Mayhem and Magic

Busy Weekend

We got a lot done this weekend.  It was warm enough to wash the cars, and it was our first opportunity this spring to play with buckets and hoses and rags and soap.  Great fun!

Adopting Boys Follow Up Post

Thanks again, commenters, for sharing your insights and experience.  I love hearing about how people grow their families. 

I'm feeling a bit guilty that I may have seemed too critical of families who have adopted girls.  It's not that people shouldn't adopt girls or shouldn't specifically want girls.  I just think it's important that parents consider critically the factors that lead them to those decisions.

Where I'm From (It's a meme about childhood/families, kind of!)

First of all, thanks to those who commented recently.  I love participation!

Mary's Owlhaven has been collecting "Where I'm From" essays.  Writing your own is "a fun exercise in learning about the small things that give us our identities with the place or places we are from."   

There is a set format to start with, and you fill in the blanks.  Kind of like Mad Lib, only not funny.  (Here is the original.) 

So here's mine (ahem) :

I am from the picnic table in the dining room, from a box of Lucky Charms on birthdays, and Pop Tarts for breakfast on camping trips.

I am from the big green house by the park with a swing set in the back yard.

I am from laying on the dock, feeling both the hot sun and the cool breeze off the lake, from muggy Minnesota evenings, passing one can of pop between all of us sitting on lawn chairs.

I am from the oak tree by the driveway, from windmills turning slowly on the hill with corn and bean fields rustling below.

I am from waking up with a present at the foot of my bed every birthday morning, watching "Wild America" together on Sunday night, and Dad telling stories as we fell asleep in a dark tent.

I am from stubbornness, corny jokes, sarcastic tongues, and soft hearts.  I am from Vivian and Lester and Doris.

I am from keeping our disagreements within the family and staying loyal to one another.  I am from working until we're seventy five.  I am from ice fishers and waterskiers and a mom who quit her teaching job when I was born.

From "Don't sweat the small stuff" and "Knee high by the fourth of July" and "You are my sunshine" and "Good night.  See you in the morning.  Love you.  Sleep tight."

I am from never missing church on Sunday morning unless you were throwing up, AWANA on Wednesday night, potlucks with hotdish and jello salad, and off-key Christmas programs where parents crowded the front with cameras.

I am from Duluth, Minnesota.  I am from Norway and Sweden and Holland.  I am from popcorn, cheese, and apples on game night and chicken kiev on Christmas day.

I am from picking dandelions from the yard for 1 cent each, and from standing at the edge as waves crashed against the rocks, getting wet and freezing cold on purpose.  I am from Great Grandpa Olsen teasing, "Who will eat the stems?" while we sat in the sun on the nursing home patio.  I am from a purple bike with a cool banana seat and saving my allowance for a Cabbage Patch doll.  I am from the whole family singing carols in the living room while Suzanne played piano.  I am from Dad quietly carrying us to bed after a long car trip home.  I am from magic shows where we told the audience, "Now just close your eyes for a second!"

I am from hundreds of photos stacked in mom's hope chest, slideshows stored in carousels, extra hard drives just for pictures and video, and a cookbook of family recipes.  I am from sparkling suncatchers in the windows and Florence's instruments displayed in the dining room.  I am from never getting rid of books, so that I remember a hundred different pieces of childhood just by looking at the shelves.

Adopting Boys

It bothers me when prospective adoptive parents say they only want to adopt a girl. 

Every family needs to decide what is right for them, etc, etc...  But it is painful for me to imagine that another parent could see my kids and think, "Well, those boys are fine for someone else.  But they aren't what I want.  I want a girl.  In fact, if I had been referred those very boys, I would reject that referral to wait for a girl." 

(Thank God these boys are mine!  Mine, mine, mine!)

I'm thinking about this again because apparently China recently referred some boys to families who were expecting girls, and some of those referrals were rejected.

In a response to someone's post about it, a commenter said, "I requested a girl because as a feminist I felt better prepared to raise a daughter."  Does this seem... odd? crazy? to anyone else?  As a "feminist" (and I'm never quite sure what people mean by that lately), what qualities would I want to instill in my daughter?  Compassion, kindness, committment to social justice, faith, courage, integrity, assertiveness, confidence.  Are these not the qualities and character traits I would hope in cultivate in a son as well?  Saying that you want a daughter because you are a feminist seems pretty silly.

When we started planning our family, I wanted a girl as well.  As I've written before, the desire for a daughter was mostly a casual "wanting," just something I had pictured, but not something I was committed to pursuing.  Why do adoptive parents want girls?  And why do they want girls so badly that they would reject a potential son? 

I have two theories.  Wanna hear 'em?  OK...

1) Most potential adoptive parents are single women or heterosexual couples.  Often it is women who initiate the adoption process.  Women have been sisters and daughters (duh).  They have first-hand experience with the sister/sister, father/daughter, mother/daughter relationship.  So they picture re-creating the good parts of those relationships in their own familes, and all those relationships that they know so well involve daughters and sisters.  More often they have not been as emotionally involved in a son/mother or son/father or brother/brother family relationship, and perhaps they don't realize that those relationships are just as close and just as amazing in their own way.  So when the vision of their family starts to form in their heads and hearts, a daughter just sort of *appears* there.

Maybe I'm way off with this theory.  What do you think?

2) Racial stereotypes are more "favorable" toward not-white females than not-white males.  Asian girls and women are quiet, small, exotic, smart.  Asian boys and men are smart, polite, not as athletic, passive, short, sexless.  Black women are assertive, sexy, enthusiastic, good cooks.  Black men are criminals, poor fathers, unintelligent, unreliable.  (You understand, obviously, that I'm not in any way saying that these stereotypes are correct or OK.)

So maybe, unconsciously (I hope), white prospective adoptive parents feel like it is more acceptable to add an Asian or Black girl to their family than an Asian or Black boy. 

Again, what do you think?

Update, Photos, and The Downside of Toilet Training

Pumpkin jabbers and talks constantly.  He's at the point that his jabbering sounds like it really could be words, only it doesn't make any sense.  But he talks anyway, with gestures and inflection to make his point.  He seems to really expect us to continue the conversation. 

If I say, "I'm sorry, Baby, I didn't understand what you said," he looks at me like, "Mother, if you would just pay attention..."

---------------------------------------

Sparkle is still dry.  Not one single accident.  We're so proud.  But...

Having a little boy who's new to the whole toilet thing is... unexpectedly nasty.  I have to check the bathroom after he's done, because I am not allowed in while he is using the toilet.  ("I yike a yittle privacy peez, Mom.")

Almost every time he goes, I have to wipe down the toilet as well as the floor in front of the toilet.  He's so pleased with himself that I hate to mention it, but, oh my gosh, his aim is going to require a bit more practice.  (He is sitting down, but he sits too far forward on the seat.)

And his underwear.  To say there are, um...  skid marks... is discrete.  I think it's a Montessori thing to let him be totally in charge of clean up when he's at school.  Again, nasty. 

I think the rule should be that you're not truly a Big Boy until you can effectively wipe your very own bum.  I'm just saying.

(Edited: Photos removed)

My Mom Sent Me an Email:

This was in our inbox yesterday evening:

Hi Amanda and Beloved --

I was looking at the pictures of the boys tonight.

While I was looking at the pictures I got all choked up.  I love those little guys so much!!!!!

I imagined their precious voices and remembered all the fun I had with them.  The time with them brought me much, much joy.  Thank you so much for the privelege of being with them.

I love you all very much.  Please tell the boys I love them ALOT!!

Love,

Mom

I Hoped I Would Turn Out Like my Mother (an Unplanned Early Mother's Day Tribute)

I expected I would be a lot like my mother when I "grew up."  Isn't that what everyone says?  That women sort of become their mothers as they get older?

There were always a few things about my mom that I wanted to avoid emulating, but for the most part I was relieved.  It would be OK to be a lot like my mom.

So now I've been married for almost seven years, I have two kids, a job, a mortgage... and I think I'm about as "grown up" as I'm going to get.

(Not that I'm so mature and wise, just grown up.)

And I'm disappointed that I have not evolved into my mom.  It seems a bit unfair.

Here's a list of qualities I missed out on by not becoming my mom:

1)She can decorate.  Her taste isn't expensive, but her house is beautiful because she knows how to put things together so that they look great.  I can't do that.  Sometimes when she is at my house I feel self-conscious because I imagine that she is thinking about what she would change about my decorating.

2)She is patient.  She spent a week with my boys and loved it!  I get antsy and short-tempered by about 6 o'clock.  (Ok, maybe 5 o'clock.  Or 4 o'clock.)

3)She is craft-y.  She can sew things, for example, like cute little overalls for the boys or even quilts.  Once I made curtains (tab top panels) and one was 2" longer than the other. 

4)She never seems to run out of energy.  She has lots of projects going on at once, and seems to do them all well.  I like to sit on the couch whenever I can. 

5)She reads a lot.  And she has something intelligent to say about everything she reads. 

6) She and Dad have a great marriage, with a depth in their relationships that comes from having been together for over thirty years.

I think I have a chance of developing some of the traits I admire in my mom.  Our lives are so different (she was a not-always-happy SAHM to four kids in a five year age span); I shouldn't be surprised that I'm not exactly like her.  I'm glad she's my mom, and I'm glad the boys have her for a grandmother.

"Dream Baby"

Though I assumed we would adopt from China, we obviously ended up making different choices.  A while ago, I wrote about the process of deciding where we would look for a child, and about imaging our eventual family.  Remember that? 

It was difficut to express at the time, and I felt like I explained it awkwardly.  Anyway, today I found that Pomegranate wrote something similar but did a better job. 

"...some people obsess on the "baby" aspect - they're adopting a baby, they're having a baby, China has babies, they've longed for a baby, but of course we need to remember, when we start out on this bizarre journey, that we are adopting a person. An individual, a life that will too soon be independent of ours. We're adopting a five year old, a teenager, a young adult, a 40 year old, an elderly person...that whole life will be joined with ours and that is the hugest thing we will ever, ever do. For us, and most certainly for them. We choose to change an entire life. Er...wow."

Well said, isn't it?

My Mother is Super Woman

Have I mentioned that my mother is Super Woman?  With the lovely meals and the crafty projects and the clean floors?

Well, she has topped anything I thought was possible.  She has Sparkle using the toilet.

Until now, when we asked Sparkle, "Would you like to go to the bathroom on the toilet?" he scrunched his eyebrows and cocked his head and replied, "Yet me sink...  Not today, Mama.  Maybe tomorrow I use a toilet, OK?"

Before we left for Hawaii I ran through all the kid care stuff with Mom and said, "Oh, yeah, and could you toilet train Sparkle while we're gone?"  (Ha!  Joking, you see.)

My mom got this look and said, "Ha, ha!  Hmmmm..."

On the second day we were gone, Sparkle called to tell us he had pooped on the potty!  And, to get to the point, by the time we came home Sparkle had been dry without accidents for three whole days.  And he has been dry since. 

There were little bags of M&Ms and Skittles on the counter when we got home.

"Oh, yes," my mom (Super Woman) said, sort of apologetically, "I did offer him two Skittles and two M&Ms for each day he stayed dry."

Whatever, Mom!  Offer him brownies for supper if he'll use the toilet!  Hurrah!

I'm telling you, she's Super Woman.

Home Again

We are home.

As Sparkle says, "Our whole family is together!"

Coming home to my kids makes the end of vacation much more bearable.