Last weekend I went away with a friend of mine to Big Bear to scrapbook Casey's Story and Marcie's Story. The books are an explanation of each my children's beginnings-- not your typical scrapbook. They tell how each of them came to become part of our family, and they share a little bit about the world from whence they came. They're written for Casey and Marcie to understand now, as a toddler and a preschooler. The scrapbooking weekend is a topic for another post in itself, but the road trip portion of it was interesting, and it's what motivates me to write this entry.
I was explaining to my friend (who rode with me) that sometimes I look around and see how other people lead what appear to me to be charmed lives. It's not that I'm ungrateful for the life I lead. I'm actually very happy with my life. But it's work, too. For example, I said, we got a $500 refund check from Marcie's adoption in the mail the same week that I was in the car accident and needed to pay the $500 deductible. I mean, it could be worse-- at least we had the money.
She inquired as to how I was defining charmed life. And that caused me great pause. Because I was thinking that people who live charmed lives are people to whom life seems to happen. They just always seem to be in the right place at the right time. Things work out for them. They never really seem to struggle. And my friend pointed out that my $500 check example could be seen as pretty charmed, then, couldn't it? And, of course, she's right.
So I decided to look up the definition of a charmed life. What I found was that Answers.com defines it as "a life that seems to have been protected by a charm or spell." And Dictionary.net explains it's a life that is protected by or invulnerable because of "spells, charms, or supernatural influences."
Now, I certainly do not believe any spell or charm or supernatural influence is keeping me or my family safe. But I suppose that leading a charmed life is as much about perspective as it is about anything. And perhaps I had the wrong perspective.
I mean, the $500 check is one example. But I can think of plenty of others, too. For instance, if we hadn't struggled with fertility issues, Casey probably wouldn't be our son. That's not to say we wouldn't have adopted children; I think we would have considered it eventually, regardless. But at that point in our lives, at the exact time that Casey was born, we wouldn't have been adopting. I wouldn't have left teaching, probably. I probably wouldn't have gone to law school, or run the Disneyworld marathon. I wouldn't have met some people whom I now consider to be my closest friends. Sure, I would have done other stuff, and I would have made other friends. But the point is that what felt like this horrible thing happening to me was such blessing in so many other ways.
Another example is the car accident. It could have been so much worse. I mean, like I wrote about before, the kids could have been with me. Or I could have totalled the car. Or someone could have really been hurt. This really hit home for me early this week when we learned that one of Casey's classmates lost his 36-year-old mother in a car accident. I mean, there I was talking to her on the playground last week. And this week she's gone. And her two-year-old probably will not have any actual memories of her mother. And her four-year-old's memories will be limited at best. No warning. No good-byes. Just there in the morning when the kids woke up and gone that evening when they were tucked in bed. And here I am irritated because I had to drive a crappy rental car for a month. I mean, if you're going to be in a car accident, one where there are no substantial injuries and no children present is the kind of accident to be involved in. So my point is that leading a charmed life isn't about never having struggles-- it's about how you face those challenges and how you choose to handle them.
So here I sit. My children tucked quietly in bed for the night. And I am ever-so-grateful for the life I lead. I work hard at it. But it doesn't make it any less charmed . . .
Showing posts with label opinion. Show all posts
Showing posts with label opinion. Show all posts
Tuesday, September 25, 2007
Monday, September 24, 2007
Eat at Chilis Restaurant Today- Sept. 24th!
I meant to post this last week and lost track of time.
Today, September 24, 2007, Chili's Restaurants are donating all their profits to St. Jude Children's Research Hospital. This is a great cause-- one of my favorites. And while Chili's isn't donating all money they take in, I'm still pretty impressed that they are donating all their profits. Most places will only agree to donate a percentage-- so 100% of the profits is a terrific contribution.
If you're wondering what St. Jude's is about, they focus on research and treatment of childhood cancer. Once patients are accepted for treatment at St. Jude's, the cost of the treatment is fully covered, so no one is ever turned away for having no insurance or because their insurance won't cover it. Not only are they an amazing place for treating children, but their research has made more survival possible than ever. When St. Jude's opened its doors in 1962, the survival rate for ALL (Acute Lymphoblastic Leukemia, cancer of the blood) was around 4%. Today it's 94%. Their research has contributed to improved 5-year survival rates in a variety of types of cancer.
Of course you can just donate money directly to St. Jude's. But that doesn't mean you shouldn't help grow the contribution from Chili's either! After all, everyone's gotta eat. I know our office is ordering in from Chili's today-- so if you work someplace where eating from a restaurant is possible, grab some co-workers and head over to a participating Chili's near you. And if you don't work in a place that allows you to make it to a Chili's on your lunch hour, I hope you'll consider taking your family there for dinner!
Happy eating!
Today, September 24, 2007, Chili's Restaurants are donating all their profits to St. Jude Children's Research Hospital. This is a great cause-- one of my favorites. And while Chili's isn't donating all money they take in, I'm still pretty impressed that they are donating all their profits. Most places will only agree to donate a percentage-- so 100% of the profits is a terrific contribution.
If you're wondering what St. Jude's is about, they focus on research and treatment of childhood cancer. Once patients are accepted for treatment at St. Jude's, the cost of the treatment is fully covered, so no one is ever turned away for having no insurance or because their insurance won't cover it. Not only are they an amazing place for treating children, but their research has made more survival possible than ever. When St. Jude's opened its doors in 1962, the survival rate for ALL (Acute Lymphoblastic Leukemia, cancer of the blood) was around 4%. Today it's 94%. Their research has contributed to improved 5-year survival rates in a variety of types of cancer.
Of course you can just donate money directly to St. Jude's. But that doesn't mean you shouldn't help grow the contribution from Chili's either! After all, everyone's gotta eat. I know our office is ordering in from Chili's today-- so if you work someplace where eating from a restaurant is possible, grab some co-workers and head over to a participating Chili's near you. And if you don't work in a place that allows you to make it to a Chili's on your lunch hour, I hope you'll consider taking your family there for dinner!
Happy eating!
Thursday, September 13, 2007
Turning Away a Boy
Today's Rumor Queen post discussed (again) an apparently new phenomenon with the China adoption process: people who have requested healthy children with no known medical conditions have recently been referred children with repaired medical conditions. So, if a child is born with an extra digit, and that extra digit has been removed, the child is no longer considered a child with special needs, and she may be referred to a family requesting a healthy child. Some families have opted to decline these referrals, and it appears that they received a new referral-- for a healthier child-- in the next batch.
Of course, I have an opinion about this, but that's not what I'm going to write about today. What caught my eye was this one line in Rumor Queen's post:
Here we have a situation in which a government has created a predominantly one-child-only rule (though if both parents are only children, they are permitted to have two children without paying a penalty for the second child). And that rule has led to the abandonment of thousands of girls for social and cultural reasons. The desire to have a boy is so strong in China, that people were, at one point, opting for sonograms to determine gender and then terminating the pregnancy if it was a girl. I remember reading back in 2005 that China was no longer permitting ultrasound technicians to reveal the gender of a child for that very reason.
So along come Americans, and people from other countries, too, who are interested in building their families through adoptions from China. And we all go into the process recognizing that there is an abundance of girls and thinking that we will probably be adding a girl to our families through this process. The thing is, though, that the one-child rule doesn't just apply to parents who have no children. It applies to everyone. So if a family has a boy or a girl who they decide to raise, and then discover they are pregnant again, it's quite plausible that child will end up in an orphanage regardless of the gender. That means there are boys in China's orphanages, not just girls.
And so it leaves me to wonder how we can on the one hand cluck our tongues in disapproval at the abandonment of girls, and more specifically at the cultural preference for one gender over another, only to later demonstrate the same preference. I just don't get it. It seems incredibly hypocritical; and more than that, it seems wrong.
I mean, say you were pregnant and really, really wanted a girl. And you discovered you were going to be having a boy, would you seriously decide to terminate the pregnancy? Place the child for adoption? I've never even heard of such a thing happening in the U.S. But, by analogy, isn't that what families who turn down a referral for a gender other than the one they requested are doing?
Yeah. I'm being judgmental. But boy or girl, all children need loving homes. And if you only have a heart for one gender or another, I can't help but question the motives. And yes, I realize some families opt to adopt from China because they have three boys at home and would like a little girl. But, you know what? Too bad. That's just the crap shoot you take, I say. I think it's wrong to decline a referral because of gender. And I don't think anything would convince me otherwise. Shame on those families. Shame on us for thinking it's okay to have that attitude with adoption when we would never condone it for biological children.
That said, of course I would much prefer those families decline the perfectly healthy boy to wait for a girl than adopt a child who they will never really love. But it's so sad that they don't have unconditional love to offer in the first place. . .
Of course, I have an opinion about this, but that's not what I'm going to write about today. What caught my eye was this one line in Rumor Queen's post:
What this sentence tells me is that there were families who requested girls and were referred boys who declined the referral. Now, it's true that I don't know the individual circumstances-- like perhaps it was that they requested a healthy girl and were matched with a boy with a repaired special need. But, taking the sentence at its face, I am . . . well . . . appalled.Also, the families who turned down boy referrals have been given a referral
for a girl.
Here we have a situation in which a government has created a predominantly one-child-only rule (though if both parents are only children, they are permitted to have two children without paying a penalty for the second child). And that rule has led to the abandonment of thousands of girls for social and cultural reasons. The desire to have a boy is so strong in China, that people were, at one point, opting for sonograms to determine gender and then terminating the pregnancy if it was a girl. I remember reading back in 2005 that China was no longer permitting ultrasound technicians to reveal the gender of a child for that very reason.
So along come Americans, and people from other countries, too, who are interested in building their families through adoptions from China. And we all go into the process recognizing that there is an abundance of girls and thinking that we will probably be adding a girl to our families through this process. The thing is, though, that the one-child rule doesn't just apply to parents who have no children. It applies to everyone. So if a family has a boy or a girl who they decide to raise, and then discover they are pregnant again, it's quite plausible that child will end up in an orphanage regardless of the gender. That means there are boys in China's orphanages, not just girls.
And so it leaves me to wonder how we can on the one hand cluck our tongues in disapproval at the abandonment of girls, and more specifically at the cultural preference for one gender over another, only to later demonstrate the same preference. I just don't get it. It seems incredibly hypocritical; and more than that, it seems wrong.
I mean, say you were pregnant and really, really wanted a girl. And you discovered you were going to be having a boy, would you seriously decide to terminate the pregnancy? Place the child for adoption? I've never even heard of such a thing happening in the U.S. But, by analogy, isn't that what families who turn down a referral for a gender other than the one they requested are doing?
Yeah. I'm being judgmental. But boy or girl, all children need loving homes. And if you only have a heart for one gender or another, I can't help but question the motives. And yes, I realize some families opt to adopt from China because they have three boys at home and would like a little girl. But, you know what? Too bad. That's just the crap shoot you take, I say. I think it's wrong to decline a referral because of gender. And I don't think anything would convince me otherwise. Shame on those families. Shame on us for thinking it's okay to have that attitude with adoption when we would never condone it for biological children.
That said, of course I would much prefer those families decline the perfectly healthy boy to wait for a girl than adopt a child who they will never really love. But it's so sad that they don't have unconditional love to offer in the first place. . .
Tuesday, September 11, 2007
I-171H **Updated**
For those of you unfamiliar with the I-171H, it's a treasured document in the international adoption process-- at least the Chinese international adoption process. It's Immigration's stamp of approval, so to speak. It's the document that verifies that, indeed, the U.S. is aware that you are going to adopt and will permit you to bring the child into our country, allowing them to become a U.S. citizen. It's the document you need to get a visa for your child to return home with you. And it's typically the last document you need to complete the dossier you mail to China.
Today, I walked in our homestudy to our local USCIS office so I could hand-carry out our coveted I-171H. The walk-in hours are 8am to noon every Tuesday here in San Diego. I got there around 7:45am this morning. There were already two people ahead of me (one who'd signed in at 7:10am and the other at 7:35am). At 8:00am, the officer called the first name, a woman by herself. He had her sit and wait, then disappeared for 30 minutes, then returned with her form. By now, there were three more people or couples after me. He called us each up, took our homestudies, and disappeared again. For around 40 minutes. Then he called the couple ahead of me, who went back inside the office area (behind the counter). Then, about 10 minutes later, he called me.
As I stepped into his cubicle, he explained there was a problem. "A problem?" I asked, my heart beating a little faster. He pulled out our I600A (the application for the I-171H) and explained that my co-petitioner (that would be Jason) didn't sign the form. It's true, Jason's signature is missing. I have no idea how that happened. I mean, I was in the midst of studying for the bar exam and a little flighty in late May. But, hmm. How did we miss that?
He didn't say anything else about it, just went on checking the rest of the file. I let my eyes explore the walls of his cubicle, and they landed on the small bulletin board of photos. And there, before me, was Marcie, smiling. A friend of ours had left our adoption announcement there last spring, and so her picture was on the wall, a welcoming beacon. I pointed her out to the officer. He said she was very cute. I agreed.
In the end, he asked me to call Jason and have him come down to the office before 4pm today to sign the form. Jason will be able to hand-carry out our I-171H after he does. I'm relieved. Yeah, it's a total pain for Jason to drive downtown and do it. But at least it'll be done. And I'm so glad we decided to do the I-171H in person, because if we hadn't, we might wait weeks to learn our file was incomplete, and we'd still have to go in and sign the form to get our I-171H. So at least we've saved a little bit of time. Hopefully. I'll let you know once we actually have the form, though.
On a separate note, one thing that's kind of neat about sitting in the USCIS office is watching all the people go in for their immigration interviews and receive their appointments to take their citizenship oath. Being born in the U.S., I probably take my citizenship a bit for granted. But there's nothing quite like watching six or seven people gleefully leave the interview room, to rush and hug their waiting family or friends and tell them, "I did it!" while holding out their citizenship oath appointment letters. And I think it's fitting that I could observe such obvious gratitude and joy for being-- or becoming-- and American today of all days. Because today is September 11th.
**UPDATE**
Jason did go in and sign our I600A form, and the officer did, true to his word, hand Jason our I-171H to take home (and Jason did). So, barring the theft or burning of the car in which the document likely sits at the moment (I hesitate to write that for fear for jinxing us), we'll have the form safe and sound at home tonight. Yippee!
Today, I walked in our homestudy to our local USCIS office so I could hand-carry out our coveted I-171H. The walk-in hours are 8am to noon every Tuesday here in San Diego. I got there around 7:45am this morning. There were already two people ahead of me (one who'd signed in at 7:10am and the other at 7:35am). At 8:00am, the officer called the first name, a woman by herself. He had her sit and wait, then disappeared for 30 minutes, then returned with her form. By now, there were three more people or couples after me. He called us each up, took our homestudies, and disappeared again. For around 40 minutes. Then he called the couple ahead of me, who went back inside the office area (behind the counter). Then, about 10 minutes later, he called me.
As I stepped into his cubicle, he explained there was a problem. "A problem?" I asked, my heart beating a little faster. He pulled out our I600A (the application for the I-171H) and explained that my co-petitioner (that would be Jason) didn't sign the form. It's true, Jason's signature is missing. I have no idea how that happened. I mean, I was in the midst of studying for the bar exam and a little flighty in late May. But, hmm. How did we miss that?
He didn't say anything else about it, just went on checking the rest of the file. I let my eyes explore the walls of his cubicle, and they landed on the small bulletin board of photos. And there, before me, was Marcie, smiling. A friend of ours had left our adoption announcement there last spring, and so her picture was on the wall, a welcoming beacon. I pointed her out to the officer. He said she was very cute. I agreed.
In the end, he asked me to call Jason and have him come down to the office before 4pm today to sign the form. Jason will be able to hand-carry out our I-171H after he does. I'm relieved. Yeah, it's a total pain for Jason to drive downtown and do it. But at least it'll be done. And I'm so glad we decided to do the I-171H in person, because if we hadn't, we might wait weeks to learn our file was incomplete, and we'd still have to go in and sign the form to get our I-171H. So at least we've saved a little bit of time. Hopefully. I'll let you know once we actually have the form, though.
On a separate note, one thing that's kind of neat about sitting in the USCIS office is watching all the people go in for their immigration interviews and receive their appointments to take their citizenship oath. Being born in the U.S., I probably take my citizenship a bit for granted. But there's nothing quite like watching six or seven people gleefully leave the interview room, to rush and hug their waiting family or friends and tell them, "I did it!" while holding out their citizenship oath appointment letters. And I think it's fitting that I could observe such obvious gratitude and joy for being-- or becoming-- and American today of all days. Because today is September 11th.
**UPDATE**
Jason did go in and sign our I600A form, and the officer did, true to his word, hand Jason our I-171H to take home (and Jason did). So, barring the theft or burning of the car in which the document likely sits at the moment (I hesitate to write that for fear for jinxing us), we'll have the form safe and sound at home tonight. Yippee!
Wednesday, August 22, 2007
Familyversary
Yesterday, August 21st, was our Familyversary. Some people in the adoption community call it Family Day. Others call it Gotcha Day.* Honestly, we don't really call it anything because we don't really celebrate it. But I've dubbed it our Familyversary, at least in my mind.
The whole point of celebrating a familyversary is that it's the day your family was made. Or updated. For most families, this day is the day their child is born. For many adoptive families, though, we don't meet our children for days or months or even years. So our family isn't born, per se, until the day we meet our children.
Casey joined our family the day he was born. Though, I suppose technically, legally, he didn't join it for three days. We just celebrate his birthday. (* I should note here that some people consider Family Day or Gotcha Day as the day they finalized their adoptions. In our case, our adoptions weren't finalized/ re-finalized in California until months after we actually "got" our kids.)
Marcie, on the other hand, joined our family on August 21, 2006, a full nine months after she entered the world. So yesterday was the anniversary of our family. I imagine when we add our B.S. #3, our Familyversary date will change to the date he or she becomes part of our family. But we probably still won't celebrate it. Don't get me wrong-- Marcie is an amazing addition to our family. We just weren't complete without her. But we celebrate family all the time. And we celebrate Marcie (and Casey) all the time, too. At least I'd like to think we do.
I don't have a problem with other people celebrating their Familyversaries. It's a nice thing to acknowledge. But I don't want to emphasize it, either. The way I see it, Marcie was always meant for us, even before she was born. And we were always meant for her. It just took us a while to find each other. I guess that's not a great reason not to celebrate the day; after all, we still celebrate our wedding day, even though in theory we celebrate our marriage all the time. So I don't have a good explanation for why we don't make a big deal of our Familyversary. We just don't. I think if it becomes important to Marcie as she gets older, we'll take her lead. In the meantime, our Familyversary is just like every other day. Just with a special name. And we did create a cool name for the day, don't you think?
In any case, we did happen to go out last night. It was coincidental that it was our Familyversary. We went to Red Robin (I think Casey was going through withdrawal). I took lots of photos that show how much Marcie has grown in the year she's been with us. But here's my favorite:
I also took a photo of Marcie in the outfit she was wearing when we first met her. Check her out:
THEN:
The whole point of celebrating a familyversary is that it's the day your family was made. Or updated. For most families, this day is the day their child is born. For many adoptive families, though, we don't meet our children for days or months or even years. So our family isn't born, per se, until the day we meet our children.
Casey joined our family the day he was born. Though, I suppose technically, legally, he didn't join it for three days. We just celebrate his birthday. (* I should note here that some people consider Family Day or Gotcha Day as the day they finalized their adoptions. In our case, our adoptions weren't finalized/ re-finalized in California until months after we actually "got" our kids.)
Marcie, on the other hand, joined our family on August 21, 2006, a full nine months after she entered the world. So yesterday was the anniversary of our family. I imagine when we add our B.S. #3, our Familyversary date will change to the date he or she becomes part of our family. But we probably still won't celebrate it. Don't get me wrong-- Marcie is an amazing addition to our family. We just weren't complete without her. But we celebrate family all the time. And we celebrate Marcie (and Casey) all the time, too. At least I'd like to think we do.
I don't have a problem with other people celebrating their Familyversaries. It's a nice thing to acknowledge. But I don't want to emphasize it, either. The way I see it, Marcie was always meant for us, even before she was born. And we were always meant for her. It just took us a while to find each other. I guess that's not a great reason not to celebrate the day; after all, we still celebrate our wedding day, even though in theory we celebrate our marriage all the time. So I don't have a good explanation for why we don't make a big deal of our Familyversary. We just don't. I think if it becomes important to Marcie as she gets older, we'll take her lead. In the meantime, our Familyversary is just like every other day. Just with a special name. And we did create a cool name for the day, don't you think?
In any case, we did happen to go out last night. It was coincidental that it was our Familyversary. We went to Red Robin (I think Casey was going through withdrawal). I took lots of photos that show how much Marcie has grown in the year she's been with us. But here's my favorite:
I also took a photo of Marcie in the outfit she was wearing when we first met her. Check her out:
THEN:
AND NOW . . . (sorry about the blurriness of the first photo)
And to all you families out there who have familyversaries to celebrate, HAPPY FAMILYVERSARY!
Sunday, August 19, 2007
Traveling with Two Small Children
So we're home, safe and sound. Our return trip was, thankfully, relatively uneventful. I don't know which frightened me more-- the thought of being on an airplane with two small children who I would need to confine to their seats for the sanity of all the passengers or the thought of having a three hour layover in the Atlanta airport.
Once we got settled in near the gate in Charlotte, the kids were pretty rambunctious. For them, it was typical kid energy, but I could tell the other passengers in the waiting area didn't think they were so cute. I even commented to one older woman that I was letting them get all the energy out now so they'd be calm on the plane. She coldly replied, "I should hope so." All I could think is "What a bitch!" I mean, it's not like I want my kids to cry loudly or scream at me or refuse to buckle in on the flight either. I know small children can be irritating to other travelers, but imagine the anxiety any normal parent feels traveling with them knowing that!
Anyway, the kids were wonderful on the flight. But the airline made a big mistake. They let me put the car seat in our seats, which were immediately in front of an exit row. Apparently an FAA no-no. I don't mind shuffling seats with the kids, mind you. But the flight attendant (kindly) carried the car seat to our row and set it in for me. Then the flight attendant announced that they wanted to push back in 6 minutes, they were closing the doors, and would everyone please hurry up and take their seats. My kids were already seated, happily munching on the last of the popcorn I'd brought and guzzling their apple juice boxes.
Then a different flight attendant noticed us. And all hell broke loose. They wanted us to switch seats with the people in front of us. Again, no big deal if they'd given me time to do it. Instead they wanted to give me help. Which, again, is a nice idea. But not so much when your toddler is terrified of the male flight attendant who wants to help you by unbuckling her or even just picking up the car seat (she was really mad when she thought he was taking away her car seat). She began screeching. Then Casey began whining, "What's happening, Mommy?" Of course, now everyone on the airplane is looking at us wondering the same thing Casey is, and I'm trying to calmly tell the kids to "hurry, hurry," so the airplane can push back. All the while, throwing our stuff from our well-settled location into the row in front of us.
That wasn't the end of the world, of course. Once Marcie was settled into her new location, she was fine. Until the pilot came to a screeching (and I'm not exaggerating) halt just as we'd begun to power up and pick up speed. He came over the PA and told us everyone needed to stay seated during take-off, and I wondered how he could tell from the cockpit that someone at the back of the plane had stood up (if that's why he stopped at all). But the thing was that when he brought the plane to a stop, it shuddered. Forcefully. And that freaked out the kids, causing Marcie to begin crying. At the moment, Casey was sitting in the middle seat because I'd chosen to strategically place myself on the aisle to prevent Casey from springing himself loose in-flight. I was able to shift Casey over the top of me into my seat and buckle him while sliding myself next to Marcie. Both kids were (understandably) concerned by the shuddering brakes, but once we actually took off, they were fine. Marcie slept through the second half of the flight, and Casey played with a new frog my mom had purchased for him the day before. I spent the first half of the flight trying to reattach the band-aid on my left arm/elbow. It somehow got attached to my sweater, and then I had to pull it off, but I didn't want to leave the skin exposed. I had a travel box of band-aids and neosporin with me, and I applied the neosporin to my arm. But it got too spread out and then the band-aids wouldn't fit. So I had to use the antiseptic wipes to clean the area around the wound so that I could get band-aids to stick. I'd say all in all, the process took me 5 band-aids and 30 minutes. I think it entertained Marcie. The flight was only about an hour long, and when it landed, we waited for everyone else to disembark before we unloaded ourselves.
The nice flight attendant again carried the car seat through the aircraft for me, and the double stroller was waiting for me on the jetway. Marcie clung to my pant leg for dear life while I opened the stroller and placed her in her seat, but she was fine once Casey was seated next to her. If you're wondering, Casey had his own Thomas backpack filled with toys, which he wore to get on and off the plane. Then I hung it by a strap on the stroller. Marcie's car seat when on the other stroller arm, and the kids balanced the weight by sitting in their seats. I traveled with a single backpack, in which I'd stuffed changes of clothes for the kids, the changing pad, diapers, diaper cream, PB&J sandwiches, Special K bars, granola bars, popcorn, peanut butter crackers, gold fish, graham crackers, the DVD player, the DVDs, extra wipes, ear phones, Benedryl, Motrin, a thermometer, the pack of band aids, the neosporin, and a book for me. I'd also stashed a couple toys that Casey had never seen to take out when he got bored. All that in a regular old Jansport backpack!
Once we got into terminal A, we located our final flight home-- which was going to be leaving from terminal E. So the kids and I trekked through the airport to the underground tram. On our way, I noted that there was a pretty big play area for toddlers, and I hoped there would be one in the terminal we were departing from, too. No such luck, of course. But after riding the tram and walking the entire length of the E terminal to discover this, Casey had fallen asleep.
Marcie and I ate some dinner at the food court, where I bought Casey some piping hot pizza, then we went over to our gate. I let Casey sleep for about 45 minutes, and then I woke him up because it was way past his nap time and I really wanted him to sleep on the flight home, especially since he was going to be flying during bed time. He wasn't so happy I woke him up, but after about 30 minutes and some pizza and chocolate milk, he was a little less cranky. I found a nice spot outside the window where we could see our plane. We watched them load refreshments and food, we played in the semi-enclosed area. We went to the bathroom to let Casey go, and then we returned a while later to change Marcie's diaper. And the next thing I knew, three hours had passed, and they were boarding our flight.
We boarded early again. Marcie still didn't like being removed from her stroller and cried as she clung to my pant leg. This time I carried the car seat myself (though the flight attendant did offer). And we settled into our row-- nowhere near the emergency exit. It was a 767, which meant a configuration of 2 seats, then 3 seats, then 2 seats, and we were in the 3 middle seats. Marcie took one aisle seat and Casey took the other. I sat in the middle. As the aircraft boarded, I pulled out one of the new toys Casey had not seen before-- a tube of air crafts (balloons, fighter jets, bi-planes, water-planes, a blimp, and a hang-glider). That occupied him for about 30 minutes. Then, as we were taking off, I pulled out his Jay-Jay airplanes and the two model 767s we'd bought on the trip, and we played like we were flying our airplanes. Marcie played, too.
By the time we got up into the air, Marcie had fallen asleep, and Casey was ready to watch The Little Mermaid. Which he did. Followed by a Thomas DVD. And the machine was still working halfway through his second Thomas DVD when Casey told me he was ready to go to sleep. Marcie had just woken up, and she was not interested in the DVD player, so she and I played with some other toys while Casey slept.
Marcie was pretty upset as we began our final descent into San Diego because I took away her apple juice (because she was going to spill it all over herself!). She cried so loudly, I finally took her out of her car seat for a few minutes, explaining that she had to sit back down when they told us we had to put up our tray tables. She wasn't happy when that time finally came, but she didn't squawk loudly enough to disturb anyone, either.
When we arrived in San Diego and got off the final elevator, the kids were thrilled to see their grandmother waiting to give them plenty of hugs and kisses. You'd think we'd been gone for weeks they way they ran to her, screaming, "GRANDMA!" Yeah, I know, we were gone for weeks. But just 2 of them! Still, I'm glad they were happy to be home.
After I gathered up the bags, and the kids had given Jason kisses, I pulled out the last toy I had stashed away. I carried it with me from San Diego to Ohio to North Carolina and back home again and never needed to give it to Casey. I told Casey how proud I was of him for being such a good boy during our long, long day of travel. I told him I was giving him a brand new Snuffy (a character from Jay Jay the Jet plane) because he was so good and listened so well.
He's been carrying Snuffy around ever since.
So here's my advice on traveling with small kids:
Once we got settled in near the gate in Charlotte, the kids were pretty rambunctious. For them, it was typical kid energy, but I could tell the other passengers in the waiting area didn't think they were so cute. I even commented to one older woman that I was letting them get all the energy out now so they'd be calm on the plane. She coldly replied, "I should hope so." All I could think is "What a bitch!" I mean, it's not like I want my kids to cry loudly or scream at me or refuse to buckle in on the flight either. I know small children can be irritating to other travelers, but imagine the anxiety any normal parent feels traveling with them knowing that!
Anyway, the kids were wonderful on the flight. But the airline made a big mistake. They let me put the car seat in our seats, which were immediately in front of an exit row. Apparently an FAA no-no. I don't mind shuffling seats with the kids, mind you. But the flight attendant (kindly) carried the car seat to our row and set it in for me. Then the flight attendant announced that they wanted to push back in 6 minutes, they were closing the doors, and would everyone please hurry up and take their seats. My kids were already seated, happily munching on the last of the popcorn I'd brought and guzzling their apple juice boxes.
Then a different flight attendant noticed us. And all hell broke loose. They wanted us to switch seats with the people in front of us. Again, no big deal if they'd given me time to do it. Instead they wanted to give me help. Which, again, is a nice idea. But not so much when your toddler is terrified of the male flight attendant who wants to help you by unbuckling her or even just picking up the car seat (she was really mad when she thought he was taking away her car seat). She began screeching. Then Casey began whining, "What's happening, Mommy?" Of course, now everyone on the airplane is looking at us wondering the same thing Casey is, and I'm trying to calmly tell the kids to "hurry, hurry," so the airplane can push back. All the while, throwing our stuff from our well-settled location into the row in front of us.
That wasn't the end of the world, of course. Once Marcie was settled into her new location, she was fine. Until the pilot came to a screeching (and I'm not exaggerating) halt just as we'd begun to power up and pick up speed. He came over the PA and told us everyone needed to stay seated during take-off, and I wondered how he could tell from the cockpit that someone at the back of the plane had stood up (if that's why he stopped at all). But the thing was that when he brought the plane to a stop, it shuddered. Forcefully. And that freaked out the kids, causing Marcie to begin crying. At the moment, Casey was sitting in the middle seat because I'd chosen to strategically place myself on the aisle to prevent Casey from springing himself loose in-flight. I was able to shift Casey over the top of me into my seat and buckle him while sliding myself next to Marcie. Both kids were (understandably) concerned by the shuddering brakes, but once we actually took off, they were fine. Marcie slept through the second half of the flight, and Casey played with a new frog my mom had purchased for him the day before. I spent the first half of the flight trying to reattach the band-aid on my left arm/elbow. It somehow got attached to my sweater, and then I had to pull it off, but I didn't want to leave the skin exposed. I had a travel box of band-aids and neosporin with me, and I applied the neosporin to my arm. But it got too spread out and then the band-aids wouldn't fit. So I had to use the antiseptic wipes to clean the area around the wound so that I could get band-aids to stick. I'd say all in all, the process took me 5 band-aids and 30 minutes. I think it entertained Marcie. The flight was only about an hour long, and when it landed, we waited for everyone else to disembark before we unloaded ourselves.
The nice flight attendant again carried the car seat through the aircraft for me, and the double stroller was waiting for me on the jetway. Marcie clung to my pant leg for dear life while I opened the stroller and placed her in her seat, but she was fine once Casey was seated next to her. If you're wondering, Casey had his own Thomas backpack filled with toys, which he wore to get on and off the plane. Then I hung it by a strap on the stroller. Marcie's car seat when on the other stroller arm, and the kids balanced the weight by sitting in their seats. I traveled with a single backpack, in which I'd stuffed changes of clothes for the kids, the changing pad, diapers, diaper cream, PB&J sandwiches, Special K bars, granola bars, popcorn, peanut butter crackers, gold fish, graham crackers, the DVD player, the DVDs, extra wipes, ear phones, Benedryl, Motrin, a thermometer, the pack of band aids, the neosporin, and a book for me. I'd also stashed a couple toys that Casey had never seen to take out when he got bored. All that in a regular old Jansport backpack!
Once we got into terminal A, we located our final flight home-- which was going to be leaving from terminal E. So the kids and I trekked through the airport to the underground tram. On our way, I noted that there was a pretty big play area for toddlers, and I hoped there would be one in the terminal we were departing from, too. No such luck, of course. But after riding the tram and walking the entire length of the E terminal to discover this, Casey had fallen asleep.
Marcie and I ate some dinner at the food court, where I bought Casey some piping hot pizza, then we went over to our gate. I let Casey sleep for about 45 minutes, and then I woke him up because it was way past his nap time and I really wanted him to sleep on the flight home, especially since he was going to be flying during bed time. He wasn't so happy I woke him up, but after about 30 minutes and some pizza and chocolate milk, he was a little less cranky. I found a nice spot outside the window where we could see our plane. We watched them load refreshments and food, we played in the semi-enclosed area. We went to the bathroom to let Casey go, and then we returned a while later to change Marcie's diaper. And the next thing I knew, three hours had passed, and they were boarding our flight.
We boarded early again. Marcie still didn't like being removed from her stroller and cried as she clung to my pant leg. This time I carried the car seat myself (though the flight attendant did offer). And we settled into our row-- nowhere near the emergency exit. It was a 767, which meant a configuration of 2 seats, then 3 seats, then 2 seats, and we were in the 3 middle seats. Marcie took one aisle seat and Casey took the other. I sat in the middle. As the aircraft boarded, I pulled out one of the new toys Casey had not seen before-- a tube of air crafts (balloons, fighter jets, bi-planes, water-planes, a blimp, and a hang-glider). That occupied him for about 30 minutes. Then, as we were taking off, I pulled out his Jay-Jay airplanes and the two model 767s we'd bought on the trip, and we played like we were flying our airplanes. Marcie played, too.
By the time we got up into the air, Marcie had fallen asleep, and Casey was ready to watch The Little Mermaid. Which he did. Followed by a Thomas DVD. And the machine was still working halfway through his second Thomas DVD when Casey told me he was ready to go to sleep. Marcie had just woken up, and she was not interested in the DVD player, so she and I played with some other toys while Casey slept.
Marcie was pretty upset as we began our final descent into San Diego because I took away her apple juice (because she was going to spill it all over herself!). She cried so loudly, I finally took her out of her car seat for a few minutes, explaining that she had to sit back down when they told us we had to put up our tray tables. She wasn't happy when that time finally came, but she didn't squawk loudly enough to disturb anyone, either.
When we arrived in San Diego and got off the final elevator, the kids were thrilled to see their grandmother waiting to give them plenty of hugs and kisses. You'd think we'd been gone for weeks they way they ran to her, screaming, "GRANDMA!" Yeah, I know, we were gone for weeks. But just 2 of them! Still, I'm glad they were happy to be home.
After I gathered up the bags, and the kids had given Jason kisses, I pulled out the last toy I had stashed away. I carried it with me from San Diego to Ohio to North Carolina and back home again and never needed to give it to Casey. I told Casey how proud I was of him for being such a good boy during our long, long day of travel. I told him I was giving him a brand new Snuffy (a character from Jay Jay the Jet plane) because he was so good and listened so well.
He's been carrying Snuffy around ever since.
So here's my advice on traveling with small kids:
- If you can afford it, buy the kids a seat. If they are in a car seat, use it. They know their car seat and are comfortable in it. It will give them a sense of security during the flights.
- Don't be afraid of layovers. Even though trekking through an airport with so much stuff is a hassle, the layovers break up really long flights.
- Pack lots and lots of their favorite snacks and as much of their drinks as you can. Comfort food is, well, comforting.
- Have a small stash of secret toys to introduce at various points during the trip, especially for a preschool aged child. This will help pass the time.
- Bring one of those DVD players (or a laptop) if your kids like movies.
- Explain to your kids everything that's going to happen in advance. Repeatedly. And again while it's happening.
So there you have it. How I survived my summer travel!
Thursday, July 12, 2007
Dear Wedding Guests
No, I'm not getting married again. But I have several friends (and a sister) who are. And watching them go through it brings it all back . . . quite vividly. My wedding planning actually pretty smoothly. My parents (bless their hearts) insisted on hiring a wedding coordinator to help me because they lived on the other side of the country. And so from Nina I learned everything I needed to know about proper wedding etiquette.
Unfortunately, I am apparently in the minority on that. And I really don't get it. I mean, if you've ever hosted a wedding or been involved in planning one (or a friend to someone who is), how could you not know how to properly read a wedding invitation? Is that snobbery on my part? Perhaps. So here is my letter to those of you who may be invited to a wedding in the near future:
Dear Wedding Guests,
If you have recently been invited to the wedding, please follow these simple rules to aid the Bride and Groom and having a happy wedding day:
W: Hi MOB, I just got Bride's invitation, and I noticed it says children are not included.
MOB: Yes.
W: I don’t understand what this means. My girls are 12 and 13.
MOB: Mmm. Hmm. What don’t you understand?
W: Well, the invitation says no children, but we don't really consider them children.
MOB: Hmm. Well, Bride and Groom haven't included any children under the age of 15 because the venue liability insurance won't permit it.
W: Well, okay.
Now, let's flash forward three days. W calls my friend, Bride. And repeats the exchange. All the while, my friend Bride is thinking: What do you mean you don't consider them children? What are they? Can they vote? Do you let them drive? Can they enter a contract legally? Do you let them gamble? Smoke? Drink? Last time I checked, 12 and 13 year olds were children!
Over-reaction? Maybe. She is studying for the bar. But there's a lesson in here-- don't keep harassing people until you get the answer you want. Seriously. Just be happy you were invited!
Unfortunately, I am apparently in the minority on that. And I really don't get it. I mean, if you've ever hosted a wedding or been involved in planning one (or a friend to someone who is), how could you not know how to properly read a wedding invitation? Is that snobbery on my part? Perhaps. So here is my letter to those of you who may be invited to a wedding in the near future:
Dear Wedding Guests,
If you have recently been invited to the wedding, please follow these simple rules to aid the Bride and Groom and having a happy wedding day:
- Please RSVP to the wedding on time. Thousands of dollars and months (or even years) have gone into planning this event. Your response is necessary for determining seating arrangements, expenses, and just so the bride and groom don't go crazy. If you can't go, let them know. If you plan to go, let them know. The key: let them know.
- If do RSVP that you plan to attend the event, and then something happens which is preventing you from attending, please contact the bride or groom. It doesn't matter that it's the night before. Or the morning of the wedding. Leave a message if no one answers. Even though it's common for a certain percentage of people who have RSVPd to not attend the wedding in the end, it's just polite to let the bride or groom know you won't be there. Life happens. They will understand, but they still care that you aren't there even on the day of their wedding. They invited you after all.
- Please don't RSVP to bring more people than listed on the invitation. What am I talking about? Check the envelope and see who it's addressed to. If it's addressed to Mr. and Mrs. S, please don't RSVP for Mr. & Mrs. S and your three kids and your kids' friends. Often time space (and budgets) are limited, and those invitations are carefully crafted. If "and family" is not on the invitation, your kids are not invited. Similarly, if you're single and your invitation does not include the phrase and guest it's because the bride and groom are expecting you there solo.
- If you don't like that your invitation is just to you and your spouse (and not your kids) or just to you (and not your boyfriend or girlfriend), don't bother the bride or groom. It was not accidental. Nothing about wedding invitations are accidental. If you're pissed, don't go. But don't harass the bride or groom into letting you bring a date (didn't we learn this from How I Met Your Mother?).
- If the invitation or response card actually specifies that children are not included, do not call the bride or the groom (or their parents) and ask if you can bring your kids because they are so well behaved. Or breast-feeding. Or because your babysitter is out of town. It's rude. Your kids are still kids. They aren't invited. If you're in doubt about whether or not your kids are invited, they probably are not.
Oh. One more thing. If you found out that someone you know just got engaged, please don't assume you'll be invited to the wedding. Weddings are expensive affairs, and funds are limited-- this means that if you aren't invited, it's not that the bride and groom don't like you. They just don't like you enough. Just kidding. Seriously, though, don't take it personally-- I like to think of it as an honor when I'm invited, but I'm still happy for friends and colleagues and classmates when they get married and I'm not there to help them celebrate!
Love,
Karen
P.S. All this wedding invitation etiquette talk was prompted by my friend, I'll call her Bride. She is getting married in September and currently studying for the Bar. She's finally turned off her cell phone because she keeps getting calls about the wedding invitations, sent out a week or two ago. This is a rough rendition of the initial exchange between Mother of the Bride (MOB) and Woman (W) after W received Bride's invitation,which says on the response card that children are not permitted at the wedding venue (in this case, it' s liability issue):
W: Hi MOB, I just got Bride's invitation, and I noticed it says children are not included.
MOB: Yes.
W: I don’t understand what this means. My girls are 12 and 13.
MOB: Mmm. Hmm. What don’t you understand?
W: Well, the invitation says no children, but we don't really consider them children.
MOB: Hmm. Well, Bride and Groom haven't included any children under the age of 15 because the venue liability insurance won't permit it.
W: Well, okay.
Now, let's flash forward three days. W calls my friend, Bride. And repeats the exchange. All the while, my friend Bride is thinking: What do you mean you don't consider them children? What are they? Can they vote? Do you let them drive? Can they enter a contract legally? Do you let them gamble? Smoke? Drink? Last time I checked, 12 and 13 year olds were children!
Over-reaction? Maybe. She is studying for the bar. But there's a lesson in here-- don't keep harassing people until you get the answer you want. Seriously. Just be happy you were invited!
Tuesday, May 29, 2007
True Feminism
I don't actually think of myself as a feminist or a non-feminist. I think women should have equal opportunities to men. I think men should have similar opportunities to women. This is evidenced, at least in small part, by our family goal to have Jason become a full-time-stay-at-home-dad, while I go off to be our family wage-earner. Fortunately for me, this is one place where Jason and I see eye to eye. And I know you're thinking it-- but I do recognize that complete equality is neither physically possible, nor is it likely desirable. I'm thinking a bunch of pregnant men running around would give me (and many other women) a gigantic headache!
Like many strong-willed, independently-minded women, I hope to raise my daughter to be equally independent. I hope to teacher her self-reliance. I hope she becomes confident and trusts herself above all others. And along with that comes my complete (well, almost complete) lack of concern over gender-specific attire and such. Don't get me wrong, I like dressing her in pink now and again. I want her to grow her hair out. I am not anti-femininity by any stretch of the imagination. But if Marcie wants to wear her brother's hand-me-down Car clothes-- even his (gasp!) underwear (seeing as how they don't make it in girl version), I'm not gonna get in her way.
And when she picks up the Thomas trains, or she climbs in the giant dump truck, or she points out trucks and buses on the road, I feel no concern that she is not appropriately girly. I just don't think it should-- or does-- matter.
But I think the true measure of feminism has nothing to do with how a mother raises her daughter. I think for true signs of equality, we need look no further than a mother-- or father's-- attitude toward their son's attire. Choice of toys. And such. And last week I got an ever-so-brief lesson in what that really means when we were at a local park. Casey saw a scooter laying on the ground, and he decided he wanted to test it out. So he did. Mind you, he was completely unconcerned by its appearance. Here he is riding it at the park:
Like many strong-willed, independently-minded women, I hope to raise my daughter to be equally independent. I hope to teacher her self-reliance. I hope she becomes confident and trusts herself above all others. And along with that comes my complete (well, almost complete) lack of concern over gender-specific attire and such. Don't get me wrong, I like dressing her in pink now and again. I want her to grow her hair out. I am not anti-femininity by any stretch of the imagination. But if Marcie wants to wear her brother's hand-me-down Car clothes-- even his (gasp!) underwear (seeing as how they don't make it in girl version), I'm not gonna get in her way.
And when she picks up the Thomas trains, or she climbs in the giant dump truck, or she points out trucks and buses on the road, I feel no concern that she is not appropriately girly. I just don't think it should-- or does-- matter.
But I think the true measure of feminism has nothing to do with how a mother raises her daughter. I think for true signs of equality, we need look no further than a mother-- or father's-- attitude toward their son's attire. Choice of toys. And such. And last week I got an ever-so-brief lesson in what that really means when we were at a local park. Casey saw a scooter laying on the ground, and he decided he wanted to test it out. So he did. Mind you, he was completely unconcerned by its appearance. Here he is riding it at the park:
Now, I have no concerns that because Casey selected the pink princess scooter it's an indication of his sexuality. He's four, for crying out loud. And I wouldn't even really mind if it were. He is who he is. But something inside me screamed out in alarm-- I mean, if he picked this out for himself, would I purchase it? Or would I direct him toward a "more appropriate" Spiderman version? And if Marcie were his older sister instead of his younger one and she had a scooter like this, would I be content with Casey riding it as a hand-me-down toy? Or would I feel compelled to purchase him a more "masculine" scooter? I'd like to think the notion of my son riding around on a pink, frilly scooter evokes no reaction in me at all-- just as it clearly evoked no reaction in him. Maybe I should be taking a lesson from Casey in what it really means to be a feminist!
Sunday, May 13, 2007
Happy Mother's Day!
To all you moms out there, Happy Mother's Day! And a special shout-out to my own mom, who never gets to spend Mother's Day with her kids, but is always on our minds . . .
Every year on Mother's Day, I think about my journey to motherhood-- how I got where I am. When Jason and I first began our quest for children, I just assumed we'd be pregnant within 3 months, become of a family of 3 within the year. Not so. And as the months dragged by and we took stock of our goals, we quickly realized that our goal wasn't pregnancy, it was family! And fortunately for me, I have a rational husband who shared my sense that family isn't about biology, and off our first adoption adventure we began.
When we first contemplated open adoption, we were skeptical. Who isn't really? What with all those crazy-scary Lifetime movies about birth families changing their minds and taking back their children, it would seem that adoption can be a scary and risky venture. And it can be. I mean, here in California, for instance, biological parents have up to 3 months (90 days!) to change their minds and rescind the adoption. Adoptive parents then have to return the child (the child they've been caring for!). But my guess is that the statistics on this are more rare than Lifetime would like us to think. (Admittedly, for those to whom this has happened, the statistics don't mean anything because the pain of it all is so hard to bear.)
In any case, we thought open adoption was a great idea. The notion that we could know our child's birth family-- his ongoing medical history (which of course changes over time as relatives age). The idea that if he had a question about his biological mother, he could just ask her. The notion that he would always know adoption was a decision borne of love and not of passivity or lacking concern. And if I were to do it again, I'd choose an open adoption again in a heartbeat. I wouldn't do it any other way-- we've gained so much from the relationship with Casey's extended family. And so has he. More aunts and uncles to love him. More grandparents to spoil him. More cousins to play with. And even a big brother and big sister to mentor him and teach him to play ball and to cherish him. There is no lack of love in Casey's world. Open adoption has not been co-parenting-- there is no question who makes the decisions about Casey. Open adoption has been about Casey knowing who he is and where he came from and how ended up as part of our family. It works a little differently for everyone, but putting Casey's interests first means honoring who he is. And that means where he comes from, too.
Last week The Washington Post did an article on open adoption (thanks for e-mailing it to me, Alison), and what I love about the article is how it features the child's birthmother. Because today, on Mother's Day, that article speaks to me especially vividly. I think about how Casey's birthmom would have had the joy and the pain of watching him grow up, grateful that he was healthy and well-adjusted and loved, and sorrowful for all the times she had to say good-bye. Birthmothers-- or first mothers-- they make real sacrifice. And that makes them mothers. So today, on Mother's Day, I want to say Happy Mother's Day to birthmothers, biological moms, first mothers out there. It's so easy to be forgotten. We focus so heavily on how "real" moms do the parenting (and we do!). But that doesn't mean birthmothers aren't real moms, too.
As an adoptive mom of two, I am so very grateful for the gift my kids' biological mothers gave them-- and me. If Casey's birthmom had lived, he would have always known who she was. And she would have always known how well he was doing. But it would have been painful, too. To see him and not be with him. Marcie's birthmom won't have that benefit. If they celebrated Mother's Day in China, I wonder what she would be doing today. I imagine she wonders about Marcie every day. I imagine she prays that Marcie ended up in a good home with a family who loves her and takes good care of her (she did!). I imagine the pain of not knowing is sometimes unbearable. And that would make Mother's Day even more difficult for her.
We have made a commitment to our children-- that they will grow up knowing their roots. I hope that it means not only knowing extended family (for Casey) and learning about China (for Marcie). I hope it also means they will grow up honoring their first mothers for the sacrifice they made-- not selfishly, but lovingly.
I know there is a holiday here in the U.S.-- Birthmother's Day-- celebrated the day before Mother's Day. I think it's intended to honor those women who give birth but do not parent those children. And it's a cool idea. In theory. But I don't think it needs to be a separate day. First mothers, Long-time mothers-- we're all mothers just the same. And today is a day to honor all moms, near and far.
Every year on Mother's Day, I think about my journey to motherhood-- how I got where I am. When Jason and I first began our quest for children, I just assumed we'd be pregnant within 3 months, become of a family of 3 within the year. Not so. And as the months dragged by and we took stock of our goals, we quickly realized that our goal wasn't pregnancy, it was family! And fortunately for me, I have a rational husband who shared my sense that family isn't about biology, and off our first adoption adventure we began.
When we first contemplated open adoption, we were skeptical. Who isn't really? What with all those crazy-scary Lifetime movies about birth families changing their minds and taking back their children, it would seem that adoption can be a scary and risky venture. And it can be. I mean, here in California, for instance, biological parents have up to 3 months (90 days!) to change their minds and rescind the adoption. Adoptive parents then have to return the child (the child they've been caring for!). But my guess is that the statistics on this are more rare than Lifetime would like us to think. (Admittedly, for those to whom this has happened, the statistics don't mean anything because the pain of it all is so hard to bear.)
In any case, we thought open adoption was a great idea. The notion that we could know our child's birth family-- his ongoing medical history (which of course changes over time as relatives age). The idea that if he had a question about his biological mother, he could just ask her. The notion that he would always know adoption was a decision borne of love and not of passivity or lacking concern. And if I were to do it again, I'd choose an open adoption again in a heartbeat. I wouldn't do it any other way-- we've gained so much from the relationship with Casey's extended family. And so has he. More aunts and uncles to love him. More grandparents to spoil him. More cousins to play with. And even a big brother and big sister to mentor him and teach him to play ball and to cherish him. There is no lack of love in Casey's world. Open adoption has not been co-parenting-- there is no question who makes the decisions about Casey. Open adoption has been about Casey knowing who he is and where he came from and how ended up as part of our family. It works a little differently for everyone, but putting Casey's interests first means honoring who he is. And that means where he comes from, too.
Last week The Washington Post did an article on open adoption (thanks for e-mailing it to me, Alison), and what I love about the article is how it features the child's birthmother. Because today, on Mother's Day, that article speaks to me especially vividly. I think about how Casey's birthmom would have had the joy and the pain of watching him grow up, grateful that he was healthy and well-adjusted and loved, and sorrowful for all the times she had to say good-bye. Birthmothers-- or first mothers-- they make real sacrifice. And that makes them mothers. So today, on Mother's Day, I want to say Happy Mother's Day to birthmothers, biological moms, first mothers out there. It's so easy to be forgotten. We focus so heavily on how "real" moms do the parenting (and we do!). But that doesn't mean birthmothers aren't real moms, too.
As an adoptive mom of two, I am so very grateful for the gift my kids' biological mothers gave them-- and me. If Casey's birthmom had lived, he would have always known who she was. And she would have always known how well he was doing. But it would have been painful, too. To see him and not be with him. Marcie's birthmom won't have that benefit. If they celebrated Mother's Day in China, I wonder what she would be doing today. I imagine she wonders about Marcie every day. I imagine she prays that Marcie ended up in a good home with a family who loves her and takes good care of her (she did!). I imagine the pain of not knowing is sometimes unbearable. And that would make Mother's Day even more difficult for her.
We have made a commitment to our children-- that they will grow up knowing their roots. I hope that it means not only knowing extended family (for Casey) and learning about China (for Marcie). I hope it also means they will grow up honoring their first mothers for the sacrifice they made-- not selfishly, but lovingly.
I know there is a holiday here in the U.S.-- Birthmother's Day-- celebrated the day before Mother's Day. I think it's intended to honor those women who give birth but do not parent those children. And it's a cool idea. In theory. But I don't think it needs to be a separate day. First mothers, Long-time mothers-- we're all mothers just the same. And today is a day to honor all moms, near and far.
Thursday, May 03, 2007
THAT t-shirt (again)
So a while back I wrote about how the new UO t-shirt is kind of offensive. After I posted, I told Jason about it. He laughed. Laughed. Not at me. At the t-shirt.
Then I told a friend of mine from law school about it. And he laughed.
Finally, a good friend of mine sort of called me out on it this week after reading the blog. She said she thought it was funny. And so did her husband. Who is adopted.
So what's the deal? Is it offensive or am I too sensitive?
I'm the first to admit I can be a little, well, sensitive to things. And while I'm a big believer in the notion that UO should have the right to sell the shirt, that wouldn't necessarily mean I think they should. I feel that way about many things in life. Things I think should be legal but people shouldn't do anyway. But that's a topic for a whole different post. My point is that I have a t-shirt that I think other people might be offended by. But I still bought it. Actually, I didn't. I got it as a gift. But I thought it was hilarious, and I wear it all the time. Well, all the time when I'm not around small children who might ask me what it means.
(And before you think I'm a weirdo freak, the t-shirt says WTF? Which really isn't that offensive except for the F part of it. But it's just the letters, literally. And that's what makes it funny to me. Because I often find myself asking this question in my head when I'm out and about in the world.)
So, what about that shirt. For a while pink was the new black. And UO sells a shirt that says "Rehab is the new black." And even one that says "Scientology is the new black." And I think at least the scientology one is kind of funny. But back to the adoption t-shirt. IS it offensive? Certainly, it pokes fun at celebrity adoptions. There does seem to be a lot of media surrounding Angelina and Madonna lately. But is it fair to say that this t-shirt intimates that all people who adopt do so because it's a trend or a fad? I mean, does anyone who actually chooses adoption do so for that reason? Would anyone in their right mind think we do?
Maybe I haven't given the general public enough credit. I know I didn't adopt because it was the cool thing to do. And I know my kids won't think we chose adoption lightly. And is the t-shirt even directed at us main-stream folks who build our families through adoption?
I don't have the answers to any of this. I can obviously see both sides of the issue. And perhaps it really is more complicated than this-- perhaps for adoptees struggling with identity, such a t-shirt really is offensive. But it doesn't really make me feel any less conviction about the family-building choices we've made. Was I offended? Yeah. I guess I was. But mostly because I guess I don't give enough credit to regular old America to understand that it's not a commentary on adoption at all. . . and maybe a little because I myself couldn't see that either.
Offensive and rude? I dunno. But I'm still at least a little glad they aren't selling it anymore. . .
Then I told a friend of mine from law school about it. And he laughed.
Finally, a good friend of mine sort of called me out on it this week after reading the blog. She said she thought it was funny. And so did her husband. Who is adopted.
So what's the deal? Is it offensive or am I too sensitive?
I'm the first to admit I can be a little, well, sensitive to things. And while I'm a big believer in the notion that UO should have the right to sell the shirt, that wouldn't necessarily mean I think they should. I feel that way about many things in life. Things I think should be legal but people shouldn't do anyway. But that's a topic for a whole different post. My point is that I have a t-shirt that I think other people might be offended by. But I still bought it. Actually, I didn't. I got it as a gift. But I thought it was hilarious, and I wear it all the time. Well, all the time when I'm not around small children who might ask me what it means.
(And before you think I'm a weirdo freak, the t-shirt says WTF? Which really isn't that offensive except for the F part of it. But it's just the letters, literally. And that's what makes it funny to me. Because I often find myself asking this question in my head when I'm out and about in the world.)
So, what about that shirt. For a while pink was the new black. And UO sells a shirt that says "Rehab is the new black." And even one that says "Scientology is the new black." And I think at least the scientology one is kind of funny. But back to the adoption t-shirt. IS it offensive? Certainly, it pokes fun at celebrity adoptions. There does seem to be a lot of media surrounding Angelina and Madonna lately. But is it fair to say that this t-shirt intimates that all people who adopt do so because it's a trend or a fad? I mean, does anyone who actually chooses adoption do so for that reason? Would anyone in their right mind think we do?
Maybe I haven't given the general public enough credit. I know I didn't adopt because it was the cool thing to do. And I know my kids won't think we chose adoption lightly. And is the t-shirt even directed at us main-stream folks who build our families through adoption?
I don't have the answers to any of this. I can obviously see both sides of the issue. And perhaps it really is more complicated than this-- perhaps for adoptees struggling with identity, such a t-shirt really is offensive. But it doesn't really make me feel any less conviction about the family-building choices we've made. Was I offended? Yeah. I guess I was. But mostly because I guess I don't give enough credit to regular old America to understand that it's not a commentary on adoption at all. . . and maybe a little because I myself couldn't see that either.
Offensive and rude? I dunno. But I'm still at least a little glad they aren't selling it anymore. . .
Thursday, April 26, 2007
Rude New T-shirt. Seriously Rude. **UPDATED**
A blog I read recently posted about how offensive this new sale item is. I actually hesitate slightly to post it because I don't want to give this company's website any additional traffic. Now, I'm not particularly savvy about fashion trends, or really any trends for that matter. So I had to ask my much cooler, hipper co-workers what this means. Here's the item for sale:
So this is a reference to fashion, apparently. "Black" is very trendy and hip in fashion (so I'm told), and when new styles or colors are "in," people say they are "the new black." As in: Green is the new black.
Hmm. So why would Urban Outfitters think adopting is the new black? Because Angelina Jolie and Madonna have recently received a lot of publicity for doing it? That's a lame reason, if you ask me (and clearly Urban Outfitters didn't). Because, truth be told, celebrities have been adopting for years and years and years. Decades, even. Look at Mia Farrow, who has ten children through adoption. Or Tom Cruise and Nicole Kidman. Or Calista Flockhart. Or Meg Ryan. Need I go on? The fact that there has been a lot of publicity about it recently-- does that make the act of adopting a trendy activity? Or even newsworthy, for that matter?
I mean, I've always kind of thought that if Angelina could expedite an adoption because of her celebrity-- or if she could draw attention to the plight of children in Africa or Cambodia or wherever, then good for her for using her star power for something good.
But I've never thought any of those celebrities adopted because they wanted good publicity. I cannot imagine anyone adopting a child so that people will pat her on the back and tell her what a good things she is doing. That's just not what adoption is about. It's not about "saving" a child. Adoption is about creating family. Adoption is about love.
So you can imagine why equating adoption with some fashion trend would be, well, offensive to anyone who has or is adopted. And that's a lotta people. So, if you feel so inclined, and would like to let Urban Outfitters know their misguided attempt at humor is . . . less than funny . . . please e-mail them at service@urbanoutfitters.com.
**UPDATE**
To those of you who have e-mailed me and posted comments about this, thank you. To those of you who have written to UO, thank you, thank you. You can see in the comments that Kyndra let me know UO is no longer selling the item. Which is great news. Now I think it's time for them to take the image off their website, though, don't you? (Yeah, I know it's weird for me to say this seeing as I have a picture of it on this blog. But I'll remove it when they do.)
Monday, April 23, 2007
Tragic, really
I mostly opt not to write about whether or not I agree with China's decisions regarding . . . well, just about anything. As the lucky recipient of their generosity in sharing one of their nation's richest resources (their children), I mainly choose to feel grateful and keep my mouth shut. Okay, it's true that I kind of defended China when that one guy wrote about how they are selling their babies to Americans and setting unreasonable requirements to qualify. But this is a little different.
You see, from what we know, China places between 400 and 700 children each month in homes outside their country. We don't know how many children are in orphanages in China. But we do know that there are many, many, many waiting families around the world-- just longing to be matched with their children.
It seems like if China wanted to, they could place more children with families abroad. If they wanted to. They like to keep the number to a certain range, though. And I suppose that's their sovereign right. As is the one-child rule in the first place. But the fact that the wait for a Chinese adoption has grown so dramatically in the past couple years makes this story(Cases of Forced Abortion Surface in China) from NPR all the more tragic.
Here's a brief summary of the article, which you can listen to at the above-link:
Chinese law prohibits births to unmarried couples. It also sometimes allows families to have a second child if they pay the hefty fine to do so. But recently, in one area that is over quota on its birth statistics, officials have been cracking down and literally forcing women to have abortions-- late, late, late in pregnancy. At the seven-month-mark and beyond.
Now, I've never carried a baby to term or anything. I don't know what it feels like to have something wiggling around inside me. To feel that life grow. But I imagine if I had, I would be horrified to have someone literally rip the child out of me against my wishes. Whether or not you are pro-choice or pro-life, I think we could all agree that when a woman chooses to carry a baby to term, she should be able to. I know that these are examples of women who wanted to keep and parent their children. But if I were a betting woman, I'd venture to bet that those women, given the choice of a forced late-term abortion or placing those children in stable, loving homes-- well, they'd choose the latter. And I guess that what seems particularly sad to me about all this is that it's a lose-lose-lose. The baby loses. The baby's mother loses. And families anxious to have additional members lose.
Call me judgmental, but I think it's just tragic, really.
You see, from what we know, China places between 400 and 700 children each month in homes outside their country. We don't know how many children are in orphanages in China. But we do know that there are many, many, many waiting families around the world-- just longing to be matched with their children.
It seems like if China wanted to, they could place more children with families abroad. If they wanted to. They like to keep the number to a certain range, though. And I suppose that's their sovereign right. As is the one-child rule in the first place. But the fact that the wait for a Chinese adoption has grown so dramatically in the past couple years makes this story(Cases of Forced Abortion Surface in China) from NPR all the more tragic.
Here's a brief summary of the article, which you can listen to at the above-link:
Chinese law prohibits births to unmarried couples. It also sometimes allows families to have a second child if they pay the hefty fine to do so. But recently, in one area that is over quota on its birth statistics, officials have been cracking down and literally forcing women to have abortions-- late, late, late in pregnancy. At the seven-month-mark and beyond.
Now, I've never carried a baby to term or anything. I don't know what it feels like to have something wiggling around inside me. To feel that life grow. But I imagine if I had, I would be horrified to have someone literally rip the child out of me against my wishes. Whether or not you are pro-choice or pro-life, I think we could all agree that when a woman chooses to carry a baby to term, she should be able to. I know that these are examples of women who wanted to keep and parent their children. But if I were a betting woman, I'd venture to bet that those women, given the choice of a forced late-term abortion or placing those children in stable, loving homes-- well, they'd choose the latter. And I guess that what seems particularly sad to me about all this is that it's a lose-lose-lose. The baby loses. The baby's mother loses. And families anxious to have additional members lose.
Call me judgmental, but I think it's just tragic, really.
Friday, April 20, 2007
And Now a Word on Virginia Tech
I've given a lot of thought to writing about what happened at Virginia Tech on Monday. I have mainly avoided news coverage on the topic, since reading about the horrific events on CNN's website Monday. I gleaned all I needed to on the shooter in my less-than-five-minute drive from work to school the other day. And I heard an earful from investigators about the (in)appropriateness of the media's use of the shooter's packaged photos and video, sent to NBC.
Of course, there are two schools of thought on the media's reaction. One is that it is news. It is information. People have a right to know. The other is that giving the idiot who shot up a college campus a public forum to ooze his offensive manifesto gives him exactly what he wanted. For surely, NBC wouldn't have broadcast the information had he not shot up a college campus.
I feel badly for NBC. I understand why they shared the information. And, of course, their behavior falls well within their First Amendment constitutional rights (at least as this almost-finished-with-law-school-and-terrified-of-the-bar-student understands). But there is a big difference between what is permissible or legal and what people should do. NBC's ratings shot up something like 26% from sharing the material, so there's certainly an incentive for them to do so. And I have to wonder if we should admonish a news agency for sharing information the public clearly wants to know about.
On the other hand, television and radio is what I consider a push medium, as compared to the Internet, which I think of as a pull medium. What I mean by this is that when I flip on the television or the radio, I'm not doing so because I'm seeking the particular news story the media has to share. (It is true, of course, that sometimes I am looking for news on the topic on which they are reporting, but there are always many other topics on which they report, even in the same newscast, about which I am not interested.) So the television and radio stations push the news they want to push. With the Internet, on the other hand, I use my search engine to actively seek out information on a given topic. I've pulled the material from cyberspace, and I can control what I read or don't read. Sure, I could turn off the television of radio (and I have), but sometimes not before it's too late. And sometimes, information so permeates the TV and radio, that a topic is difficult to avoid.
So what do to? A part of me wishes the media had reported that there was this information, and if people were interested in it, they could hear all about it in 1. a single broadcast, to be aired at X time on X day, and that would be it; or 2. on the Internet at X URL, where there would be information available for those seeking it. While these seem better than broadcasting photos of a shooter brandishing weapons and spewing ignorant hatred, I'd still prefer they not give him any air time at all.
I was thinking about how this might all lead to copycats-- or just other crazed maniacs who might want to make themselves famous by shooting up some public place. Really, what we're teaching people is that all you have to do is shoot up a fast food restaurant if you want to be famous (which actually happened near here when I was a kid. The guy killed 21 and wounded 19 in a McDonald's- and I still remember hearing about it more than twenty years later) .
What should we be doing instead?
We should be focusing on the lives lost and injured because of this tragedy. And I know we are-- today is a day of mourning for them. But I mean more specifically. I mean the individual people. I would like to know who they were, what their hopes, dreams, and plans were. What kind of people they were. I'd like to hear about what we lost as a nation because of this tragedy. I can't help but wonder if these kinds of tragedies gave more air time to the victims (both living and deceased)-- if it became a tribute to them, an opportunity for their personal manifestos (pieced together by families and friends) to air, if there would be less of an incentive to kill in the first place. Yes, yes. I know the guy was likely a deranged lunatic. But I'd much rather hear about where these students were headed in the next days, weeks, months, and years of their lives than about why this guy killed them. I'm satisfied by knowing he was mad because of x, y, and z (and I'm not writing his reasons here intentionally); I don't need to hear his reasons in his own words.
I was in Oklahoma back in 2001 coaching my high school students at the National Forensic League Championship Tournament (speech and debate). It was the week in June that the Oklahoma City bomber was executed. I remember it clearly because all the university televisions were silent, rolling the names of all the victims lost in that bombing. The media didn't spend time recounting the bomber's motives or his crime. It focused squarely on the victims. And this is where the focus should be. Sadly, I don't remember a name of a single Oklahoma City victim. Even after visiting the memorial. Yet I know the names of the bombers.
I wish, instead, I knew more about the victims. I wish we all focused on that. Giving shooters and bombers a public forum to decree their beliefs just fuels the flames of future would-be maniacs. So whether or not there is a newsworthy reason to report on it, I don't think we should be spending our time there.
Post-script
You'll notice throughout this very long post, I never once mentioned the name of any shooter or bomber or other terrorists. This was quite on purpose.
Post-script #2
After thinking about this post today some more, I realize that I referred to all bombers and shooters as deranged, maniacal, idiotic, and a whole slew of other pretty hostile terms. But I also want to acknowledge that I don't know much about any of them-- these so-called psychopaths. And I suppose it is possible that at least one of them wasn't an angry a-hole, but instead a seriously sick bastard. And I mean that with sincerity and not the bitter sarcasm with which it may appear to drip. I don't mean to suggest mental illness excuses the behavior. But i can't help but conclude that if there are sick people out there-- isolated and angry ones in particular-- we need to do more to search them out and help them. Sigh. I sure do wish our country did a better job with mental health care-- which is a diatribe for another day. We have terrible systems in place for healthcare. . . and that's an even bigger topic for another day. . .
Of course, there are two schools of thought on the media's reaction. One is that it is news. It is information. People have a right to know. The other is that giving the idiot who shot up a college campus a public forum to ooze his offensive manifesto gives him exactly what he wanted. For surely, NBC wouldn't have broadcast the information had he not shot up a college campus.
I feel badly for NBC. I understand why they shared the information. And, of course, their behavior falls well within their First Amendment constitutional rights (at least as this almost-finished-with-law-school-and-terrified-of-the-bar-student understands). But there is a big difference between what is permissible or legal and what people should do. NBC's ratings shot up something like 26% from sharing the material, so there's certainly an incentive for them to do so. And I have to wonder if we should admonish a news agency for sharing information the public clearly wants to know about.
On the other hand, television and radio is what I consider a push medium, as compared to the Internet, which I think of as a pull medium. What I mean by this is that when I flip on the television or the radio, I'm not doing so because I'm seeking the particular news story the media has to share. (It is true, of course, that sometimes I am looking for news on the topic on which they are reporting, but there are always many other topics on which they report, even in the same newscast, about which I am not interested.) So the television and radio stations push the news they want to push. With the Internet, on the other hand, I use my search engine to actively seek out information on a given topic. I've pulled the material from cyberspace, and I can control what I read or don't read. Sure, I could turn off the television of radio (and I have), but sometimes not before it's too late. And sometimes, information so permeates the TV and radio, that a topic is difficult to avoid.
So what do to? A part of me wishes the media had reported that there was this information, and if people were interested in it, they could hear all about it in 1. a single broadcast, to be aired at X time on X day, and that would be it; or 2. on the Internet at X URL, where there would be information available for those seeking it. While these seem better than broadcasting photos of a shooter brandishing weapons and spewing ignorant hatred, I'd still prefer they not give him any air time at all.
I was thinking about how this might all lead to copycats-- or just other crazed maniacs who might want to make themselves famous by shooting up some public place. Really, what we're teaching people is that all you have to do is shoot up a fast food restaurant if you want to be famous (which actually happened near here when I was a kid. The guy killed 21 and wounded 19 in a McDonald's- and I still remember hearing about it more than twenty years later) .
What should we be doing instead?
We should be focusing on the lives lost and injured because of this tragedy. And I know we are-- today is a day of mourning for them. But I mean more specifically. I mean the individual people. I would like to know who they were, what their hopes, dreams, and plans were. What kind of people they were. I'd like to hear about what we lost as a nation because of this tragedy. I can't help but wonder if these kinds of tragedies gave more air time to the victims (both living and deceased)-- if it became a tribute to them, an opportunity for their personal manifestos (pieced together by families and friends) to air, if there would be less of an incentive to kill in the first place. Yes, yes. I know the guy was likely a deranged lunatic. But I'd much rather hear about where these students were headed in the next days, weeks, months, and years of their lives than about why this guy killed them. I'm satisfied by knowing he was mad because of x, y, and z (and I'm not writing his reasons here intentionally); I don't need to hear his reasons in his own words.
I was in Oklahoma back in 2001 coaching my high school students at the National Forensic League Championship Tournament (speech and debate). It was the week in June that the Oklahoma City bomber was executed. I remember it clearly because all the university televisions were silent, rolling the names of all the victims lost in that bombing. The media didn't spend time recounting the bomber's motives or his crime. It focused squarely on the victims. And this is where the focus should be. Sadly, I don't remember a name of a single Oklahoma City victim. Even after visiting the memorial. Yet I know the names of the bombers.
I wish, instead, I knew more about the victims. I wish we all focused on that. Giving shooters and bombers a public forum to decree their beliefs just fuels the flames of future would-be maniacs. So whether or not there is a newsworthy reason to report on it, I don't think we should be spending our time there.
Post-script
You'll notice throughout this very long post, I never once mentioned the name of any shooter or bomber or other terrorists. This was quite on purpose.
Post-script #2
After thinking about this post today some more, I realize that I referred to all bombers and shooters as deranged, maniacal, idiotic, and a whole slew of other pretty hostile terms. But I also want to acknowledge that I don't know much about any of them-- these so-called psychopaths. And I suppose it is possible that at least one of them wasn't an angry a-hole, but instead a seriously sick bastard. And I mean that with sincerity and not the bitter sarcasm with which it may appear to drip. I don't mean to suggest mental illness excuses the behavior. But i can't help but conclude that if there are sick people out there-- isolated and angry ones in particular-- we need to do more to search them out and help them. Sigh. I sure do wish our country did a better job with mental health care-- which is a diatribe for another day. We have terrible systems in place for healthcare. . . and that's an even bigger topic for another day. . .
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