Noah

Santa Claus, Jesus and Mothers

/ Dawn Kasal-Finley / Leave a comment

I know it sounds like the start of a bad joke.  But in honor of the 5 year anniversary of receiving Noah’s referral–I thought a Noah story was called for.

We had a whirlwind Mother’s day weekend.  It has to be a weekend when you have divorced parents.  I talked briefly with Noah and  Zoë about their Ethiopian mothers and we talked about the rose bushes that we planted two years ago as a way to honor them with new life every spring.  But we hadn’t really talked about them on Mother’s day itself.

So finally, last night after dinner I was sitting with Noah, my mom (whose birthday also happened to fall on Mother’s day this year) and brother and I asked Noah

“Who else do we have to remember to think about, celebrate and remember on Mother’s day”

“Santa Clause” he says after a moment of thinking.

“No” I said through a bit of a chuckle

“ummm…JESUS” he yells triumphantly

“No” At this point, I can barely not laugh–I’m exhausted and we don’t even go to church and I don’t know exactly how he made the connection there.

I prod him a little, “A special lady in…”

“My Ethiopian mom” he says with a small smile.

We talked a little about her but I wait for him to ask questions–I don’t want to overwhelm him with concepts he isn’t ready for.  Can’t believe the time has gone so fast.  I love you Noah and am so lucky to get to be your mom.

Thank you M.A. and Zoë’s birthmom, for your sacrifice, courage and selflesness.  Without you, I wouldn’t be blessed with these amazing children.  I see you in them and know how amazing both of you are.  I hope we do you proud.

Connections

/ Dawn Kasal-Finley / 2 Comments

There are many who feel the internet has taken over their lives and the lives of others.  There are those who don’t see the value in relationships made online.  I have to disagree completely with them.  The internet has allowed me to create an adoption community that allows my children to have connections to their birth country and more importantly to kids and families that look like theirs.  They have a shared story and it isn’t one that is written based solely on their skin color.  It is a complex story that can and will only be understood by those who have a similar experience.

This past weekend, we were lucky to meet up again with Noah and Zoë’s Ethiopian “cousins.”  These are kids who they share their early history with–kids who they were in our agency’s care center with.  There are many more “cousins” that we have not met or do not keep in as close touch with, but I have always believed it was important to keep some connections to my children’s past and birth country.  I am so thankful for Anne, Steph and Ginger.  I am so thankful for my own local Ethiopian adoption community.  The fabric of which  with only enrich my children’s lives and my own.

Thank you Internet for making the world smaller.

60-Months-Old

/ Dawn Kasal-Finley / 2 Comments

Dear Noah Hojawaka,

21,901 days ago, somewhere in Ethiopia, your birth mother pushed you into the world. This is what I wrote this summer about this day,

The  pain ripped through her heart
more than it ripped through
her womb.
The thought of a life born and
given a way
at the same time
A dream long dreamt;
a nightmare forever
lived.

He wondered where she had
gone and if she had
given birth yet?
Was she able to surrender
the baby that was
theirs?
A child that would always
be theirs and never
know them.

He felt her tears wet on
his face as she
prepared to leave.
He suckled and gazed at
her face.  A face
he would forget.
His loss one that he would not
recognize or realize
until much later.

I cannot believe how much you have changed through the years.  You have grown so much, so fast.  You are the kindest child and such a good friend.  You are a perfectionist and often bang you head or hand in frustration as you learn a new song on the piano–my own little Schroeder.  But then you get the song right and you are on top of the world.  Your determination and quest for perfection will serve you well in this world that will often seem to be working against you.  It will also cause you great heartache as you find things you just can’t master.  I will let you find your own successes and failures and to define them as well.  So far, you are doing it amazingly well.

Last night, on you final night of being 4, I snuggled in bed with you and told you how proud I was of you.  You innocently asked me “for what mama?” To which I replied, “I’m proud of how kind you are and what a good friend and brother you are.  I’m proud that you respect other peoples feelings and how good you are growing up.”  I cried a little in your bed as you drifted off to sleep on the eve of being 5.  Not because you are growing up (although that’s certainly enough reason) but I cried because your Ethiopian mom can’t share this will us.  I wish with all my heart, I could tell her how amazing you are and that she could look into those amazing eyes and see the purity of your soul and character.  I wish I could tell her what a great boy you are.  I wish I could thank her for her sacrifice.  I wish she could feel your love.  I wish she could feel mine.

You are learning to read, ever so slowly and I am sorry that I don’t have more time to teach you to read.  But I believe that when you are home you should be able to play and I know that you’ll be reading soon enough and I don’t want to push too hard.  Maybe these are excuses I am making up, because I love watching you play and have fun.  Maybe I’m lazy.

This year you have graciously agreed to forgo presents at your birthday party with  your friends in favor of collecting monetary donations for Ethiopia.  This has made me so very proud and it’s also something I wish your Ethiopian mother could know.  You have taken pride in the idea that you are raising money for Ethiopia.  I love that we have been able to instill in you a love of Ethiopia and feelings of wanting to give back to the country and people who have given us so much.  We will be making our donation in honor of your Ethiopian mother–it is the least we can do.

Oh how your sense of humor has developed.  Every once in a while, I’ll hear you laugh while watching SpongeBob and it makes me smile that you are starting to get humor and comedy.  You love a good joke and try to make up your own and it’s pretty amusing. You and S are still best friends and talk about getting married.  You also fight and disagree and it’s just as cute as when you hold hands.  You’re a good one Noah.  Stay that way.

You have moved from super heroes to Star Wars and Legos are your go to toy these days.  You are becoming more and more adventurous with eating and I have to say that you really are an amazing kid and I am so lucky to get to be your mom.  You love basketball and are looking forward to flag football.  You can dance with the best of them and have some great hip-hop moves that I have no idea how you learned because your dad and I can’t dance to save our lives.

I love you Noah.  I love being your mom.  I love being your family.  You were meant to be our kid.  I am so lucky to get to be your mom.  I hope you always know how much I love, respect and honor your Ethiopian mom.

Keep growing Noah–you have done both of your mom’s proud.

Love,
Mama

I’ll Admit It Totally Matters To Me

/ Dawn Kasal-Finley / Leave a comment

that my kids are smart.  I’ll admit it.  But then again it probably isn’t surprising to anyone that an educator and soon to be PhD wants her children to be intelligent and excel in school.  Obviously that is something that matters to me a great deal.  I’ll admit it again and again.  I think being smart is important.  It is something I value tremendously.  I also believe that all of us have the potential to be smart and brilliant.  Just so often many don’t get the opportunity to explore and fully develop that potential.  How I wish every child had access to early educational experiences that are rich and driven by their own interest.

Anyway, why am I even writing about this you ask?  Well, we had Noah’s parent teacher conference yesterday and I am happy (and feeling a little shallow) to say that my son is doing amazingly well.  He did spectacular on the assessment the school uses to determine many cognitive skills (as an educator, I think the assessment they use is great).  He was able to do everything well and even beyond the expectations for his age.  I hate to brag.  I really do, but as a mother/parent, it validates so much of what we have done and how we are raising our kids.  While Noah’s potential is owed to his amazing birth parents, we, as the ones raising, him have done a great job of bringing that potential to life.  We have fostered it and tended to it as it grows inside him.

He is also an amazing socializer.  He mediates conflicts between his friends and is well-liked (this is kinda important to me to).  I want him to be a good and kind person.  But, I also want him to be smart.  Maybe that is my own feelings of inadequacy that makes this important to me.  I never considered myself smart growing up.  It wasn’t until my 20’s that I started to understand and tap my potential.  I am the first in my family to go and graduate from college.  It was a big deal and it took me a long time to realize that what I achieved was up to me and that it was going to be hard work.  I always thought it was easy for everyone else while I was struggling.  I struggled for a long time and felt inadequate for a long time because of my struggles (or lack of understanding the hard work required) in school.

I know that it isn’t being “smart” that will make school easy for my kids or enjoyable.  But it is important because of what it shows.  It shows me that Noah knows how to use language to articulate what he knows and that he can problem solve–these are two of the most important skills one can have and it makes me proud and happy that he is developing those skills and using them.

I know that  he would do well in any school environment.  He is adaptable and able to make friends relatively easy.  But I believe whole-heartedly that his school and the environment they have created there for the students has allowed him to reach his potential and surpass where he needs to be.  I have spent enough time with teachers and in schools to know that students are often not expected or encouraged to exceed expectations.  If we take the stance that “they only need to know x for next year” and then stop when they know “x” what good are we doing them.  For example, Noah only needs to be able to recognize the numbers and understand the number concept of 15 to be ready for kindergarten–he is up to 30.  In some schools (many) they would stop working on his numbers.  Not where he is–they allow and encourage the students to explore and never hold them back.

They have a part-time math teacher come in to teach geometry to the 3 students in 8th grade who are ready for that concept.  School should be about reaching potential and shattering expectations.  That is what higher ed has done for me.  I’m glad that is what the school we have chosen does.  I am glad there is no limit on what my kid will be able to achieve and if there is a limit–I will know it is self-imposed.  That I can work with.

This Wasn’t Suppose To Start Until He Was At Least 9

/ Dawn Kasal-Finley / 1 Comment

Yesterday I picked Noah up from school and he wasn’t happy.  Bad sign.  He told me that his best friend S had been mean to him all day.  They were at message center and she said something about how all of their friends were going in her car to a new school and only Noah would be left at their school.

First he said, “I told her all the kids couldn’t fit in her car.”–oh my logical little boy.

Noah is sensitive.  He doesn’t do mean and doesn’t understand mean–at least not intentional mean.  So of course, he doesn’t like her anymore.  Which couldn’t be further from the truth.  These two have been an inseparable pair since Aug 2009.  He is totally heartbroken and beside himself sad.  I knew that one day this would happen.  I just always thought it would be when they were older.  I don’t know all the details and they are young–it could totally blow over, but it doesn’t make it any easier knowing my little guy is “sick” over this.

I got an email this morning from hubs that Noah was staying home because his tummy hurts.  Really?  He isn’t sick.  They got all the way to school, but Noah wouldn’t stay today.  This is not like him–he loves schools and misses it on weekend and breaks.  I called and talked to him and know it’s because he is sad, stressed and anxious.  They play basketball together and I told Noah he had to go to basketball.  He said, “I’m telling her mom that she was mean to me.”

Oh boy.  This is what I get for thinking their little “romance” was cute.  I am not such a fan of the aftermath.  Can’t wait until we hit the “girls are disgusting and have cooties” stage.  Bring it.