• I adopted my sons from Ethiopia in 2012 and immediately started saving for their college tuition.
• I wanted them to graduate with no student loans and have every opportunity for success.
• To save, we gave up traveling and other big expenses, but we don't regret it.

When my husband and I adopted our sons from Ethiopia in 2012, we were already behind when it came to college expenses — especially when compared to friends who basically started saving as soon as they saw the second line on the pregnancy test.

Our sons were 7 and 8 years old when they joined our family. We lost years of creating family memories — first words, first day of kindergarten, first wiggly tooth — and years of adding to a 529 savings account.

After becoming the parents to Black boys in America, we learned the realities of our country's income and wealth gaps.

According to data from 2023 census reports, the median income of white households exceeds that of Black households by more than $30,000.

The research on college degrees is murkier. The census data shows that just over 20% of Black people hold a college degree.

We want our sons to help change those stats and narratives, so my husband and I have saved rigorously and sacrificed for our son's college tuition.

We've given up a lot to ensure our sons can go to college

While we've taken some epic family trips — to several national parks, to both coasts, to our sons' homeland of Ethiopia — we've also taken many equally memorable low-budget vacations to family members' cabins just a few hours from our house.

Our living room sectional — an uncomfortable monstrosity — should have been donated years ago, and nights dining out together look more like McDonald's than Michelin stars. Instead of expensive hobbies requiring lots of equipment, we opt for running (we just need sneakers!).

Looking back, some financial choices carry a tinge of regret. Skipping travel sports teams saved money, and we didn't push enrichment camps or invest in tutoring. However, it's hard not to wonder if those missed opportunities could have opened doors to scholarships or other benefits. While we know we did our best with our resources, those lingering "what-ifs" are a pervasive part of parenting for me.

Still, we press on in the present, striving to balance providing for our sons' futures with appreciating the life we have now.

We don't regret these sacrifices

In many ways, our choices don't feel like sacrifices. We live in a lovely home in an established city neighborhood we love. We own vehicles and have money in retirement accounts. Our parents' generosity added more money to college savings accounts than we could've accumulated on our own. As much as possible, we try to recognize our privilege.

We hope that by receiving degrees without the predatory student loans we've heard horror stories about, our sons won't feel forced to start on undesirable career paths.

If they want to pursue an advanced degree, buy a home, or travel, those enormous loans won't deter life choices that bring them joy. Just as my husband and I owe our financial freedom as young adults to our parents' decisions, our choices today can have a generational impact on our future grandchildren.

Our savings are finally coming into play today

Our sons have taken two different paths so far. One explored the trades in high school and started with classes at a community college while living at home. The other is a freshman at a large public university, trying out life in a dorm.

They both know we are doing everything we can to help them avoid college debt, but we try to share this without making them feel unduly burdened.

Of course, we want them to have a sense of responsibility, too. Through the years, they've built up their savings accounts thanks to part-time jobs and birthday and graduation gifts. That money will contribute to their college education and living expenses, motivating them to receive good grades, apply for scholarships, and keep working.

Today, as I work on the family budget, I think about the dollar amounts. But more than anything, I think about the opportunity to rewrite the narratives surrounding inequality we became aware of the moment we became parents to Black boys in America. If one day my sons use their education to create opportunities for themselves and others, these challenges will have been well worth it.

• I was certain that I knew the correct and only way to celebrate Christmas.
• Spending the holidays with my husband's family showed me that people celebrate differently.
• I adopted two boys and realized there's no one and only way to celebrate.

Visiting my husband's hometown in Southwest Missouri over 20 years gave me more culture shock than studying abroad in Europe.

Raised in Northwest Iowa, my stoic upper Midwest upbringing frequently contrasted with the Southern culture in his hometown, not far from the Arkansas border. Strangers I met just five minutes prior inquired about my plans for babies, pushing me to discuss topics I rarely brought up with my closest friends. The smiles, sincere or not, were as sweet as the tea.

I persevered, however, because I loved this man, and therefore, I would learn to love and accept this different way of life.

Their way of celebrating Christmas was not my way

My positive attitude changed when I experienced their Christmas traditions.

Even at our most raucous, my family of origin's celebrations were orderly. Yes, larger family gatherings sometimes devolved into wrapping paper wars in a living room crammed way beyond fire code capacity. But that happened only after the well-organized gift opening.

In my family, Christmas revolved around our fresh-cut tree, its pine scent filling the room as we opened gifts in an orderly fashion. Starting with the youngest, each person unwrapped one present at a time, allowing for collective admiration and expressed appreciation. The day unfolded with quiet rhythms — Bing Crosby on the record player, Christmas movies on TV, and plenty of time to enjoy our gifts and each other's company.

This, I was sure, was the proper way to celebrate Christmas as a family.

Imagine my shock, then, when I attended my first Christmas gathering at my husband's house, ready for an orderly unwrapping, only to walk into a gift-opening melee. Everyone took their pile of gifts and, without fanfare, opened them all at once. There were no turns. There was no collective gasping, no posing for photos with my new sweater so Grandma could see how much I loved it, no feigned "thank yous" when I really didn't love the new sweater. Instead, every gift in the entire room was unwrapped unceremoniously in a matter of less than two minutes.

Did my new mother-in-law like the pink Angora sweater I gave her? How did my father-in-law feel about his work gloves? I had no idea because their reactions were lost under the wrapping paper.

This chaotic scene unfolded in front of an artificial tree that had become permanent in their dining room.

After the wild unwrapping and a shared meal, everyone put on coats and prepared to head outside. It was time for the next holiday tradition — a trip to the movie theater.

I could count on one hand the number of times I had been to the movies with my family, and we never went on a holiday. That was sacrilegious.

There was a correct to celebrate Christmas; this Missouri version wasn't it.

Raised to be "Iowa Nice," I didn't say a word about my disapproval, but my facial expressions said enough.

When we adopted 2 kids, we did the holidays our way

Later, a few years into our marriage, those "babies" finally arrived in the form of the 7 and 8-year-old sons my husband and I adopted.

That first Christmas, we worked hard not to overwhelm our children. Born in Ethiopia, they weren't used to the overstimulation that comes with large family gatherings. We kept the celebration simple and small, paring down the menu, the number of gifts, and the size of the gatherings.

It felt good.

The simpler, quiet rhythms of the season allowed me to focus on what really mattered. The four of us created new traditions that evolved over time. Sometimes, I roasted a turkey, and other times, we dined on delicious Ethiopian food. Some years, we binged NBA games after opening gifts, and other years, we'd laugh at but secretly enjoy Hallmark movies. Maybe we'd play a game, or maybe we'd hop in the car to look at Christmas lights.

With my parents, gifts are opened in turn; at my mother-in-law's, it's a fun-spirited free-for-all. My sons appreciate that there is no expectation to have the just-right reaction to packages of socks and underwear. Together, we've learned about flexibility and fluidity.

It turns out there's no formula for the perfect holiday, even if I'm still not willing to budge on the fresh-cut tree. The magic of the holidays isn't in the tree, the gifts, or even the order of opening them; it's in embracing the people you share them with — chaos and all.