Time is the fire in which we burn. ~Delmore Schwartz

It’s been two months since my last post.  And since I’ve received a complaint from a follower that he’s tired of rereading my September 17^th post, I’m motivated to write a new one.  My first thought is, Where have the last two months gone?  And for most people, the same answer applies:  just day to day “stuff.”  The daily (sometimes mind numbingly boring) details of running a household and parenting four children.  A few points of excitement:  Lucas broke his arm jumping from the playground equipment at school, Thomas enrolled in judo, and I took a girls’ Eid holiday to Istanbul (which ranks as one of my new favorite cities—blog to follow on the trip soon).

I follow a friend’s blog on Facebook and he’s an unofficial accountability person, of sorts.  I’ve known him for 15 years (that in itself is an appalling fact), but he’s one of the two people I go to for advice.  He’ll happily throw the “bullshit” flag.  Think about it, how many friends will give you the benefit of total honesty?  Support you--yes, but not let you wallow in self-pity when you’re fully capable of pulling yourself out of the mud.  This much wiser friend writes an incredible blog on happiness and inner truth.  The Ministry of Happiness page on Facebook:  https://www.facebook.com/#!/pages/Ministry-of-Happiness/155023134520961.  Quite often, I use it as a guide when I need a little help figuring out what I want, what I can change, what I can live with, and what will ultimately bring me the most happiness and allow me to be most at peace.  There’s a reason almost every culture has the adage, “If mama’s not happy. . .”

And as I review my last post, I'm slightly more encouraged.  I took some time to look at the issues I was unhappy with and tried to determine whether: a) I could change them b) if I couldn’t change them immediately, when would I be able to change them (as with most things, I find I work best with a timeline—perhaps the OCD in me just likes to check off things?).  Regardless, I’ve made a plan.

For starters, I’ve enrolled in a distance learning program at the University of Georgia in a reading education program.  This will fulfill the credit hours I need to reinstate my teaching license. 

But most importantly, I’ve taken some steps toward my goal of obtaining a doctorate in gender studies (the application’s finished, the GRE is scheduled for December 5^th).  One of the main benefits presented in moving to Abu Dhabi was the suggestion that I would finally have the opportunity to go back to school.  Although, the idea has been met with a lukewarm reception.  I would have to take partial blame for that.  I work incredibly hard to make sure my family is comfortable.  And understandably, while I pursued a degree (and afterward, a career—hopefully, in six years, the job market will experience an upswing); this comfort level would inevitably change.  Perhaps that is for the best.  Millions of women have returned to the work force (or never left), and the family unit continues.  The family is forced to take on more responsibility (or rather divide it equally), the children become more independent, and hopefully everyone is happier, simply because “Mom” has a fulfilling career that involves something outside the home.

I’ve come to realize my children will not necessarily appreciate I’ve put off goals for parenthood.  Maybe they will as they age and maybe it won’t happen until after they become parents and realize how much is required to keep everything afloat, while madly treading water to prevent your own drowning.  My hope is: they’ll appreciate the independence they developed, they will admire the strength it took to start something new and only slightly terrifying, and finally will emulate the perseverance it takes to finish a task, while having to temporarily compromise other aspects of your identity.  Yes, my time as an active mother will decrease for a while, but ultimately, my goals will be met and I’ll have something that I can be excited to wake up to every morning.  To close, I read this quote and realized, this is what I want—respect for mad courage.  Mad courage is what it’s going to take to keep all these things afloat.

One of the very few reasons I had any respect for my mother when I was thirteen was because she would reach into the sink with her bare hands - bare hands - and pick up that lethal gunk and drop it into the garbage. To top that, I saw her reach into the wet garbage bag and fish around in there looking for a lost teaspoon. Bare hands - a kind of mad courage. ~Robert Fulghum

The great majority of us are required to live a life of constant duplicity. Your health is bound to be affected if, day after day, you say the opposite of what you feel, if you grovel before what you dislike, and rejoice at what brings you nothing but misfortune. ~Boris Pasternak

This is an incredibly difficult post to write and touches on two main subjects: homesickness and happiness. However, anytime I take a moment of reflection, it is extraordinarily difficult to look at myself with the same kindness as I do others. This is not a phenomenon. We are all kinder to others than ourselves.

When I was visiting, a friend told me much she enjoyed my blog and how positive she couldn’t believe I was and how she’d never have been able to do it. Which I doubt—you do what you have to do and I have been blessed with strong people in my life (there are no doubts she could handle anything thrown at her).

But, truthfully, I’ve had a horrible time adjusting. Sam went from a job in the States to a job here; the children went from a school in the States to a school here, and me. Well . . . that’s a different story. I went from a place where I had great friends and family and activities that I enjoyed to nothing.

That’s not to say there are not enjoyable things here (the earlier posts explore that). I’ve made friends (some of which have become close friendships) in the expat community and I am struck by the fact that moving to such a strange world for the purpose of having a completely different life experience—what you end up truly wanting is “home.” Think about anytime you’ve traveled overseas and how you’re more than a little excited when you find an American.

I was told by many people that going back to the States would assuage that homesickness and I’d be so glad to be back in the UAE. But, driving through the Smoky Mountains, I had to fight back the tears just a bit. Then, I found an intense irony in how I’d worked all my life to get out of the sleepy town I grew up in to find myself desperately wanting to be back. I miss the South with an intensity I didn’t know possible. At the heart of it all, we crave understanding and people who know us. There is a comfort in being around those who have known us since early childhood. The friendship that Edith Wharton describes as, “There is one friend in the life of each of us who seems not a separate person, however dear and beloved, but an expansion, an interpretation, of one's self, the very meaning of one's soul.”

Those are the people we miss most when we’re gone. Everyone has that friend that despite them being apart for years, always seems like no time has passed when you see each other.

Ultimately, I’m a fake. I’ve put on a marvelous show of keeping my head high and maintaining my positive attitude, hoping it would be enough to dislodge this perpetual lump in my stomach. There are certain things here that I find mortifying as an American woman: in order to go back to school, I have to submit Sam’s financial documents. And I can’t even open my own checking account without actual employment. Finding a teaching job has been a nightmare. These are all things outside my control.

Although, the most aggravating factors are those that were within my control: allowing my teaching license to expire, not going back to work when I truly wanted to do so, allowing myself to be persuaded that unless a career made a lot of money, it really wasn’t worth doing, allowing important issues to fall by the wayside for fear of “rocking the boat.” These are my fault, but fortunately, not irreparable. With time, they will be remedied. It’s not to say I’ve regretted the use of my time—I stayed home with the children. I’m a good parent, an excellent wife, and I maintained a comfortable life for my family. A certain amount of this was at expense to me, but the sacrifice was usually made willingly. But, I’ve reached a point where the resources have been depleted and I’m ready to find something that makes me hop out of bed in the morning.

Despite the incredible changes the last year have brought, I find myself the same. And I’m tired. I’m ready to do more and be more, and over time I’m ready to take back the things I’ve given up and choose to make myself happy. The children don’t want a miserable mom any more than I wish to be one.

For now, my friends are my buoy. My new friends here, my friends back home: thanks for keeping me centered and encouraging me. Change is a good thing.

The only difference between a rut and a grave is their dimensions. ~Ellen Glasgow

There is a time to take counsel of your fears, and there is a time to never listen to any fear. ~George S. Patton

As I look back on the 10th anniversary of 9/11, I (as I'm sure many) have very complex feelings. This is somewhat compounded by the fact that I live in a Muslim country. And I continue to realize how much of our fear is motivated by misunderstanding, which quite often turns into prejudice. I've had an opportunity to have many conversations with people regarding this issue (American and otherwise). Certain things I heard growing up from teachers, parents, religious leaders I have found to be only slight shades of truth, if not complete and total falsehoods. But, I’ll leave that for another post as there are more pressing issues. . .
While I have grieved for the people killed, their families, and our nation and world, my thoughts often turned to those intimately involved with 9/11. For those interviewed in positions of responsibility and power in the wake of 9/11, there have been determinations there was “nothing” they could have done. They did their jobs and when they realized the magnitude of terror, they continued to do their jobs (oftentimes putting aside their own fear and concern, and sometimes lives, for themselves and families) in the hopes that as many people could be saved as possible.
9/11 forever changed the scope of our world. While it happened on American soil, there were victims from over 90 nationalities. We were united as a world: disbelief, horror, grief, compassion, sincerity. We were brought together by horrific circumstances and over time as our collective psyche healed, we resolved ourselves to the idea “There are very few monsters who warrant the fear we have of them (Andre Gide).”
Some have continued their lives by simply putting one foot in front of the other, realizing “today is the worst day you’ll ever have. Tomorrow will be a little better and each day will continue to improve.” This is not to discount the horror, but to simply understand how grief and disbelief are intertwined. Some continue to seek help for stress. Some have never been able to return to their jobs.
As I continue my introspection, I am choosing to keep an open mind. That is not to say I don’t experience fear, uncertainty, hesitancy as these are quite often useful emotions that will protect you at a primal level. But, I will travel, I will meet people, I will experience the world. Living in fear is simply no way to live. And I can’t be held hostage by the possibility of what might happen.
To close, I’ll continue to steal from another wise person; I’ve copied and pasted TG’s status update from September 11th:
“Today is not a day for memory. Everyday is.
Remember to not be filled with hate.
Remember to not treat people like things.
Remember that it is the collective sum of all of our choices that create the world we live in. Your choices are important. Even the small ones.
Namaste'. I honor that part of you that is also in me."

Fear makes strangers of people who would be friends. ~Shirley Maclaine

Ethiopia Revisited--It is not flesh and blood but the heart which makes us fathers and sons. ~Johann Schiller

It's been two years since our trip to Ethiopia to adopt Helen. Wow! Two years already.
I was eating lunch with the children a couple days ago and saw what was obviously an American adoption group at another table. Everyone knows my penchant for striking up conversations with random strangers, so I had to go over. Looking at the new families, I was struck at how I must have looked two years ago. Exhausted, wide-eyed, a little nervous of this little person with whom I was now in charge. . .families that were adding siblings (as ours was) or brand-new parents with infants who were just trying to figure out what in the heck was going on with this tiny person. It was a strange moment, remembering the past, yet living very much in the moment with my Ethiopian daughter.
Then, I realized I was a bit selfish. Thinking only of my experience, I wondered what Helen must have thought when she met us. "Two big Farenjis bringing me shoes, candy, and books" must have been at the forefront. I also thought back on the horrific afternoon when she cried for two hours straight and I could do nothing to soothe her. I have never had a more frustrating parenting experience in my life. It must have been equally horrifying for her. Strange smells, new language, strange looking people, weird food--no wonder the child was scared out of her mind. After two hours of holding and trying to soothe my child, I'm not ashamed to say I just gave up and put her down in bed. A few minutes later, she had fallen asleep, and I looked at this sweet, little pudgy cheeked face, and wondered what in the hell had I gotten myself into?! Why did I think I could do this? I began doubting myself. As a woman, as a parent, especially as a person--who could turn their back on a child, who by what little information we had, had been abandoned?
Then, I understood I needed to give myself a break. We were both way out of our comfort zones. I was reminded of Lucas and what a difficult baby he was. And how, I still didn't feel connected to him after more than six weeks. And he was my biological child. How could I expect an instantaneous bond with a child who was 2 1/2? And I realized how much unrealistic pressure I'd put on Helen and myself. Did I expect gratitude? Or love? Or all of the above? Anyone with children has experienced the egocentrism that only children have.
I saw I was selfish. I expected Helen to automatically love me. And when she favored Sam over me, I took it personally. I left it to him to provide a majority of the affection to her, while simultaneously convinced I could do it myself. Talk about shooting myself in the proverbial foot.
At some point, I realized I was losing myself with my daughter. After experiencing some anxiety issues, I asked for help. Luckily, I found a therapist who had experience with adoption.
At the session, I was surprised. I was reassured I was normal. Bonding takes time, give yourself a break. Stop trying to force a relationship and relax. It will happen.
Two years later, I'm happy to report this is true. Looking at the new families, remembering my own hesitation, looking at Helen now and seeing my amazing, bright, silly, loving daughter, I was able to assure the new families that, "Look, see, this is what happens when you open your heart."
I'm not saying everything is beautiful and wonderful, we still have our moments when Mom and Daughter are not exactly getting along and I imagine this will repeat itself over the years. But now, when we have these moments of frustration and even anger, I look at the core of myself and realize that what I feel for her is love. With that, and maybe a pedicure, we can get through anything.

"The family. We were a strange little band of characters trudging through life sharing diseases and toothpaste, coveting one another's desserts, hiding shampoo, borrowing money, locking each other out of our rooms, inflicting pain and kissing to heal it in the same instant, loving, laughing, defending, and trying to figure out the common thread that bound us all together." ~Erma Bombeck

The most beautiful discovery true friends make is that they can grow separately without growing apart. ~Elisabeth Foley

As usual, it's been too much time since my last entry (thanks to CC for the reminder/kick in the rear). Sam went to Addis Ababa, Ethiopia on June 11th to teach a summer course at the university. I stayed in Abu Dhabi with the children until they finished school and we've since flown to Addis as well. We will be here until July 11th, at which point we'll fly back to Abu Dhabi and I'll spend the next 10 days or so trying to strengthen my resolve for the trans-Atlantic flight with four children.
Coming to Addis was good practice for July and our trip to the States, we managed to carry only four suitcases (one of which was donations), and Jack's playpen. Also, one was a carry-on size--so, who really counts that anyway? Pretty good for five people. And, we only left one thing at the airport. So, it's getting a little easier. People who've traveled with children, please tell me I'm not the only one who's left things behind at the airport. Please?!
As I reflect on the trip back to the States, my mind can't help but turn toward relationships. The real reason we're going back to the States. Although, I jokingly claim it's for Target, Michaels, and Chick-fil-A. The real reason we're going back is for people.
The friends you make that you "click" with and feel like you've know your entire life. Those you HAVE known your entire life and still manage to like, despite knowing all there is to know. And most importantly (and sometimes overlapping), those you know you can call at 3 AM to bail you out of jail, help hide the body, etc.
The one common thing that binds these relationships is that all require nurturing in order to flourish. As a garden, friendships grow and strengthen based on the amount of time you put into it. We've all had friends who swear to KIT. And over time and circumstance, the communication fades, and the friendship follows. Occasionally, there is the rare friendship where you don't often speak, but are able to pick up where you left off (MDB, yes you).
Moving has reminded me of the value of friendships. All of them in their different intricacies have added to my life. For those of you I talk to on a daily to weekly basis, those I talk to on a monthly or longer basis, and those I rarely talk to. . .know you are a valued part of my life. There is a saying that says you can tell a person's character by the company they keep. If that is true my character is: loyal, strong (sometimes stubborn), giving, creative, oftentimes fabulous (SB, you know that's you!), and the list goes on. . .
And as we continue to get settled in Abu Dhabi, I am blessed to find comfort in new friendships. Those, especially, who have been a sounding board with the kids and with adjusting to a new culture. One, in particular, has been a constant source of support and encouragement (thanks, LS). Others have been a much needed oasis of escape for girl chat and drinks out (EB and JE, that's you).
So, to all friends, new and old, near and far, thank you for helping make me who I am. Hope to see you all soon!


In everyone's life, at some time, our inner fire goes out. It is then burst into flame by an encounter with another human being. We should all be thankful for those people who rekindle the inner spirit. ~Albert Schweitzer

What is a friend? A single soul dwelling in two bodies. ~Aristotle

First, my apologies to all who follow the blog in that it's been way too long.
Life is further settling into a more reliable pace. We have schooling straigthened out for next year. Lucas and Helen will attend School A, while Thomas will attend School B (where he is currently). By the beginning of the school year, we will have a car, so we can say "Goodbye" to the 5:40 AM wake-up call. Thomas seemed pleased to stay at his current school. From the covert sightings on campus from reliable sources: he fits in, has become "one of the most popular kids in his class," was spotted with a blonde at the playground and is, apparently, quite the player.
Currently, Sam is in Ethiopia. He's teaching finance at Addis Ababa University. This was another benefit for the move to Abu Dhabi. Being so close to Ethiopia, we knew we'd have a frequent opportunity to travel to Helen's homeland. Sam will be there two weeks before we get there. Actually, 11 more days, but who's counting?
The kids are very excited to visit Ethiopia. Of the three who are old enough to comprehend, Thomas is probably the most excited. The first thing he wants to buy is a traditional Ethiopian outift, so he can wear it and "look just like everyone else there." No one's going to notice the Norwegian looking blonde child with ice blue eyes. Got Farenji?
And, I have to say, I love that about the children. It's not to say they don't notice color or they're "colorblind." To raise your children in a world that's colorblind negates the unique qualities between us. However, I like that despite the fact they understand race, it just doesn't matter. Helen is "African" or "from Ethiopia" or as she calls herself, "Chocolate." It's really not an identifying factor. Especially in Abu Dhabi. Everyone is from somewhere else. Asking, "Where are you from?" does not hold the implication it often did in the States. Here, it simply means, "Where are you from?" Everyone from America is American, regardless of color. "You from America? I love America too much! Obama is too much good!"
Which might be why I'm looking forward to going back to the US. There's always something exciting about going "home." At some point, Helen will have this feeling about two places. Ethiopia is not her home country in her mind now (as she remembers very little, other than our home), but we are trying to raise her in a way that allowsher to have pride in the fact that she is of two cultures.
And, in the end, that's really all you can do. Raise them to be good people, be kind to others. . .no matter where in the world they're from.

To end, Dennis Leary said it best: Racism isn't born, folks, it's taught. I have a two-year-old son. You know what he hates? Naps! End of list.

The more you eat, the less flavor; the less you eat, the more flavor. ~Chinese Proverb

I'm on the road to recovery. The experience with the doctor was great. Although, hopefully one I won't have to repeat.
A few things happened that have caused some twinges of homesickness. Easter being one, of which I spoke a little about in a previous post.
Mother’s Day was a little strange. Very anticlimactic and I realized the reason for that is the lack of commercials on most of the TV channels. There are no commercials on the children’s channels (which makes holidays MUCH nicer). Also, Sunday is a workday, so no pressure for an all day celebration. The kids made cards and we went for ice cream.
But, honestly, the thing that set me back in my homesickness was a recent “Throwdown with Bobby Flay.” He was competing with a guy in Raleigh making ribs and baked beans. I almost cried. Okay, not really. But, it struck me at how much food is part of our identities. And here’s where I’m going to get controversial. I like Eastern AND Western barbecue equally. Vinegar based, tomato based, just baste the hell out of it, and it’s good with me! They have pork sections in a couple of the groceries here, but it’s really not the same as what you can get back home. That doesn’t mean I’m not going to make some anyway.
Which led me my next thought (I realized here I think about food way too often). Everything is becoming fusion. It’s extremely difficult to find what would be labeled as Emirati cuisine. It’s all a mishmash of grilling and spices, the Mediterranean influences washing over and combining into something particularly unique to this area, but still tasting like something you’ve had before.
Think about your own cooking style. For me, I know there’s a huge southern, soul food influence. But, I also have my mother’s German influence and my Dad’s “experimental” flair (sometimes for the worst, his pumpkin orange raisin bread is a recipe that will stay buried deeply in the recesses of trial gone wrong). New Orleans is one of my favorite American cities, so I cook a lot of Cajun and the snobbier, Creole, cuisines as well. And now, I’m finding the Middle Eastern influence creeping in. And I realize, for cooks (professional and home), we’re just one big fusion of flavors. But, doesn’t it sound fancier? Fusion cuisine. As Americans, it shouldn’t be surprising. And for Abu Dhabi, with its myriad expatriate societies, I’ve yet to find one place that was strictly one ethnicity. It’s all a hodgepodge of flavors.
Try this the next time you eat. Take a minute to really taste your food (you’ll probably eat less this way, too). See if you can taste where the cultures merge.

Nothing would be more tiresome than eating and drinking if God had not made them a pleasure as well as a necessity. ~Voltaire