Author: Dawn Kasal-Finley

Childhood

/ Dawn Kasal-Finley / Leave a comment

Watching my kids at the pool on hot summer days is a wonderful reminder of what childhood feels like.

The joy on their faces as they go to the end of the diving board and FLIP their little bodies off and exit the pools to cheers as the older kids look on tentative themselves to flip their own bodies off the diving board.

Noah and Zoe Flipping from Dawn Finley on Vimeo.

The pride on their faces as they rise up from the deep blue knowing they have accomplished something.  Know they feeling of fear, exhilaration and independence.  I can sit on the side and watch them spread their wings and fly.  It’s a scary thought for a parent–but for a child it is so empowering.

It makes me proud to be their momma.

Do As I Say Not As I Do

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Parenting at it’s finest.

So, my kiddo’s have become quite the daredevils.  Jumping off the diving board at the pool and everything.  But yesterday my sweet little 4-year-old (who only started jumping off the diving board on Sunday) and my somewhat danger adverse 6-year-old did flips off the diving board.  FLIPS.

Seriously, they are going to give me a heart attack.  But Zoë is only 4.  And she has only jumped off the diving board about a dozen times.  She was so excited to be able to do it–as it is what the big kids get to do.  She had to pass a swimming test–she’s an awesome swimmer.  Then she prepared for her first jump.  She excitedly got in line and when it was her turn…

…she flung herself off with fierceness (No hesitation–she ran and jumped). She swam over the the side on nearly a single breath and smiled.  And did it again and again and again.

I asked Noah that day if he was going to try a flip.  He said no–he wasn’t ready.  He is just now starting to get the hang of diving. Which I understand as I was never EVER brave enough to attempt a flip off the diving board.

So, they jumped and cannonballed and twisted in the air for over an hour on Sunday so happy with the rush of being a kid fling themselves out into the water.

Imagine my surprise when yesterday I get an email from Bill telling that the kids “did flips off the diving board.”  Imagine my heartache that I wasn’t there.  I didn’t get to see their first flips.  This hurt a little.  But here are my kids doing something I was never brave enough to do.   EVER.

So, all the talk at our house last night started like this “Mommy can’t do a flip.”  “Mommy is scared to do a flip.”  “We can all do flips….Well not Mommy.”  Followed by “Mommy you have to try to do a flip.”

“No I don’t.”  I said which was met with much making fun of me.

Yes, I encouraged Noah to try to do a flip.  I certainly didn’t imagine that Zoë would be doing one on her second day of diving board adventures.  Although, I don’t know why is surprises me–as she knows no fear.  But there is no way that I am trying to do a flip.  NO WAY.

It’s scary.  The whole idea of doing a flip is scary.  It freaks me out a little the my kids do them–I think it’s awesome–but I am not trying.

Skydiving anyone?

Yield

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Those signs warn us to slow down. That we should be cautious and take an extra moment. Too often we see this sign or the Yellow light and speed up, often paying little attention to events outside of our immediate destination.

I am guilty of this and it has gotten worse as life’s demands have continued to grow–a demanding and rewarding job, kids activities, a desire to at least attempt to exercise (when will desire automatically manifest into action???).  I find myself exhausted more often than I am content.  I find myself reprimanding my kids more than enjoying them.  I find myself criticizing my husband more than loving our time together.  It’s like being on this fabulous road trip through the south of France in a bus with no windows.  Where it becomes only about the destination and the journey is completely lost.

Most of the time we don’t notice that we are missing things.  Life just gets in the way and before we know it, we are at a destination without any real recollection of how we got there.  Ant that thought makes me sad.

I spent the last 2 days looking though old videos of the kids and it filled my heart with such joy to see them.  I remember many of the moments, but there are others that even though I was physically present for, I completely missed the beauty of them.

It made me realize that time already goes so fast, that it is so important for me to take time to have fun with the kids, my husband and myself.  The stresses of life aren’t going to go away, but I have to make sure that they don’t take over and cover the windows so that I miss all the amazingly beautiful moments that will tell the story of my life.

It’s my life and I certainly don’t want to miss it.  It’s time to pay attention to those yield signs.  They are there for a reason.

A Lesson That Will Surely Come Back to Bite Me

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Another episode of “I totally rock at this parenting thing.” otherwise known as “Things I will certainly regret as my children grow.”

This summer we got summer passes to a pool near our house.  We did this last year (at a different pool) and the kids loved it and we loved it.  It’s nice to be able to go to the pool and hang out–especially as the kids get older and more independent.

So, this pool, has a diving board and a slide.  For the slide you need to be the dreaded and ever-elusive 48″ tall.  Noah is certain he is never going to be 48″ tall.  And. His. Life. Is. Ruined. Because. He. Can’t. Go. Down. The. Slide. Oh, just you wait little man, your life will be ruined by so many things–mostly your parents telling you NO.  We happened to go to the pool one afternoon last week, when I took off work early and ran into a friend of his from school, who isn’t going to his school anymore.

So, they were playing and then wanted to see if they could go down the slide.  And like the good, polite, rule-abiding kids we are raising them to be they stopped to ask the life guard if they were tall enough. I know, it is so cute before they grow out of that whole phase.

It was a sad moment for him (and I am so proud of how he handled himself) as his friend was allowed to go down and Noah wasn’t.  Even though his friend wasn’t really tall enough either–clearly there is a sliding scale for the whole 48″ thing.  So, Noah came back over and I could tell his little heart was broken but he dealt with the unfairness in stride while his friend went down the slide a few times.

We stayed at the pool later that day then his friend and as I watched the slide line, I noticed some kids who were clearly shorter than Noah and it got me thinking–there were some lifeguards who were very by the “rules” and others who see the 48″ as a guideline.  I pointed this out to Noah and told him the next time we/he goes to the pool he should just walk up there and get in line to go down without asking if he is tall enough and see what happens.

Fast forward 12 years, when he is 18 and walking up to buy beer in the college town like he knows what he’s doing–I totally win at parenting.  Totally.

So, he was able to go down the slide the next time he went to the pool for  a while, then a new life guard stopped him, but the next one didn’t.  He’s like the Raptors in Jurrasic Park learning where the weakness in the fences are.  He couldn’t have been happier. “Mom, I did what you said and it totally worked.”

I know–the rules are there for his protection and I totally get that.  But he can dive off the diving board into 12 feet of water and swim to the side all by himself–I think the slide might be a little less dangerous.

So, I have taught my son that rules are just guidelines and if you act like you belong somewhere–people won’t question you (most of the time).  Yay for me.

A Hole That Can’t Be Filled

/ Dawn Kasal-Finley / 2 Comments

I just found out today that Wanna/Layla House is closing.  This is the only home in Ethiopia that my children have known.  It is the one piece of their early history that they share.  It is the only tangible place they can connect to.  It is where we planned to take them to volunteer for summers in high school.  It is where I wanted my children to spend a gap year between high school and college.  But it will no longer exist.  It will no longer be the children’s home it was.

Adoption has changed in Ethiopia.  The structure of how children are cared for has changed.  When we first adopted Noah (in 2006 and then Zoë in 2008), all foreign adoption agencies were required to set-up and run a children’s home to care for the children they would be placing for adoption.  This was the setup for years.  This setup is changing.  The Ethiopian Government has made a move to focus on government orphanages and having agencies support Ethiopia’s orphanages.  I don’t know all the details, as I don’t follow the trends in Ethiopian adoption as we brought our daughter home exactly 4 years ago–I arrived in Ethiopia with my dad to pick her up on June 18, 2008 and arrived home in St. Louis with her on June 23, 2008.  Since then, I have paid less and less attention to what is going on in Ethiopia.

I never thought their Ethiopian home would close.  I just took for granted that one day we would be able to return and take our children there to see where they lived during their short time in Ethiopia.  All they will have are the snippets of video we have and some photos, as well as the relationships that I have kept up with the families of the children who lived at Wanna with them.

Something like this happens and it just brings home the loss that is such a deep and inherent part of adoption.  Once Wanna/Layla is closed, my children have lost a part of their history; a part of their story.  It resides in photos and memories of others, but for them it ceases to exist.  For them it is a chapter in the book of their life that has been erased.