided going under water was way more fun than staying above water and there’s been no stopping her ever since. We went swimming over the weekend and I think the tiny little body flopping herself into the water and swimming underwater a couple of feet garnered a lot of stares. She didn’t appreciate people trying to grab her off of the ladder going up to the slide. Somebody forgot to explain to this two year old that most two year olds can’t swim.

You should hear her getting her education from Ezra. He’s taken it upon himself to immerse her in all things Ezra. He takes advantage of our two day car rides to increase her vocabulary in all important words–’kickstand’, ‘bow and arrow’, ‘leopard’, the names of each member of the Lukins family, ‘KTM’. I recently discovered that she now knows how to turn any object into a weapon, point it at me, and shout ‘pew pew pew!’ I didn’t teach her this.

You should see her play with Elsa. She alternates between screaming at Elsa for trying to ‘mother’ her and following Elsa around in utter adoration. I love to watch my daughters be sisters.

You should hear her whenever I try to sing. She scrunches up her little nose and shrieks ‘NO! SUNSHINE!’ Apparently the only song I’m allowed to sing out loud is ‘You Are My Sunshine.’ You better believe I obey her.

You should see her turn two. She ushered in the milestone by throwing the biggest fit she’s ever thrown to date. She also fell asleep curled up by my side after dinner at a friend’s house, so I think it all balances out.

You should see her…my sweet baby girl growing up.

They Might Not Be Geeks After All

They can ride bikes. See?

I don’t think I can quite put into words what it was like to see these two take off on these bikes. A really great bike can be hard to find in Ethiopia, and so when friends of ours were headed back to the US and offered their bikes to our kids, we snatched them up. The first afternoon Elsa and Ezra had the bikes, they took off. Within a week they were racing; within ten days, standing up on the pedals. Caleb and I, we couldn’t stop grinning.

 

Sometimes we start wondering how the choices we make will affect our kids. (Sometimes? All the time.) And sometimes we wonder if maybe they may end up with a higher weirdo quotient than other kids who aren’t, you know, home schooled and living in the blessed nowhere. So to see them do this classic American childhood thing–riding bikes–was such a moment.

 

Don’t get me wrong. I like the life they lead. I like that they learned to ride a motorcycle at age 3. I love that they know the names of all the birds. The fact that they think sitting in the sand for church with goats and cows interrupting the service is normal–thrills me. They accept just underwear as proper attire and that doesn’t bother me one bit. Riding in the car for two days in a row just to turn around and do it again a week later is a typical road trip and I am awed by their flexibility. Three snakes share our home and all three kids have no qualms about holding them (unlike their mom). Living here, the life we get to share with our kids, is the number one blessing in our life, and makes anything else we may give up worth it.

 

But that doesn’t stop me from sometimes missing things for them that they don’t even know enough to miss. Soccer teams, gymnastic lessons, changing seasons. Sunday school in a language they can understand. Water-skiing, libraries, Barnes and Noble story hour. Christmas lights. Cousins…

 

They might have no clue about graham crackers. But they can ride a bike. Happy, happy day.

An Accidental Homeschooler

I have a secret.

I actually might like homeschooling. Or I actually might believe in it. Which, coincidentally, isn’t really the same thing. Yet…fingers crossed. I mean, I still feel like a complete dork even writing about homeschooling–like someone far more legit than me is going to pipe up and say ‘Hey there, lady-with-three-months-of-homeschooling-under-her-belt, pipe down’. And I still kind of duck my head when talking about homeschooling, trying to separate myself from ‘those’ people who homeschool (don’t try to deny it, you know who I mean), as if whatever I’m afraid of catching really might be contagious.

But thanks to some wise advice from a lovely lady with a stunning homeschooling success rate (the evidence being four self-possessed, interesting, well-spoken, and beautiful nearly-grown children), I’m slowly moving from homeschooling by circumstance to homeschooling with conviction. It’s a journey I’ve needed to make, especially with a love of education and learning hanging in the balance. This friend of mine introduced me to the writings and ideas of Charlotte Mason, a British educator in the 19th century. Within her writings, I’ve found a philosophy of education I can believe in for my children, one that I finally can grasp without the nagging feeling that what I’m giving my kids is second best to what they would have received from a traditional school education.

The Charlotte Mason philosophy focuses on education as a science of relationships, meaning that what we learn is a result of having formed a relationship, a bond, with whatever it is we’ve encountered, in the world or in a book. Meaningful relationships have the best chance of developing within the context of approaching learning through the framework of education as an atmosphere, education as a discipline, and education as life. What has begun to dawn on me in the last few months is that it isn’t my responsibility (in fact, I’d be doing my kids a disservice) to re-create ‘school’ for them. It’s my responsibility to introduce them to a world worth learning about, in every way I can. The gift that has been given to me through this realization is the chance to recognize the life they live as truly valuable. The life they live, the life we live, has intrinsic value simply because of the nature of living it.  There is nothing sterile about this life. My children are slammed with real beauty and real ugly every day. My greatest challenge as their mom in this context is to not let them become immune to either one, but to help them fully digest it to the best of their one, four and five year old abilities.

The details of the Charlotte Mason method of education are superb. Using ‘living’ books rather than text books or work books; employing the habit of narration (having a kid ‘narrate’ what has been learned, orally or in composition form) to ascertain comprehension rather than questioning or testing; utilizing short lessons; leaving kids the freedom and time to pursue their interests; and emphasizing the importance of nature within learning are just a few of the ideas that have made me a believer in this philosophy of ‘home education’.

And a believer I actually am, although you may hear me still cling to my ‘I was forced into homeschooling’ mantra, on the days I feel particularly ill-equipped. Truth be told, though, I’m kind of glad I’ve been forced into this. I don’t know if I would have the confidence to not put my kids in school if I had the chance. I don’t know if I could deny them the friends, the activities, the sports, the chance to not have me for their teacher. I don’t know if I could give up the chance to just be the mom, and to not constantly struggle to find that balance between the role of teacher and the role of mom. At the same time, how thankful am I that I am not sending my five year old off for 8 hours a day. How thankful I am that she gets to play most of every single day, with a slight interruption to do her handwriting and her math and her reading. How I covet that time for her–the time for a real childhood–and how thankful I am that right now, I can protect that for her.

What a new understanding of faith and love it has taken for me to be able to embrace this for us. I know many within the homeschooling world choose to keep their children close out of a decision to attempt to control what their kids are exposed to. They want a certain filter in place for anything their children may encounter. For people like this, I think it would require great faith to send their kids to a traditional school. For me, though, it takes so much more faith for me to keep them close to me, in light of what I know about myself. It requires me to trust that God, in all His goodness, loves my children so much more than I do. It requires me to trust that He sees them as real people, like I’m learning to, and that He has created them to be capable of so much. It requires me to trust that He’s given them fantastic brains, inquisitive minds, and individual passions that will carry them through all of the ways I will fail them. It requires me to remember that He hasn’t made a mistake in calling us here to this place for this time of our lives, and that He will continue to enable me to do this life that is sometimes so foreign to me. With my head bowed in prayer and my hands held out to hold the hands of the little ones given to me, I thank God for making me an accidental homeschooler.

You and I

He likes vanilla. I like chocolate. He’s a motorcycle guy. I’m more into bicycles. He likes pasta. Give me rice any day. He thinks the vast openness of the desert is beauty. I need some elevation. He likes acacia trees. I like evergreens.

 

I couldn’t live without books. He only reads if it falls into one of three subject matters: motorcycles, adventure travel, or the history of East Africa. I drink a little coffee with my cream and sugar. He takes it straight up black. I die a little without cold cereal. He likes pancakes. I think the ever-elusive answer to the question of parenting probably is hidden in the next parenting book I’ll read. He’s not so optimistic.

 

He still thinks Creed is a good band. I like Amos Lee. He thinks Pamela Anderson is pretty. Really? He’s never late. I am. He orders Ambo at restaurants. A Coke is the main reason I go out to eat. He wants to take the roughest, muddiest route to anywhere we go. I get motion sick. He returns phone calls. I completely suck on the phone. He tells great stories and is a good conversationalist. I mumble and tend to go mute for no apparent reason, other than I’ve used up my quota of words.

 

He might gag if served a bagel or pudding. I could eat bagels and pudding on a daily basis. He knew he wanted to marry me at 15 years old. I was 21 before I realized I wanted the same thing. He’s always known his home is Africa. I used to think I’d live in America and coach basketball. He thinks adding a can of tuna to any dish will enhance it. I know that’s not true.

 

I barely ever think I’m right. He’s convinced he nearly always is. I mutilate songs regularly. He’s got a great voice. I have a terrible memory. He remembers nearly everything. I think pets are best kept outside. He’d turn our house into a menagerie if I let him. He’s completely anti-placemats. I think it’s a silly thing for him to care about.

 

Today he turns 29. Happy birthday to my complete opposite and my best friend. Somehow, you and I, we make it work. And I love making it work.

A Delayed Thanks Giving (We Had A Crazy Week)

I’m thankful it wasn’t his head.

I’m thankful it wasn’t his neck or his back, but his hip.

I’m thankful he was thrown on sand, not on tarmac or gravel.

I’m thankful he waited until he got home to collapse on the porch.

I’m thankful his grandma was praying for him.

I’m thankful his parents were on their way home from Addis Ababa.

I’m thankful we found out that the closest hospital’s x ray was out of order (before we drove 6 hours to get there).

I’m thankful the rain stopped long enough for his parents to get home to take care of our kids.

I’m thankful the cell network worked all day on the day we made plans to have him helicoptered to the next closest hospital (11 hours away).

I’m thankful for Markus, the pilot for Helimission, who came to get us.

I’m thankful the hospital’s x ray machine worked.

I’m thankful there was a surgeon there to read the x ray.

I’m thankful the x ray was clear.

I’m thankful I didn’t have to drive him 22 hours over rough roads to get the answer we needed.

I’m thankful he is going to heal.

He’s not thankful for the dog who darted in front of him while going 65 kilometers per hour on his motorcycle.

I’m thankful he didn’t kill the dog. Don’t tell him.

He Does Cool Stuff

I wish I could tell you all his stories. But to do that I’d need a recorder and then play them back for you, because he tells great stories and mine usually fall flat right around the place where you want them to soar.

But he does really cool stuff. Like plants islands with mango trees and catches 9 foot pythons by the tail and rides his motorcycle all over this country.

I stay home.

Don’t worry, I fully plan on cashing in someday. And to his credit, he always comes home and tells me ‘I wish you’d been there,’ and I know he means it.

So live vicariously with me and check out some of his pictures from the beautiful places he goes. The pictures below are from his most recent trip, a ride through northern Ethiopia with Flavio, his friend and the owner of Africa Riding Adventures. They were scouting out the Napier Trail, which I won’t be able to do justice to in trying to describe, so check out the link if you’re interested in knowing more. I wouldn’t be a proper wife to a motorcycle enthusiast if I didn’t tell you that Caleb was on his DRZ 400 and Flavio was on a KTM 525. (I hope I got that right. Caleb is wincing).

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Lately

Lately, I’ve really blown it at blog-writing. It takes a certain mood for me–a sense that I’m a little bit cool, I’m a little bit clever, I’m a little bit funny–in order to write a blog. Lately, I just haven’t had it. So if this post is neither cool, clever, nor funny, please don’t tell me. I already know.

Lately, Caleb has been planting. Trees and trees and more trees. He now has 122 trees planted on his islands. He spent three long days clearing 10 foot high grass from parts of the islands and planting mango seedlings.  The Omo is receding after reaching full flood last month, so the ground is saturated and it’s a prime time for planting the mango starts.

Lately, we’ve gotten to thinking. After we were granted our work permit in May, we kind of went into relax-mode. After months of wondering and waiting with the uncertainty, once we got that permission, we actually didn’t really give it another thought. The constant ‘what if’ questions and considering options went on the back burner and we simply lived life like there had never been any question. In Ethiopia, that kind of assurance only lasts so long. Coming up in January, we’re already looking at another work permit renewal. So, lately, we’ve started thinking again. And if we do get a work permit for this coming year, then it’s only one more year until our 5 year project with the government is completed. We’re thinking. We’re thinking that we love our home and we’d love to stay. But. We’re open.

Lately, the youngest is a pill. She’s left that stage where doing what you’ve told her to do is the novelty and entered the stage where NOT doing what she is told is the novelty.Except if it is her dad telling her to do something. Her dad says ‘jump’, the girl jumps. Which is so unfair to a mom. She’s the cutest little pill you’ve ever met.

Lately, Elsa and Ezra have started doing some school. Lessons, actually. I can’t bring myself to call it ‘school’. Un-school, maybe. For Ezra, this consists of me reading out loud to him. Period. If I ever start telling you that I’m telling myself that I have to start telling him he has to do more, someone stop me. He’s four. So, lately, we read. And he goes bird-watching. And he plays. And swims. He’s four. Elsa, she’s starting the real stuff. She’s got her little handwriting book and we’re counting and adding with beads and she’s learning to read. And we read. We just finished The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe. And now we’ve started Ramona the Pest. Ramona kills me. Her world is so definite. Lately, mine isn’t. So I really like Ramona with her definite world.

Lately, I joined Facebook. Which is such a surreal feeling. So strange to click on a page and see that my sister-in-law is at a Sounders game. I’m not used to this up to the minute knowledge of what people so far away are doing. And don’t even get me started on the bizarre-ness of suddenly seeing pictures of my elementary school best friend’s two cutie kids when I haven’t even spoken with her in 10+ years. But lately, I feel far away. I click on that page and appreciate it for the way it brings peoples’ lives to life, but then I end up feeling like a spectator. There’s no connection there. And honestly, I’m in a weird funk where the thought of doing THIS…this trying to stay connected and relevant with people I love…for the next decade and then another decade and another decade is draining. Exhausting. Lately, I am far away.

Lately, we’re watching season 10 of American Idol. You know, the one where they got rid of Simon (which I thought would be a show-killer) and brought in J-Lo and Steven Tyler (whom we want to kiss and hug everytime the show starts up). We’re completely enthralled and thoroughly entertained every night we watch, no matter that we’re nearly a year behind the rest of America and our votes no longer count. We watched one a week or so ago where they brought in someone called Diddy Dirty Money to perform. Really? I mean, really? I have no words. Ramona kills me in a good way. America, you kill me in another way.

Lately, we’ve got good things coming our way. We have family who live in Addis now, Caleb’s cousins, Marshal and Rachel Giles. So every time we come into Addis, we have the excitement of cousins to get us all sufficiently hyper. And on this Friday night, my parents, GrandmaAndGrandpaJudy (all one word to Elsa and Ezra) are arriving for one week. They’re going to be tired–we’re the last stop of a three continent trip for them–so we’ll go easy on them and take them to some lovely cottages by Lake Awassa. And then, next month, Caleb’s sister, husband and two kids are coming to visit us for a week and a half. Can I just say ‘yay’? It’s an understatement.

Nothing beats a cousin who comes complete with superhero costumes

Lately, life goes on.

I’m Exhausted (I’m a Wimp)

Thought you all might like to see some pictures of the oh so successful week of school for Elsa and Ezra:

They loved it. And they did great. Ezra did great because, you know, he’s Ezra. He doesn’t really care who is playing next to him as long as he gets to try out the cool bikes he’s been talking about since Elsa went to school last year. And Elsa did great because she had two friends:

Friends can be lifesavers, can’t they? On Elsa’s right is Gwyneth, a fellow homeschooler, and on the left is Danny, Elsa’s cousin who just moved to town. I’m not sure she let go of their hands the whole week.

Me? I’m exhausted. Forgive me, North America, with your masterful juggling of schedules and events and meetings and jobs and school, but I’m just not used to this. My life at Omo, although extreme at times, is (for the most part) calm. And getting kids and ourselves out the door on time to school and to a conference while Caleb takes Daisy to shuffle around with him as he tries to get all of our buying and business done so that we can actually go home sometime this year is definitely not calm.

I know, we’re wimps. Most of you do this on a daily basis for your whole lives. But I have to say, I don’t really envy you. I fully embrace the quietness of our lives. Especially knowing it probably can’t last forever. At times I fall into this trap of thinking my lack of busy-ness translates into a lack of effectiveness or usefulness. But I fight that lie, and simply say ‘thank you’ for this time of life where I am able to really enjoy my kids, enjoy my work, enjoy my quietness, simply because I’m not rushing off to the next activity, the next playdate, the next errand.

As much as we enjoy our times in Addis with seeing our friends and eating food I didn’t cook and laying off exercising the sweeping muscles for 2 weeks, let’s face it. Living on the west side of the Omo River definitely has its benefits. Dust not included.

Take 2

See these kids? They’re going to school tomorrow.

Don’t worry. I’ll clean them up.

That’s better. Although, Ezra. I think you’re wearing your sister’s spaghetti-strap sundress. Don’t wear that tomorrow.

Do these kids look ready for school to you? Yeah, I think so, too. Although it kind of hurts. I’m having a hard time getting my heart to expand enough to hold the knowledge that when I pull away from the school tomorrow, only my little Daisy girl will be in the back seat of the car. Ezra will, you know, be doing what he does. And Elsa, well, she’ll be wondering why she doesn’t know all of the other kids’ names and worrying about what she’s going to do if she falls down and skins her skinned knees again. Me, I’ll be wishing I could stuff my two kids back into my uterus where I can carry them on my own a little longer.

Did I really just say uterus in a public sphere? Excuse me. It’s late and I’m unusually emotional about my E’s tonight.

What is harder to swallow than the thought of both of my kiddos heading to school tomorrow is the thought that it has been exactly one year since we were basically in this same situation. First week of school, homeschooling conference…here we are in Addis again to take it all in. One whole year has passed and I can distinctly remember sitting down to write about this same week last year and how conflicting that week was because Elsa hated the classroom and I didn’t know whether to push her going when it was so temporary or whether to just drop it because she was only four and goodness, she was only four. Fingers crossed that this year will go better.

Last year this time I was distinctly a homeschooler-by-circumstance. Meaning I definitely would NOT be homeschooling my children if there was another option. This year, well, I’m working on it. I’d like to be more than that. I’d like to believe that how we’re educating our children really is in their best interests. To move myself along from homeschool-by-circumstance to homeschool-by-conviction, I’ve been doing some readings by some people with good hearts and great ideas and beautiful intentions for children. I’m getting there.

More about that soon. But until then, kiss my kids good-bye with me. And say a prayer for them. I really want them to enjoy their week in school.