Because We Need To Be With Families Who Look Like Us

Ah, this poor, neglected blog!  If you're reading this, thank you for coming back!  This is my personal blog, as opposed to my other one, "Is It Hot In Here?" Menopause, Motherhood & More (http://isithotinheremmm.blogspot.com), which I'm TRYING to turn into a money maker.

If you've been reading either blog, you know that I am the proud mother of a little girl who was adopted from China.  You can read my family's story here.  A few years ago, we had a MASSIVE reunion with about ten families who traveled with my husband to China to pick up their daughters.  The reunion was INCREDIBLE!  All of the girls got along and the parents got to trade stories about their kids (one fascinating similarity:  they are very strong-willed children).  And even though we're scattered across the country, my family is fortunate to live within driving distance of two of of those families.


We LOVE seeing the Smiths and Johnsons (not their real names).  We get together with them at least once a year.  It's lovely that the girls are virtually growing up together and pick up exactly where they left off the last time we all gathered.


It's also crucial that they see other families that look like us.

 
When we first started meeting, the siblings (who are all biological) would also trade stories, but since two are teenagers and of different sexes, that's not happening as much.  The teens are bored; that's tough toenails because this is really about the little ones and the parents.


Our gatherings are low-maintenance.  We don't need any kind of fancy sightseeing trips.  On our last trip to Wilkes-Barre, Pennsylvania, it poured!  That was fine because our hotel had an indoor pool (we ALWAYS get an indoor pool) which the girls splashed around in until they were water-logged and tired.  They played video games in our room and we ended the weekend with a trip to the mall.  For the parents, it's become less of a "comparing notes" session and more the opportunity to just see friends. 


My daughter is the ultimate blessing and being able to share our parenting experience with other families who have gone through the adoption process and tackle some of the same issues we do ( such as instilling pride in our daughters' origins and country, some of the questions the girls pose about their births, etc.) has been important to us.


Interracial families are not the anomaly they once were, but they're still not common.  Seeing other families who have grown in other ways than by direct genetics is important.


We are so lucky that our family has grown in love thanks to adoption.  

A Literary Sedative For Kids - Dr. Seuss's Sleep Book - A MUST HAVE For ALL Parents

My children are having a difficult time adjusting from West Coast time to East Coast hours. Their sleep patterns are scrambled. While I could probably give them a tiny bit of melatonin, I'm, instead, taking the literary road – with Dr. Seuss's Sleep Book.

I discovered this tome when the Teen was maybe 2 and it's been my “emergency sedative” for him and my daughter ever since. Dr. Seuss tells the story of Van Vleck, a very small bug who is getting sleeeeepy. His yawn (they're contagious, you know) sets off a chain reaction which makes those around him tired and gradually spreads world-wide.

In the book's pages you'll meet all kinds of exotic creatures including stilt-walkers, the Hinkle-Horn Honking Club, the collapsible Frink, Joe and Mo Redd-Zoff, the Hoop-Soup-Snoop Group, the Curious Crandalls, Chippendale Mupp (who bites his tail), Mr. and Mrs. J. Carmichael Krox, snorers who make music, a dreaming moose and goose, the Bumble-Tub Club which is sleeping afloat, and the salesmen in the Vale of Va-Vode sleeping all over the road (and everywhere else). 

The book's cadence is mesmerizing as it lulls you into a state of relaxation. Reading it to your child, you will find yourself calmer and yawning along with your child. It is the BEST Dr. Seuss book you'll ever read and is the next best thing to a ride in the car to help your child fall asleep. Buy it, read it, keep it. You may even use it after the kids move out.

Please note that this posting originally appeared on www.thegeekparent.com.  

It MUST Be Me...

Our family caught with friends and acquaintances this summer.  These are people we like and generally respect; however, I’m flummoxed by responses to some of their children’s behavior and by what they ask their kids to do.

Case in point: Bob and Carol (not their real names) are lovely people whom we’ve known for many years. Their son is Little Timmy, age 7. The other day, Carol told me that their sweet little boy:

• Regularly strips down naked in the house and then jumps up and down on the couch in front of a curtainless window.
• Likes to periodically pee on the front lawn.
• Goes around the house and finishes all the half-full wine coolers he can find.

Carol thinks this is very funny; so funny, that she posts Timmy's antics on Facebook. Bob works late and, although he hears about these little episodes, isn’t around to correct them.

It must be me, because I find Little Timmy’s behavior disturbing. Since Timmy is 7, I would think he should know better and if he doesn't, he’s obviously not being appropriately corrected. I’m just thankful I’m not the neighbors.

Here’s something else I don’t understand: Betty Sue (again, not her real name) is 11, a fine, sweet girl who lives a few houses down from me. I recently saw her strolling up the block carrying a 6-pack of beer. She was carrying it to another neighbor’s house where Mom and Dad were partying with friends on the front lawn. Apparently the party needed more alcohol and who better to fetch it than an 11 year old? Putting aside the fact that we live in an upscale suburb and that the adults were partying on the front lawn like a bunch of frat boys, it must be me who thinks is inappropriate because clearly, Betty Sue’s parents did not.

I do not consider my husband and I prudes. Ok, so we regulate how much sweets our kids have (my daughter has notoriously bad teeth) and how much video they watch lest their brains become mush. But I hope that’s responsible parenting. My children can choose to be naked…in the bathroom and in their bedrooms. And they are free to pee…in the bathroom. No, they cannot drink alcohol before the legal age (besides it being the law and unhealthy, we’re hoping to avoid the temptations of liquor until they’re older). And we would certainly never ask them to fetch alcohol for us; it just seems inappropriate.

My children are well aware of parenting styles we like and do not like. We’ve talked about stuff we deem appropriate and things “we, as a family do NOT do.” Lastly, we’ve discussed that adults parent their children as they see fit and we parent our children in accordance with our belief systems.

Based on what I’ve been told and seen, clearly, many others do not agree. I shake my head pretty often at what others permit their kids to do.  It must be me.

In Defense Of (Some, But Not All) Soccer Moms

Soccer Mom on the field at dawn.

It's the crack of dawn on a Sunday morning when I'd rather be sleeping. My plan today was to roll out of bed at 8am, have coffee, go to church, and spend the day reading the paper while my husband takes the kids out to the park. Instead, I'm bundled up in sweats and my winter coat. I have a warm woolen hat pulled down over my ears and if I could curl up into the fetal position I would. Instead my hefty bottom is plunked down into a folding canvas chair while a blanket from the car is swaddled around me. I am at my town's soccer playoffs watching my son. I am a soccer mom.


Now the term “Soccer Mom” has a negative connotation. It broadly refers to an American middle-class, suburban woman who spends a lot of time transporting her school-age children to their sporting events or other after-school activities. Sometimes she's portrayed in the media as being a bit neurotic and overprotective of her brood as she drives her minivan or SUV all over Suburbia. And, according to Wikipedia, “soccer moms are sometimes accused of forcing their children to go to too many after- activities” and “over-parenting them in concerted cultivation rather than letting them enjoy their childhood.”


While I have no doubt that that last part about over-parenting is true in quite a few cases, I need to defend those of us mini-van driving parents who do schlep our kids all over the place. Most of my peers drive our kids to places the children themselves want to go. As my husband pointed out to my wee folk a few weeks ago, without any prompting from me, “If your mother wasn't around after school, you two wouldn't be able to do half the things you like to do including having playdates and participating in sports!” When I was growing up, not only did my mother lack a car, but there wasn't the enormous assortment of extra-curricular activities my children can choose from today. How lucky today's youth are to be able to pick from a menu of classes and sports that suit their fancies! And as for the schlepping, do you really think I want to spend most of my evenings hauling kids to soccer fields and gymnastics practices? I would rather be home, cooking dinner and getting my brood ready for bed instead of driving and waiting for them to be finished. I, and women like me, do it because we want our children to try new things and be able to pursue what they love.

When bored, my 8-year old decided to roll down the hill.  I would have barfed...

So there I was, with 30 or so other parents, accompanied with my husband who was frantically trying to keep the 8-year old amused. The field we were sitting in was damp and wind whipped through my layers and my blanket. My hopes soared or sank with every soccer ball my son kicked or missed. I bit my tongue when parents from the opposing team gleefully cheered their sons on to win the town's championship. And I mentally slapped them silly with an invisible 2'x4' when they sarcastically taunted the losing team with “better luck next year.” Bite me, you *(&! twits!


When Junior's team lost, I cried inside and hugged him outside. He'll be back next year because he loves to play. I'll be back on the field because I love him. And this week, like most, I'll spend my evenings schlepping my very talented 8-year old to and from gymnastics practice, not because I want to, but because she loves the sport. Like most parents of budding athletes, sports is time-intensive and expensive, but we do it, not for ourselves, but for our children. Yep. I am, indeed, a soccer mom and proud of it!


By the way, as I was researching the term “soccer mom” for this post, I found this great little story on the website www.cafemom.com:


A mom was making breakfast of fried eggs for her young son. Suddenly, the boy bursts into the kitchen and starts yelling, “"Careful! Careful! Put in some more butter! Oh my goodness! You're cooking too many at once. TOO MANY! Turn them. TURN THEM NOW! We need more butter! Oh my! WHERE are we going to get MORE BUTTER? They're going to STICK! Careful! CAREFUL! I said CAREFUL! You NEVER listen to me when you're cooking! Never! Turn them! Hurry up! Are you crazy! Have you lost your mind? Don't forget to salt them. You know you always forget to salt them. Use the salt. USE THE SALT! THE SALT!!"

The mom stared at him. "What's wrong with you? You think I don't now how to fry a couple of eggs?"

The son calmly replied, "I just wanted to show you what it feels like when I'm trying to play soccer."


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Thanks for reading! Come again, won't you?

I Am The Worst Mother In The World

My Dear Children,

I am the Worst Mother in the World.  I know that because you have told me that repeatedly since each of you was 5 (you're now 8 and 13 respectively).  Apparently there are dastardly qualities associated with that title that you've described in great detail.  I am overprotective because I don't let you go where you want to go by yourself.  I am cheap because I don't buy you all the things you want that your friends have. I am nosy because I talk to other kids' moms about you and what you're doing.  I'm intrusive because I explain to elementary school teachers when you don't understand the homework.   I am an alarmist because I monitor what you watch on television and where you surf on the Web.  I am too concerned about nutrition because I don't let you eat candy non-stop.  I embarrass you because I try to get to know your friends.  I make you go to church when you want to stay home.  I force you to take a shower when you just took one last week.  I won't let you stay home from school when some of your friends' moms let their kids play hookey.  I am strict too strict where other parents are not.

Well, too bad.  I am your mother and I know things you cannot possibly know now and will not know until later.  I know that crime in our town is rising and I don't want you to be a victim.  I won't buy you what you want because money is tight and half of the stuff you buy is going to wind up on the floor of your room within a few months.  You don't always get what you want, so appreciate what you have.  That's just the way it is.  Yes, I get to know your friends and their parents because you are who you hang with and I want to make sure those people share our values.  I speak with your teachers because they may not be aware that they're not getting through to you.  I watch what you're watching so I have some common ground with you and can combat some of the garbage the media and Web is exposing you to.  I monitor your food because what you put in your mouth today becomes a part of your health tomorrow.  I make you go to church because you'll need that spiritual foundation when life kicks you to the curb.  I won't let you cut school because school is your JOB and raising you is mine.  I am strict because I love you - no matter what.

Hate me all you want, call me what you want.  I only get one chance with you and I am NOT screwing that up.  Yes, I AM the Worst Mom in the World and I'm proud of that because I am YOUR mom and love you more than anything.

So there!

Love,

Mom