What I left in Uganda

When I went to Uganda for the month of November, I thought I would be gaining a lot of things: two sons, quality time with my husband, an adventure, memories and great stories. I didn't think I would loose something there and really, I don't miss it. The thing I left in Uganda was my caring about what other people think of me.

We looked pretty bizarre to Ugandans and I quite agree! Two muzungus (white people) carrying two Ugandan children all around town in baby carriers. It was a sight to behold! The questions we received were pretty humurous, because I knew what they were asking.

"Is that YOUR child?"

"Are you married to each other?"

"Where are their real parents?"

What these kind Ugandans were asking as politely as possible was, "What are you doing with children who clearly don't belong to you?" And that is a valid questions and too hard to explain across language and cultural barriers to a passerby in the Uchumi (local grocery store) juice aisle. At first, it bothered me a little and then it sunk in. It really was a strange thing to have me and Craig come over 2,000 miles to a foreign country to carry around two children who didn't "belong" to us, even though adoption was a normal part of our culture. So, I stopped caring. Who cares what they think? They were correct, after all. And I knew why I was there, so it didn't really matter what they thought. I was at peace with the juxtaposition that we created and so I left what they thought of me right there in the aisle.

For the first time in my life, I was a minority. In a sea of Africans, me and my top-knot stuck out like a sore thumb. Everywhere I went, with or without Andrew and Simon, people stared. Even in the capitol city where there are a lot of ex-pats from Wales, England, Australia, and America, people still stared and wondered why these white people were being driven around their city. As we drove all over western Uganda were muzungus are a rarity, people would run towards our car, shouting and waving. I felt a little bit like a celebrity at all of this sudden attention just because the color of my skin. There was no anonymity anymore. If I tripped on my long skirt, everyone saw. If I gave the wrong denomination of currency, everyone was watching. If I couldn't stop my Ugandan son from throwing a huge tantrum, everyone was judging. And that was alright. My worrying how I was portraying the western world wouldn't change their perception of us from that chance encounter, so I stopped worrying what people thought and went on with whatever I was doing.

Sometimes the attention I received was less inviting. While taking a picture of the beautiful western hills, a Ugandan man repeatedly yelled with a vengeance, "Go away, muzungu." And when we drove by, he shook a disapproving finger at me and glared. I felt the weight of his angst against me and probably all of the muzungus that had come before me and brought pain to his nation. I could have lived under that shame, or I could walk away knowing that I was not causing intentional harm to the beautiful people and land of Uganda. So, I left what he and others who glared thought of my whiteness there on the roads of western Uganda.

All of our encounters in Uganda were not negative. By no means! We truly love the people in Uganda that we met and got to know. But I learned a lot about myself and how much I care about what others think about me on my trip out of my own country and out of my comfort zone. It was very revealing to have all eyes on me and realize how much I cared what all those eyes thought. Who knew I was so vain? O.K. You all probably did, but I was living in ignorance that I gave a hoot until I was surrounded by red dirt.

I also realized that there was no more hiding here in America when I returned. I was going to draw a lot of attention when I showed up to library story time with a quad stroller containing two curly headed blonde and two curly headed Ugandans. We are going to turn heads everywhere we go. I took a class about it in prepartion for our adoption called, "Conspicous Families." But you don't really realize how obnoxiously different your family is until you are back in your old familiar surroundings. And with four children four and under at my feet, I don't have time to worry about what the Jones think of my unconventional family.

So, good-bye, caring! And if you happen to float across the ocean back to my shore, I'll be sure to send you back where I left you.

Parenting U-turn

The reality hit slowly as I received e-mails and Facebook updates from my mom about my children's behavior. I wrote it off as the inevitable reality that they were missing their mother and father and acting out accordingly. When we stepped off the plane and my children were dancing at my feet, I was blissfully ignoring the reality that our family would need to make a drastic change to the way we did family. Putting the two one year olds in pack-n-plays to sleep at night and then rushing to bathe our home-growns, it started to creep in that this wasn't going to work. Deep down, I knew that we had made a mistake and that mistake had to be rectified.

We could be considered your average college-educated Christian parents. Our children live a fairly structured life, they have enough but not too much and we are daily teaching Biblical principals. We don't give in to their tantrums and we expect manners and politeness. All of our parenting came from a pure place of wanting to raise well-rounded, self-confident, productive members of society. You've heard it all before. Asher and Alethea were often being praised in public for how polite and well-spoken they were and we would pat ourselves on the back and think about all we had done right. But then we brought two more kids into the family and everything got crazy!

My first day alone with the kids was a whirlwind of activity: wiping noses, changing diapers, breaking up fights, washing dishes, cleaning up toys and on and on it went. When I sat down at the end of the day, I realized that I had hardly given any one on one time to either Andrew or Simon all day. I was dumbfounded! How could the day have gone on and the two newest members of my family were ignored? As I played the day over in my mind, I realized that I had paid quite a lot of attention to two other family members, and not because I was making up for a month of lost time. These two little preschoolers were given a lot of my energy all day because they demanded it. And I gave in.

I. GAVE. IN.

This reality hit me right in the gut. Where did I go wrong? Wasn't I teaching them that it is better to serve then to be served? To give rather then receive? That Jesus gave His life for us? I was hammering these realities into my children's heads and at the same time I was running around serving them, as if they were my whole life. They got use to this kind of treatment and I don't blame them! I never would have used the phrase, "I gave in," before, but it was so fitting in that moment. I would often justify why I gave in before we left for Uganda: we were adopting and they needed extra attention, the rule he was breaking really didn't matter in the first place, it would take more energy to stop her from doing that thing then I really want to give, etc. Now that we are back and have two more little people to take care of, there is no more giving in.

As I was reading my go-to parenting guru, John Rosemond, the hard reality in that I am a wife FIRST and a mother second. Craig is a husband FIRST and then a dad. Our marriage should come first in our day to day lives IN FRONT of our children, and it doesn't. Sure we have date nights and after the kids are in bed we focus on us and our marriage, but our children aren't seeing that. All they are seeing is that when all of us are together as a family, they are the center. We've taught our kids the wrong thing and that is what has got to change.

We've already started and I am seeing wonderful changes in the two short days the parenting u-turn took place. This subject has now become my zealous platform of reform in my own family and I am anxiously looking for new resources to expand on this already forming idea that flies in the face of the last 70 years of parent coaching: "The more attention you give your children, the better parent you are."


What is your go-to parenting resource? Parents of big families, what works for you to manage everyone? How do you prioritize your marriage WITH the kids around? I'd love to hear your thoughts!

My encounter with a Ugandan toilet.

While traveling in Uganda to the town of Kabale, which is just twenty minutes north of the Rwandan border, I had an interesting encounter with a toilet. We were in this little town to see where Simon is from and meet some of the people who helped him along the way to being a part of our family. The visit itself was full of emotion that I haven't quite processed yet. But there is one story that stands out among them all, because it involves a commode, a pair of Crocs and me.

We met the head of the village in one of the hotels in the area for lunch before we set off to explore the town. There was a little language barrier there, but our hands were full enough with two squirmy one year olds that it was easy enough to overlook. I glanced over and noticed that the only food available was buffet style, so I handing Andrew over to Craig and slipped away to the bathroom before we dove into the Ugandan feast.

As always, I was armed with my Go-Girl, roll of toilet paper and hand sanitizer, never knowing what I might find behind the door of a Ugandan bathroom. I opened the door to the hotel bathroom and noticed that water covered the floor. This should have tipped me off that there would be trouble ahead, but I ignored this sign and headed into the stall. It was dirty, but no worse then any other American gas station bathroom, so I proceeded to relieve myself. After I finished, I turned around to flush the toilet. This was a simple enough act since everything else had gone pretty smoothly. My index finger reached up to the lever and gently pushed down. And then it happened.

Slow motion began the moment my finger touched that shinny silver lever. Time slowed to a crawl as the pressure of my hand flushing the toilet caused the entire tank to leave the wall and plummet to the ground. The white porcelain tank of water that appeared to be fastened to the wall shifted to the left and then fell to the cement, shattering into pieces as the water contained with in gushed everywhere. To my horror, all of that water started to flow towards me!

I quickly opened the stall door and hastened my retreat, all the while surveying the toilet I had just been using broken in pieces and soaking wet. How was it possible that the basic act of flushing a toilet would cause it to disassemble? For a moment, I freaked out at the thought of this unsanitary water that now came up to my ankles was rendering my shoes as trash fodder. And then I remembered that I had on my Crocs. Oh, the gratefulness of the Crocs!

I have been given some flack my some of my closest friends about how unfashionable this rubber footwear is and they would be right. Stealing from the SNL skit "Mom Jeans," my friend (who shall remain nameless) has said, "These shoes say, 'I'm not a woman, I'm a mom,'" These mary jane style crocs are not the most fashion forward things I have doned on my feet, but they have been judged harshly. The only reason I bought them was for my trip to Africa and after this incident, I am very, very thankful that I purchased them! These shoes have a special place in my heart since they were easily sanitized and worn every day after that for the rest of my month in country.

After leaving the stall, I quickly high-tailed it out of there, re-entering the hotel dining area. I looked around to see if anyone had heard the huge crash of the tank hitting the cement floor, but everyone seemed to not notice. I approached Craig and said, "Look at my feet." Everywhere I stepped, I left a puddle of toilet water. I walked past him, to the station to wash my hands and then on to the buffet, all the while leaving Croc foot prints. After we both had our food and during a lull in conversation with our Ugandan hosts, I quickly told Craig the story and asked if he heard anything. To my amazement, we hadn't!

I decided to not tell the staff of the hotel that the toilet had breathed it's last breath, for fear they would demand that I pay for it. There is a myth that is widely believed in Uganda that all muzungus are very wealthy. I, a muzungu married to a teacher, do not feel any obligation to pay for a toilet that was hanging on by some putty to the wall that happened to break when I grazed it. So I kept my mouth shut. Ate my food. And left the Highland Hotel with nary a backwards glance. 

This story will make me forever grateful for the toilets I find in most establishments here in the western world and the Crocs that walked with me through toilet water.

The new normal, Uganda Style

Did you miss my "Gotcha Day" post?

I don't have any thing to share, except these adorable pictures of our sons. We are all getting use to each other as we wait for all the legal stuff to be settled. Enjoy!

Gotcha Day

We made it! After 55 hours of travel, a 21 hour layover in Amsterdam, and 5 flights, we are in Uganda!!! Yesterday was our "Gotcha Day" where we got to meet our boys. Craig and I were so nervous as we ran a couple of errands before we headed to the foster home they have been staying for the last couple of months. We had been waiting for this moment for 10 months, but nothing can prepare you for the overwhelming and surreal experience it is to finally meet the little boys who will be a part of your family. As soon as they brought the boys out, my heart stopped. My very first thought was, "How blessed I am to have the privilege to be these boys' mother." We sat with the boys on the floor as their caregiver hugged them and talked to us about their schedules and what they liked. We slowly began to interact and engage with them. Andrew took to me right away and Simon warmed up to Craig and wouldn't let him go. It felt like they knew who we were and we were so grateful that we had sent a photo book of our family months ago before we even knew about these boys. The caregivers had been looking through it with them and we could tell that they knew they should know us.

After a wonderful visit, it was time to take the boys. Simon was fast asleep in Craig's arms as we left, but Andrew was scared that we were taking him away, not really sure what was going on. We knew this was part of the process and I just soothed him, held him and loved on him. Craig and I had a very similar reaction to taking the boys from the foster home as we had when we took Asher and Alethea from the hospital: "Really? You are trusting us to take them? We don't know what we are doing!!!" I am happy to report that on today, day 2, both of the boys have taken to both of us and we have both received spontaneous kisses from both boys, lots of laughter and tons to snuggles. They feel like our boys and I can't imagine life without them now. It is hard to remember what it was like without them. Right now they are both freshly bathed, diapered, bottle-fed, and fast asleep in Craig's arms under the mosquito net so I could sneak away and write this update.