Real Mom

Now that is a cute and funny photo, but it got me thinking of a subject that is very close and important to my heart: Adoption. I would also like to take this opportunity to remind you that November is National Adoption month, with National Adoption Day falling on November 19th, see here.

I always bristle a little at the term "real mom" and I will explain why. I am adopted, and when many people find that out, they ask me if I know my real mom. Once in a while they say "real parents" but 97% of the time it's the mom they're the most curious about. It's natural to be curious and I know that people mean no disrespect when they say "real" parent. Here is how my reply goes:

Well, I actually consider the parents that raised me to be my "real parents" because they are the ones that were there every day of my life for all the colds and fevers, scraped knees, school plays, graduations, etc. If you mean do I know my biological parents, the answer is no. Though I do have a HUGE amount of affection and respect for them and their unselfish decision to give me up for adoption, I have never met them.

My parents had a very organic approach to the disclosure of adoption, and I simply recall always knowing I was adopted, it was never revealed to me at a certain age or anything like that. One of the dearest people in my life, my first babysitter Nan* says that my parents had these adoption storybooks, and when she'd babysit me, she'd read them and cry because it was so touching. I vaguely remember those books. My parents tried for children for about 10 years thorough various biological and medical means, and then the lengthy adoption process, so they were elated when they finally were able to adopt me and then my little brother.

Lately my two younger children, Calvin* (age 8) and Flora* (age 12) have been asking questions about my real mom. After doing my real mom spiel two times, I had a little epiphany and used Our Boy* that darn dog that they love so much. (The above picture reminded me of all this.) I asked Calvin and Flora, "Who is OurBoy's real family? Is it your old friend Sarah who's pet dog had the litter OurBoy came from? Or is it us, who adopted him when he was a little puppy and have been with him, taking care of him ever since? This drove the point of adoption home for them and helped them understand the distinction between biological and adoptive and what is "real." I mean to say that both are "real" but I believe it is important to make that distinction and give each kind of parent, both biological and adoptive, the proper respect and position within the life of the adoptee. Being a parent takes a great amount of unselfish love, I am blessed to say that I have experienced that kind love in some very special ways, through the woman who decided to give me up, and through the parents who took me in. Both kinds of parents are real. Whomever fulfilled the role of parent, in the day to day, year to year, decade to decade reality of life, well, to me that is actual and real in a way that makes biology, with all due respect, a smaller part of the equation in my life. I wouldn't be here, or be the person I have become without the decisions my adoptive and my biological parents made and the roles they fulfilled in my life. One is not more important than the other. You can't take out of the equation the huge, intensely personal decision my biological mother/parents made at the beginning of my life, nor the lifetime of care and parenting my adoptive parents undertook. I understand that there are different adoption experiences, which make this more of a complicated subject for many, I can only speak for myself.

A Few Things

1. I am not loving the almond milk in my coffee. I think I prefer soy milk or cow's milk best. Though the almond milk is nice alone, or in cereal.

2. I just found Kelly Oxford and I like, but be warned of occasional adult content.

3. I got my 2 younger kiddos fan-i-fied, along with me on this. Does that make me a really bad Christian? Why am I feeling some residual guilt? I am reading the Chronicles of Narnia to them, and of course, modeling Christianity and teaching and training them.

4. Sometimes I just have to hear Hello, It's Me by Todd Rundgren. It's just a nice pop song.

5. Without Jesus in my life, I would be so hopeless and afraid because we live in some crazy days. "If Jesus is a crutch, please give me two of them and a wheelchair too."

6. I still love BibleGateway.

7. I sent a drawing with the movie I'm returning to Netflix. I have a little Netflix love, because as I mentioned before: NO LATE FEES! I wonder if the associates will come here for a visit?

Hello NetFlix Associates!
Say Hello if you stop by, OK?
And keep up the good work!
Thanks!

8. I put the dog's dishes in the dishwasher along with ours and I am feeling a little troubled over that, although my friend Ani*, who works for a vet, assured me that it would be OK and we would not get doggie cooties. It goes against my OCD tendencies, but I rationalized it by saying that the sink and dish strainer and dishcloths would not be touching Our Boy's dishes. Therefore, it would be be less area and things to clean up after cleaning up his things. Everything would be hot and sterilized and contained to the dishwasher.

I Like Our Dog

Please, don't tell my family. I will not admit to my family that I like our boy as much as I do, because I drew a proverbial line in the sand as we made plans to adopt him into our family. I made it clear that he is their dog and I don't intend to care for him or bear the responsibility at all.

This is because I have spent years cleaning up after people and pets, recall my widely spaced children. When I was a girl my parents were firm about us kids cleaning up after our pets. Obedient child that I was, I did, and I was fine with that. As I grew up, I still had pets to clean up after, and got married and had a husband to clean up after. Then I had kids and I have been cleaning up diapers and puke and all the messes that being a mother entails (example).

When I had a choice to limit my responsibilities, by opting to not have pets for a long stretch of time, it was easy to get used to not having that extra stuff to do. The constant vacuuming, the occasional flea troubles, the vet visits and bills. For awhile I just didn't miss it all. When my family began pushing really hard to get a pet, I did not acquiesce. I would not agree to it unless they shouldered the duty.

This became a crystal-clear bone of contention (haha) when we first moved to the Keys and our boy had a vet appointment which I refused to take him to. But that it not a story I'm going to tell here. That was some domestic discord.

I'm more of a cat person myself, but I had both dogs and cats over the years, and I have loved them all. But this dog is by far the best behaved, now that he's mellowed a bit. Our boy is a male border collie-yellow lab mix, and he is just over 2 years old. I have to admit I like him now. He's a pretty good dog. He was a royal pest of a puppy. He made my back hurt for 3 days one time when I walked him and he tried to yank me every way his nose thought to lead him. I worried about him for a short time when he got real snarly and grouchy with Calvin, our youngest child. I thought to get rid of him then, but somehow the pecking order was reestablished and he knows he can't usurp Calvin's place in the pack. He has calmed down quite a bit. He's neither bark-y or jumpy. He's crate trained and house trained. He never runs away from me any more, I can let him out without a leash and he will do his business and return to me when I call. He has never chewed on and ruined anything important. He sticks to his raw-hides and the occasional stuffed animal, or maybe and old bottle he's rummaged from the recycling bin (he reuses it then reduces it). He is quite different than the other beloved family pets who destroyed shoes, got up on kitchen counters after food, urinated on purses, and really made a mess of certain embarrassing items they rooted out of the trash.

He's just a good dog that keeps getting better.

So I continue to play indifferent around the family. Keeps them on their toes, and me off of doggie duty and P.U.P (picking up poop). You see, if I show too much affection for OB, they will surely begin to place more and more of his care under my responsibility and believe me, I have enough to do already!

Now, hushhhh, ya'll...I him!