Friendship

Every parent wants to imagine that his or her children are going to grow up and still be close friends.  We imagine our children supporting each other through the hard times; working together when we are aging and frail; our daughters going on shopping trips together; the older ones passing their parenting knowledge along as their nieces and nephews come along.  Some siblings stay close, others drift apart; some buckle down and support each other when the going gets tough, and some hide their weaknesses from their siblings at all costs.  What makes the difference?  We have our ideas, but in the end, we never really know.

So I don't know what the future holds, but this is what I see: I look into my living room, and I see the three best friends that childhood could imagine.  If you asked about their friends, they would each name someone from their respective classes, and then maybe a couple other kids in the same breath.  At this age, "friendship" means "we had fun playing together yesterday."  What they have with each other, is something more real than they can even understand.

Of course, friendship IS having fun playing together.  Which is the first part of it.... how can any outside friendship match the hours and hours and hours Hibiscus, Sunflower and Buttercup spend engaged together?  They wake up in the morning and tumble into each other's beds; by the time we come along to try to goad them into ridiculous concepts like "putting clothes on," they are already deep in their fantasy world of the morning.  If the day is pleasantly unscheduled, they will glide through a few hours of intense play negotiation until we manage to herd them all in the direction of breakfast, and they tumble straight from their toast into their own world.  Lately, there have been a lot of forts in the living room.  If left alone, they will continue to play for the entire day.  The forts turn into reading books; then there is a pack of dogs who need to go to the vet; toy trucks are zooming around for some urgent reason; baby dolls are comforted, wrapped, and fed snacks.  They are interrupted by the occasional negotiation gone awry, which involves some screaming and hurt feelings; and, like a very small herd of buffalo, migrate from the living room to the bedroom, and then right out the door to the yard.  When I serve lunch or snack, it is immediately co-opted into their imagination -- Sunflower holds the round cracker above his head, and suddenly they are all in a cathedral serving communion, intoning something serious.  The cheese comes in very handy, because the girls are dogs and Sunflower is trying to train them, so the snack is distributed in bits, hand to mouth.

If they day is unscheduled, they can fill it with play.  But if there are other things going on, they still discover all these moments to squeeze in their games, imagination, contests, and ideas.  Daddy and I are not at all amused when bedtime involves running up and down the halls, feats of strength, making up new songs, hiding and popping out, and millions of other high-jinx -- but there is no doubt that the kids are having fun!

Some families, probably the ones with outgoing mothers, are always going to play dates and on multi-family adventures and all kinds of activities.  We do things a couple times a week, but I've never been able to manage an active social life, and doubt I ever will.  Therefore, the sheer amount of hours that the three of them spend playing together will never be equaled by more distant play mates!


Then there's the support that they offer each other.  When it comes to sibling bonding and making lasting friendships, it's hard to imagine anything more powerful than three book-loving children, only one of whom can decipher the actual words.  Sunflower is constantly engaged to "read me this one" or "read me that," and they all huddle together, heads close, all potential arguments forgotten as they are lost in the picture book.  I am quite sure that this arrangement means that the girls have had more books read to them than a busy parent could ever manage, and that early-reader Sunflower has had more inspiration to extend himself and read massive amounts of books... even when he wanted to give up or at first thought the words were too hard.

Besides enjoying having a reader in their midst, they appreciate taking care of themselves and helping each other.  Children of this age feel really good when they are able to be self-sufficient, and the next best thing is keeping the sufficiency within the children.  When they are turning into horses to pull their covered wagon up and down the hallways, they all are relieved that Hibiscus can tie the knots to connect everyone together, and that she's big enough to actually move the "wagon;" that's much better than having to bring a grown-up into the play!  And when they want something read, written, spelled, or figured out, it feels much more reasonable to get Sunflower to do it.  By combining their skills, their group is much stronger, which clearly gives them all a deep satisfaction.  Buttercup doesn't have many strengths she can contribute just yet, but it's perfectly clear that most games are more fun with a third party.  What fun is being the mom and dad if you don't have a baby (or a dog) to play with?


Then there is the sense of justice that they extend to each other.  Now, we must start by acknowledging that they are all in the black-and-white stage of childhood that appreciates justice and rules much more than mercy and individual circumstances.  So, at bedtime when Hibiscus breaks several family policies and then isn't ready when the timer goes off, the younger children are happy to get into bed with me and smug that they have finished their jobs and get to listen to books.  "Shall I shut the door?" asks Sunflower.  "Yes, she is TOO LOUD," Buttercup complains about her tantruming sister.  Mercy and pity is not in evidence in the literal early childhood stage!

But when Sunflower has earned a privilege that is more nebulous, he may gloat for just a moment.  (Especially when Hibiscus has been particularly obnoxious lately, which was probably why he earned something she didn't.)  But then he starts to worry.  And finally he decides to share what he has with her -- "maybe I can be the leader, but she can come along too."  Or "what about Hibiscus? I'll make an extra one for her."

And when Hibiscus enjoys one of the privileges that age grants her, like going to a birthday party, she doesn't forget her siblings.  At a party a couple weeks ago, the other girls scolded her for picking up multiples of the same item from the pinata, but she braved her peers' scorn in order to bring home the same prizes she got for her brother and sister.

As for Buttercup, there is little she can actually do to help out her faster, stronger, and wiser siblings, but she honors them with unfettered adoration.  Which is a pretty powerful gift.


Buttercup is also reaching the point where she is a genuine part of the play process.  Last fall, Buttercup was always the baby of the family, to be hauled around, or the patient with a busy doctor and nurse surrounding her.  She still isn't the leader of their play, and she probably never will be, but now she is acting under her own agency -- she's a dog busily learning tricks, and her voice is heard saying "let's pee-tend I'm da one doin' dat" and "let's play dat I'm da dog now, okay?"  And she does and she is.  She is contributing her own personality, which enriches the game for everyone.  The children do not say this in so many words, but it is clear that everyone appreciates it.


So are the children best friends?  They wouldn't say they are, because they also make each other so intensely mad.

When Hibiscus is frustrated with the world, she is defiant to me, and goads Sunflower.  She especially goads Sunflower when being defiant to me isn't getting her anywhere interesting, which is always.  And she's very good at it -- perhaps he's exceptionally teaseable or trustworthy, but she can pretty much always make him crying mad, which is a good enough reward for her.  It's more likely that big sisters can always make their little brothers and sisters crying mad; it's just Nature's gift to big sisters!

Hibiscus is also excellent at telling her brother and sister what to do in exactly the way that frustrates them the most; the kind of advice they don't want to hear from a parent, but gently phrased they would understand that maybe the parent was right.  From Hibiscus it is never anything less than a grave insult, resulting in times when Buttercup screams "sto-AAAAAH-p, Hibiscus you not da PEEE-rent!" when Hibiscus even tries to speak to her.

And Buttercup is always being awkward and touching someone who doesn't want to be touched, or saying something when it stopped being funny any more, or copying when it's annoying or appreciative.  And Sunflower is not always graceful about defending his personal space, or using his words before he starts screaming.  He is busily capitalizing Nature's Gift to middle children, which is always presenting himself as the injured party in the eyes of the parents.  In short, they all drive each other crazy at times.


Because the friendship is so easy and always-present, and being mad is so very maddening, the negative feelings probably play a large role in how they think of each other.  They will compare their relationship with each to their relationships with their friends, and one day they will each say to themselves, "I'm so glad I have x friends, because we never shout at each other and x is always so friendly and supportive."  And then will start the age when they love to be with their friends, and they roll their eyes at the thought of their family and look forward to moving out and moving in with these wonderful people who are always supportive and never yell.

And then one day, they will move into a house with their best friends, or even find the very best of the friends and marry that person.  They will be so happy, because now they have found something so much better than their family of origin, who teased and yelled too quickly and touched when touching wasn't wanted.  Those siblings scolded them when their feelings were hurt, and always knew when they were trying to tell white lies and get away with something, and laughed at them when their outfit looked silly that day.  And those siblings yelled at them when the sibling was having a bad day, and acted grumpy, and they looked messy and were occasionally rude at the dinner table.  Unlike the wonderful friends, who never tease and never act like they have hurt feelings, and accept what you tell to them, and always appreciate your outfit.  And these much-improved friends always act polite, even when they're having a hard day, and having dinner together is a constant joy.

So they move in together.  And then the next step in this story is clear to anyone who has gone through adulthood, but blissfully concealed from the optimistic teen and young adult: the boundaries gradually come down, and everyday life settles in.  When the friends are comfortable with each other, they take out their bad days on each other; and when they're frustrated with each, angry feelings burst out instead of being put on an internal shelf.  Dinners are half-hearted or messy or something there's nothing to say to each other.  Compliments fade away, and the occasional sigh or rolled eyes sneaks in.  Some of those friendships weather the difficulties of being truly open and honest with each other, and some of them unravel.


But at that point, I think that grown-up child will look back.  And he or she will look on those hours and years of playing and talking and being joyful with his or her siblings.  And suddenly, all the frustrations and ugly edges of one's brothers and sisters seem a lot less important, because one realizes that everyone has ugly edges inside.  Instead, the grown-up child remembers how the siblings didn't let him look stupid in public; or shielded her from outside anger.  Or simply, they remember the hours and years of pure, simple joy in being together; the joy of escaping into a fantasy world, accompanied by people who truly and completely understand and accept you.

And all of a sudden, those brothers and sisters start looking an awful lot like true friends.

Catch-up

I have many beautiful thoughts and ideas that have been mulling around in my head to share with you, but today, I'm going to write a very different post.  I have tried to write this blog envisioning that each post could stand as its own story or chapter in a book, but today I'm going to write some catch-up and descriptions of some changes, so the readers who have been keeping up with me can follow some things.



First of all, names and pictures.  When I started writing I used the names of our family members, and the day I went to the orphanage I knew I needed to protect the identity of the children, so I used what were obvious pseudonyms, as flower names.  However, as I continue to write, it seems odd that I am calling one of my children by his given name and the other children by a flower name.  I kind of like the image of my children as my garden of flowers, so I am switching all to flower names, and they also like the idea of having their own flower names.  So from here on out, I'm calling Emerson "Sunflower."

When the girls were partly or officially wards of the Ugandan state, sharing their pictures was prohibited.  Now that they are our daughters, I am not so worried about privacy and I do share pictures in some places on the internet.  However, I think that mostly stories in words fits the intended purpose of this blog, which is sharing ideas, stories and experiences of parenting, especially as it applies to adoption.  So there may be the occasional picture, but this will not turn into a picture-based blog.



There have been some significant logistical events this summer.  The biggest one: our paperwork has gone through the American courts, and my husband and I have officially adopted Hibiscus and Buttercup, granting us all the privileges of parenthood and the girls all the privileges of American citizenship.  This is both exciting and anti-climactic; we just got a letter in the mail with some judicial stamps on it.  After all the drama for every single little bit of official-ness we had to fight for in Uganda, it is either refreshing or astoundingly disappointing that it's so easy in this country!

The paperwork also confirms Buttercup's birthday: August 10th, 2010.  Her original Ugandan paperwork, which was filled out when we began the adoption process, had put a random birthday, and since clearly the parents had just filled out Hibiscus's paperwork, they just repeated the same date a few years later.  We felt strongly that she was older than that date, and after observing her progress and her development for a while, we asked for her birthday to be changed about six months earlier.  I feel this is the absolute youngest that she could be, and based on how several of her developmental categories are still above this age, it's quite likely that she is actually several months older.  However, we didn't want her to be bumped up a grade in school, so we aimed for summer.  We chose August 10th because that is the first day that the girls started to live with us.  I figured that if Buttercup would one day have to face the sad reality that no one had cared enough about her to even remember when she was born, and thus her "birth" day was in some ways meaningless, at least the memory could be paired with the date being a special and meaningful one, and a time when people did care about every aspect of her being.

So, Buttercup just turned four years old.  She will have three years of mixed-age kindergarten, and enter first grade right after she turns seven.  We are in the middle of switching stair steps in my two-years-apart stair-step children: Sunflower will be six in December, and is in his final and "real" kindergarten year,  and Hibiscus is still solidly seven, with her birthday in the middle of winter, and starting second grade.  They are each two years apart in school, and a little less than two years apart in birthdays.



In related news, do you want to know how big they are?  I don't know exactly how big they were when we got them, but Hibiscus was slightly taller and definitely lighter than Sunflower when we first met, which would have put her around 35 pounds.  Just over a year later, she weighs 58 pounds!  Buttercup gained a pound a month for a while, but just when I worried that at this rate she was going to be bigger than I was, she started eating like a toddler and is hanging out around 32 pounds.... almost double what I imagine was around 17 when we got her.  But that was a total guess; the local scales started at 10 kilos (22 pounds), so the doctors just wrote that on her cards, because it was the closest number to the barely-moving little red line.  I guess there are a lot of 10-kilo toddlers in Uganda!



Sadly, this spring the girls' biological mother passed away.  This was not unexpected, and she was so ill she was probably relieved to go.  She also had not been active or present in the girls' lives for several years, and I didn't see either of them choosing to interact with her during the times that we saw her.  I am very sad for the girls, insofar that one day when they might want to understand what happened that led to their adoption, or understand the complexities of their birth family, they will not be able to reconnect with their birth mother and learn her story.



Everything that I write about the girls, I did it with the consciousness of what they would be willing to share or have known about them.  One of the parts of their story that I carefully omitted is that they have an older sister, whom the parents did not place for adoption.  Her name is Patricia, she is only a little bit older than Hibiscus, and the father wanted to keep one child near him, although we believe that she lives most of the time with an auntie.  I chose to not write about her in the blog, because I knew this was precious information to Hibiscus (and Buttercup, although she was not so cognizant about it), and I wanted to follow her lead.  Well, by this point she has made very clear that she wants to talk about Patricia.  So I am choosing to put her name here, so that all of you can remember Patricia and pray for her if it moves your heart.

And I hope this also clarifies the tragedy that is adoption, which is part of which I want to help people understand.  It is so easy to see that our girls have gained so much when gaining a family by adoption, but we never forget they have also lost a family by adoption.  And the birth parents' difficult decision to send two of their children to "a better life," and keep one of them close, in the misery and squalor of their current existence, also highlights some of the pain and difficult decisions that the entire family suffered through.

On a practical note, we are still in touch with people in Kampala who are in touch with the birth family, but that's as far as it goes.  The birth family is too poor (and too sick) to have the links of communication that we take for granted, such as being able to receive a cell phone call or access email.  So at this point I have confidence that if anything major happens to the birth family, we will hear about it.  And we can send pictures or news bits through the people that we know.  But sadly, there is no practical way for Patricia to have any kind of back-and-forth with her sisters at this point.


And now, on to some interesting stories!