Mayhem and Magic

Yoga, Baby!

While Beloved mowed the lawn today, the boys and I played in the yard.  It's so much fun for the boys to watch Daddy, and push their own toy lawn mower around, and bring Daddy drinks of water. 

Pumpkin kept reaching up in the air and saying something I couldn't understand.  Eventually I figured out that he was saying, "Branch pose!"  His class has been working on their yoga, and his teacher told me last week that he was really enjoying it.  So I asked him if he remembered any other poses, and he proceeded to show me the Branch pose, the Rainbow pose, and the Star pose!  I have no idea if there are real yoga poses by those names, but he seemed pretty darn confident about it.

And there is officially nothing cuter than a two-year-old who is serious about his yoga!

Love Thursday: Sparkle's Flag

We flew the South African flag from our house on Sparkle's birthday.  Here he is, bringing the flag to the front yard on his birthday morning.

I can't believe he's four years old.  I can't believe how blessed we are that this amazing South African child is our son.

Happy Love Thursday, everyone!

   

Talking to Adoptive Parents

A while ago our family went to a party where each family had adopted at least one of their children.  It wasn't a huge group, but there were families with quite a variety of adoption experiences (international, domestic, foster to adopt, older child, special needs, transracial, open, closed, semi-open...).

Someone had made a huge pot of doro wat (like 10 gallons, I think) and tons of injera.  After everyone ate, things quieted down.  Some of the older Ethiopian girls were braiding the hair of some younger girls.  The toddlers were outside running around the yard with some of the dads.

Four other moms and I were talking inside.  And you know, there is nothing like a real conversation with other adoptive moms.  It was amazing.  I am used to feeling a little on the outside among groups of moms.  Part of that is probably because I'm socially cautious (shy-ish), but it's also partly because I'm not a bio mom.

There is an intimacy about talking in person to other adoptive parents that isn't there among other groups of moms or even kindred blogging spirits. 

One mom spoke about her son, who was adopted as a toddler.  Shortly after he came home, she noticed some odd behavior.  He was only three (I think) but he made some suggestive sexual gestures that kind of freaked her out at first.  She talked about how she and her husband discussed it, realized that the behavior was partly an attachment-related thing, decided to deal with it (basically by refusing to be weirded out or emotionally push him away when he did these things), and how the behavior resolved after a while.

You know what would happen if she talked about this experience in a group of bio-only parents?  Or even some adoptive parents?  Many people would be horrified.  They would suggest that he had been abused, that he was dangerous.  They would quietly conclude that his parents were crazy, and maybe look at them funny when their son arrived on the playground.

As it was, the other moms listened.  A few nodded and affirmed her experience and how she had handled it.  A few shared their perspective on some attachment-related issues. 

And then the conversation moved on. 

There was no shock.  There was no silent judgement (of the parents, the child, of toddler adoption or adoption in general).

I wanted to hug them all.

Sometimes I hesitate to talk about certain aspects of parenting my boys.  Sparkle in particular tends to have more anxiety with changes and needs a lot of reassurance to feel secure.  Both Beloved and I know that it's partly just his personality, but we also believe that it's partly because of adoption-related loss.

But I don't talk about it.  I'm afraid people will think that all adopted kids are damaged goods with problems hiding around every corner.  I'm afraid that people will think I'm blaming adoption for what really comes down to poor parenting, and if we were better at this parenting thing our kid wouldn't have to ask twelve hundred million times who is picking him up on Thursday.  I'm afraid that just by talking about it, I might confirm the prejudices people have about adoption, Africans, or Black boys.  (Because, after all, he was destined to have issues anyway, being African and Black and male and all, you know).

And then, after all that...  I feel guilty for not letting him just be who he is, adoption-related control issues and all...  Why should he have to represent all South Africans, all Black boys, all adopted kids?  Why should he have to prove to the world that adoptive families are all fine, darn it, just fine!

So anyway, my point is...  It was just unbelievably refreshing to be part of a group of real live people whom I knew would understand.  I actually didn't talk a whole lot during that conversation, or bare my adoptive-mommy soul. 

But I could have.

(And...  time for disclaimers!  (You knew they were coming, right?) I know that potential problems with sexual acting out should not be ignored.  In this case, it was very clear that the child had no history of abuse.  The gestures were benign.  The behavior resolved quickly and did not recur.  I am 100% confident that his parents handled it appropriately and did not fail to address any important issues with their child.)

Follow Up on "Settling"

I have only about two minutes to post...  I'd like to be able to email people individually to thank you all for your comments and emails, but that's just not going to happen.  So thank you!  I appreciate your input and feedback.

Julie's reflections on her blog about possibly adopting seemed to start a bit of a blog whirlwind, with adoptive parents being upset that others might not think their kids are as loved, as wanted, as good, as whatever as bio kids.

I want to clarify that I think Julie is a thoughtful and wise person, and I have every confidence that she and her husband will make the right decision for their family, and for any potential future children.

Part of why the topic interests me lately is because I'm not sure we will adopt again, and that is a really wierd feeling.  So it's interesting to read other people's thoughts about deciding to adopt or not.

Before Sparkle, we knew we would adopt.  And we made the decision before we even adopted our first child that we would adopt twice, and that we preferred to adopt a child of the same race as our first.

So I knew that we would adopt two kids.  There was a sense of impatience and urgency and longing even before we started the adoption process.

Now that we have two kids and are pondering whether to add a third (and last) child, our situation feels so different.  The desperation and urgency is gone.  I feel...  pretty satisfied.

Personally, I want a third child.  But I know that just because I want a third doesn't mean that it's the best thing for our family or for the children we already have.  I know this, and I know that I could be okay with deciding to keep our family a family of four. 

And that feels really odd.

I Did Not Settle

I desperately wanted both of my boys.  Before I met them, or saw their pictures, or even knew they existed I wanted them.  With all my heart. 

These boys.  These very boys.  More than anything else in the world, I wanted them.

We never truly considered pregnancy.  The thought of it made me sad.  I would have missed my boys. 

If we had been told we couldn't adopt unless we knew we couldn't get pregnant, I would have been heartbroken. I would have scheduled a tubal ligation.

The decisions each of us make about building our families are so complicated.  I don't really question other people's decision-making (unless they are clearly, you know, stupid), but sometimes I don't understand.  It doesn't matter that I don't understand; it's not my family or my decision anyway. 

It does frighten me to think that some people adopt without being sure adoption is what they want for themselves or their families.  I can understand being uncertain or fearful about specific things-- like whether you'll be "picked" by an expectant mom, or what challanges your potential child might face, or not knowing a child's full history. I can even understand wanting to adopt but choosing not to because of concerns about ethical problems in adoption, or finances, or whatever else. 

But to be uncertain about the very first decision--whether you desire to adopt a child at all, or not-- I don't quite get it.  I can totally understand not adopting because you're not sure it's the right decision, but I don't understand going ahead with it if you're not sure, hoping that you'll become sure at some point along the way. 

Children who need adoptive placements deserve the unreserved love of their eventual parents.  To think that a child just as precious as my own sons may not be 100% loved by their adoptive parents is so sad.  What if my boys had been placed with a parent who didn't love them wholeheartedly?  Oh, God...  to imagine it makes me nauseated, even more than the thought that they would not have been mine...  If they weren't mine, I could possibly survive if I knew they were unreservedly adored... thank God for sparing my sons from that situation.

So, just in case I have not been clear: These are my children.  My sons.  They could not be more loved and wanted.

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Here are some links, for background on why I'm thinking about this now:

http://incarcerateduterus.typepad.com/chicagomama/

http://www.alittlepregnant.com/alittlepregnant/

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(As a short post-script: As much as we wanted to adopt, we would never participate in deliberately coercing an expectant mom to place.  You know that, right?  And we realize that the boys were not ours until they were fully relinquished by their first parents.  And as strongly and emphatically as we claim them as ours, it is okay for them to think of their first families as true family as well.  Did I miss anything?)

A Birth Family Question from Sparkle

Pumpkin's first mom now lives in a different city than she did when Pumpkin was born.  Sparkle figured this out recently, and realized that she moved from one city to another. 

(This came up because he was wondering, "What football team does she cheer for?"  Then wondered if now she supports the team from her old city or her new city.)

That night when I was tucking him in to bed, he asked me where his first mom lives.  I told him, "She lives in South Africa, Babe."  I was totally not making the connection, until he asked me, "Did she move, Mama?"

Oh...

I told him she still lives in South Africa.  Then I realized that I really don't know that for sure.  So we had a conversation about where she lived when he was born.  And that we weren't sure where she lives now.  It was not a difficult, gut-wrenching discussion.  When I realized I had told him something about his first mom that I didn't know was true, I just backtracked and said, "You know, Sparkle, I'm not sure where your birthmom lives now.  When you were born she lived in Pretoria, and I think she probably still lives there, but I don't know for sure."  He seemed to be OK with this.

Sparkle's birthday is tomorrow, and he is really, really excited about it.  This is the first year he has really anticipated his birthday.  Especially since our bedtime conversation earlier this week, I am trying to remember that he is probably thinking not only about his birthday celebration, but his actual birth day, and about his birthmom.  (He refers to her as "L." or "my birthmom."  Now we prefer "first mom" but since we started out using "birthmom," we have not tried to make him change it.)

He hasn't asked about where L. lives since.  I'm trying not to push, or to suggest what he should be thinking about, yet make sure he knows he can ask about...  I don't know, whatever he's wondering... 

Like which football team his first mom cheers for, I guess.

Much Needed Photo Update

In this picture, Pumpkin and I were rocking and he was falling asleep.  I can't remember the last time I rocked him to sleep...  That makes me sad...  Whenever it was, I didn't realize that it might be the second-to-last time I got to rock him to sleep.  I'm glad that Beloved took a few pictures this time.

We usually eat a pretty healthy diet around here.  But Mondays are crazy, and we discovered a family "tradition" in the Monday craziness.  When Beloved comes home with the boys, he turns on the oven and the boys "help" make chicken nuggets and french fries for dinner. 

This involves getting the bags of frozen chicken nuggets out of the freezer, getting out a cookie sheet, carefully placing the items in a single layer on the cookie sheet dumping as much onto the cookie sheet as possible in a big pile, and helping to set the timer after Dad puts the tray into the oven.  When I get home, they have usually set the table and found the ketchup and are sitting down to dinner.  Then they have left over chicken nuggets in their lunches on Tuesday.  Yum! 

"Interview"

These questions were posted on thumbscre.ws, and at first I thought it was a meme.  But it's not.  But they were good questions, so I'm going to answer them anyway, just for fun.

What are three random things that make you happy?

1. A good run.  I actually dislike running for the most part. I only do it because it's an inexpensive way to stay healthy without a big time committment, and it requires no coordination or athletic ability.  But maybe once or twice a week I have a really great run, when I am totally relaxed and I feel like I could run forever.  That makes me happy.

2. Unexpected coffee.  This morning my coworkers ordered Starbucks for everyone in the office.  I came back to my desk to find a hot venti 1% caramel machiato.  Mmmm...

3. Snuggling with my sons.  They don't smell like babies anymore.  They smell like rough-and-tumble, peanut-butter-eating, grass-stained little boys.  But they are so sweet and they willingly give me "STRONG hugs" and soft kisses.  When we snuggle, we sing songs and tell each other stories, and list all the great things that happened during the day.  (Tonight they listing yogurt, soccer, mowing the lawn with Daddy, peanut better (NOT jelly!), and Lightning McQueen as the things that made them happy.)

What (or whom) would you die for?

Not much.  I would die for my sons, my husband, my parents or any of my siblings.  If they were stuck in a burning building and I knew I could get them out but that I would die saving them, I really don't think I would hesitate.  I can't think of anyone or anything else I know I would willingly die for.

Under what circumstances would you commit murder?

If my family were under immediate threat of serious harm, I would kill someone if I could prevent the harm from happening.  You know, if someone was in my house threatening my children, I would totally shoot him (or her).  (Not that we have a gun in the house because, are you kidding me, my boys would find it within five minutes.)  Or I would push someone over a cliff or hit them on the head with something very, very heavy.  I don't know if I could stab or choke someone, or kill them in a way that required direct physical contact. 

(And isn't this this lovely?)

Which year of your life would you relive?

This is a hard one... 

While Beloved and I were in school, we lived in a cute little rental house.  We had no (really, NO) money, and our big, guilty splurge was going to McDonalds every Sunday after church before we went to Beloved's grad student office and studied all afternoon.  At the time I felt like we were stressed out a lot (mostly over school and money stuff).  But looking back, I remember lots of afternoons when we sat across the living room from each other, both surrounded with books, both in sweatpants, working quietly and talking occassionally.  If I could relive that time I would tell myself to relax about the money and just enjoy all the togetherness and solidarity and quiet and promise.

I might chose to relive the first year after Sparkle came home.  It was a really wonderful and challenging year.  Actually, at the time I didn't feel all that stressed, but looking back I can't believe we handled everything as well as we did. 

Both Beloved and I wish we had done a better job of helping Sparkle with his sleep problems.  He was six months old when we got home, and his sleep stuff was not atypical for an adopted infant.  We just didn't know him as well as we do now, and though we did our best to help him, we didn't really know what he needed.  I wish we could do that again, and do it better.

What do you dream about?

I usually don't remember my dreams for more than a few minutes after I wake up.  When I have a fever, I always have the same dream about being stuck on a boat surrounded by sharks.

(And on that happy note...  Let me know if you'd like to answer these questions!  Or you can write your own "interview" questions for me or for yourself, which I guess was kind of the point of the original post.)