Skippy is Scared!

Welcome, the newest member of the Fremouw family... Skippy! I should post a pic but find myself too lazy to take the picture and upload it right now. Skippy is an unknown type of frog. We did decide that he is a frog, and not a toad. I guess smooth skin and a love for water means "frog", so that is about all we know of him. He/She is about 1.5" in diameter and scared out of its mind. The poor frog spent its first night in the bottom of a giant PlayDough tub. I came home from scrapbooking to find him curled up on the tin floor, panting like it was about to have a heart attack. I put a sock in there and a few larger river rocks from my front yard. A couple small branches from a bush provided a place for Skippy to hide and the dish of water that stood higher than the frog was replaced with a shallow Tupperware lid of water. Skippy chose to sit in the water. No food. No heat. Nothing familiar. Skippy was stunned into a catatonic state for the night.

So this morning we got the family around and headed to Petco to get some relief for Skippy. Sadly enough, no one could identify the type of frog we had from the picture we took (Ok, so now I am busted for being simply too lazy to upload it since the picture is already on the camera). They told us he would need a container to call home and both wet and dry places to remain within his new clear walls. They suggested a glass home, but $40 for a glass home was more than we could muster for a frog we are more likely to kill than raise. So we got our cheap plastic "aquarium" and decided to use yard rocks to give him a resting place.

Food was our next obstacle. The pet store help told us Skippy would eat crickets. So we bought 10 small crickets which is expected to be about a 2 day supply, assuming they don't gang up on Skippy and kill it. Yes, you heard me right. Apparently crickets can kill anything that eats them with enough fellow crickets and the will to do it. So for now, we have to keep an eye on Skippy to ensure that Skippy wins out over the food. The crickets as super small, which makes me feel better about it. (I did just pay a pest control company to kill all such bugs around my home and then find myself paying for MORE BUGS today. That does sit wrong within me.)

So we get home, put gravel in the bottom, water that was boiled before we left for the pet store and now cooled to room temperature, and more river rocks. Not perfect, but it should work. We release the crickets into the dry portion and then Celia picks up Skippy and places him carefully onto a river rock. He quickly relizes that we are all staring and him and started, Skippy slouches back into a crack in a desperate attempt to hide. It does him no good. There is really not much to hide in. Again, eyes bulging, lower chin skin moving back and forth at a record pace, Skippy is about to jump out of his skin or burst a heart valve. Not sure which.

We move him upstairs into a common area of our home and quickly, Skippy decides this is his/her last chance to escape. Skippy jumps into the plastic wall. And again, and again. Now realizing that it really isn't getting him/her anywhere, Skippy sits. Crickets move all around and Skippy could care less. I think the starving frog, expected to eat 5 crickets a day or more, can stand the thought of eating. Skippy has lost its appetite. Every time a child looks in on Skippy, he/she squirms with fear. Poor frog has no piece and would rather be in a cardboard Playdough tub with a tin bottom where the false security of feeling alone in a cave exists than to be in a free-for-all clear sided container, feeling completely vulnerable to small children that move with record speed and disregard.

So there you have it. Skippy. Our new family member that may or may not make it, all depending on how could its heart is at this point. I sure hope for my children's sake that Skippy decides to end the fast and eat before the crickets have time to colaborate for their own attack. And I hope that our new ecosystem is sufficient so that Skippy doesn't have a premature funeral. I will keep you posted!

The Olympic Hopefuls

So, folks. I tend to tell it like it is. Someday, my children may read this blog and telling it like it is may come back to bite me in more ways than one... but for now, it doesn't stop me!

I got a recommendation on a gymnastics studio from my neighbor, Melody. She has a blog now linked on mine, so go check it out if you have time... Anyway, on Monday, we got free trial sessions for all of my children. I signed up last weekend and then prepared my children by dressing them in their tightest fitting shirts (happened to be pj tops) and put the girls' hair up in perfect pony tails with their bangs clipped in barrets. We were off at 4 for the younger classes, Cole , Lexi, and Abby. We arrived to a zoo of a front lobby. People were everywhere, shoes crowded the floor. The receptionists head was litterally spinning from the people spitting out requests and demands. My kids and I froze, not knowing where to go and feeling a bit overtaken by the situation. I told them to pile their shoes onto the floor and then wait for Mommy.

Nearly 15 minutes later I was given a form to fill out and then I escorted my timid children into the studio. Lexi was shy at first but also intrigued. Cole was happy and eager as always. Abby was hopeful and ready to explore, but then stopped in her tracks. Turns out that her class was cancelled and there was no where for her to go. Not unlike her first day of preschool when she was denied access to the bus that she was so excited to venture on, she was told she would have to wait. Her mouth turned down and she worked hard to fight tears back. I did too, if I am being honest. I felt so bad for her. She was just wanting to play, too...

Abby and I took a position behind the viewing glass, Abby held in my arms so she could see. Lexi was slow to get started but really took to the instruction quite quickly. She had her difficulties with standing in the line once through the task at hand, but other than that, it came pretty easy for her. It was super cute to watch. Cole, on the other hand, didn't even know where to begin. The kids would do as asked and COle would be stopped right in his tracks. The instructor would manually position him and then help him to "hop" or tumble in the right direction! I laughed and laughed, all while hiding it from my senstive young man! It was cute, and funny, and a bit sad! The great part was, though it didn't come easy, he didn't give up and he smiled the whole time! He loved it!! (In case you are wondering, they didn't ask them to do flips, or handstands, or any type of real gymnastics... all just beginner skills that COULD one day lead to more advanced skills... or, for some, Could Not. Yet to be seen.)

SO then at 7 that night was Celia's class. I knew she would be great, but WOW! She rocked my face off! She was the best in her class and though she needed a bit of direction to know what to do, she would listen, and then just DO IT! Yes, and do it right. And no, these weren't things like what Cole was being asked to do... real cartwheels, bar drills, beam exercises, etc. The girl was awesome and she loved every minute of it! Her teacher asked me after class if she had been at another studio... when told she hadn't, she said how naturally talented she was and that she would be promoted quickly. WOW! Way to go, C! That is MY GIRL!

So, there you have it. The next batch of USA OLYMPIC champions in the making... team Fremouw! Any time ya'll want to check it out for yourselves, C's class is Monday nights at 7 and the tots are Tuesday mornings at 9:30. All are welcome to admire their talents!

Ditch the Bags!

The air was so much thicker than I remembered it being. The roads completely disorganized with animals, cars, and people all moving like bubbles on oil floating atop a shallow pan of water. Our driver introduced himself as Bicky (though he spells it with an "e" rather than an "i"). He was a man slightly younger in age than myself. His hair cut short, and his premature receeding hairline, and two of the brightest most honest eyes one could imagine. His accent was first hard to understand. Everything, the accent, the air, the streets... it all seemed new at first though I had been there only 6 months prior. It was as though the big, little things had somehow faded to the back of my memory. They were all now pushing their way to the front.

Bicky explained that we were going to our guest house. As he drove, I could see that we were in an all too familiar part of town. "Where did you say we are going"... "To the guest house, the Z house, " he replied. "No, no... that is not where I am staying this time. I do want to go there to see my friends, but we need to drop our bags." I was confused. He assured me that guy from Z's had contacted him and we were supposed to go there. The familiar shops, the river, the curve in the road and YES, the LOUD church... we took a left and the church and followed along the same road I had walked with Kim and Nettie so many times last year. This time, it was mounded with dirt along the side and a narrow, fairly steep trench. We pulled up to the garage that faces the street and we rang the bell. My good friend, Kabrom was there to greet me with a warm hug. His father greeted me in the same fashion and smiles were pasting among all faces. I felt like I was home.

Kabrom told me that the tenants in the family sweet had decided to leave early so the room was available for MY FAMILY! God had worked another miracle and I would get to stay with them. I was overjoyed. I was praising God for paving the path and the following news was also great... they had invested in a water pump to get more water and pressure to the family sweet. The only days we would miss out on showers should be because of the power, not the water! What a treat. I was delighted to show our room to J, Nana, and Celia. They seemed pleased with our accomodations. We dropped our personal belongings, as well as the Bible school supplied in our room and immediately headed to the Drop In Center to meet up with Fekadu and the amazing children. Any bit of exhaustion we had to this point was gone and replaced with pure excitement and adreneline. We were REALLY in Africa. We were really about to take on this adventure and we were so excited to see how God would use us for His glory in this trip.

Greeting Unexpected

Our trip to Africa was a long three days in airports. No, not three days with time change- three days of flying and waiting. One layover was long enough to take a hotel room for the night only to head back to the airport first thing in the morning. The flights were long and dry, and to my amazement, Celia did very well with them.

As soon as the plane touched down in Addis, all the "things" came flushing back to my brain. The front and rear door were opened on the plane and the hot air came in as our fresh air went pouring out. I am sure you have never heard the air on an airplane described as "fresh", but that is only because you have not been to Addis. The city air was hot, smoky, and immediatly tightened my lungs.

We marched down the metal offloading steps and onto a bus. We were one of the last off the plane so fortunate for us, we had no one exposing their armpit in front of our nose as they held the hand rail, such as the last time I was in Addis. No, we had the tram pretty much to ourselves and it was great to take in the expressions of my family as we drove to what was likely one of the smallest international airports that either J or Nana had ever been in. Luggage was everywhere on the tarmic, apparently in an order that only made sense to the airport staff- but looked like a security issue to American ol' me.

We waited in line for Visas. We waited in line for customs... and out of no where I heard my name, "Brooke!" I turned, half expecting to see Kibrom from the guest house I stayed at last year. It was not. Instead, it was Pastor Surafel from Phoenix! He was supposed to have left Addis the day prior to my arrival, and yet here he was, standing on the other side of customs to greet me! I was so surprised and so happy to see a familiar face.

He had postponed his flight in order to greet my family. So sweet. So thoughtful. We walked with him as he arranged for our bags to be taken (which was no small feet with a total of 16 bags weighing over 600 lbs). I had to excuse myself to run off to the restroom... the first one I could get to since we landed (someone must talk to the airport about that since those lines can take some time!) . Anyway, Surafel escorted us outside as I scanned the people for our driver. I was expecting a sign with my name on it but instead, found 2 staff from HOpe for the HOpeless and 4 beautiful children from the Drop In Center at HOpe! They each had a beautiful boquet of flowers for each of us which brought tears to my eyes. We were hugged and greeted. It was SO GREAT to be in Africa with my extended family! It was just where I was supposed to be and felt completely right.

We found a sign for Carolyn Fremouw- And we were off to drop some things at our guest house and on to see the kids. The exhaustion faded to nothing and the excitement for our tasks ahead was all that was left. I felt whole. I felt at peace. I took in a breath of that smoky air and praised God for all that he had done to prepare me and to assure me. It was very right.

The Rant- PS. Sorry it all starts here!

I have had a hard time getting back into the swing of things since our return from the great country of Ethiopia. I find myself feeling tired, sick, busy, and just kind of down. I don't want to come down on America, because I love America. But it is not the country today that it was intended to be back in 1787. When the Declaration of Independence was written, it was by men who had risked it all to stand for what was right. It was by people who had a vision of one nation, under God, and free from oppression. It was so that we, as Americans, could work hard, earn, and prosper. Today, I just feel so sad that we got it all backward. We prosper, work hard (most of us) and earn. But we have lived lives of EXPECTED prosperity. We only want the best, whether the best is what we can afford or not. So much so, that though we blame the banks for our current economy, that we, as American households, have overspent and underearned into unprecidented personal debt and subsequently, unprecidented national debt. I wonder how those that fought for our freedoms back then would feel about our choices today? And then, instead of owning the responsibility for our hardships, we ask why the government allowed this to happen. Don't get me wrong, there are REAL victims of this economy that could not have done anything differently to avoid their current hardships. Many, many people are in this situation. But it is their neighbors, not the government, that caused this. (Just my opinion.)

So here I sit, I have been home for over 2 weeks. I think of Africa every day, several times a day. I keep hearing my dear friend Fekadu tell me as we walked into his church that the whole corner of the church's land was seized by crooked officials in the government with no compensation. If you saw how much land we were talking about, it would make you as sick as it makes me. I hear Bicky, our super special friend and driver, tell stories about his protesting a fire set by the government when he was a young man to drive people out of the country and getting thrown into jail. He felt so defeated that at first, he acted out and landed in jail three times. Then he gave up his fight and has complacantly fallen in line like most other Ethiopians, knowing that their single voices are only squashed by the mighty government. I am angered for the people of Ethiopia, that they must go through so much to just survive, inspite of their government, in spite of the system. And here, we have a government that really is for us, and few of us really appreciate it. "I hate Obama." "The war sucks." "Our economy is in the dump and we are so poor." Statements of fact for many, yet also it shows how spoiled we are. First, we get to state our opinions without consequence. Second, we can't even begin to say we are poor. Third, of course war sucks. No one ever wants to kill others or die defending our nation... but complaining accomplishes nothing. I feel like we are so eager to put off the blame, to point fingers, to complain, etc... and what are we really willing to DO to change it?

So yes, today I am on my rampage. I don't know how else to begin telling about my trip... I suppose most sane people would begin with the arrival at the PHX airport. It just seems that in order for me to go back, I must first get off my chest what I feel now. Please don't feel as though I don't have empathy for where we are as a nation. I do. I get sick when I see our teachers losing their jobs. I see CPS not investigating allegations. I see hiring freezes and layoffs. I feel for these people. My family has been saved in many ways, and harmed in many others. My closest friends and extended family have all been hit hard. No one is without the effects of these times. There are MANY victims of our current circumstances. I am sad for where we are at- equally as sad for how we got here. Now I ask myself what can I do to help turn it around? How can I contribute to being a part of the solution, and not the problem? My heart is here, and in Africa. Both needed more than what I, just one woman, can do. I pray for miracles for two great nations and for an awakening of the people in both. That we, as Americans, can give more and expect less. That they, as Ethiopians, can continue to seek reform and mercy. That both nations, would fall on our knees in repentance for all we have and have not done and seek to live a life bound by Biblical morality.

The Perfect, Imperfect Puzzle.

As you all know, we are in the process of adopting 3 children and have already adopted one. They are all such HUGE blessings in our life adding spice and sugar to just about everything we do or touch. Not a day goes by that I don't take a minute to thank the Lord for our children. And yet our children, as most everyone calls the kids they raise in their home, are not just ours. Each of our children has a second set of parents that they are not raised by. These other parents are some of the most important people in their lives, owing life itself to this mom and dad. And yet in the case of 2 of my children, they do not even know their dad. In the case of the other two, they fear their dad. In the case of all, they unconditionally love their birth mom and feel forever connected to her.

Today we met Celia's grandma, aunt, and aunt's boyfriend at the park today for a visit (about the 5th one now). As Celia's adoption nears, it was time to prepare Grandma, especially, for the fact that all of us were to soon be connected in a permanent and important way. Our family is growing not by one child, but by one whole other family, full of mostly strangers to us. And of course, it is scary. These are strangers that have both helped and hurt MY DAUGHTER over the years. There is healing that Celia needs to do with her family, and fond and fun memories that are yet to be made. All of it being governed by a relationship between Jason and I and the bio family. Tears rolled down the face of Grandma as we talked about Celia's future. She is in favor of the adoption, yet sad for the lack of ability she had to prevent her from coming into foster care and concerned for the other 2 siblings not out of relative care. The complexity of it all weighs heavily on her heart, and on mine. Celia's inability to cope has her indifferent to it by appearance, but certainly her short speech has me convinced that it weighs equally on her.

Grandma brought tons of pictures to the visit. Pictures of Celia smiling as she wore her best dress for her first birthday. Pictures of the dogs, cousins, siblings, bio mom and aunt. Many memories were placed on the picnic table for us all to see. No picture would be mistaken for a picture that would come from yours or my home- with the rooms being more cluttery and carpet stained more than unstained. Grandma's love for them was and is evident. The method, just different.

I wonder how to sort my feelings, Celia's feelings, the difficult relationship between the one caring for her siblings and Grandma... what Celia wants vs. what is best for her. It is not easy. Her bio mom is about to come back into the picture in 5 months with the power to heal or hurt her from her current state. It is more power than Mom can know and how will she handle it when she doesn't even know she has it? How will Celia respond to all that Mom is capable of giving.

Adoption is not easy. There are pieces to the puzzle of your child's life that are hard to fit together. Pieces missing. Pieces torn and tattered. But not unlike a well loved puzzle that hours and hours were poured into creating, this puzzle is worth the end result. The character created by such trials, history, and pains has more potential to be supreme than any other. The growth, the depth that is required for survival alone is hard for you or I to imagine. And too big for a young child to even know how to handle. I pray that in time, we can guide this depth, this empowerment to do great things for herself. To honor the Lord with her life, to rise above the pain and past to be a light in the future. I pray... oh, I pray, that in the end, all this diffuculty will result in one young woman who knows who she is and who she serves. Please stand in prayer with me as this journey is long and hard for us all.

It was a good visit. It was a good day. I feel so blessed to be in this struggle.

Home Sour Home

So coming home from Africa is always a joy. I miss the kids so much that just thinking of them towards the end of the trip brings about tears. I was so eager to see them, have a warm shower that didn't require shutting off the faucet while soaping up, and some good ol' American food. And it was all as good as I knew it would be. We picked up our children and they seemed equally as happy to see us. We snuggled and then LIFE SET IN. It was laundry, cleaning, and emails. Fighting toddlers, dying grass, and doctor appointments. Ring worm on one child, marker on the other, too little sleep for another, and on and on. I love my life. I wouldn't trade it for anything... Home is SWEET... so why the title? Tut pees on the carpet when he is mad. Apparently, he was mad that we had left him for another continent. NICE!