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I Don't Feel Guilty

When other adoptive parents tell the stories of coming home with their children, there's often a phrase included that goes something like this:

"As the airplane took off, and I saw my child's birth country disappearing, I felt so sad.  We were leaving his culture behind and we felt guilty for taking him away."

It seems very, very common for adoptive parents to feel that way, doesn't it?  Honestly, I've never felt horribly guilty about physically taking my kids away from the place of their birth.  I absolutely understand that it is a big loss, especially for Sparkle who was born in South Africa.  I understand that there are so many aspects of growing up in their birth cultures that we cannot replace or replicate, no matter how hard we try.

So why don't I feel the guilt that so many other adoptive parents seem to feel?  I certainly feel guilty about a million other things, so why not this?

There are probably a couple of reasons:

1.  If we had not adopted them, someone else would have. 

With both of our children, the decision was made that they would be adopted long before we met them.  Whether their first moms made "the right decision" or not, the fact is that both of them were going to be parented by someone other than their first parents. 

If Sparkle's mom had not chosen us as his parents, she would have chosen someone else.  Much like an expectant mom in the US who is considering adoption for her child, she was given profiles of potential adoptive families from which to choose.  Most of the other adoptive parents were from various countries in Europe, so if she hadn't chosen Beloved and me, Sparkle would likely have grown up speaking Swedish, or Dutch, or German.  That's very odd to think about.  But one way or another he was going to be an adopted child, and I just don't feel guilty for being the ones to parent him.

In Pumpkin's case, his mom did not make a specific adoption plan before his birth but she had planned on adoption during her pregnancy.  If we had not promised the hospital that I was coming, he would have been placed in foster care in his birth city.  Though a preemie, he was healthy and absolutely perfect in every way.  So I don't doubt that he would have been adopted.  I'm just so glad it was us who got to do it, and I don't feel guilty for being the ones to parent him, either.

2. Because both of the boys are Black (South African American and African American) and living in the US, there is a broad, rich culture here in the US for them to connect to. 

No one sees Sparkle and thinks he looks "African."  (We can see his Ndebele features, but most people don't.)  Everyone sees him as African American, including other African Americans.  Though I don't doubt that he will feel the loss of South African culture, it seems to me more urgent that he find his place as a Black American in the US than as a displaced South African in the US.

Though he was adopted domestically, Pumpkin, too, has lost the "normalness" of growing up in a family of all African Americans. 

Still, we have not completely removed either of them from the possibility of having deep, abiding connection to other Black Americans.

I hope I am not sounding too casual about this, because I do understand that it's a deep loss for both of them.  I know it's important that Sparkle is South African and not African American, and that his ancestors do not share the same history as Black people born in the U.S. 

It's not that we are over-confident in our own ability as parents to make sure the boys make those connections to African Americans and find themselves a place in the African American community.  Really, our confidence is in Sparkle and Pumpkin!  If we can give them the basic tools, these boys will be okay.

Did you (or do you) feel guilty for taking your child away from his or her birth culture, if you've adopted from another country or culture?   

Cutie-Patooties

Blogging time has been reduced here, lately, and probably will be for a few weeks.  Thanks, as always, for hanging in there with me. 

The boys have been playing well together this weekend, which is so lovely.  They are also asking to visit Grandma and their friend Nolan. 

Very, very early in the life of this blog, I wrote about meeting Nolan's mom, Melanie.  (I just tried to update that post, but it put it back as a new post.  Augh!)  So anyway, Melanie and I emailed a few times when our boys were very little.  And then we ended up meeting again when the boys were older, and my kids love her son Nolan.  (And also they love his very cool toys, but I think they love Nolan more.)

Though my first actual face-to-face conversation with Melanie in CostCo surprised me, that was totally me being a freak, and Melanie is actually fabulous! 

(You'll notice that her first question was, "Are you an adoptive family?" which is a respectful and tactful question about our family as a group, and not about our baby as an oddity.  Not, "Is he adopted?  Where did you get him?" or some other horrible question.)

Nolan's family is now waiting for his new brother and sister to come home from Haiti, and Melanie invariably waits with grace, in spite of a prolonged and unpredictable adoption process in Haiti.  Sometimes when I ask her about the adoption what I'm really wondering is if she's going crazy yet or if she's angry about how long it's taking.  That's what I'd be feeling!  But no.  She speaks about it calmly, with patience and optimism. 

Clearly, I need more people like her in my life.  I'd better try to keep her around.

Plus, Nolan is so cute!  I love that he's fast and bouncy and loud, like my boys.  My kids seem to just fit right in, all three being crazy boys together, running around, yelling, and running into each other. 

Here are a few pictures of the boys playing together this spring and summer.

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(It's hard to get two little boys to look at the camera at once, and then, of course, there's the invariable silly falling over!)

Img_6054 (Nolan has a great waterslide right in his backyard!  Here are all three boys climbing, with the slightly bigger boys waiting behind a slower Pumpkin.)

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Img_6057 (And they all came down the slide with big grins!)

Real Life vs Online

Before we adopted Sparkle, we sort of almost decided to adopt from Haiti.  (I have never finished telling that story, have I?  But I'll get to it eventually.) 

At the time I was reading a few forums and yahoo groups related to Haitian adoption.  One woman who participated on a yahoo list mentioned where she lived, and it happened to be, like, 5 minutes from where we live.  Over the next few months we sent emails to one another about 3-4 times while she was waiting to bring home her son.

And I am getting to my point...

One day our family was running through costco, and a lady we didn't know said, "Are you an adoptive family?" 

"Yes," we said, "we met our son in South Africa."

"Oh," said Stranger Lady, "you must be Amanda.  I emailed you a few months ago.  We're the Stranger Family, and we adopted our son from Haiti.  And so on, and so on, etc."

And I didn't really hear much else because I was so freaked out I wanted to run away right that very second.

I had expected that I might actually meet this person In Real Life at some point.  That was why I made a point to introduce myself when she said where she lived.

But "Real Life" and "Not Real Life" are not supposed to intersect unexpectedly! 

The whole experience really did give me the heebie-jeebies.

Now I am very aware now that whatever is written here is available for anyone to see.  It's such a strange mix of anonymity and total exposure...  I don't think I've found exactly where I want to be yet. 

Ultimately, I want this to be a space for sorting out my own thoughts.  But I also want to dialogue with other people, and that requires more than just journaling.  It requires some exposure, and (oh my gosh) openness to criticism.   

I'm new to this.  So, hey, if you've figured this all out, please give me your tips.  How did you decide what parts of your life you wanted to share and what is sacred from the view of the Whole Wide World?

Old Photos: Teething

Two years ago, Pumpkin was just about to turn one.  He was getting those first four front teeth and chewing on anything he could get into his mouth.  His very favorite thing to chew was watermelon rind.  We'd give him a strip of rind with just a little of the red watermelon, and he would gnaw on that thing for hours if we let him.  (We didn't.)

This picture was taken almost exactly two years ago.

P9190225

(Handmade drool-absorbing flannel bib made by my mom, who is definitely, definitely Super Woman.)

New Post! New Post!

New post!

Don't look!  Cover your eyes!  Must take previous post out of the spotlight!

Better?  Are we all better now?

Let's talk about something else...

Something we can all unequivocally agree on...

I know!

My child is adorable!  Look, an adorable child!  We all agree on that, right?

(Focus.  Focus on The Cute.  Let go of the bad feelings.  No judgment, no anxiety...  There is only The Cute.)

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(Edited: Photo changed to one of Pumpkin throwing rocks into a lake last weekend.  Rock throwing is his Most Very Favorite Thing Ever.)

SAHMs In My Neighborhood

I leave for work at about 7:50 AM every morning.  This just barely allows me to get into my office and turn on the computer before the day really begins at 8:00 AM. 

(Before we had kids, I was sipping coffee at my desk every day by 7:30 AM, catching up on email and paperwork.  I had my hair highlighted every eight weeks, and wore makeup every day, and ran about four pretty fast miles every morning.  Yeah...  Times have changed.)

So anyway, school has started again.  I drive by two neighborhood bus stops every day on my way to work.  The bus is on time every day, and I drive past plus or minus 2-3 minutes every morning.  Every morning during the school year I see the same parents waiting with their kids at the bus stop.  I have met very few of them, but I feel like I know them!  And perhaps (and this is totally unfair) that I don't really like them very much.   

Only two of the parents I usually see are dads.  And the moms... 

Most of the moms are wearing Nikes and sporty track suit outfits (the cool kind, not the nasty polyester kind).  They have insulated travel mugs in their hands, probably (in my mind, anyway) filled with steaming Starbucks or some kind of super-healthy organic fair trade tea, black, of course, no sugar or even Splenda.  They have newspapers tucked under their arms, which they picked up off their driveways as they walked over.  Those who wear glasses have hip, funky black square-ish frames.  They stand and chat together, then wave to their kids as the bus drives off, and then they usually chat for another few minutes before the group breaks up. 

I imagine them saying things like, "Oh yes, I packed Johnny's organic whole wheat sandwich with free-range chicken last night before I cleaned the house.  Thank goodness I layed out his clothes last night while I put away the laundry, because I barely had time to review his spelling list with him this morning after I got back from the gym.  Well, I must be going!  If I hurry I can finish my coffee while I read the paper on the patio, before I head over to volunteer in Johnny's classroom."

They are probably not really like this.  Maybe.  But they all look so damned cute and relaxed and fit and put together.  I've never a single one of those moms frantically rushing her kid over to the bus, shoving a Lunchable in his backback and wearing her slippers.

Meanwhile, I'm driving by thinking, "Am I wearing shoes?  Yes?  Good.  Did I brush my teeth?  Hmmm, not sure.  Did I pack lunches for the kids?  Did I pack extra clothes for my child who is still having accidents at school?  Okay, I think I'll make it on time if I park close and go in the back door."

(And, I'll have you know, I once completely forgot to pack lunches for my kids and had to stop at a gas station to buy Lunchables on the way to daycare.  Yes, Lunchables, which I know are evil and cancer-causing and full of sodium.)

It's a good thing I'm a committed working-outside-the-home career mom, because I don't think I'd fit in with some of the other moms in my neighborhood, even if I had all the time in the world.  Or maybe I'm just jealous. 

Cookies and New Neighbors

A single mom who lives down the street from us just adopted two Ethiopian pre-teens.  She now has four kiddos at home.  We've kind of crossed paths a few times, but I definitely don't know her well.

We decided to make some cookies for their family, as a way to welcome the new kids and introduce ourselves.  Kind of corny, but whatever. 

So I bought some pre-made cookie dough, which is a total cop-out but it was all I had time for last week.  And when we brought over the cookies, no one was home.  The contractor who was painting at the house said they were going to be gone for several days.  Had to eat the cookies ourselves.  Big bummer.

Yesterday I decided to get all ambitious and make actual cookies, like, from a recipe, with ingredients and everything.

We made peanut butter cookies first, and Pumpkin was a big help.

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Then we made chocolate chip cookies, and Pumpkin clearly preferred the chocolate chip over the peanut butter, after numerous taste tests.  You can see that he takes the evaluation very seriously.  (Edited: photo removed)

The dough was kind of thin for some reason, so I added some quick oats to try to thicken it up a bit.  Every sheet of cookies was different, dang it, because I didn't measure how much oatmeal I put in.  You can see the progression below.

Img_6155

Cookie #1: Super thin batter, yummy cookie but nasty looking.

Cookie #2: Better with some quick oats, but still cow pie-ish.

Cookie #3: Whoa!  Over-compensation with the quick oats produces a rock hard "cookie" that is more like a regularity supplement.

Cookie #4: Finally, chocolate chip and oatmeal cookie perfection!  Mmmm...

I arranged a lovely plate of cookies and put them in a round purple cookie-box kind of thing with a welcome card (oh yes, I did, because I am SuperWoman), and brought them over to the neighbors.  Pumpkin and I met the very nice mom and all four of her sweet and adorable children. 

It was quite a process, but I think it was worth it!

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