Author: Dawn Kasal-Finley

Moments

/ Dawn Kasal-Finley / Leave a comment

There are moments that I wish I could freeze in time.  There are moments that are so precious and important.  Today is the kids last full day of school.  Tomorrow is a half-day with an end of year showcase/assembly.  I can’t believe that another school year is over.

Noah is moving on to FIRST GRADE! OMG.  First grade.  It seems like just yesterday that he was learning to walk and was still saying “Woah” and “Opiopia.”  Now he can read and write.  Now he can problem solve and has given two public “speeches.”  He is confident and knows that kids can do important things.  He is considerate and is showing real signs of emotional development.  He is simply–amazing.  I am constantly surprised by him, his spirit, his kindness, his love, his wit.  He is so excited to be moving to first grade.  I am happy that his entire class will be continuing on with him.  He has made some good friends and is very well-liked.

One of the things that has begun to really stick out is his ability to learn things.  He is so very teachable.  He takes instruction well and picks things up easily.  I have only recently started to notice this.  His gymnastics instructor mentioned this weeks ago and I didn’t pay much attention.  But now he is learning to play golf and he asked to get a golf teacher.  He picks up quickly the instruction of his piano teacher.  He loves to learn things.  I will work hard to ensure that he keeps this love for learning.

Zoë is finishing her first year of preschool.  She is excited to be moving on to the next preschool class.  She can write her name and nearly all of her letters.  She recognizes her letters and she is very interested in reading and wants to learn.  I feel bad, as I haven’t had the time to dedicate to her the time to give her what she needs/wants.  I am making a concerted effort this summer and I am going to make sure that the kids do some academic work with their “nanny” this summer.  And I plan to work with them both this summer.  They want to learn and as a teacher–it would be disheartening to me if I didn’t help them learn and grow.  As a parent, it’s my job.

Zoë has made some amazing friends and she’ll get some new ones next year.  She has a love for live that is unparalleled.  Her spirit is infectious and amazing.  She has grown so much over this school year.  She has learned to navigate relationships and how to express her feelings.  She has also developed into quite a story teller–yes that’s a polite way of saying liar.  She is really good at it.  It is scary.  We are working really hard on getting her to understand that lying is bad, etc.  It is hard.  Any insight would be great.   She loves hard and completely.  She has a huge heart and loves an audience.

Watching the kids grow has thus far been an amazing journey.  I look forward to the next years and seeing them grow and begin to blossom.  Being a parent is the hardest thing I have done, but it also the most amazing thing I have been given the gift to do.

Each moment is precious.

The Earth Flower: A Story

/ Dawn Kasal-Finley / 1 Comment

The following story was created by 3 4-year olds.  At my children’s school, the early  childhood curriculum/theme is dictated by the children and their interests.  Zoë’s class was fascinated with natural materials–sticks, leaves, stones, and making books.  So, natural materials, the natural world and books became the year’s focus and all areas of the curriculum were taught through the exploration of the natural world.  It’s great because the culminating project in their classes are never the exact same.

The final project in Zoë’s class was a collection of stories written by the students.  Below you will read the story written by Zoë and two of her classmates.

This is the Earth Flower.  It’s a flower that everybody lives in.  There’s an earth inside of the flower.  Bees come to take the earth out because there’s pollen inside this flower.  The bees actually come and take all the earth’s pollen, but when it’s nighttime, the earth takes all the pollen back.  

The bees live in the earth, and they make honey for the earth.  The bees give it to the earth, and then the earth gives it back.  Then somebody takes the Earth Flower and makes it into more flowers. 

The Earth Flowers die at some point.  They turn littler and littler until they die, except for the big one.  It stays alive.  People live in the Earth Flower; they just walk around and they have houses.  The bees are nice and they don’t sting anyone at all.  Because the Earth Flower somehow died, it doesn’t stay how it looks forever.  It changes.  the stem somehow pops off, and it turns into the regular earth.  The people didn’t know what to do, but they had an idea. They put some tape in a big line and what they did was they turned it back into the Earth Flower. 

I read this story and I see so many of the things that Zoë (and her classmates) learned at school.  They spend one to two mornings a weeks in the greenhouse or on and “adventure” with the sustainability teacher.  This story showcases the emerging understanding of pollination and it is beautiful.

It is moments like these that remind me of what our children are capable of doing and understanding. If only we stopped seeing their limitations and only saw their potential–what a beautiful world we would live in.

What It Means To Be An Adoptive Mom

/ Dawn Kasal-Finley / 2 Comments

Today is always a bitter sweet day for me.  I celebrated my first mother’s day in 2006 (while Noah was still in Ethiopia) three days after we received our referral.  I remember wanting to celebrate but no one outside of my immediate family recognized me as a mother yet.  But I was one and I knew it.  From the minute I saw his picture and then later Zoë’s, I was their mother.

Being and adoptive mom (and I am so clearly identified as an adoptive mom-I am white and my two kiddos are clearly not white a all) means…

I am often asked where my children are from

I am often asked who does my daughter’s hair

That I share my children with two amazingly courageous women in Ethiopia who are also mother’s even if they aren’t raising their children

That I have to be hyper aware of how others treat my children

That I have to work hard to learn about racism and teach my children (especially my black son) what it means in our society to be seen as black.

It also means…

That I kiss their booboo’s and owies’s.

That I kiss them goodnight each evening and kiss them good morning each morning (usually way to freaking early).

That I get to laugh at their silliness.

That I get to snuggle them when they are sad.

That I have to punish them when they misbehave (and hit their brother/sister).

That I get to watch then grow up.

That I get to watch them get their first base hit and slide into home.

That I get to help them learn to write their name and read.

That I get to watch them grow (right before my eyes).

That I get to take them on their first roller coaster.

That I get to watch in amazement as they learn something new.

That I get to help them navigate the world.

That I get to dream about their future.

That I can sacrifice so they can have the best education and opportunities possible.

That I get to raise them and love them.

That I never forget that I owe a debt of gratitude to their birthmother’s for the sacrifice they made.

That I always remind my children of the courage and selflessness of those two women in Ethiopia that made us a family.

That I remember to honor two women in Ethiopia who don’t get to do any of the things I get to except dream about their future.

That I hope I am doing right by the women who bestowed this gift on me.

That I aspire to raise their children in a way that honors them.

That I ensure our children understand.

This is what it means to be an adoptive mom.  I wouldn’t change it for the world.

Happy Mother’s Day to my children’s  birthmother’s (an all other birthmother’s) and all mothers.  Mothering is the hardest thing we do.

 

 

How Meet The Robinsons Got My Kids Asking Questions

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Well, last night we sat down after Judo to each dinner and the kids wanted to watch SpongeBob.  I did not (yes sometimes we eat dinner around the TV–not always but sometimes–done judging?).  So I was looking for something entertaining and I noticed that Meet the Robinsons was on.  So I flipped to that and Noah was immediately interested and asked “Where is the guy we are looking for–the main character?”

We watched the movie until the neighbors got home and then the kids went and jumped on the trampoline together (I know what you are thinking–“don’t you know how dangerous trampolines are?”  Well I do, and I also know they are fun).  Then we finished watching the movie.  At the end, we had a long discussion about the premise of the movie and the idea of time travel and how cool that would be–and it took Noah a bit to understand the whole idea of being able to go into the future, etc.  But in the end put it together.

Then we talked about the adoption part.  Then he asked about his own adoption story–he wanted to know what I knew.  This is the first time he has really asked for me to tell him what I know–he was never interested before.  So we talked a long time (I will not tell the story here–as it belongs to my son).  We talked about how he was in the hospital and Bill and I were so scared that he wasn’t going to live and then we talked about how babies sometimes die all over the world from things that seem not to bad to those of us fortunate enough to have money and regular access to doctors and healthy food and environments.  Then Zoë wanted to know her story and hers is more cloudy than Noah’s story and a bit more sad).  It was a hard conversation, as you want to be honest but these kids are only 4 1/2 and 6 and adoption, while happy for us, is also very sad and confusing for kids–especially for kids who are adopted internationally.

After our talk, they were both visibly sad.  They didn’t know how to feel.   They were sad that there was their birthmoms who they wouldn’t ever know.  Noah really wanted to know if his was alive and I had to say that I didn’t know.  He said “I think maybe she died.”  I had to say I didn’t know, but I can see how for a child it might be an easier way to understand and/or cope.  We then talked about Ethiopia and the nannies who took such good care of them when they were babies waiting for us.  They talked about being excited to travel to Ethiopia and play with the babies and kids who are waiting for families.  They want to thank the nannies who took care of them.

It was such a great conversation, but it was so hard.  I am glad we had it, but I know it isn’t the last time we will talk about it.  These are conversations I always knew we would have and have had some version of over the last almost 6 years, but when we got that phone call 6 years ago today about a 1+ month old baby boy, I had no idea how complex this parenting thing would be.

I wouldn’t change a minute of it or a single choice we made.

Gender Specific Play Time

/ Dawn Kasal-Finley / 2 Comments

UGH! Even the title of this post makes me cringe–just not feeling creative in the title creation.

Bill is leaving for a business trip today for the rest of the week.  The kids are used to me traveling for work, but Bill doesn’t travel for work much.  So, we originally planned to go to a movie and dinner as a family.  But Noah wants to see the Avengers (as does Bill) and it is almost 2 1/2 hours long and there IS NO WAY IN HELL OR ANYWHERE ELSE that Zoë could sit that long or even really be interested in the movie.  So we decided that Bill and Noah would see the movie another time.

Noah was crushed, but much to my surprise he didn’t throw a full-on tantrum.  He cried a bit, but then said he wanted to do something special with just his dad.  That then started that Zoë wanted to something special with me.  I suggested making dinner.

“That isn’t special or very fun!” pouty face.

So, I asked her what she wanted to do.

“Put on make-up.  That is what girls do.”

UGH!  I don’t own any “real” make-up.  I don’t wear make-up.  As I get older, I probably should, but I am too old to learn how to correctly apply make-up.  I think Zoë knows more about make-up application than I do.

So, I pulled out my make-up kit–which is really a Victoria’s Secret give-away that my mom got.  But for as often as I wear make-up (maybe some eye-liner or mascara 2x per year) it works just fine.  And Zoë is convinced it is just the right size for her.

So, I begrudgingly put some make up on her.  She was in girly girly heaven.

“Don’t I look pretty now mom.”

“You look just perfect and beautiful without it.”

“But I feel really pretty with it on.”–Oh brother.  But how can I not understand.  I always feel pretty after a pedicure.

Then she insisted on putting make up on me.  I limited what she put on me and we talked about how I don’t like stuff on my lips or face. So she did just a little blush and eye shadow.

“You look more beautiful mommy.”

How on this earth did I get cursed blessed with such a girly girl?  I am rapidly being pushed beyond my knowledge of all things girlie.

Then I had to get my toes painted.  She threw a fit when I told her should couldn’t paint all my nails a different color and that she couldn’t paint my fingernails.  I tried to explain to her that it wasn’t professional for me to have my toe nails painted a bunch of different colors.  So we compromised with one foot one color and one foot another color.  I have to admit she did a good job of painting for a 4 year old–she even wiped up where she painted my actual foot.  And I do feel pretty with my toes painted.  Damn.

Since we have apparently traveled back to the 50’s for one night, Zoë and I went to cook dinner.  She made tartar sauce for the fish and after she ate at least 3 forkfuls of relish, I put in the salt and pepper.

“Why do you use salt and pepper in lots of things?”

“They are considered spices and they add flavor.  There are lots of spices.”

“Oh so things taste good on our flavor dots.”

“Flavor what?”

“Our flavor dots.  On our tongue.”

“Oh…you mean taste buds.”

“No flavor dots.”

Okay, so flavor dots it is.  I for one am happy to have my Flavor Dots.