Our house is not babyproofed. My child had eggrolls for dinner tonight. I think my daughter is cuter than the other kids in her class. My daughter knows how to use a laptop because I have modeled it more than often enough. I celebrate her bedtime every night. One time I caught her standing on a chair holding a glass vase over her head, pretending to drink from it. I like reading to her, but I get tired of reading the same things again and again. Because it is truly an endless battle, I do not wipe her nose every single time she needs it, waiting instead for critical masses to form. I don’t always follow her when she leaves the room. She brushes her teeth only once a day and sometimes less often. I have never carried a diaper bag. I have been getting laxer than I meant to on letting her have sweets, though I am probably still pretty good about this. I like it when she looks cute but worry when she looks too cute. The ten-second rule? Let’s just say ten seconds can be very slow in our house. Sometimes she hangs on me when I’m engaged in something, and I feel bad for not scooping her up and attending to her instead of whatever I’m doing. I feel like I should take her outside more often than I do. I am a little overexcited about her birthday party, and I like buying her toys more than I should (though she still has fewer than most kids her age). I don’t use special detergent to wash her clothes (sorry, APC!). She had tiny bits of peanut butter before she was 2. Sometimes, I can tune out. Once, when I was really stressed out because we had to fly to a funeral the next day, I yelled “Mavis, stop!” at her when she was whining for me, and I immediately felt terrible because I scared her. I tend to be lax on making her wear mittens and don’t generally dress her as warmly as I think preschool thinks I should. I occasionally exaggerate the inflexibility of my childcare providers to get out of certain nonessential work commitments, and I do not have any qualms about doing so. I’m relieved that she seems to be of normal intelligence. She has never been to the dentist nor to any adoption specialist. When I first saw her picture, I was relieved that she didn’t look really gnarly more than I was excited that she was beautiful. I don’t mind spending most of a day away from her once in a while. I let her toys hang out in multiple places in our house even though I sort of admire people who don’t let their kids do this. I am glad she likes my mom better than Jasper’s mom. I don’t buy her “educational” toys and am proud of the fact. I make her walk when she wants to be carried because it’s too much of a hassle to carry her with all the other crap I have with me or just because she’s heavy. She watches Sesame Street often when I get ready in the morning, though I really don’t want her to watch TV. Luckily, given all of the above, I generally do not feel much “mommy guilt.” Still, I typed this post a long time before I posted it!
True Confessions (Lulu’s Version) March 31, 2008
I’m stealing Coco’s thunder since this was her inspiration for our next post. She, Fifi and I had an email exchange about some embarrassing admissions in terms of our approach to parenting. You know, things you never thought you would do, promised you wouldn’t do, but now, you do. Sigh.
Some are lighthearted, while some are a little more disconcerting to me, but here goes:
1. I justify serving Elsie mac n’ cheese twice a week by rationalizing that it’s organic mac n’ cheese.
2. Elsie watches cartoons while I get ready in the morning. OK, it’s not solid TV watching since she also likes to hang out in the bathroom with me. And damn you Playhouse Disney for moving My Friends Tigger and Pooh to a later time! Those Little Einsteins drive me nuts, but PBS Kids has Arthur on, and it’s a little beyond Elsie age-wise.
3. Elsie’s phenomenally good health has made me lazy on certain appointments. Appointments for the Pediatric Ophthalmologist, Audiologist and Dentist have been on my to-do list for a frighteningly loooooooong time.
4. I don’t remember the last time I blogged at home; it’s almost always at work (both reading and writing). My apologies to my employer, but is it really a sincere apology if you have no plans to change your ways?
5. I will sell Elsie’s too-small clothing to Once Upon a Child, but I’m a total snob about actually shopping there.
6. Haven’t even started the Lifebook. Is there some point where I think my free-time is going to expand?
7. I buy almost all Elsie’s shoes at Target. The Circo brand is too cute (just bought these and I want my own pair!). I have bought a few pairs at the StrideRite outlet, but Elsie still gravitates to the Target shoes…
8. The amount of coaxing and negotiating it takes to brush her teeth once a day (I know I need to do more) is more than I can handle some nights.
9. I don’t think about Elsie endlessly while I’m at work. Often, yes, but not endlessly. And the photos on my desk are from this past summer. Bad mama.
10. I don’t think I can handle one more FCC event with moms who adopted a few years ago having confident (i.e. loudly and in a grating, know-it-all tone) conversations with waiting families about how the wait is definitely speeding up after the Olympics.
11. There are still a few a-parent blogs/sites that I visit almost solely for the train-wreck value.
12 I like Barney. Really! There, I said it. I feel better.
13. I furtively sneak cookies in the kitchen so Elsie doesn’t see me snacking and demand ”Treat. TREAT!” Since I bought ten boxes of Thin Mints for the freezer, this happens way too often.
14. I know nearly every Laurie Berkner song by heart, and I often hear them in my head throughout the day. Yeah, we may like Barney, but we looooooooooove “Laurie Berker!” (her pronunciation) at our house.
15. And that will lead me to my last true confession (for this post anyway). I find myself reinforcing mispronounciations that I find cute. Laurie Berker. Vegables. Lem-made. Aggagator. The list is endless, but it’s hard to sacrifice the cuteness!
What are your parenting true confessions?
Coco’s “Only” Thoughts March 13, 2008
I wrote another version of this post, but it was three pages single-spaced (ahem) and I was just getting warmed up, so I am going to try to distill it here in another list.
1. One has felt pretty much right pretty much all the time I’ve known Mavis because she’s wonderful, not because I was disappointed.
2. Working makes more than one feel scary anyway, but that’s not the main reason one feels good.
3. I’m attracted to living smaller: being able to travel more, move out of our house bought just for the good/diverse school district, saving more money, spending more time writing and working on things that matter not only to the immediate context of my family. One obviously facilitates that.
4. I know too much about international adoption of healthy infants to believe any longer that it is not a corrupt system in most countries, including China, and it would be very hard to explain to myself, to Mavis, or to another child how I knowingly participated in it under the same circumstances a second time. This reason is pretty big. I know a lot of pre-adoptive parents get irritated when people who have their children home already say things about the corrupt system. I understand that, because I didn’t see it all beforehand either. But once you have a connection to a particular child and do some searching for information, you have a route to the whole—through one story, at least—that is different than, well, when you don’t. Unfortunately, we are turning a blind eye to too much. I did it too.
5. That being said, I do not have the same thoughts about older child or special needs adoption. Conveniently, older child adoption really appeals to me if we were adopt again.
6. If we were to adopt an older child, I believe that we would adopt from Ethiopia or foster-adopt African American domestic. I am also open to adopting a child older than Mavis, as I don’t think birth order issues matter as much when there is just one child who will be losing either her “oldest” or her “baby” status, no matter how you go about it.
7. Also true is that we no longer qualify for China and that most people Jasper’s age already have kids in high school.
8. I don’t think it’s a good idea to assume that two Asian kids are going to experience their race, adoption, racism, or anything else the same way. It kind of drives me crazy when adoptive parents act like they will have the same experience. I’m not downplaying the importance of race and racism in American culture but rather suggesting we don’t assume we know what that experience is going to mean to various individuals.
9. The adoption process itself is so damn wrenching and difficult that I still feel very scarred by it. I don’t think I could will myself through it again any time soon. I just don’t think I could hack it.
10. Mavis is not only an only child but also an only grandchild; she has no cousins. If she has any cousins, it won’t be for quite some time, so she will be the oldest by a lot. The common logic is that an only child ought to have a big family of cousins and so on. Mavis probably won’t have that. If she does, she’ll be the oldest, the one that the kids look up to. I think being the oldest means you get to set a tone, in some ways. I don’t worry too much about Mavis being the only person of color among her generation in my family. There’s a chance she might be the generation of her family. Also, one of my brothers is not biologically related to me, my sister, or my mother. If he has children, they will be white but not bio. This makes me sad for her as an adult when we are all old and failing, but somehow it doesn’t seem so bad when she’s little. The adult thing does make me feel a little sad.
11. If I adopt a black child, I wonder what it would be like for him or her if we went to live in China for some period of time. If I adopt a child whose birth family’s story I knew (which I would prefer), I wonder what it would be like for Mavis, who will not have that information. I think a lot about “fairness” between the two. When my sister and I were young, we were obsessed with fairness. I hate the notion of dealing with sibling rivalry over issues big or small.
12. Mavis has been one of the easiest possible adoption stories you can imagine. Her adjustment and ours have been far more seamless than we imagined they would be. She is also verbally and physically advanced for her age; she is kind and loving and fun; and it’s all been much easier than we expected. I know: it sounds obnoxious. My mother-in-law constantly says, “You got the best possible child. Stop while you are ahead.” Of course, my love for Mavis is not based on her intelligence or cuteness or development. I love her because she is my daughter, and I would love another child on his or her own terms rather than on some list of talents and abilities. But I do wonder how another child would be compared to her if that child had a harder time adjusting or had some academic delays or whatever. And when I think of how tiring and sometimes tough the days can be even with our easy, easy kid, I think “could I really handle her plus another one who wouldn’t promise to be so easy?” It definitely gives me pause.
Ultimately, I guess it will just be easier for us to have only one. It’s an attractive lifestyle to me—the notion of having a child we love deeply and enjoy thoroughly while not turning our entire lives over to the demands of the munchkins. I worry about Mavis not having an ally in her family but probably not a whole lot more than I worry about her not having enough children of color in her school and community. To be honest, I suspect that being an only child of color in a family with white siblings would be harder than being an only child of color, period. I don’t know that for a fact, of course, but it seems right.
Only two things really hold me back from saying we’ll definitely just have one. The first that I really do like kids an awful lot. They are funny and interesting. Mavis is still little now, and I might begin to get all achy with desire for another one later (though I really don’t envision adopting another baby. I really do think we’d go older a second time.). Whenever I think positively of two, I have this image of four of us on a road trip with the gigglers in the back seat. Of course, they’re just as likely to be fighting over who’s touching one another, so I can quickly banish that little daydream. The other reason I hesitate is that it has only really been since met Mavis that I’ve thought I just want one. It’s kind of new and still feels novel.
But for now one really does feel right. And I have to say that it’s really nice not to feel in a rush to decide.
Only the Lonely? Lulu’s thoughts on raising an only child… March 11, 2008
A few months before we received our referral, I bookmarked this discussion on Third Mom. Check it out, it’s pretty brief…
http://thirdmom.blogspot.com/2006/11/open-mike-should-tras-be-only-children.html
When I initially read the thread, I agreed with the majority of the posters, and I never thought we would hesitate to adopt again. My near-complete reversal on this topic has caused me to step back and take a hard look at the issue, and well, my own inner conflicts on this topic.
I guess the first question is why I’ve had a complete reversal on the topic. The reasons are pretty diverse:
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Being a working parent means trade-offs, and I want to minimize them for Elsie as much as possible. Having one child means I can spend more time with her. Plain and simple.
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I now understand why most people have kids when they are younger! We are in good health/shape generally, but at 42 and 49, spring chickens we are not. And having two kids in college as we enter retirement seems less than ideal. Heck, one in college at that time is pushing it…
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With some compromises and juggling, we could afford to adopt again. But having one child means we can do more for her financially, including education and travel, both of which are important to us. Hopefully, we can show her more of the world and broaden her cultural experiences more frequently.
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Our options for having another child are limited. We could try to get pregnant again (it has only happened once, about a year ago, and it was a very short-lived pregnancy), but at my age it’s not realistic (hardly worth discussing really), and it doesn’t solve the TRA issue of having that cultural connection for Elsie anyway. The wait for a NSN child from China is 4+ years, and I don’t want to jump into the SN program based primarily on wait times, which is a disturbing trend in adopting from China (not that SN adoptions are a disturbing trend, not at all, just the trend to families moving into the SN program primarily to shorten their wait time). Other programs aren’t much of an option for us with our ages, but more importantly, international adoption doesn’t feel right to me anymore. There’s too much that I’ve learned that disturbs me, but that’s an entirely separate post.
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Our family feels complete for me and Max, and we would really be doing it for Elsie. I talk to other parents who rave about how their kids play together, enjoy each other, give them more down time since they have companionship, etc. I see the benefits, really. And I’m all about putting my child first, but that doesn’t mean my needs aren’t on the list at all. Doing it “for Elsie” seems convoluted, and a poor motivation for doing something as huge as adding a child to your family. I have a sister, and while we get along well enough, we were not playmates as children (she was a physical tomboy, and I was a dreamer and doll-lover, not to mention completely uncoordinated), and we are not close as adults. Having another child doesn’t guarantee companionship, right? This is the item on the list that I struggle with the most — should we consider having another child more seriously because we think it would be really good for Elsie?
When I read comments in the “Third Mom” discussion, comments like really give me pause:
“as an only child and a KAD, my loud and clear answer is NO!!!!! i will never forgive my APs for only adopting one child, despite the fact that i love them. to me, it’s really cruel to only adopt one child – alone both in the country and in the family.”
“I don’t think it’s ideal really. I grew up as an “only” adopted TRA child and I always wished wished wished for someone else to share my experience. I felt super-only.”
But I lean on comments like this to keep the guilt at bay:
“I wonder if some of this has to be looked at child by child. I was the only child (adopted from Korea) for almost nine years and I was fine with it. When my sister came, I was excited, but not that she was adopted from Korea…I was just excited. We’ve never really talked about the issues much. A very close family friend has four children, the youngest is the only one adopted from Korea. She she does not feel any less a part of her family. In fact, we all laugh because she is the most like her mother. On the flip side, I know of other KADs who felt very alone because they were the only one.”
I do think it depends on the child, and more importantly, on the parents. We have the benefit of many friends with kids Elsie’s age, and we get together with those friends whenever possible. And we’ve had no trouble finding and bonding with other families with transracially adopted children (including our next door neighbors), and I am hoping those kids will provide Elsie with friends, sounding boards, and confidants as she gets older. The one big gap for us right now is cultural resources outside the adoption community, but I know that will be a more difficult hurdle to overcome. We’ll work on that.
So, assuming our decision to have Elsie be an only child does not change (and we’re feeling more than 90% sure on this), my question is this: How do you parent a transracially adopted child who is also an only child? What do you need to make sure you provide your child in terms of resources, support, outlets, etc.?
Or, are we being selfish? In our situation, should having a transracially adopted only child simply be an absolute last resort?
Random thoughts, two years out March 4, 2008
I have loved reading the posts reflecting on Family Day and the first year of motherhood here….but I am also a bit shame-faced. I did not handle my first year with any sort of grace or aplomb..I barely made it through. At one year home I was just acknowledging that I was dealing with PAD, that I could really cut myself some slack and not beat myself up over the many, many things that I thought made me a “good” mom (making her baby food from organic veggies and meat, giving up every hobby and thing that I enjoyed as some sort of penance for working outside the home, and always trying to stay on top of what I was supposed to be exposing Sadie to in order to help her through her transition home). Those things, and the pressure to keep them up? Were slowly draining my strength.
I was exhausted, scared, and really? I could hardly recognize myself.
The second year home is when I hit my stride, and believe that my change in attitude and outlook helped my daughter to come out of her shell and really show us what she was made of. I got help, and I got some perspective. I know now that my reactions, however small, really impact what my sensitive girl reads about a situation…and my off-the-cuff emotions had to be reigned in a bit for both of our sakes. I realized that it was good and necessary for her to see me doing things that I enjoyed, and that the best thing for both of us was to help her to be a part of it. That by being selfish with myself I was short-changing both of us.
Year one was rough, as my girl and I clung to one another…more often than not we were worn-out and muddling. Year two brought shared laughter, improved communication, and much discovery. I figured out that:
-Potty humor is not only funny, but it is essential to the nearly three year old set.
-Even the littlest people can and do tell knock-knock jokes..and that rocks.
-That leaving Sadie to have some time alone is not ever easy, but it really does help us both to learn to appreciate our time together more.
-That everything that I read was not necessarily everything that I needed to know.
At the end of year two we had our little family day together…we ate at a great ice cream shoppe, we went to a cool museum, we watched Little Mermaid before bed, and we snuggled until Sadie fell asleep. Ken and I talked about how lucky we are to know her, and how far we have all come from the days when I could hardly let myself be happy and enjoy this crazy adventure.
Our first meeting with Sadie was in a room on the upper floor of a building with glass walls, that over-looked a polluted, bustling city in Southern China. When she was handed over to me she looked deeply into our eyes, clung to the little toy we had given her, and really took measure of us. I watched her go from baby to toddler to the beginnings of a little girl…and this is what I have taken away from it:
-As much as you worry about each developmental milestone, they get it in their own time. We went through nearly a year of speech and occupational therapy, and even after stopping Sadie would not give us much in the way of progress. It has only been in the last six months that we realized she could do it, but she wasn’t necessarily ready. When she was ready, the floodgates opened.
-That as much as I worry about race and I try to get it right, I am never going to really “get it”. I have to believe that the work that I am doing now, however small, will benefit me as much as it will help me to support Sadie.
-That making peace with my role in the adoption triad is necessary, because I need to be clear on it as I help and listen to Sadie’s cues when we begins to navigate and explore her own identity.
-That ebay? Really, really great place to score baby clothes..but it is really, really addictive, too. Yikes.
So, to wrap up? Year one? Rocky. Year two? Discovery. Year three? Cannot wait for the ride.
