Mayhem and Magic

Macaroni Dog

Well, I'm heading out tonight on work-related travel.  I'm actually excited to go, but missing Beloved and the boys already. 

They have exciting things planned, like playing football (which we do every single day, regardless), eating mac and cheese (and probably McDonald's I'm guessing), and burping a lot (seriously, burping is now the funniest thing ever).

On that last post?  You know, I really have the smartest and kindest blog readers ever. You're awesome.  Thanks.  (If you haven't gone back to read the comments, you should.)

I'd also like to draw your attention to a post by chou-chou, who is adopting from Ethiopia, and whom I admire.  I also find it interesting to consider this post along with another one from Anti-Racist Parent about preparing children to face racism-- or just to be able to handle "jackassery" in general.  You're welcome to continue the discussion and sharing of opinions here (I'd love to hear what you have to say), but consider reading the posts and comments there are well.

And...

What you really came for...

The Macaroni Dog!

Pumpkin discovered Mr. Macaroni Dog in his mac and cheese.  We all exclaimed and laughed...  And then Pumpkin ate him!

Parenting Black Children: What Not to Do?

I just read an interesting article in Adoptive Families.  Please read the article.  I'd like to know what you think.

While we were in the adoption process for Sparkle, I had some thoughts that I'm not proud of now.  I was thinking of how we would instill pride in our South African child, how we would let him know he was special, how we would make it be okay that he was one of a minority of Black kids in our area.  And I admit I had some vague idea that we would talk up South Africa and how his ancestors had never been slaves.  In my head, this would be in the context of helping him identify with African American history, too.  Just, you know, having extra pride in being South African. 

Now I think this is a bad idea.  A BAD idea. 

I absolutely understand the motivation of adoptive parents who might want to use this "But your people were never slaves, your country was never colonized" thing.  Sometimes there are way more negatives than positives about being a transracially adopted kid, or being one of only several kids of color in a classroom, or being the only Black child in a family.  We feel like we need anything, ANYTHING, to make it more tolerable when things are hard.

I understand wanting your son to know the history of his country of origin, and wanting him to be proud of himself and his first family.

But I would like to suggest that making difficult things more tolerable by drawing distinctions among Black people is NOT WORTH IT.

I have two Black children from very different backgrounds.  (Sparkle was born in South Africa, and Pumpkin was born in Indiana.)  For our family, there would be some very direct consequences if I were to lead either of them to believe that any aspect of his "Blackness" was better than his brother's. 

Can you imagine? 

And you know, my kids don't have lots of other South African kids around.  They have some African American friends (both adopted and not adopted), but we still need for our kids to feel connected to other Black adopted kids, to feel a part of that community.  It bothers me to think that kids whose parents take this approach to "building pride" might make my boys feel like they don't belong. 

(So, it's all about my kids and my own selfishness, you see!)  (Except not really.)

I've actually been working on this post for a while, and I keep writing things and then deleting them.  I'm struggling to explain this and it's probably not going to come out exactly right.  And I'm a little nervous to write about unity among people of color when I obviously have no personal experience as a person of color.  Please feel free to tell me if you disagree, or if you can explain it better.  I think it's an important discussion.

Here's what I originally wrote (and please note ahead of time that my thinking has been a little revised):

You cannot say, "Well, we're just expressing pride in the strength of the Ethiopian people when we remind our kids that Ethiopia was never colonized" without at the same time saying (even if you don't say it out loud, even if you say it innocently, even if you don't think your kid will pick up any more subtle meaning), " 'Cause those people in countries that were colonized were weaker."  (Not trying to pick on adoptive parents of Ethiopian kids, here, just using this example since it was in the article.) 

I cannot say to my South African son, "Here is something for you to be proud of:  Your ancestors were never slaves!" without implying "That would be bad if your ancestors had been slaves."

Now, this is not 100% true in every situation.  I absolutely believe it is possible to talk about the history of a country or a people group in an objective way that builds self-knowledge without creating a better than/worse than dynamic.  (And I think the author of the article has a unique situation in that her daughters were eight years old when they were adopted and the author is an adoption professional.)

But.  I think the line between positive confidence and negative, devisive pride is very verrrry fine.

Crazy 8s Meme

Tagged by Blaine!

8 Things I'm Passionate About

My kids, my husband, my faith, my job, my extended family, adoptive parenting, blog reading, and book reading

8 Things I Want to Do Before I Die

see my kids grow up, change my job just a bit to do new things with my current job (vague, sorry), see my marriage grow and improve, quit my job (eventually!), take a photography course (love it, but not that good at it), grow my relationships with my siblings, find a church family that I feel totally united with.  Last one here is totally a dream, but who knows...  I'd like to take classes in reconciliation studies (kind of a sociology/economics/race relations/history thing).

8 Things I Say Often

"Let's move it, Crazies!"  "Hey!  Respect your brother's words!"  "How can you ask politely?" "Hush!" "You're my boy!" "Where are your shoes?" "Do you need to use the bathroom?" and "I love you!"

8 TV Shows I've Watched Recently

Hmmm...  Stargate Atlantis (Beloved and I are watching the first season together, except sometimes I don't watch the scary ones), Design on a Dime, Extreme Makeover (there was a marathon over Christmas sometime and I watched two episodes.  Made me feel ugly and discontented, so probably won't watch again.) 

I'm gonna change the meme a bit, just because, and make the last ones books I've read recently...

Three Cups of Tea by Greg Mortensen and David Oliver Relin, God of the Possible by Gregory A. Boyd, The Myth of a Christian Nation by Gregory A. Boyd, The American Dream and the Power of Wealth by Heather Beth Johnson, and I'm working on doing better at regular Bible reading again.

8 Songs I Would Listen To Over and Over

I'm going to change this one, too, and name 8 artists I'm listening to a lot lately...

KT Tunstall, Corrine Bailey Rae, Common, John Legend, John Mayer, Coldplay, Raffi and Sarah Hickman (last two are the boys' current favorites).   It's clear to me looking at this list that I do not have really sophisticated musical taste. 

8 Things That Attract Me to My Best Friends

Ooo...  Let's see...  My friends are gracious, hard working, humble (don't know everything and they're okay with that), un-self-conscious, generous, critical thinkers, accepting, and best of all kind enough to love me in spite of my flaws!

8 Things I've Learned This Past Year

I can't do it all, but I'll still do alright!  I think I've learned the same thing in about 8 different ways this last year! 

MLK Jr

Perhaps it is easy for those who have never felt the stinging dart of segregation to say, "Wait." But when you have seen vicious mobs lynch your mothers and fathers at will and drown your sisters and brothers at whim; when you have seen hate-filled policemen curse, kick and even kill your black brothers and sisters; when you see the vast majority of your twenty million Negro brothers smothering in an airtight cage of poverty in the midst of an affluent society; when you suddenly find your tongue twisted and your speech stammering as you seek to explain to your six- year-old daughter why she can't go to the public amusement park that has just been advertised on television, and see tears welling up in her eyes when she is told that Funtown is closed to colored children, and see ominous clouds of inferiority beginning to form in her little mental sky, and see her beginning to distort her personality by developing an unconscious bitterness toward white people; when you have to concoct an answer for a five-year-old son who is asking: "Daddy, why do white people treat colored people so mean?"; when you take a cross-country drive and find it necessary to sleep night after night in the uncomfortable corners of your automobile because no motel will accept you; when you are humiliated day in and day out by nagging signs reading "white" and "colored"; when your first name becomes "nigger," your middle name becomes "boy" (however old you are) and your last name becomes "John," and your wife and mother are never given the respected title "Mrs."; when you are harried by day and haunted by night by the fact that you are a Negro, living constantly at tiptoe stance, never quite knowing what to expect next, and are plagued with inner fears and outer resentments; when you are forever fighting a degenerating sense of "nobodiness" then you will understand why we find it difficult to wait. There comes a time when the cup of endurance runs over, and men are no longer willing to be plunged into the abyss of despair. I hope, sirs, you can understand our legitimate and unavoidable impatience.

From Letter from a Birmingham Jail (1963)

Nocturnal

This morning when I went to get Sparkle up, he was already awake and looking out his bedroom window. 

"Mom!  Come here!  Come here, I want to show you something!" 

He beckoned like crazy to the window, and pointed to a neighbor's house behind us.

"Mom!  Their lights are on at night!  I saw the lights shining when it was dark out before I went to sleep.  Their lights are ON at night!  And now it's morning and their lights are off!  I think they're nocturnal!"

That's Where the Party's At!

We got a CD for Christmas from Beloved's family, and the first song's chorus goes,

Hands up!  Holler back here,

Let's throw this party in gear!

We brought the welcome mat,

Where ever we go, that's where the party's at!

Pumpkin loves it!  He dances like a maniac, which is so cute I can hardly stand it.  And it just suits my boys so well.  It should be, like, our family motto or something:

Where ever we go, that's where the party's at!

Listed Points

Oh my.  I have a few partially written posts saved, but no time to finish them. 

1.    Beloved has been gone for a week (a week!), and it's a good thing he's on his way home today because I am fried. 

I've definitely noticed, though, that this week has not been nearly as difficult as it would have been even one year ago.  It's so great to be able to say, "It's time to put on your pajamas and brush your teeth," and then just supervise and encourage rather than actually doing every step myself for both kids.  It doesn't sound that hard, but it's so time consuming and frustrating to have to carry/herd two kids up the steps, get out the pajamas from the drawer, undress each child, lotion each child, put pajamas on each child, put away lotion and laundry, set each child on the toilet, wash everyone's hands, put toothpaste on each tooth brush, allow brief "brushing"/chewing on the toothbrush, brush both mouths, and carry/herd both kids to beds, etc, etc.  It's still slow, with lots of distractions, but much easier.  My boys, they are growing up.

2.    Sparkle loves school.  This is huge!  Remember when he was having so much trouble at school, and begging not to have to go?  It was awful and heartbreaking and horrible.  Well, now he is eager to get there every morning and does not want to be left out of anything.  He'll say, "Mom, how 'bout you don't come and get me until it's dark outside?"  I usually keep the boys home with me on Fridays, but lately he's been begging to get to go to school.  He'll say, "But, Mom!  I have to know the new things my class is learning!"  He tells me long stories about the excitement of playing Monster Tag at outside free play time.  It's hard to be disappointed that he doesn't want to hang out with me, because it's so wonderful that he's enjoying school.

3.    Sparkle looks forward to his Share Day (what we used to call Show and Tell when I was little).  Today he is sharing the cardboard coasters he got at Red Lobster (a "grown up restaurant!").  It's always fun for me to hear from his teachers what he said in Share Time.  One day he shared his winter boots, showing his classmates the velcro, the fuzzy inside and the rubber toe.  At the end of their presentations, the kids get to ask, "Are there any questions?" and then call on classmates who raise their hands to ask things like, "Are they very warm?"  and "Do you very like your boots?"  That's Sparkle's favorite part.

4.    When we made our adoption plans, I didn't think too much about the fact that there are not many families in the US who have adopted from South Africa.  I find myself feeling a little jealous of families with a more automatic built in support system, like those who adopted from China, Korea, or more recently, Ethiopia and Haiti.  Their kids often know each other, have similar backgrounds, the families are bonded by the shared wait, they celebrate holidays together, etc.  There is only one blog I know of written by another family adopting from South Africa, and they live in Sweden.  (Hi, Katie!  Smooch!)  So, whine, whine, whine...  It would not have changed our decisions, but I wish I'd been a bit more prepared.

5.    So, Mike Hukabee wants to change the Constitution to reflect "God's standards," and by "God's standards" I assume he means basically his own screwed-up standards.  Certainly not Jesus' standards, as far I as can tell.  Hello?!  This is the Worst Idea Ever.  (Even worse than gun locks distributed to preschoolers.)  I am angry with him for making all Christians look like idiots.  Please tell me there is no chance he could actually be elected, because the idea is completely frightening.

Is There Some Sort of Prize...

... for the strangest Christmas gift ever?  If not, there should be, because we would win it.  Or, maybe, my father-in-law would win it.  Strangest Christmas Gift Ever.  With capitals and everything.

Ready?

So...

We got a package last week with a few Christmas-extending gifts from Beloved's family.  Cool!  I think it's a great idea to distribute gifts slowly, rather than a free-for-all on one day, which leaves my kids crazy over-stimulated and crabby. 

Yes, so, gifts arrived.

One was labeled to my sons from their grandfather.  Aww, sweet, huh?

Here's what was inside:

Two of them!  One for each child!

"No, no, it cannot be," Beloved and I said to one another.  "We see the large and prominently displayed picture of a GUN on this package, but there must be some mistake.  We are not a gun family, in any way.  Perhaps opening the bag will clarify."

"Ahhh...  Yes, definitely a gun pictured here.  With a gun lock, in fact."

"And instructions on using the gun lock with many different types of firearms!  How handy!"

"Yes, what a lovely and thoughtful gift FOR PRESCHOOLERS.  Preschoolers who not only live in a home without guns, but, in fact, a home without toys guns or weapons of any kind.  A home in which the parents are politically inclined to favor gun control legislation that limits the access of CHILDREN TO GUNS.  Parents who are generally, though not specifically, opposed to the idea of private citizens hiding guns in their closets and under their beds, whatever their Constitutional right may be.  Especially private citizens who have YOUNG CHILDREN.  Dude.  YOUNG CHILDREN!"

"Let's see, these instructions mention things like responsibility.  Apparently, if we are uncomfortable with the responsibility of owning a firearm safely, we are strongly encouraged NOT TO OWN A FIREARM.  Ah yes!  And that, right there, is why as parents of YOUNG CHILDREN we certainly DO NOT OWN A FIREARM!"

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Epilogue:

My father-in-law is not a law-enforcement officer or a hunter.  Beloved has never been hunting in his life.  It's not like we recently mentioned that we are thinking of taking up target practice or anything.

You might think this is strange already, but it gets even stranger.

So, Beloved called his parents to say thank you for the lovely presents.  And he asked, "Dad, what is up with sending my preschool-aged sons gun locks for Christmas?"  (Okay, just read that last sentence again, and let the strangeness sink in.)

And his dad had no idea what he was talking about.

I guess he thought the gun locks were bike locks.  I know!  There are no bikes or vehicles of any kind pictured on the packaging.  The word "bike" is no where to be found.  There is, if you recall, a BIG PICTURE OF A GUN that I find hard to miss.

And maybe this is just getting petty now, but why would a preschooler need a bike lock?

Were there just no freakin' Hot Wheels or ANY APPROPRIATE GIFT OF ANY KIND to be found?

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And a post-script, because I actually like Beloved's family and do not want to give entirely the wrong impression of our relationship:

My father-in-law is actually an intelligent man who loves the boys very much.  He occasionally gives them things that he's picked up somewhere that he thinks they'll like, and most often, they do like them.  He gave them the little plastic footballs that they love and protect and carry around like the greatest toys on earth.  (He got them for free at a high school football game, and gave one to each of his grandkids.)  He has also made them many gifts, like the bookshelves in the playroom and wooden letters that spell their names.

Good man.  Good grandpa.  Sometimes odd.  The End.

Another Cool Toy

I took this photo last weekend in our playroom.  The boys got more train track for Christmas, mostly because they need to be able to make a train track big enough that they can both play and not run into one another with their trains! 

What I wanted to show you are the blue and orange thing-a-ma-bobs.  They are called Bilibos, and the boys each got one from my parents.  (Check out the website and watch the little video-- makes we want to be a preschooler again!)

Oh my gosh!  Coolest toy ever! 

We were careful not to tell the boys what they were "supposed" to do with them (though they did ask!).  Within the first day or so, they had been used as helmets, turtle shells, and chairs.  They spun each other around in them.  They turned them upside down to use as "rocks" to hop over a "river."  Sparkle experimented with dropping marbles through the holes and swirling them around, one at a time, adding more and more marbles.  (He did this for about 30 minutes, which was worth whatever my mom paid for them right there.)

In this picture, the Bilibos were being used as tunnels for the trains.  Pretty neat, huh?

Cutest Referee You've Ever Seen

Make sure you've got your penalty flag and whistle handy.  Tucking the flag down your pants will probaby work.

Take your stance.  If you see an infraction, blow your whistle.  (Loud is good.)  Throw the flag.

Call the penalty.  (This is "holding.")

End with "Still first down!"

There you go!  Perfect!