stateside
We're back in Miami. We had an amazing visit in Haiti. A-MA-ZING. Every part of it went so well. We had such a good visit with Keanan, a quick and easy signing at the courthouse, a great time with friends in Haiti, and (so far) no flight delays. And Karis: ROCK STAR. She did so well, and now she has a stamp to go with that adorable little passport photo, which had many a customs agent laughing, too.
We spend the night here, and then on to LA in the morning. Can't wait to kiss my big kids. Pictures soon!
matching superfamily
(Thanks to Lisa Blah Blah for the matching idea.)
We went out and bought some matching shirts for the family - just a small little thing, but I think it meant a lot to the kids. They thought it was very fun that we all had superhero shirts on today. In fact, Jafta and India called us the "superfamily". Nice. Really, it was just the only t-shirt I could find in size infant all the way to adult. But they don't need to know that.
All this matching lead me to a fun idea for Keanan. We usually make a photo book every time we go down, and this time, I took a photo of each of us holding his picture. I also bought him the same shirt, so that he can wear it while we are there. (I also put the pictures on the top of the blog, because I like to supremely waste time with useless projects when I should be packing.)
I think we are all packed, but it is always an adventure packing with an infant, and always an adventure packing for Haiti. The combination of the two led to a slightly stressful day, since there is no option of just running to Target if you forget a pacifier. Or diapers, as I've been prone to do. We have four huge duffel bags each weighing in at just under 50 pounds, full of donations. THANK YOU FACEBOOK FRIENDS.
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Packing was stressful, but I think I'm feeling a little sense of dread, too. As much as I love visiting our little boy, it's also extremely painful. Saying goodbye at the end of each visit has got to be the most painful thing I've experienced so far as a mother. It is excrutiating to leave him behind as we go back to our lives in the states. This has been weighing heavily on me all day as I think through our trip. Keanan is always on my mind - there is not a day that doesn't go by where I'm not thinking of him. But I can busy myself at home. When we are in Haiti, it often feels like I am smacked in the face with the reality of our story. And that story - the fact that we have been trying to adopt him for TWO YEARS and we have no end in sight - that reality is one that I can't run from in Haiti. I have gotten good at avoiding my feelings on this subject, and today I got a real sense of the pain that is lying under the surface. I was vaccilating between wanting to punch something and wanting to cry all day long. My goal for the day was to have a nice family day with Jafta and India before I leave them for the better part of a week. Instead, I spent the day acting like I was auditioning for Mommy Dearest.
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And I really think I could have won the part.
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I am going to do my best to just be in the moment on our visit - to enjoy our time with Keanan, and enjoy some time with the amazing people we've come to know in Port-au-Prince. I am gonna try not to let the dread of our goodbye color the entire trip.
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I am also gonna try not to reach across the table when we sign in front of the judge, and grab him by the collar and scream at him to MOVE OUR FREAKING PAPERS ALONG ALREADY.
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Maybe at that point I will pretend I am auditioning for the part of Michelle Duggar. She might be a better choice.
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P.S. Oh yeah, Karis? Running a fever all day long today. If you are of the praying kind, I will take them please.
99 problems but the passport ain't one
Phewsh. We have a passport.
cold-blooded, ya'll
Today was the first time in a very, very, very long time that we have all been home with nothing on the schedule. And when I say nothing on the schedule, I mean nothing besides sorting donations and packing suitcases and buying last-minute supplies and treating our clothes with insect repellant and checking the passport status website every five minutes.
You know. A free day.
Once again, thanks to our amazing friends and a pleading status update on Facebook, we have four huge suitcases full of supplies to take to Haiti. This pretty much makes up for all of the time I have wasted on Facebook over the last year. (Mark, please do not comment on that sentence).
The last time I took a small child to Haiti, I was worried about spraying chemicals all over my cherubic young daughter, so I opted for using chemical-free bug spray. This is what happened:
This time, I will be going industrial-strength on the chemical bug spray. Today, I treated every piece of clothing AND the carseat with fabric bug repellant. Karis may grow a third arm after this trip, but she better not get a malaria-infected mosquito bite.
Speaking of pests, we had a little excitement at the house today. As Mark and I were working in the backyard, we heard a blood-curdling scream coming from the entryway of the house. This screaming was so piercing and so manic that I thought surely someone had been mortally wounded. Had India been impaled? Was there a drive-by shooting? Did a UFO land in the yard?
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Um, no. This is how India screams any time she sees a fly/spider/bug/lizard. Today, it happened to be a lizard in the entryway. India continues to scream loud enough to bring the neighbors running, while I try to calm her down, and while Jafta sets about to catch the lizard. Jafta valiantly removed the lizard into the yard, but before I knew what was happening, I hear Jafta say, "Look, mommy, there is a worm there now!" I turn around to see something large, writhing on the floor. And before I can intervene, India sees it, and Jafta simultaneously realizes what's going on. Time moves in slow-motion for a minute, as I try to hand-motion to Jafta to shut the hell up, and as he gleefully ignores me and announces to his sister (and all concerned neighbors): "It's the tail! It's the lizard tail! STILL MOVING!"
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At this point, I feel my own blood-curdling scream forming in my throat, because this is quite possibly the most disgusting thing I have ever seen - this tail, moving on it's own. Somehow, I managed to supress my terror, because the last thing I need is for India to see her own mom losing her marbles over something small and harmless.
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I think she's a little traumatized, though. After we put her to bed, I heard her screaming bloody murder, again. I went into her room, exasperated, wondering what could possibly be wrong. A moth? A fly? What?
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"There's a lizard, mommy! A lizard!"
IN THE ROOM, INDIA? There's a lizard IN YOUR ROOM?
"No, mommy. Before. There was a lizard. Before."
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Okay. So just the memory is causing her to scream like she is being kidnapped or something. And now she is totally hypervigilant and scared of every little noise she hears. Seriously - I know phobias in children this age are fairly common. But she is killing me with the drama.
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In other news of drama, we also have to go back to the airport, because I SPILLED WATER ALL OVER THE PAPER TICKET that we were issued for Karis. Because I am awesome,
Also, we have no passport yet. In the morning, I will make the trek up to LA, and sit there until I have one. Things might get ugly. But I'm gonna do my best not to scream.
the passport problem, and staying off the ledge
I'm feeling a little edgy this week. Could be all the traveling we've been doing this month. Could be the impromptu trip to Haiti we are taking next week. Could be the fact that Mark is at a training all weekend in LA. Could be the three kids thing, the nursing thing, the not-sleeping thing . . . could just be a little lingering post-partum crazy. Whatever the reason, I've been finding myself a little overwhelmed. Okay, a lot overwhelmed.
This morning I got myself into a little panic that we leave Wednesday morning for Haiti, and Karis still has no passport. The handy-dandy online status check tells me that the passport is now "in process". Well thank you, government internet portal. How very helpful and specific of you to tell me that.
I decided to actually call the passport office - which is indication #1 that I'm on edge, because I typically do everything in my power to avoid actually using the phone. After sitting through aproximately 341 automated prompts, I finally got to an operator. I explained the situation. He explained the typical wait time is 2-3 weeks. He pointed out that I allowed for less time than that to process this passport, and basically told me that I should cancel our trip.
Cue me, out on the ledge.
Fortunately, I was feeling a little fiesty, and asked if I could speak to someone else within his office that might have a bit more compassion. And yes, that is the exact wording I used. He got a supervisor, who suggested I make an appointment at the LA regional office. The first available is Monday. We leave Wednesday.
He wouldn't say so outright, but he hinted that perhaps I could leave with a passport that day. I've hunted around online and seen that other people have gotten passports in one day. I NEED TO GET A PASSPORT IN ONE DAY.
I do not like adventure. I do not like surprises. I do not liking driving to LA. This situation is not sitting well with me. I am really, really hoping that tomorrow when I check the Supremely Helpful and Specific Online Passport Updater, that it will tell me "already on the way to your house via overnight mail, no need to drive to LA".
There's a chance, right? Right?!?
"but Jafta doesn't match"
India is in a stage where she is sorting and categorizing everything she sees. She likes looking at things in her world and pointing out the things that are the same, and then the things that are different. It's a great skill for her to be developing at this age (and probably one bolstered by lots and lots of Sesame Street).
However. One of the things that she has been noticing, as of late, is the fact that she and Karis "match", and she and Jafta "don't match". She comments on this fact with alarming enthusiasm several times a day. "Look, mommy! Karis and I have the same hair! But not Jafta! He doesn't match!" "Mommy, Karis and I are lighter. But not Jafta. He's darker. He doesn't match us." Every time she says something like this, I die a little inside. It sounds so cruel - and yet her intentions are not cruel. She is only making observations about color, hair and skin and eye color that do not hold the historial and familial weight that punches me in the gut every time she brings it up. For her, it is not an insult or an idictment about Jafta's status in our family, or in the world. It's just a little game of sorting, stated in the same wide-eyed curiosity as when she notices that her lunch box and shoes are the same shade of pink.
But for Jafta - sweet Jafta, her observations are hurtful. He pouts and slumps when she says it, turning to me and imploring, "who matches me?" with a quiver in his voice. Transracial adoption is always a learning curve, and over the past week I've wracked my brain trying to figure out how to curtail India's observations in front of Jafta, without making her feel ashamed of talking about physical differences. She's not doing anything implicitly wrong, but she is being unintentionally hurtful. In an effort to protect Jafta, I've tried changing the subject or talking over her, and also had several talks with both kids about how we match in other ways, and how skin color is just one of the many traits we have as people. We've pulled out books about racial differences, and we've tried to be more intentional with pointing out the similarities we all share. Most importantly, we've tried to be open to Jafta talking about his feelings, which often means squelching an overwhelming desire to minimize, defend, and deflect from these painful feelings for him. It's not easy to hear, but it's important. I've read enough experiences from adult adoptees to know that ignoring these feelings would be detrimental to him.
As we prepare to leave for Haiti next week, Jafta's feeling of being "unmatched" in our family is a reminder of how much we long for Keanan to join our family. I never wanted Jafta to feel racially isolated in our family. It was always my intention that he have at least one sibling who he can relate to in that way. And he does . . . I guess? But they are growing up without each other.
And this, for me, is the hardest part about transracial adoption . . . to say to Jafta: I cannot be your match. I cannot look back at you reflecting your nose, your hair, your eyes. I cannot give you this small but significant part of family life that is so taken for granted by most families, this "matching" that would make you feel more secure. I can only offer you the most mother love that I can give - and it will not be enough to erase that pain. But hopefully it will be enough to soothe it.
This is a small slice of what Jafta encounters as he walks around in his world, because in addition to being a minority in his own home, he is also a minority in his community. I have some more thoughts on that, thoughts that I'm still sorting through, but there was a recent study that confirmed much of what I'm already observed about children and race. The good news is that children are not inherently racist. The bad news is that they are inherently prone to sorting and classifying and grouping. I'm hoping to write more about this later, but for now, I would really encourage you to check out this article. It's long . . . but I think it's important for parents to understand these dynamics, as we strive to overcome the racial tensions that still confound our country.
problem (mostly) solved.
My head did not explode. I actually think I've figured out a solution and now I am relaxing a little, and even getting excited. After spending about five hours inputting various time and airport combinations on aa.com, it finally dawned on me that I had booked Mark and Jafta's tickets on the last of our airline miles. I called American Airlines and explained the whole situation. (I might have even cried a little, just for dramatic effect). They put me on hold for a supervisor, who put me on hold for a supervisor, and twenty minutes and $150 later my name was now on Jafta's ticket.
Problem (mostly) solved.
Mark and I will go to Haiti together, with Karis, pending her passport showing up. Jafta and India will stay home, which I feel fine about since they will be together. Jafta is was really excited about this Haiti trip and I haven't told him yet that he won't be going. I'm not sure how to break that news. Maybe I will lie. I'm not above it.
Yesterday we picked up our prescriptions for anti-malarials for all three kids. Since I wasn't sure who would be going or staying, I had the doctor call in all three. This turned out to be good, because my slacker husband hasn't seen his own doctor in several years and she is refusing to prescribe his without an appointment. So Mark will be drinking down both Jafta and India's prescription, in the hopes that two of their doses will be equal to one of his. TIH.
(And why doesn't Mark just go see his doctor, you might be asking? Because we figured out that between now and the day we leave, there is not one single moment during his doctor's hours that he is not otherwise engaged).
It should be funny watching Mark drink this because it is truly the most vile liquid ever concocted. Chloroquine is not made in the US for children, so the adult pill has to be crushed and measured, and then suspended in syrup to make it "palatable". The result is something that is palatable to someone without taste buds. Maybe.
After we picked up the antimalarials, we continued joy-riding until we got to Vegas. We got a room at a resort and Mark hung with the older two while I went to the ABC Kid's Expo, which is basically a big, huge, giant room of baby and kid products. I've heard about it for years, and it is only open to media and baby boutiques. This year, we got an invitation as "media" for Mama Manifesto. That still makes me laugh a little, that I was walking around with a media lanyard. I felt like a giant poser.
Part of the reason I felt like a giant poser is because I looked like a giant poser. Last night was rough - none of us sleep very well away from home, and Karis was up half the night. Thanks to my generous and Ambien-impenetrable insomnia, I got about three hours of sleep. This, coupled with the stress I've been feeling about the whole Haiti thing, made me a little bleary-eyed and out-of-sorts. Then there was the fact that I had "hotel hair". You know, when you take a shower with those water-saving shower nozzles and not all the conditioner comes out, and then the blowdry is not quite as effective as the one at home, and you forget the good balm that keeps your frizz to a minimum, and try to make due with the smaller brush because the good one seemed too big . . .
In addition to the bad hair day I was having, I also decided that given the size of this event, I should wear sensible shoes. Which in my world, means ugly shoes. I also decided I would take the old single stroller since Jafta and India would not be with me. I have two very awesome double strollers, since I am usually walking around with three awesome kids. For today, I pulled the snap-and-go out of the vault, which is a $25 stroller that I've had since Jafta was a baby.
Note to self: if you are going to an event where you want to represent yourself as a hip, savvy, in-the-know mommy blogger, don't take a nasty old stroller, forget your hair pomade, and wear your flip flops.
Note to self #2: when hob-nobbing at an event with over 4000 products, try to get some sleep the night before.
Yeah, I am not exaggerating. There were over 4000 booths. I arrived at 9am this morning, and told Mark I thought I'd be ready to leave at three. At noon, I had visited about 1/4 of the first floor. By 6pm, I was still there, barely able to still move, and still missing over half of the booths. I'm pretty sure I looked like a homeless person by the end of the day, a) because I was dragging my tired self by leaning against the stroller, and b) the stroller was completely covered in free bags full of press kits that I was not assertive enough to refuse. That stroller was just a big walking mass of bags. I even started setting the bags on top of Karis. (She was sleeping. She didn't care).
I don't I can convey how tired I am this evening. Aside from the lack of sleep, this event played into some of my biggest personality deficits. I hate trying to sell myself, I hate talking to people I don't know, and I hate pretending to be interested in things that are not interesting.
"Oh really? This is another BPA-free baby bottle? Yes, with air-vents to reduce colic? And it comes in slow or fast flow? Oh how fascinating! I've never seen something JUST LIKE THIS TWO BOOTHS DOWN."
You know when you have a baby shower, and everyone watches you open your gifts? And you want to pretend like you are equally excited about each gift, so you hear yourself squealing and clapping about a baby nasal aspirator because you want Aunt Sue to be appreciated for her thoughtfulness? And you feel self-conscious but you just keep acting overjoyed over every nail-clipper/diaper cream/breast shield/onesie that you see?
Yeah, today was nine hours of that.
Mark, on the other hand, spent the day gallivanting around the strip with the older two. They went to see the lions, watch the fountains, they had gelato in Paris and lunch in Circus Circus. They had a fabulous time, when people weren't trying to hand Mark leaflets for strip clubs. WHILE HE WAS HOLDING HIS DAUGHTER.
Ah, Vegas.
When we all got back to the hotel after our exciting day, Jafta decided that we should make a fire. So we did. It was a totally goofy and precious moment, us sitting in front of a fireplace after a sweltering day in Vegas, just because the room has a/c and it seemed like fun. We sang "Sweet Baby James" together (also Jafta's suggestion, because he "sits by the fire in that song") and we had a sweet little family time.
And right now, everyone is asleep and I am totally putting off the inevitable, which is that I will have another night of broken hotel-room-with-small-kids night of sleep, which I am avoiding by writing a ridiculously long blog post about pretty much nothing.
Hmm.
Goodnight, all you moonlit ladies.
PS If you don't click this link then I guess you hate starving children or something.
the point at which my head explodes
We just got word from Haiti - Mark and I need to appear IN PERSON to sign before a judge in order for our papers to move to the next stage. I'm not surprised by this - I've been hearing rumblings that it might happen for a few weeks. Haiti is notorious for inventing steps in their adoption process, especially when they get pressure from certain anti-adoption "charities" that I will not mention but rhyme with goonicef. Someone decided this month that all adoptive parents have to sign an affidavit that they have met their child and want to adopt them. Granted, yes, we've met him. Several times. But we didn't sign before a judge, you see. TIH.
So.
We are scrambling right now. Mark is already set to leave for Haiti in two weeks. It only makes sense that I go out there with him. I could wait until our next trip, which we were planning for in November, but as you can imagine I am not wanting one more second to go by when his files could be moving. The hitch is that Karis is still nursing exclusively. And not vaccinated. And does not have a passport.
So.
We spent yesterday running around like crazy. We drove to the county clerk to pick up a copy of Karis's birth certificate, because it hadn't arrived yet (of course, in came in the mail later that afternoon). We applied for an expedited passport for Karis - which takes 2-3 weeks, and we have less than 2 weeks to travel. We took her to the pediatrician and came up with a vaccination game plan (because you can't afford to be anti-vax when you take your kids to third world countries). We called around and found a pharmacy that could crush up the adult malarial pills into a suspension for the kids. We searched for flights, we emailed the folks in Haiti, we schemed and planned and scratched our heads about how to best make this work.
So.
Now to decide how long I should stay in Haiti, whether or not I should really take Karis, or pump and leave her in Orange County for five days, or fly someone to Miami to hang with her while I'm in Haiti so that I don't miss her feedings during the travel days. Flying to Haiti is a two-day ordeal from our side of the country and there is always an overnight in Miami.
And then there is India - who is the hardest to travel with, and who I'd rather leave home. But at the same time, who was really bummed the last time she was left home. We've come a long way in the past four months with her adjusting to a new baby and a little less attention. I hate hate hate to leave her for a couple days while her brother and sister take a trip with us. She's old enough to be hurt, but not old enough to understand our reasons.
So.
Did I mention we leave for Las Vegas tomorrow morning so I can attend a trade show? And then when we return Mark has a couple days of training in LA? And then we would leave for Haiti? And Karis has no passport? And malaria is all over and I want to see my son and I will do anything to get those papers moving and I freaking hate this country's adoption process and I am still adjusting to having a new baby and all of us seem kind of sick right now and Jafta's asthma is acting up and I can't afford to have ghiardia right now and I can't afford this flight right now and I want my son home so badly and my head really hurts is this a migraine or just my head exploding???
remembering . . .
. . . insomnia that had me awake at 6am
. . . bleary-eyed, flipping the channels
. . . watching a horrible crash, thinking it was the worst accident I had ever seen
. . . another crash, realizing it was no accident, waking Mark
. . . watching helplessly, people jumping, towers falling
. . . feeling numb, going to a friend's house and learning we could still laugh
. . . feeling helpless, flying to volunteer
. . . entering Ground Zero and losing composure
. . . the smell - dear Lord the smell
. . . preparing food, sorting cans, driving a forklift
. . . listening to stories too awful to repeat, watching grown men cry
. . . posters of loved ones, people found, people lost
. . . compassion and community
. . . devastating loss
much ado about nothing
Here is the transcript of the dreaded indoctrination back-to-school speech Obama gave to students today. That is, after a good portion of the conservative contingency got their panties in a wad about the president giving a pep talk about hot-button issues like perseverance and staying in school and setting goals. Of course, it sounded a little more exciting when the extremists were using words like re-education and brainwashing. Comparisons to Hitler are always a little more provocative then the banal reality of irrational partisan squabbling.
My kids are not in school yet, so I didn't have to worry about their pretty little minds getting brainwashed by our president and his cult of personality. But I did Tivo it and let my kids listen. I watched them very, very closely for signs that the socialism might be catching on, but they mostly looked pretty bored. That is, until Jafta started quoting Charles Fourier and India put a beret on her head and planned a cooperative communal uprising with her Groovy Girls dolls.
I kid, I kid.
In all seriousness, perhaps this "red scare on schoolyard" debacle can be a reminder that there IS, in fact, and time and a place to set partisanship paranoia aside. Sending a message to our youth about the importance of their education seems like a good time to me, and might even be an indication that our president is not, in fact, an enemy to our children, even if we disagree with his policies.
Of course, this brand of partisan drama isn't new. George Bush was met with resistance from some liberal extremists who felt he shouldn't be speaking in the classroom, though the criticism at that time did not seem to erupt into quite so great a furor. Perhaps that's because George Bush was more appealing to a whiter majority. Er, I mean a wider majority.
Where was I going with this?
Prepared Remarks of President Barack Obama Back to School Event
Arlington, Virginia September 8, 2009
The President: Hello everyone – how’s everybody doing today? I’m here with students at Wakefield High School in Arlington, Virginia. And we’ve got students tuning in from all across America, kindergarten through twelfth grade. I’m glad you all could join us today.
I know that for many of you, today is the first day of school. And for those of you in kindergarten, or starting middle or high school, it’s your first day in a new school, so it’s understandable if you’re a little nervous. I imagine there are some seniors out there who are feeling pretty good right now, with just one more year to go. And no matter what grade you’re in, some of you are probably wishing it were still summer, and you could’ve stayed in bed just a little longer this morning.
I know that feeling. When I was young, my family lived in Indonesia for a few years, and my mother didn’t have the money to send me where all the American kids went to school. So she decided to teach me extra lessons herself, Monday through Friday – at 4:30 in the morning.
Now I wasn’t too happy about getting up that early. A lot of times, I’d fall asleep right there at the kitchen table. But whenever I’d complain, my mother would just give me one of those looks and say, "This is no picnic for me either, buster."
So I know some of you are still adjusting to being back at school. But I’m here today because I have something important to discuss with you. I’m here because I want to talk with you about your education and what’s expected of all of you in this new school year.
Now I’ve given a lot of speeches about education. And I’ve talked a lot about responsibility.
I’ve talked about your teachers’ responsibility for inspiring you, and pushing you to learn.
I’ve talked about your parents’ responsibility for making sure you stay on track, and get your homework done, and don’t spend every waking hour in front of the TV or with that Xbox.
I’ve talked a lot about your government’s responsibility for setting high standards, supporting teachers and principals, and turning around schools that aren’t working where students aren’t getting the opportunities they deserve.
But at the end of the day, we can have the most dedicated teachers, the most supportive parents, and the best schools in the world – and none of it will matter unless all of you fulfill your responsibilities. Unless you show up to those schools; pay attention to those teachers; listen to your parents, grandparents and other adults; and put in the hard work it takes to succeed.
And that’s what I want to focus on today: the responsibility each of you has for your education. I want to start with the responsibility you have to yourself.
Every single one of you has something you’re good at. Every single one of you has something to offer. And you have a responsibility to yourself to discover what that is. That’s the opportunity an education can provide.
Maybe you could be a good writer – maybe even good enough to write a book or articles in a newspaper – but you might not know it until you write a paper for your English class. Maybe you could be an innovator or an inventor – maybe even good enough to come up with the next iPhone or a new medicine or vaccine – but you might not know it until you do a project for your science class. Maybe you could be a mayor or a Senator or a Supreme Court Justice, but you might not know that until you join student government or the debate team.
And no matter what you want to do with your life – I guarantee that you’ll need an education to do it. You want to be a doctor, or a teacher, or a police officer? You want to be a nurse or an architect, a lawyer or a member of our military? You’re going to need a good education for every single one of those careers. You can’t drop out of school and just drop into a good job. You’ve got to work for it and train for it and learn for it.
And this isn’t just important for your own life and your own future. What you make of your education will decide nothing less than the future of this country. What you’re learning in school today will determine whether we as a nation can meet our greatest challenges in the future.
You’ll need the knowledge and problem-solving skills you learn in science and math to cure diseases like cancer and AIDS, and to develop new energy technologies and protect our environment. You’ll need the insights and critical thinking skills you gain in history and social studies to fight poverty and homelessness, crime and discrimination, and make our nation more fair and more free. You’ll need the creativity and ingenuity you develop in all your classes to build new companies that will create new jobs and boost our economy.
We need every single one of you to develop your talents, skills and intellect so you can help solve our most difficult problems. If you don’t do that – if you quit on school – you’re not just quitting on yourself, you’re quitting on your country.
Now I know it’s not always easy to do well in school. I know a lot of you have challenges in your lives right now that can make it hard to focus on your schoolwork.
I get it. I know what that’s like. My father left my family when I was two years old, and I was raised by a single mother who struggled at times to pay the bills and wasn’t always able to give us things the other kids had. There were times when I missed having a father in my life. There were times when I was lonely and felt like I didn’t fit in.
So I wasn’t always as focused as I should have been. I did some things I’m not proud of, and got in more trouble than I should have. And my life could have easily taken a turn for the worse.
But I was fortunate. I got a lot of second chances and had the opportunity to go to college, and law school, and follow my dreams. My wife, our First Lady Michelle Obama, has a similar story. Neither of her parents had gone to college, and they didn’t have much. But they worked hard, and she worked hard, so that she could go to the best schools in this country.
Some of you might not have those advantages. Maybe you don’t have adults in your life who give you the support that you need. Maybe someone in your family has lost their job, and there’s not enough money to go around. Maybe you live in a neighborhood where you don’t feel safe, or have friends who are pressuring you to do things you know aren’t right.
But at the end of the day, the circumstances of your life – what you look like, where you come from, how much money you have, what you’ve got going on at home – that’s no excuse for neglecting your homework or having a bad attitude. That’s no excuse for talking back to your teacher, or cutting class, or dropping out of school. That’s no excuse for not trying.
Where you are right now doesn’t have to determine where you’ll end up. No one’s written your destiny for you. Here in America, you write your own destiny. You make your own future.
That’s what young people like you are doing every day, all across America.
Young people like Jazmin Perez, from Roma, Texas. Jazmin didn’t speak English when she first started school. Hardly anyone in her hometown went to college, and neither of her parents had gone either. But she worked hard, earned good grades, got a scholarship to Brown University, and is now in graduate school, studying public health, on her way to being Dr. Jazmin Perez.
I’m thinking about Andoni Schultz, from Los Altos, California, who’s fought brain cancer since he was three. He’s endured all sorts of treatments and surgeries, one of which affected his memory, so it took him much longer – hundreds of extra hours – to do his schoolwork. But he never fell behind, and he’s headed to college this fall.
And then there’s Shantell Steve, from my hometown of Chicago, Illinois. Even when bouncing from foster home to foster home in the toughest neighborhoods, she managed to get a job at a local health center; start a program to keep young people out of gangs; and she’s on track to graduate high school with honors and go on to college.
Jazmin, Andoni and Shantell aren’t any different from any of you. They faced challenges in their lives just like you do. But they refused to give up. They chose to take responsibility for their education and set goals for themselves. And I expect all of you to do the same.
That’s why today, I’m calling on each of you to set your own goals for your education – and to do everything you can to meet them. Your goal can be something as simple as doing all your homework, paying attention in class, or spending time each day reading a book. Maybe you’ll decide to get involved in an extracurricular activity, or volunteer in your community. Maybe you’ll decide to stand up for kids who are being teased or bullied because of who they are or how they look, because you believe, like I do, that all kids deserve a safe environment to study and learn. Maybe you’ll decide to take better care of yourself so you can be more ready to learn. And along those lines, I hope you’ll all wash your hands a lot, and stay home from school when you don’t feel well, so we can keep people from getting the flu this fall and winter.
Whatever you resolve to do, I want you to commit to it. I want you to really work at it.
I know that sometimes, you get the sense from TV that you can be rich and successful without any hard work -- that your ticket to success is through rapping or basketball or being a reality TV star, when chances are, you’re not going to be any of those things.
But the truth is, being successful is hard. You won’t love every subject you study. You won’t click with every teacher. Not every homework assignment will seem completely relevant to your life right this minute. And you won’t necessarily succeed at everything the first time you try.
That’s OK. Some of the most successful people in the world are the ones who’ve had the most failures. JK Rowling’s first Harry Potter book was rejected twelve times before it was finally published. Michael Jordan was cut from his high school basketball team, and he lost hundreds of games and missed thousands of shots during his career. But he once said, "I have failed over and over and over again in my life. And that is why I succeed."
These people succeeded because they understand that you can’t let your failures define you – you have to let them teach you. You have to let them show you what to do differently next time. If you get in trouble, that doesn’t mean you’re a troublemaker, it means you need to try harder to behave. If you get a bad grade, that doesn’t mean you’re stupid, it just means you need to spend more time studying.
No one’s born being good at things, you become good at things through hard work. You’re not a varsity athlete the first time you play a new sport. You don’t hit every note the first time you sing a song. You’ve got to practice. It’s the same with your schoolwork. You might have to do a math problem a few times before you get it right, or read something a few times before you understand it, or do a few drafts of a paper before it’s good enough to hand in.
Don’t be afraid to ask questions. Don’t be afraid to ask for help when you need it. I do that every day. Asking for help isn’t a sign of weakness, it’s a sign of strength. It shows you have the courage to admit when you don’t know something, and to learn something new. So find an adult you trust – a parent, grandparent or teacher; a coach or counselor – and ask them to help you stay on track to meet your goals.
And even when you’re struggling, even when you’re discouraged, and you feel like other people have given up on you – don’t ever give up on yourself. Because when you give up on yourself, you give up on your country.
The story of America isn’t about people who quit when things got tough. It’s about people who kept going, who tried harder, who loved their country too much to do anything less than their best.
It’s the story of students who sat where you sit 250 years ago, and went on to wage a revolution and found this nation. Students who sat where you sit 75 years ago who overcame a Depression and won a world war; who fought for civil rights and put a man on the moon. Students who sat where you sit 20 years ago who founded Google, Twitter and Facebook and changed the way we communicate with each other.
So today, I want to ask you, what’s your contribution going to be? What problems are you going to solve? What discoveries will you make? What will a president who comes here in twenty or fifty or one hundred years say about what all of you did for this country?
Your families, your teachers, and I are doing everything we can to make sure you have the education you need to answer these questions. I’m working hard to fix up your classrooms and get you the books, equipment and computers you need to learn. But you’ve got to do your part too. So I expect you to get serious this year. I expect you to put your best effort into everything you do. I expect great things from each of you. So don’t let us down – don’t let your family or your country or yourself down. Make us all proud. I know you can do it.
Thank you, God bless you, and God bless America.
GOT MILES? ('cause I ain't too proud to beg)
Since this technique of silence has not really yielded much, other than my head feeling like it might explode, I've decided to just put it out there. WE NEED TO GO TO HAITI. We would like to go several times in the coming year. I don't know when this crazy adoption is going to be final, but in the meantime we really want to be getting out there more to spend more time with Keanan as he is growing up. The problem is, flying our family to Haiti costs us about $4000. (That price is only if I have spend about 500 hours on various travel websites finding the very best deal - it can cost much more than that). However, flying to Haiti, because of it's close proximity to Florida, only takes about 25k frequent flyer miles.
So, if you happen to have an excess of miles that you are willing to unload, I am more than happy to take them off your hands It doesn't matter what airline. Even if we just got a domestic flight out of it, we can catch a cheaper flight to Haiti from the east coast. The way most airlines work, you would have to book the flight for us, and you would need at least 12.5 miles to avoid paying a fee. You can drop me an email (link on top right) and I will be your friend forever.
our family on our last trip together, over a year agoAlso, if you are interested in helping in other ways, Mark and Jafta will be headed down to the orphanage in a couple weeks and will be taking supplies again. I've created an amazon wishlist at this link, but you can purchase any of those items at Target, in any brand. We will be collecting supplies at our house and then filling them in suitcases to carry into the country, since these things are not readily available in Haiti.
Well, since I'm shamelessly plugging for your help in all things Haiti, let me also point out a few other options:
Tara is still collecting money for Medika Mamba, a nourishing peanut butter that is saving the lives of malnourished children. Even if you aren't interested in giving, this is a great read. GO READ IT!!
Salem is selling t-shirts to help adoptive families cover their costs. They have a great message and are really cute - go look.
The sewing school is still going strong and there are lots of purses you can buy to support micro-enterprise in Hait. Check it out.
Things We Learned in Seattle
We live entirely too far away from Michael and Jodie.
We are not a dog family. Partly because of allergies, and partly because I prefer the contents of my kids' diapers to remain in the trashcan as opposed to strewn across the front lawn.
Boy is a universal language, and I'm certain Spiderman is somehow imprinted in their DNA.
If you post a picture of yourself picking blueberries with your baby in a sling, your friends will mock you relentlessly. But only because THEY ARE JEALOUS.
It is possible for a family of five to pack all of their belongings into two suitcases, just to avoid paying for an extra bag. It's also possible for them to forget to pack diapers.
People on planes HATE babies. Almost as much as they hate terrorists and snakes on planes.
Loud sighs and eye-rolls do not, in fact, help a stressed mother calm a crying baby. YEAH, ROW 16. I'M TALKING TO YOU.
We live entirely too far away from Michael and Jodie.
we saw attle
We are back from Seattle . . . the entire week before we left Jafta talked about how we were going to "See Attle". I guess you could say we did.
We had a great trip. Still unpacking, both literally and figuratively. There is nothing like travel and a little time with nature to make you start rethinking everything you know. One thing I do know for sure: we miss our family in the northwest.
Karis's first plane ride
I think this photo accurately captures the essence of my little boy and his awesome imagination
Picking blueberries
A beet!
