(Cue the melodrama...but this is a true story.)
Big tears slid down my cheeks and into his crib as I look in on my sleeping son and breathe in his sweet breath. I am shaken by the full realization that if we parent well, this little one will some day not need me.
Oh, other mothers, how do you bare it?
Tuesday, July 5, 2011
Thursday, June 30, 2011
ghoti*
Some say that children are little sponges, absorbing everything around them. Sometimes, it freaks me out a bit how much Dylan picks up without any effort on the part of the big heads around him. For example, he holds the pen of his EtchaD*odle between his thumb and index finger and "writes" with almost exactly the right posture. How did he learn that?!
Yesterday, as we were growing frustrated with our attempts to get Dylan to eat the healthy things we'd provided him for lunch, I off-handedly asked M., "Do you think we should give him some *f*i*s*h?" I stealthily spelled out the word, hoping to avoid shifting the boy's attention from his fruit to one of his favorite snacks.
Before M. could respond, Dylan exclaimed, "Blub! Blub! Blub!"...which is what he believes fish say.
The thing is, I don't think I spell words around him that much, and I can't remember ever doing it for the little orange crackers. Clearly, I must have, because my son knew exactly what I was talking about!
Freaky.
* gh as in enough; o as in women; ti as in nation. (Isn't English a wacky language?)
Yesterday, as we were growing frustrated with our attempts to get Dylan to eat the healthy things we'd provided him for lunch, I off-handedly asked M., "Do you think we should give him some *f*i*s*h?" I stealthily spelled out the word, hoping to avoid shifting the boy's attention from his fruit to one of his favorite snacks.
Before M. could respond, Dylan exclaimed, "Blub! Blub! Blub!"...which is what he believes fish say.
The thing is, I don't think I spell words around him that much, and I can't remember ever doing it for the little orange crackers. Clearly, I must have, because my son knew exactly what I was talking about!
Freaky.
* gh as in enough; o as in women; ti as in nation. (Isn't English a wacky language?)
Wednesday, June 22, 2011
Happy Summer!
Dylan and Daddy in the GardenJune 21, 2011
Yesterday, as we played in the garden through the long dusk, I felt a real kinship with my Scandinavian relatives who truly celebrate the shortest night of the year. I love summer!
Though I know it wasn't official until yesterday, as someone whose calendar is closely tied to the academic year, my summer began shortly after graduation more than a month ago, and it will conclude at the end of August. So, I have already really been enjoying it.
Here are a few things this season of sun means to me:
- Part-time work schedule. Most important, I have more time to spend with my boys. I also have more time to keep up with the laundry and all the household tasks that nag at me during the school year, which relieves pressure. It might even mean I'm a more regular blogger. (See! Two posts in two days! Don't get used to it...)
- Peaches! Our tree must have produced more than 200 of the sweetest, juiciest fruit. Alas, they all ripened in a three week period and are gone already. Fortunately, they freeze well and we'll have yummy smoothies for many months.
- Summer Delicacies. It's not just the fruit we grow ourselves that I love, it's all of summer's healthy, natural abundance. To me, summer tastes like sweet corn on the cob (with lots of butter and salt), lush watermelon, and strawberries on vanilla ice-cream. Ymmmm! BTW, Dylan's favorite food right now is watermelon and he's eating tons of it. If I go near the fridge, he starts exclaiming, "Melon! Melon!" Interestingly, he is also quite fixated on some of the citrus in our yard, and in a bit of verbal dyslexia, exclaims "Melon! Melon!" when he's really trying to say "Lemon! Lemon!"
- Vacation. At the end of May, we spent nine whole days in Hawaii. Those who know M. and me know that we love traveling and have had some wonderful adventures in distant lands. What appealed most to us this year, however, was the notion of sitting on beach...without having to worry about whether the ice in our cocktails was safe to consume. So, we rented a little condo in the Poipu area of Kauai. My mom came with us, saying she was our au pair, and she did provide many hours of attention to her grandson so that M. and I could escape the responsibilities of parenthood for a bit. It was so much fun to sit in the warm water of a tide pool and watch Dylan splash around, declaring each volcanic rock "laawvah!"
- Vacation. At the end of May, we spent nine whole days in Hawaii. Those who know M. and me know that we love traveling and have had some wonderful adventures in distant lands. What appealed most to us this year, however, was the notion of sitting on beach...without having to worry about whether the ice in our cocktails was safe to consume. So, we rented a little condo in the Poipu area of Kauai. My mom came with us, saying she was our au pair, and she did provide many hours of attention to her grandson so that M. and I could escape the responsibilities of parenthood for a bit. It was so much fun to sit in the warm water of a tide pool and watch Dylan splash around, declaring each volcanic rock "laawvah!"
- Family Time. Dylan will have a chance to hang out with all of his cousins, who live in other states, this summer. We've already had some time with his "Arizona cousins" and it made my heart sing to see them all together. Those kids are much older but they just dote on their littlest relative. Even the too-cool fourteen-year-old vied for time to bounce his baby cuz around. Dylan will also get to see more of each of his grandparents, who he adores. Each one brings something special and different to his life and I know he will always cherish the time he spends with them, being the center of the universe for hours at a time.
- Celebrations and Mini-adventures. Father's Day, Independence Day, M's birthday, a weekend at one of our favorite spots, camping at the beach, the wedding of dear friends - all moments to get together with loved ones and let loose a bit.
- Making progress on my neglected To Do list. Some things I am dedicated to accomplishing in the next several weeks include: exercising and losing weight; making our back patio area more inviting with shade, plants, and decorations; researching and buying a fuel efficient four-door car to replace my old Honda coupe, since we'll need to fit a car seat in there when Dylan goes to daycare in September; painting and finish decorating Dylan's room; and creating a Life Book for the boy.
- And lastly, casting off my ghostly pallor. Okay, I know. I know. I know. I know it's all an illusion, but I really DO look healthier with a bit of a tan.
I remember a time in childhood when summer seemed too long. I got bored and began to itch to go back to school. My, how times change.
Tuesday, June 21, 2011
Irrational Exuberance
Dylan is growing up so fast. It's hard to keep up with him, here and around the house.
Before we adopted, I thought I'd miss not having a kid who inherited my biological traits and tendencies. Something that surprises me is how delightful I find many of the ways Dylan is different from me. One simple example is that I am definitely NOT a morning person. I set my alarm at least 20 minutes early because I know I will need to hit the snooze button a few times. (Praise my understanding bed-mate!) Once I finally do manage to throw off the covers, I typically trudge heavy-footed and sleepy-eyed around the house. My assistant at work could probably tell you I'm not very friendly, or even communicative, until about 10 a.m.
My son, on the other hand, usually wakes up with a huge, sunny smile. When I come into his room, he's often already dancing at the rails of his crib. He's most cooperative and easy-going in the three hours or so before his late-morning nap.
Fortunately, Dylan's sunny disposition in the a.m. is having a positive influence on me. I now look forward to his greeting each morning, and especially to a few moments of snuggling in bed with him and his daddy before starting the rush of the day.
Though I am a generally happy person, and I was even voted "Most Optimistic" by my high school class, it would be a real stretch to describe my personality as "bubbly." But that's what Dylan is.
He just exudes joy.
And I just love that about him. Yes, some of it is undoubtedly typical toddler energy. But I think there's more to it than that. I think he inherited much of his exuberance from V. But sadly, as M's observed, a hard life has already dulled much of her shine.
It is one of my greatest hopes and challenges as a parent to help Dylan preserve his wonderful, positive disposition. I hope he won't become world-wary, and that there will always be great, unstifleable joy in his life.
(Of course, I don't expect that it will always be running around half-naked with a toothbrush that will bring on such irrational exuberance...At least I hope not.)
If you have kids who were adopted, how are they like and dissimilar from you? How do you feel about it?
Before we adopted, I thought I'd miss not having a kid who inherited my biological traits and tendencies. Something that surprises me is how delightful I find many of the ways Dylan is different from me. One simple example is that I am definitely NOT a morning person. I set my alarm at least 20 minutes early because I know I will need to hit the snooze button a few times. (Praise my understanding bed-mate!) Once I finally do manage to throw off the covers, I typically trudge heavy-footed and sleepy-eyed around the house. My assistant at work could probably tell you I'm not very friendly, or even communicative, until about 10 a.m.
My son, on the other hand, usually wakes up with a huge, sunny smile. When I come into his room, he's often already dancing at the rails of his crib. He's most cooperative and easy-going in the three hours or so before his late-morning nap.
Fortunately, Dylan's sunny disposition in the a.m. is having a positive influence on me. I now look forward to his greeting each morning, and especially to a few moments of snuggling in bed with him and his daddy before starting the rush of the day.
Though I am a generally happy person, and I was even voted "Most Optimistic" by my high school class, it would be a real stretch to describe my personality as "bubbly." But that's what Dylan is.
He just exudes joy.
And I just love that about him. Yes, some of it is undoubtedly typical toddler energy. But I think there's more to it than that. I think he inherited much of his exuberance from V. But sadly, as M's observed, a hard life has already dulled much of her shine.
It is one of my greatest hopes and challenges as a parent to help Dylan preserve his wonderful, positive disposition. I hope he won't become world-wary, and that there will always be great, unstifleable joy in his life.
(Of course, I don't expect that it will always be running around half-naked with a toothbrush that will bring on such irrational exuberance...At least I hope not.)
If you have kids who were adopted, how are they like and dissimilar from you? How do you feel about it?
Saturday, May 7, 2011
For Another Mother
Dear V.,
I don't know whether you ever read this blog. I hope you do. Have you received the emails and texts we've sent? How about the Happy (Birth)Mother's Day card Dylan made for you? There is so much I want to share with you, and I'll put a bit of it here now.
Tonight at dinner I talked with M. a bit about my ambivalance toward Mother's Day. For so many years, it was a tough day for me. All of the mothers who have lost their children, or still long for their children, are never far from my mind. Of course, I think about you and wonder how you are feeling.
Before Dylan was born, you said that you thought our happiness about finally bringing our child home would help you cope with the pain of your loss. I want you to know that since you placed Dylan into our family, every day is special for me. I don't need breakfast in bed or flowers to enjoy this holiday. His sweet, wet kisses are the most precious Mother's Day gifts I can imagine.
We haven't heard from you in several months and I miss you and worry about you. But, I feel like we are in touch in some way every day. That's because your beauty, intelligence, good humor, and determination are all so clearly growing in our son.
On this day and always, we are thinking of you and sending lots of love.
xoxox
Kristin
I don't know whether you ever read this blog. I hope you do. Have you received the emails and texts we've sent? How about the Happy (Birth)Mother's Day card Dylan made for you? There is so much I want to share with you, and I'll put a bit of it here now.
Tonight at dinner I talked with M. a bit about my ambivalance toward Mother's Day. For so many years, it was a tough day for me. All of the mothers who have lost their children, or still long for their children, are never far from my mind. Of course, I think about you and wonder how you are feeling.
Before Dylan was born, you said that you thought our happiness about finally bringing our child home would help you cope with the pain of your loss. I want you to know that since you placed Dylan into our family, every day is special for me. I don't need breakfast in bed or flowers to enjoy this holiday. His sweet, wet kisses are the most precious Mother's Day gifts I can imagine.
We haven't heard from you in several months and I miss you and worry about you. But, I feel like we are in touch in some way every day. That's because your beauty, intelligence, good humor, and determination are all so clearly growing in our son.
On this day and always, we are thinking of you and sending lots of love.
xoxox
Kristin
Saturday, April 23, 2011
The Cat's Meow
The small, black-and-white cat paces beneath our bedroom window. Her plaintive meows keep me awake, thinking about mothers and children. Thinking about maternal instincts, broken hearts, and people who do what they think is best for the little ones.
She is a feral cat who had kittens beneath our house. After a couple of attempts foiled by Momma-cat's ferocity, we were able to capture the kittens. Three adorable little balls of fur. They are old enough that they will drink milk from a syringe we offer, and after a few hours, they are purring in our arms. We hope, we believe, there is a very good chance they will be adopted into a loving family after we take them to the SPCA.
I don't want to overly anthropomorphize or make assumptions about what this little cat is thinking and feeling. But I can tell that Momma-cat knows her babies are in here. She doesn't know or care of our good intentions. Even days after they were taken from her, she hangs close to our house. Though I truly believe we have done the right thing, not just for ourselves, or for our neighborhood. Her offspring will likely live longer, more luxurious lives than they would scrounging for food in the alley and dodging coyotes and having litter after litter themselves...if they survive the pound.
But all I can think of is how hard Momma's worked to birth her babes and care for them in the wild for weeks. Whatever she's trying to communicate to them now as she wails beneath our window, it conveys her deep, deep unbreakable connection to her children.
She is a feral cat who had kittens beneath our house. After a couple of attempts foiled by Momma-cat's ferocity, we were able to capture the kittens. Three adorable little balls of fur. They are old enough that they will drink milk from a syringe we offer, and after a few hours, they are purring in our arms. We hope, we believe, there is a very good chance they will be adopted into a loving family after we take them to the SPCA.
I don't want to overly anthropomorphize or make assumptions about what this little cat is thinking and feeling. But I can tell that Momma-cat knows her babies are in here. She doesn't know or care of our good intentions. Even days after they were taken from her, she hangs close to our house. Though I truly believe we have done the right thing, not just for ourselves, or for our neighborhood. Her offspring will likely live longer, more luxurious lives than they would scrounging for food in the alley and dodging coyotes and having litter after litter themselves...if they survive the pound.
But all I can think of is how hard Momma's worked to birth her babes and care for them in the wild for weeks. Whatever she's trying to communicate to them now as she wails beneath our window, it conveys her deep, deep unbreakable connection to her children.
Friday, April 1, 2011
PAL, You Can Say That Again
I've written here before and thought a lot about how the words we choose influence our experience of adoption. I believe, as with any topic - and especially those that are emotionally laden - it's tough to find and use words that are neutral, that don't relay certain biases, or just reveal certain cluelessnesses.
Truthfully, when I read or talk with someone about adoption, I quickly surmise a lot by the language they use. My judgement hasn't always been fair or accurate, and I often have to remind myself that I've come a long way in my own views about adoption, and I still slip up and say things clumsily. In fact, I have different feelings now about some of the Positive Adoption Language (PAL) I promoted earlier.
One term that I struggle with from time to time is how to refer to the parents who have placed their children for adoption. This is because some of the people I respect the most in AdoptionLandia, and from whom I've learned the most, use the term first parent (first mother/mom/father/etc.). I recognize the temporal accuracy of this term, and also how "birth mother" can be diminishing.
But I just can't bring myself to call V. Dylan's first mom. And I'll admit it's because of the primacy "first" suggests. If V. expressed a preference for the term, I would certainly use it. (When I asked her about it at our match meeting, she looked at me kinda funny and said she is fine with "birthmother." But I don't think she'd given it a lot of thought herself at that point.) Maybe someday I'll get over this stupid insecurity. But for now, on my blog and when referring to my situation, I will continue to use birth mother (separating the words, so there's an adjective that describes a noun), unless I know of someone's other preference.
I will NOT however, ever again refer to an expectant parent considering adoption as a birthmother or to the material we had to create to market ourselves as a "Dear Birthmother Letter." Frankly, though I didn't even question it during our agency's orientation, I'm now horrified that that supposedly "progressive leader in open adoption" uses those terms. Come on!
As with so many other adoption words, I wish there was a better, more neutral term for birth mom. And truth be told, there is. But using it all the time would probably just raise too many questions and cause too much controversy. What is it? It's simply: MOTHER.
Dylan has two mothers. There's another instance of where my viewpoint has shifted: most proponents of PAL encourage saying "was adopted" rather than "is adopted." They reason that adoption is just a finite, legal process and that individuals' identities should not be defined by it. I get that, and I think it is right in most cases. However, the more I read about and learn from adoptees themselves, the more I see how adoption IS part of who they are. So, this is an example of where I want to listen/read closely to discern where someone is coming from. If an adoptee says "I am adopted," rather than "I was adopted," I can make guesses about how they - at least in that particular circumstance - frame adoption in their own lives.
The last term I'll bring up now is "gave up for adoption." So much of the current philosophy behind open adoption emphasizes the "loving choice" birth parents make in placing their children. It suggests that children who are "given up" may feel abandoned or discarded. And that may well be true. But it is also true that most birth parents do "give up" their children. They experience an incredible loss, and one most would not suffer through if they saw any other viable option. So, if a birth (first?!) parent talks about "giving a child up," I view it quite differently now; I see that it accurately reflects their experience.
I worry that parsing words could discourage people for talking about adoption, and I really don't want to contribute to that. AdoptionLandia (my term for the space on the internets and our collective consciousness devoted to the topic) is crammed full of people relating awful stories of stupid, hurtful things people have said about them or their children. In most instances, though, I can see that there was no ill-intent. Inappropriate curiosity or insensitivity, maybe. Or, most disheartening, unwillingness to learn something new and/or consider another's perspective.
M., Dylan, and I have been pretty fortunate thus far not to have had any really difficult situations related to inappropriate questions or language that we've struggled to handle. Most of the time, I just try to educate by using the terms I prefer and gently correcting when we're with someone who Dylan will have continuing contact with. I hope that revealing my own evolving thoughts and words related to PAL might be helpful to others.
What do you think about PAL? Where do you find yourself struggling to use it? What has trying to use it taught you?
Truthfully, when I read or talk with someone about adoption, I quickly surmise a lot by the language they use. My judgement hasn't always been fair or accurate, and I often have to remind myself that I've come a long way in my own views about adoption, and I still slip up and say things clumsily. In fact, I have different feelings now about some of the Positive Adoption Language (PAL) I promoted earlier.
One term that I struggle with from time to time is how to refer to the parents who have placed their children for adoption. This is because some of the people I respect the most in AdoptionLandia, and from whom I've learned the most, use the term first parent (first mother/mom/father/etc.). I recognize the temporal accuracy of this term, and also how "birth mother" can be diminishing.
But I just can't bring myself to call V. Dylan's first mom. And I'll admit it's because of the primacy "first" suggests. If V. expressed a preference for the term, I would certainly use it. (When I asked her about it at our match meeting, she looked at me kinda funny and said she is fine with "birthmother." But I don't think she'd given it a lot of thought herself at that point.) Maybe someday I'll get over this stupid insecurity. But for now, on my blog and when referring to my situation, I will continue to use birth mother (separating the words, so there's an adjective that describes a noun), unless I know of someone's other preference.
I will NOT however, ever again refer to an expectant parent considering adoption as a birthmother or to the material we had to create to market ourselves as a "Dear Birthmother Letter." Frankly, though I didn't even question it during our agency's orientation, I'm now horrified that that supposedly "progressive leader in open adoption" uses those terms. Come on!
As with so many other adoption words, I wish there was a better, more neutral term for birth mom. And truth be told, there is. But using it all the time would probably just raise too many questions and cause too much controversy. What is it? It's simply: MOTHER.
Dylan has two mothers. There's another instance of where my viewpoint has shifted: most proponents of PAL encourage saying "was adopted" rather than "is adopted." They reason that adoption is just a finite, legal process and that individuals' identities should not be defined by it. I get that, and I think it is right in most cases. However, the more I read about and learn from adoptees themselves, the more I see how adoption IS part of who they are. So, this is an example of where I want to listen/read closely to discern where someone is coming from. If an adoptee says "I am adopted," rather than "I was adopted," I can make guesses about how they - at least in that particular circumstance - frame adoption in their own lives.
The last term I'll bring up now is "gave up for adoption." So much of the current philosophy behind open adoption emphasizes the "loving choice" birth parents make in placing their children. It suggests that children who are "given up" may feel abandoned or discarded. And that may well be true. But it is also true that most birth parents do "give up" their children. They experience an incredible loss, and one most would not suffer through if they saw any other viable option. So, if a birth (first?!) parent talks about "giving a child up," I view it quite differently now; I see that it accurately reflects their experience.
I worry that parsing words could discourage people for talking about adoption, and I really don't want to contribute to that. AdoptionLandia (my term for the space on the internets and our collective consciousness devoted to the topic) is crammed full of people relating awful stories of stupid, hurtful things people have said about them or their children. In most instances, though, I can see that there was no ill-intent. Inappropriate curiosity or insensitivity, maybe. Or, most disheartening, unwillingness to learn something new and/or consider another's perspective.
M., Dylan, and I have been pretty fortunate thus far not to have had any really difficult situations related to inappropriate questions or language that we've struggled to handle. Most of the time, I just try to educate by using the terms I prefer and gently correcting when we're with someone who Dylan will have continuing contact with. I hope that revealing my own evolving thoughts and words related to PAL might be helpful to others.
What do you think about PAL? Where do you find yourself struggling to use it? What has trying to use it taught you?
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