An update on Ronel - they are still at the embassy. They are sleeping again on the cold tile floor. The good news is that they have received humanitarian parole and I believe it was only by Ernest's sheer determination and willingness to fight for their son. It should not have been that hard. They are now waiting to find a plane to fly out, because word on the street is the military is no longer offering evacuation flights for orphans. When he asked why, Ernest was told it was because of . . .
aftershocks
I don't have a lot of photos from my last trip to Haiti. I arrived on Monday afternoon, and the earthquake happened the next day. After the earthquake, I stopped taking pictures. I kind of stopped functioning altogether. My memory of those few days is already hazy. I really can't remember much except the fear. I have no idea how I managed to care for a baby, or for Kembert for that matter, in the midst of it. I tend to retreat and get very stoic when I'm stressed. On the outside, I might . . .
so I see you’re in the mood . . .
Well. Ronel's story has hit a nerve. I woke up this morning to find this story retweeted 41 times. Countless emails of letters to our ambassador (and quite well- written, might I add). My dear readers, you are riled up. ME LIKEY. Since nothing gets me more excited than a little social activism, what say you we step it up a notch? This is a story that begs telling, and a cause that begs fixing. Ernest remains at the embassy for the 4th day in a row. Sleeping on the concrete. . . .
prayers for Ronel
My heart is heavy tonight for the adoptive parents who are still waiting to get their children home from Haiti, and for the children who wait in the balance. Since we got Kembert out last week, things have changed dramatically. On January 18th, the US government announced it was granting humanitarian parole for orphans already in the process of adoption. This made perfect sense: these children were shown to be eligible for adoption prior to the earthquake. The Haitian and US government go . . .
time capsule
It's the beginning of a new decade, so my kids and I decided to make a atime capsule together. I meant to do this at the beginning of the year, but a few other things happened (like running a half marathon and getting stuck in Haiti during an earthquake and adding a new kids to our family. You know, minor distractions). I thought it would be a fun project that they could open in ten years when they are 15, 13, and 10, and look back on some memories from their preschool days. In the year . . .
getting to know you . . .
HIt is surreal to finally have Kembert in our home. It is surreal to get to know a three-year-old who is your son. He has a huge personality - almost reminds me of a little frat boy. He is silly and playful and extremely confident. He's got mad skills with any kind of ball. He is loud and wildly energetic . . . a great match for Jafta. He thinks that a bathtub full of water is the best thing ever. He's not so sure about grapes or elevators. He is sweet and affectionate, and in the . . .
home
We are having a blast with Kembert home. Despite the language barrier, the kids are having a non-stop party, laughing and squealing and enjoying each other. Last night, Jafta told me, "Mommy, Kembert is a wonderful person." We think so, too. Our homecoming yesterday was amazing. So many friends came to welcome him home, after years of supporting us and praying for us. We are so thankful. . . .
degaje
In Haitian Creole, there is a word called "degaje", which basically means to "make it work". We are in serious degaje mode right now. I have always scoffed at the idea that there is any manual that can teach how a mother how to do things the right way. When you are parenting four small children, one of them who speaks another language, there is NO MANUAL. We don't know what the heck we are doing.Our house is pretty much in chaos mode, and the inmates seem to be running the asylum. All . . .
lovely day
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arrival
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