Mayhem and Magic

Preemies

A good friend of mine just delivered her twin girls last week.  They were born at 34 weeks gestation and weighed about four and a half pounds each.  They are going great.  They were both getting some extra calories and fat by IV while they learned how to eat.  I don't think they are getting that any longer but I'm not sure.  They are still in the NICU and will be for another week or so.  Then they will be in the regular nursery for a few days and will go home after that.  So, they'll be in the NICU for about two weeks and in the hospital for a total of three weeks more or less.

I'm so glad that they are doing well!  I surely do not envy their family the craziness that their lives are right now, between pumping, nursing, recovering from the birth, trying to conserve vacation time, visiting the twins, and caring for their three year old.  They do have lots of family support and community support. They'll be fine, but it's a hard few weeks for them (probably a hard first year, I imagine).

There is some sadness for me, though. 

It took me a while to identify where this was coming from.  But I think it's a sadness I feel mostly when I compare their experience to Pumpkin's.  He was born at 31 weeks gestation, weighing 3 pounds, 3 ounces.  He was in the NICU for a while.  I'm not sure how long.  I'd have to go back and look at his medical chart, because obviously I was not there.  His mother did visit him a few times, as much as she could. But basically he did not have any loving parent figure to watch over him, worry about him, kangaroo carry him, talk to him and love on him.

Pumpkin did great and grew well. He has absolutely no physical or cognitive issues related to prematurity at all.  (In fact, I can very objectively say that he's probably above average in gross and fine motor skills as well as academic progress for his age.  That's my boy!)  His care was not negligent or inadequate from a medical perspective.

But, man oh man...  I picked that itty bitty baby up from a regular nursery when he was just shy of 34 weeks gestation.  He weighed less than four and a half pounds at the time.  I got maybe five minutes of random discharge instructions from a nurse.  He had just been circumcised (we had asked that he NOT be circumcised, poor little preemie dude) and had a Hep B immunization.  The nurses were awesome and gave me as much sample high-calorie formula as they could find.  Then, a few days later, I carried that itty bitty baby through several airports, exposing him to who knows what kinds of crazy viruses and diseases.  (I remember that I didn't pee that day, because airport bathrooms?  Yuck!)

Pumpkin didn't have any particular preemie follow up.  He did get special shots to prevent him from getting RSV his first winter.  I fed him as much as he would eat whenever he would eat it. 

I went back to work full time when he was technically still supposed to be a fetus.  He weighed about five pounds when he started going to daycare. 

We don't have any family here, so it was just Beloved and I caring for 18 month old Sparkle and preemie Pumpkin, while both of us were working.  (I did cut back by hours when Pumpkin was about four months old.)  We were pretty much winging it, frankly.

Looking back now, I can't believe we did that.  It's amazing how darn unscathed my Pumpkin is.  It's amazing that he didn't catch any horrible respiratory illnesses.  We were truly, truly blessed. 

But anyway, I was thinking about how those little twin girls were born gestationally older and weighing more than Pumpkin was when I took him home!  They have had a mom and dad and grandparents loving on them since before they were born.  Their family will be busy, but they have a lot of support.

Do you think the fact that the twins are followed so closely has anything to do with the fact that they are the children of white married middle-class well-insured parents?  Would things be different if they were black parentless state-insured babies? 

I really feel that Pumpkin specifically and our family in general were watched over by God when he was really little.  That, and we were freakin' lucky.

Even though everything turned out fine, it just makes me sad that there was no one watching out for Pumpkin in the hospital.  We were longing for him and praying for him all along, but we didn't know who he was or where he was.  I wish we could have been there for him.

(If you'd like to read more about Pumpkin's adoption story, you can find it here and here.)

How Black Men Cope with Perceptions

Please read this article Black Men Quietly Combat Stereotypes from washingtonpost.com:

http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/article/2006/07/01/AR2006070100462.html

For anyone raising Black children, especially boys, this is important.

The ability to manage your image and stay keenly in touch with how others percieve you is what I was talking about in this post, More About Raising Black Boys, and also a bit in the post that preceeded, Adoption FAQ: Can White Parents Successfully Raise Black Children in the US?

This is still an important discussion. 

Since I wrote that post, we've had the white director of our sons' school tell us that Sparkle was "violent" and "raging."  (A post about that crisis is here.)  (He was not, by the way.)

Since I wrote that post, the police officers who shot Sean Bell fifty times were acquitted on all charges.

Since I wrote that post, our whole county has been watching Barack Obama, waiting to see what it takes for a Black man to be accepted as a leader of our nation.

It's still important.

It's not just about having good manners.  It's not just about getting promotions.  

It's about safety, even survival. 

Being a Conspicuous Family in South Africa?

We're planning our trip to South Africa now, which is very exciting.  Someone else (a travel agent we know in South Africa) is going the nitty-gritty stuff for us, like making reservations at places where we'll stay, getting a car, and that kind of thing.  Nice... 

I've been thinking about what it will be like to be a conspicuous family in South Africa.  When we met Sparkle there, I occasionally felt surprised by reactions we got.  Looking back, I'm not sure if I was surprised by the responses themselves, or just surprised because being conspicuous was new to us. 

And actually, there really were not that many times when anyone seemed to care in the least.  No one congratulated us or thanked us (like I've heard adoptive parents with children from China talk about).  A few (Black) workers in a restaurant were curious about our story and asked us if we really loved Sparkle.  They made mildly disapproving noises about the idea of a mother placing a child for adoption.  Once an older white lady kind of hissed at us when she looked in our stroller and saw that our baby wasn't white.  Very weird. 

But overall, not that many people seemed to notice our family, which was fine with us.  Except that sometimes I could not believe that not every single person wanted to stop and coo over this baby who was clearly the most adorable infant ever.

Here in the U.S., I think we handle being a conspicuous family pretty well.  Mostly, we just...  act like a family.  I don't want to blow off the significance of being aware of surroundings and aware of trying to make sure our kids don't get the spotlight put on them, but sometimes (often, even) what works best is to refuse to be uncomfortable.  We mostly do our thing, expecting to be treated well and not be questioned.  If someone wants to act like our family is odd or whatever, we don't necessarily make it easy for them. 

When someone asks, for example,  "Are they brothers?"  we feel totally okay with giving them a long, confused, blank look...  (long enough for them to feel just a bit uncomfortable)  And then saying, "Yes!"

(Here's another post about that question in particular, from a mini-set of postings in the category Adoption FAQ.)

That's kind of a simplistic summary, but you get the drift. 

I'm not sure if that's how it will work in South Africa.  I'm not sure what to expect.  Here, I don't feel too much obligation to satisfy people's curiosity.  But maybe in South Africa we might need to plan on being "adoption ambassadors" just a bit more?  Maybe we should be more open, knowing that many people in South Africa need to see a positive picture of adoption?  I just don't know.

(Are they brothers?  Are you kidding me?  They're so darn brotherly I can hardly stand it!  I so wish this picture was clearer because I love it!  But it's fun anyway, even if it is blurry.)

Caucuses

Caucuses?  Caucous?  Caocus?  Pretty sure it's not caulkus.  Or cockus. 

Whatever.

I have never been involved in a political caucus before, but today I participated in the Washington state caucuses.  It was really, really amazing!

Washington state has both a primary and a caucus.  Beloved and I got our ballots for the primary by mail, but we both actually threw them away!  On purpose.  If you want to vote in the Republican primary, you have to sign something that says you are officially a Republican, and we didn't want to do that.  (We'd like to think we're independent.)  Plus, the Republican party only uses the primary to assign 51% of their delegates.  The Democratic party assigns absolutely none of their delegates based on the primary results.  I do not understand the reasons for how either party organizes this, but it was apparent that if we wanted to have a voice, it would have to be through the caucus system.

I dutifully found the website that showed me what precinct we're in, and where the caucus would be held.  I gave myself plenty of time to get there, because I wasn't sure exactly where it was or exactly what time I had to be signed in.

Well, it was a good thing to be early, because it was packed.  Packed!  When the official meeting started, the lady with the microphone said they had planned for twice as many people as the previous maximum attendance, but ended up with SIX TIMES as many people! 

I teared up during the Pledge of Allegiance.  People clapped and cheered.

Having been through it once now, I am much more likely to participate again.  I learned a lot.  For example, the number of delegates for each candidate ends up being determined by a formula with the ratio of votes per candidate combined with the population of each precinct. 

Depending on where you live and how many other people from your area vote, the presence or absence of just a few people...  or even one person...  can change the number of delegates for each candidate.

So, hello?!?!  If you have not yet heard this message loud and clear from any of a thousand different sources, figure out how the process works where ever you live and participate! 

It was interesting to see the demographics of everyone there (well, just the visual demographics, I suppose).  There were lots of people in their 50s and a surprising number of people in their early 20s.  There were definitely not many people with children there.  Beloved stayed home with the boys today, because we didn't know what the environment or the process would be like.  But next time, we will either find a babysitter or just take the kids with us.

I think it is wonderful, wonderful, wonderful that so many came, but it created some problems.  There were SO many people that it was almost standing room only.  People had trouble finding the assigned areas for their precincts.  There were not enough chairs.  It was hard to hear.

One thing that was really sad to me was that some people didn't get to participate because they came too late.  The parking lot was completely full and people had to park up to two blocks away.  A few people who normally would have been right on time ended up having to park farther away, then had trouble finding their precinct table because of the crowd, and didn't get signed in before the start of the caucus, even though the officials waited until absolutely the last possible minute.  I don't know how that could have been prevented.  I have not seen any articles this evening about record turn out overwhelming the capacity of the caucus sites around Washington state, so maybe it was just our area.

Are you bored with a whole post about caucuses? 

I generally like to follow politics just sort of out of the corner of my eye.  If I pay too much attention, it can really frustrate and upset me.  Perhaps that's a cop out, but sometimes I feel like I can't emotionally afford to care too much about everything single thing that is important.  It can easily overwhelm me.  But I am finding myself reading articles about the presidential race and the individual candidates a lot lately.  Where do you find objective and relevant information?  Right now I tend to just click through AP news articles, but nothing is really too deep. 

I'm kind of nervous and kind of excited. 

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.

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)

Anti-Racist Parent Meme (Part 2 of 2)

(See here for Part 1.)

5. The family tradition I most want to pass on is: You mean, besides our basic values and our faith tradition?  Does the importance of education count as a tradition? 

My mom did a great job of making little things into something special, and I'd like to pass on some of those traditions.  There are lots of them.  For example, getting to chew gum when we turned three was a big deal.  So on Pumpkin's upcoming third birthday, our family will gather around his bed on his birthday morning to wake him up by singing, "Happy Birthday."  And at the end of the bed will be a gift, and it will be gum!  He knows he can have gum when he's three, so it will be really exciting!  Partly we do this for safety (no hard candy or gum until three years of age), but also because it's fun to make a milestone of it.

6. The family tradition I least want to pass on is:  I think my family of origin (immediate and extended families) are too quick to blow off more subtle racism.  This has gotten better, but maybe sometimes we're too conflict-avoidant, so it's more comfortable for us to ignore it.  When my boys tell me that they sense racism or they interpret racist attitudes as the source of tension or a comment or whatever...  I will believe them. 

7. My child's first word in English was:  This is really sad, but I'm not sure.  Other than Mama and Dada?  I think Sparkle maybe said, "Ball" (or maybe "Bawh") first.  One of Pumpkin's earliest words was "Baaaaah!", as in the sound a sheep makes.  He was very excited about it, and it was so funny.

8. My child's first non-English word was: Sparkle's was "more" in ASL.  He did lots of signing, which he still remembers, but Pumpkin was never interested.  Pumpkin's first non-English word was "boca" because we'd say "Abra la boca!" to him a lot when we fed him.

9. The non-English word or phrase most used in my home is: probably "Kgothatso."  This is Sparkle's name from his first mom.  It's a Tswana name.  We often call both boys by the names their first moms gave them, but for some reason we use Sparkle's more than Pumpkin's.  (Here is a link to more background on Sparkle's name and Pumpkin's name.)

10. One thing I love about being a parent is:  the sweet and funny things my kids say every single day.  Tonight Pumpkin took my face in his little hands at bedtime, pulled my face close, looked into my eyes and said very seriously, "Mama, I lud'jew all da times.  All da times, I lud'jew."  And last week, when I was blustering around trying to quickly deal with a small toilet training crisis (will it never end?), Sparkle stood in the bathroom door and told me, "I love you, Mama, even when we have a poop problem!"  (I think he was copying our pattern of telling him we love him even when we're upset or when he's upset about something.  You know, like, "Sparkle, we always love you, even when you're feeling cranky!")

11. One thing I hate about being a parent is: how bottomless their need for our time and attention is.  I wish we had the energy to be at our 100% best and most engaged with them all the time, but we don't.

12. To me being an anti-racist parent means: I like what Heather said about teaching our kids that it's the world that is crazy; they are not crazy.  It also means searching myself for wrong attitudes toward other people and choosing to change them.

I'd like to tag Blaine, Christine, Krissy, and Leigh!   

Anti-Racist Parent Meme (Part 1 of 2)

Cloudscome at Sandy Cove Trail, Heather, and several others have inspired me to do this meme from Anti-Racist Parent.  I'm not a great "meme-er," but this is a good one.  It's long though, so I'm going to split it into two parts. 

This blog is also a year and a half old now, so I have included a number of links within the blog to past posts that discuss some of the topics brought up by the meme or by my answer.

1. I am: a white woman.  I think my genetically related relatives are mostly Swedish and Dutch.  My extended family is mostly from Minnesota now, where there are lots of Swedish and Norwegian folks.  We ate lots of lefse, frut sup, and lutefisk, especially around Christmas time.

2. My kids are: African American.  They are transracial adoptees and soon to be grown up Black men in the United States.  Sparkle is four years old, and was five months old when we met him in South Africa.  Pumpkin is almost three years old, and was three weeks old (but still an itty bitty 31 week gestation baby) when I met him in Indianapolis.

3. I first started thinking about race, culture, and identity when: I took a course on social justice in college.  My immediate family is a transracial adoptive family, but I was born to my parents.  So it's sad that I wasn't thinking about race and identity earlier.  Actually, the experience of growing up in an adoptive family really shaped my current thinking and my choices as a parent.  But it wasn't until young adulthood that I realized how much privilege my whiteness gave me.  I think it was in this college class that I was first introduced to the idea of "honorary whiteness" and thought, "Holy crap, I've been thinking of my brother and sister as honorary whites!  What the...?!?!" From then on, I think my radar for issues of race, culture, and identity has been up.  I've learned a lot, but clearly I'm still working on myself, and hopefully letting other people's experience work on me!

4. People think my name is: Amanda.  And they're right.  Many people don't know that I kept my original last name, because it's not hyphenated with Beloved's last name.  But it's in there!  And it's important to me.

(Part 2 later this weekend!  I bet you're just on the edge of your seat!)

Encouragement

Sometimes it seems like racism can never be changed, like progress is so slow that it's almost invisible. 

Well, take heart!  Here's some encouragement for you!

While on our vacation with Beloved's family, most of the adults were playing a card game together and talking.  Beloved's oldest brother started talking about a T-shirt he had seen in a gift shop that bothered him.  The T-shirt showed a picture of Mount Rushmore, and above the faces of the presidents, kind of coming through the clouds, were the faces of four Native American leaders.  He didn't like the T-shirt, but he wasn't sure why.

As it turned out, he was uncomfortable and upset that the Native American leaders were "elevated" to equal status with the U.S. Presidents by the artist who designed the image on the T-shirt.  He held an attitude of white privilege and superiority.  Sort of like saying (though he did not actually say this), "It's okay for Native Americans and other minorities to have their own symbols and beliefs and culture.  I'm not racist so I'm okay with that!  But I am offended when those up-start minorities suggest that their leaders, beliefs, and culture are of equal value to my own!"

It didn't take long for me to start to fume.  And Beloved, too, and I think his younger brother, but they are both super calm and collected under all circumstances.  I was completely inarticulate and I think I muttered some sarcastic comment.  I was afraid I was going to say something rude out of anger, so I just said, "Maybe we should stop talking about this because it's making me angry." 

If I had just waited, I'm sure Beloved and his younger brother would have set their older brother straight, but as it was we just endured a brief awkward silence and then focused on the game.

It was only a few more days until we left.  As we were packing up the van and preparing to go, Beloved's brother approached me and said (and this is word for word as well as I can remember it):

"I've been thinking about what I said the other day and why you were so upset.  I tried to get what I said to make sense, but no matter how I think about it, I was wrong.  And I'm sorry.  And...  Thank you."

!!!!!!

Isn't that fabulous?!  I was so, so impressed!  It takes a lot of guts to not only admit to being wrong and apologize, but also to be grateful that the error was pointed out.

He didn't come to this realization because anyone beat him over the head with his horribleness, or because I was articulate in explaining why I was upset.  It was because he's a good man who wants to do what's right.

I don't know what impact this experience will have on his day-to-day life, if any.  But I do believe that he will think more critically about race and privilege.  And that is a good start!

I just wanted to share this to encourage you.  Anti-racism is effective!  Just speaking up, even if you don't know exactly what to say or how to say it, can make a difference!