Adoption Day!

Nutella and fruit-filled croissants and homemade lattes to start our day.

Beatha Anna Samedy Cluver and Jameson Edward Mesilas Cluver

While Anna does, indeed, prefer to go by her new, legal middle name, we preserved Beatha as her first name.  Anna and Edward honor multiple members of our extended families, along many branches of our clans.  Their previous Haitian surnames are kept, but now, as second middle names.

The 11:00 appointment flowed smoothly, quickly, and with thoroughness.  I'll have to bum some clearer shots from one of the grandparents in attendance, as my camera didn't function so well

(as you can see above).  (Did I mention I have really got to shop for a new camera?)

We followed up with a 12 o'clock lunch at Avanti's, and then desserts at my sister's.  

A lovely day.  Thank you, family!

And as all homework in our possession had already been completed by the day prior, the boys were free to play once back home; they took advantage of the late-season pampass grass in the far corner of the yard for creating a secret fort, complete with signs, boundary stakes, and checkers.

And as we will be booked solid this coming weekend, tonight was the only time available for pumpkin preparations.  This is Hunter's "ghost."

The artist sketches the features for her jack-o-lantern,

which once carved with help from Dad is then also painted by Anna;

pink polka dots, of course!

Jameson going all-in for the seed-scooping.

A-glow!  According to Jameson this is his first carved-and-lit pumpkin experience.

It was a monumental day, and yet, a day with children wherein life goes on even without fanfare.  Checkers, and pumpkins, and a dress with spaghetti stains to wash.  Showers done and back packs ready.  Immigration forms to process and over a year of time to wait before citizenship is within reach. 

At the conclusion of the hearing, as the judge prepared to make his official decision, his words to Chad and I did, however, give me pause.  We were finished answering questions confirming our occupations, the date on which the kids came into our care, and other technicalities, and to the two of us he said beautiful things, validating, sincere, meaningful compliments and congratulations.  That is when my lip quivered.  Today is a step in what has been and what will continue to be a lengthy, complicated, unpredictable process.  A step, nonetheless, worthy of pause and reflection. 

Last night we were going over the plans for the day, and Jameson was curious about what the judge would look like, and in that musing he said he likes "Obama." Then, I became curious and confused, and I told him that I doubted the President of the United States would be in our courtroom.  He corrected me, "No, I like him because he said I could get on the plane in Haiti and come here."

And with that, the merry-go-round stopped, and I remembered.  I remembered to remember.  The sights and sounds of death feeding live to CNN, emails and phone lines ablaze grasping desperately at loose straws to try to make ourselves of use to keep the kids at the orphanage alive and to get them evacuated to safety in the United States.  I wouldn't have a beaming Tiger or artistic Anna enriching our lives, sleeping beneath our roof, if it wasn't for the incredible, collective effort of diverse persons doing their best for children, and some luck, and God's grace.    I feel an overwhelming gratitude to so many people.  It began with two women on the ground in Haiti who started the chain, and would not leave until all of the children were allowed to leave with them.  Surrounded by death, they gambled for life, and our children won.

Thank you, Jamie and Ali McMutrie.

The White House.  The Haitian judge and US Embassy in Port-au-Prince. 

PA Governor Ed Rendell.  The City of Pittsburgh.

Our family, friends, and the new family-friends we've made along this journey.

And to all those who've made possible the kids' transition to our home in Illinois.

I'll close late this eve with Hunter's recent poem for English class:

Fun

Amazing

Master piece

Is wonderful

Living good

Your closest thing

Oh,

  .  .  .  and fresh bak-la-va-ahhhhhh!  A most fabulous guest speaker returned to my Geography classes for the 5th year running (thank you!) to share his Greek heritage with the freshmen  .  .  .  In addition to awesome stories about Greek culture and his fascinating up-bringing, motivational talk to the kids about dreams, goals, and staying out of trouble, this gentleman also treats us to my favorite Greek dessert.  His visits are always a huge hit, and my kids at home delight in his extra generosity of sending with me the remaining pastries. 

And it's Friday.  Breathe  .  .  .

(What would I do without ellipsis?)

Sashay . . . Sashay, Sashay, Sashay!

New brown fashion boots and new black fashion boots for one girl.  New black dress shoes and black fashion boots for the other.  I stuck to the list, and to the budget.  You should have seen the girls pop their steps and cock their shoulders as they walked the aisles to test the potential purchases -- a bit of extra bounce and sass when they found just the right pairs.  Exhausted mama admits the energy expenditure was well worth it.  Me tired.  We happy.

Love Thy Neighbor

I conjured this little ditty spring of '09 when we lost our dear neighbor, Virginia; every fall I am pulled strongly to think of her  .  .  .

Golden flakes waved through sun and breeze

From darkest branches of sugar maple

All around and above

The neighborhood glowed

A warmth.

On the first early morn

Working on our new, old home

A visitor arrives

With square hot glass

Bubbling with baked grain and cinnamon.

In a dark, frosty eve

We return the walk from

Our yard to hers,

And she welcomes us

Into heat of her house.

We sit upon sofa

Quiet and polite.

Virginia hears much, sees all,

Remembers everything.

She chats and compliments,

Embracing. 

Welcoming.

Calm.

After new leaves sprout

And sprinklers are set,

We perch upon lawn chairs

On the sizzle of sidewalk

Viewing the annual parade.

She summons the kids for candy

With smiles.

Always with smiles.

Before ants attach to wrappers sweet,

Treats are plucked from grass.

Return of the deep, yellowish-orange

Hovering in cool skies.

Geese fly,

And children climb the jungle gym,

Insulated by jackets and caps.

We return to this very spot

Of Autumn.

And I smell cinnamon

From memory

With eyes closed I pause.

Followed by ice and snow crystal.

And then another fresh spring

With lilacs and dogwoods.

Season after season

After season.

Degrees, wet, leaves, and blooms

Roll out, and on, and over.

Keep cuddled and bundled

then free to the sun.

But this vernal period she's left us,

And the breeze is cold.

She waited for our back lights to glow

To reassure of our presence,

But we haven't finished the new, back room,

Yet.

The neighborly dinners

And Ruehl Street teas

I'd envisioned clank loudly

As unfinished deeds.

If only I could have the grace of Virginia.

With a breath I look up,

Because she is home.



(The epitome of loveliness, dignity, and gentleness, Virginia was, indeed, a most fabulous neighbor, woman, and friend.  We miss her.)

Short Break

Hi.  I'm back.  I've not been blogging at my normal frequency, because, um, life has intervened with some children folk requiring a lot of extra.  A lot of extra.  Despite the throbbing vein in my brow, I still like these little people, and hence, the courtesy blotting-out of names in the photograph to the left.  Yes, these are the scraps-as-reminders to Chad and I so that in the chaos of comings and goings during the days and nights we can keep straight which youngin' is in which sort of solitary confinement or media diet.  This loveliness flanked by holiday pumpkins to be carved sometime (nightly question of "When?" answered nightly with "Closer to Halloween so they don't rot!"), and soon-to-be over-ripe 'nanas, and an army of plastic cups -- an army, I tell ya.

Ah, BUT, I am feeling a little (a wee little) like there is some cause-effect beginning to take hold for some kiddos -- to a higher degree (or deeper level) than previously with this go 'round of teaching, modeling, reinforcing, consequencing, reteaching, re-modeling  .  .  .  (Knock on wood, dance a jig, say a prayer.)

And I did make the smart choice last weekend to put out the fall decorations despite having too much that "needs to be done."  Because, frankly, this year, I have not YET gotten caught up, let alone, ahead on any-thing.  Not any thing.  So, a bit of sanity by a trip to happy seasonal decor land and then back to endless piles or just the endless piles?  Eventually the answer becomes as plain as the butt on a goat.  (Are goats' butts plain?  I suppose.  Odd phrase.  Thanks, Mom, for embedding that idiom into the recesses of the part of my brain responsible for language.) 

And as mentioned in the previous "To Light" post -- last weekend was weatherific  .  .  .  AND that is something that makes me relax, even if momentarily.  Because my camera is stinky, I will make a lame attempt to compensate with quantity ; )

The view out the front door made me smile repeatedly as I ventured between the core of the house where the kid action is and my little office nook at the front of the home. 

My digital could NOT capture the warmth and the golden hues, nor the gentle breeze that kept the dried grasses waving and crunchy leaves cascading steadily to the ground.  I walked out into the front yard several times for no reason other than to soak it up bit by bit.

 In a few more days, this tree across the street (sugar maple) will be a RICH orange.  Every year it reminds me of our first weekend at this address  .  .  .  late October in an old neighborhood, with lots of friendly "grandmas" as neighbors (bearing hot coffee cake and waves from porches),

 and towering old trees to envelope us with color.

 Seriously tried to snap shots of leaves twirling and swirling down all around me.  And failed.

And 3rd grade science projects came home.  Jameson created the Port-au-Prince earthquake with plastic, giant-Lego-style blocks (and tape to hold the building remains in precarious stages of collapse and rubble).  He, however, dismantled his work before Mama could take a pic.  Hoarder Bay, however, STILL has her masterpeice in her upstairs "classroom," and a photo is always necessary insurance should the beloved object become the result of an accident and cease to exist in it's original, glorious state.  In case you didn't readily identify it, THIS is Mt. Vesuvius, of course.

In this entirely overwhelming week (I'll spare you from any images of the Mt. Vesuvius of dishes in and around the area where I believe we still have a kitchen sink) I'm trying to call upon the happy place of crisp autumnal bliss, and hoping my desk at school doesn't erupt.

To Light . . .

Four days (last Fri through this Mon.) of the most awesomest uber good perfect fall weather EV-ER!  Just enough breeze to rustle a steady, downward flow of crunchy orange and brown leaves in our front yard and up and down our block.  Gorgeous!

Decaf coffee, still -- it's hot, rich.  (Two things I'm not.)

Teachers who are willing to email.  (ALL of my kids' teachers have provided blessedly helpful tidbits and check-ins.)

That I can read a magazine while walking on the treadmill without any tripping tragedies, yet.  Makes the 30-minute escape to the little local gym more of a mini-get-away.

Fall decorations.

A visit from a lovely gentleman from the MFHS '57 basketball team (1st to make state tourney for li'l ol' MF), bearing kind gifts of old history textbooks (1930s) and autumn-themed ceramic platter, creamer, and sugar  .  .  .  other sweet items, and a most pleasant conversation.

Firepit s'mores at a friend's house.

Having a husband that is hands-on, co-parent.  (I'd otherwise lose the rest of my mind.)

A Family Respected and Preserved

Go take a peak at http://mytriptohaiti.wordpress.com/

(I love those McMutrie ladies!)